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When the Robot Has a Lot To Say

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As the patron teen of lost a human a friend, Togata Mirio wasn’t one to simply stand still. So, at the very moment, her S.O.S. flashed to life on the screen of his phone; he was leaping into motion. He let loose his quirk-Permeation! Every atom in the blonde’s body was suddenly awakened by the countless vibrations shot through his personal bubble of space. In a single span of a second, genetic bonds were split, stitched and then split again. Gravity was left to provide the rest of the desired effect. And while the pull of the downward acceleration will always provoke the most uncomfortable sensations, it doesn't really faze him. It can't alarm him.

The fall, he has been told, isn't worth his hard-earned concentration.

Instead, his focus lies with accomplishing that task which had been heavily advised by Sir Nighteye. His foresighted mentor was fond of thinking up things, that challenged the blonde to think. Chief among these was this idea. Somehow someway he had to feed his intuition his instincts. He needs to hear the bokken come down while deaf and retain the sight behind a fold of blind. A sense of the sixth kind.

Whatever that means.

Mirio didn't really get it. Still, the boy wasn’t stupid enough not to try. Especially now that he needs to think while falling because he fell without thinking. In his atomized stasis, he closed his eyes as if that could somehow fill him with the right amount of concentration. It wasn’t as easy as it sounds; it doesn’t even sound easy! Every rare prick against his non-physical form could be the sign that indicates the change. It was up to him to determine if any of the hiccups along the way was of any value today.

Was he still permeating throw the apartment floors or has he already fallen into a solid pit in the earth? Should he continue on or push himself the opposite way? His friction-less ass needed to know preferably before it becomes much too late.

His head drifted apart from his body. Slowed thoughts pestered him. Urgency erupted when luckily he somehow sensed a great change. It was a sudden chill down his vertebrae. It seeped into his very bones completely skipping past and muscles tone. When his mind suddenly showed back up it recognized it for what it was-an albeit clumsy composition change.

If I die, Nighteye will surely kill me ', was hopefully not the last thought of lemillion. 

Thankfully, faith decided that it need not be so drastic. That’s when his body’s allotted adrenaline came into play. He compressed his liquid like molecule bonds down, angled himself into a right ninety degrees, and then thrusts his pelvis up and out in order to gain some upward momentum. He had to repeat it over and over again. In rapid succession. He couldn't risk trying to turn his body back, not even for the millisecond it would take in order to generate someplace to kick off of. Still, that option held some temptation. This method of squirming jerks simply just wasn't tried and true. It took all of his muscled might coupled with the third law of Newton, for him to redirect a path to back up to the surface and its light.

With the swiftness of some sort of high-speed house cat, he popped out of the floor, but he sure didn’t land on his feet.

No, he landed on his face...with the ceiling. An abnormally large cheek bruise then took root and by the time he finished falling, it blossomed blue. He hissed the all the way down and even a little while after hitting solid ground. On the bright side, he hadn't managed to shatter a single plate in his spine! Surely that’s an accomplishment of something!

Then quite suddenly the pain subsided. It left only a jittery feeling of butterflies. His smile felt like it had folded up two impossible inches above his doted eyes. 'Look what I did! Isn't that cool? Sir is gonna be so proud of me!', He couldn't help but think. He stood back up and then immediately started a little a jig on his two left feet. One that just might have involved an abundant amount of downward dabs. He could rest easy tonight knowing he was just as much as a competent Hercules to himself as much as he was a blonde Adonis to everyone else.

 Well, a blonde Adonis to everyone but the 80-year old lady from 15B. Ito-san had, unfortunately, had just witnessed the entire thing.

She could only gape at him. Her face frozen in an uncomfortable shape. If he hadn't attempted the move that broke the camel's back, the cabbage patch, she might have just let the naked stranger dance right out of the communal space. Her hand began to twitch and his eyes darted all about and finally her scream easily drowned out all the other noise. There was no 'Clunk Clunk' of the dryer nor sound of the delicate downward water droplets. No only the old women's cry of shock and vengeance. Apparently, she though him an otherworldly yoki. 

 Mirio might have hit the ceiling again, from the abrupt shock of the shriek. “You scared me.” Was, unfortunately, the first thing the boy had thought to say. 

It was quite a rude awaking for all the denizens’ privy to the situation. One by one, the nearest morning people rushed to the defense of the poor boy's half rung neck. Ito-san had taken up her wooden walking stick. “Ito-san, it’s just Togata-kun!” One woman said, over someone else’s parental scolding of the pants-less boy.

Yes, he can admit that his actions weren’t really thoughtfully planned-in fact not planned at all but they have to understand is that it was and will continue to be the quickest way down. At least, he thinks. Time is rather wonky in that subterranean place or at least the perception was in any case. He was tempted to argue err...defend his actions but quickly his conscious pushed that option away. Politeness won over any justification he could have mustered and thus the half-naked menace of the Akagawa’s Luxury Apartments was momentarily diverted from his initial objective. Mirio bowed his head and sincerely said, “Ito-san, please forgive my thoughtlessness. I should have been mindful of where I was landing, but I truly had not considered the laundry room would have been occupied at this time. I pushed myself to an extreme not even considering any of the possible ramifications. I’ll agree to any punishment you see fit.”

There was a melody of cricket chirping heard before, Ito-san’s verdict. Lucky for him, now that she was calmed and semi-convinced that the young man was not, in fact, a spirit of the demonic kind, she was quick to become the forgiving of him. She simply asked that he never do it again and insisted that he at least put on some pants. Which luckily a tenant was more than happy to sell in his size.



                Meanwhile, Amajiki Tamaki was heaving up and down his morning breathes. He chest shot up at random intervals and deflated in rapid succession. His participation in the uphill run was part of a much bigger picture, which was in turn part of a much bigger plan. At least that was the nonsense Fatgum, his own heroic mentor, told him after laying out a rigorous itinerary that was just chalked full of unfortunate things. As he understands it involves all kinds of food. He can still remember the aftertaste of shame that got in his mouth when he realized that the lovable hero didn’t have much faith. Not in him or his independent training. Nevertheless, with the help of Hadou-san and Mirio, he had been encouraged not stray too far from his path. He sprinted forward his final fifth-teen steps until he was at the end of the line. The finishing line. He had never been more happy to see the building he lost money to monthly. Home sweet home, he supposed.

He put out his right chicken foot hand and rested it onto on the cold surface of the nearest street lamp.

"…Damn it, why do I have a chicken foot hand. Stupid, stupid quirk," Tamaki grumbles out. 

The rough skin the of four clawed prongs took the brunt of the chill but even that couldn’t negate the dejected feeling festering inside the dark-haired hero to be. This happened at times when he had too much on his mind. Truly this was unfortunate for all involved. Due to the unwanted transformation, he was turned into quite the eyesore; an open invitation for other people to stare. All that unwanted attention truly spooked him. Not to mention it's been proven that all the extra work of his quirk drains him dry. The time span of the Manifestation completely subsides until his next bite. Plus, it makes little children cry if the look at him. Yes truly, woe is Tamaki!

With a little sigh, he allowed himself to bounce lightly off the post, he rolled himself with the balls of his feet back and ended up shaking out his chicken hand wildly off onto the street side. With every spike of in the level of the kinetic motion, he flattened out that almost boiled and bubbly skin. Each bump melted back into its usual white pallor. Oh, and he grew back his pinky almost right after. He then took a moment to look around his surroundings and a nibble on the skin of the bottom of his top lip. The setting was just the usual parking lot, filled with more cars than warm bodies. It was after all still too early for the commuters to need to get where they go. Besides it was a Sunday, not many had to be anywhere today. Including him! He can't wait until he can curl up back into a warm blanket ball. Yes, He doesn't have to do anything. Against his better judgment, a smile flashed forward on his face and he took one semi-confident step forward. Unfortunately, his actions were mirrored. 

Abruptly from out of the door came his best friend Mirio, who the dark-haired body could tell just from looking was shirtless and rushed. Typically Mirio only ran on weekdays, and only after school. This certainly wasn’t sticking to his game plan. It absolutely made zero sense and yet, the reason was clear as day. It was Mirio! He probably needs to go save a kitten from a tree or something equally as troublesome and sweet. Tamaki could only hold his breathe and hope that the hero who liked to partake in the most frivolousness of things, would just stare right past him. He really didn’t want to know.

Of course, it was futile in the end. The blond would know the bluenette under any disguise and over any distance away. From a good ten feet, the personified sun screamed out his roommate's chosen hero name unrestrained.


“Does she now…” The smaller boy remarks between two face-obscuring tentacle palms. His words, not quite reaching his friend's ears. In next few seconds, Tamaki was captured and lead towards Tamaki's own vehicle of choice-a banged up four seater, with a sometimes functioning heater. What would he have done if I wasn’t out here? was what the pointy-eared boy wondered

"Can I drive?" Chirped the much too happy boy. 

As Lemillon, the hero who will save a million people revved the engine for dramatic effect, Suneater resigned himself to the fate of an eventful day.