Morning was colder than Dante had expected. Thick, gray clouds hung in the sky, pressing down on the city like a wet blanket. Dante zipped up his coat as he stood among the crowd of U.A. Students gathered at the train station.
Aizawa stood at the front, looking like he hadn't got a wink of sleep last night.
"Listen up," Aizawa said, voice somehow managing to cut through everyone's chatter. "Behave yourselves out there. Don't cause problems for the Pros. You represent U.A. Now, like it or not."
A chorus of half hearted "yes, sir"s rose from the students.
Aizawa sighed, already looking done for the day. "I'm serious. Some of you —" his eyes flickered toward Bakugo, who scowled. "— have a talent for starting fires you can't put out. Keep your heads down. Learn something."
Dante stood near the edge of the group, feeling the restless energy all around him. He had his "hero uniform" in a briefcase in his hand. His eyes drifted over his class, many different expressions going from excitement to nervousness.
For a split second, he wondered what it would be like to be one of them.
Excited. Nervous for normal reasons.
But it wasn't him. It was never going to be him.
He gave a quick two fingered wave to Kendo, who smiled and waved back, and then he turned on his heel without waiting for any goodbyes.
His train was far away from the others.
Mirko wasn't anywhere near the clusters of heroes most students were assigned to. She was way off in the industrial districts, practically on the outskirts of the Japan.
'Figures' Dante thought as he weaved through the station crowd, heading for the furthest platform. Of course she'd operate somewhere where nobody else would.
He boarded the near empty train, slipping into a seat by the window. The train doors hissed shut and a low mechanical voice announced the next stops.
The cart shuddered into motion.
Dante leaned back against his seat, resting his head against the cold glass. The city blurred past, a smear a buildings and dark clouds.
For the first time in a while, he relaxed.
No plans. No strategies. No questions. He'd deal with everything after this week.
Mirko had sent a single, simple adress with no other instructions. No warm welcomes, no "looking forward to it!" Nothing.
Just a location.
Typical.
Dante smirked to himself and closed his eyes, feeling the hum of the train. He was ready.
The train rumbled on, carrying him further away from the safety of familiarity.
…
Dante suddenly jerked awake as the train screeched to a stop.
He blinked blearily, the city behind the window looking… different than before. Fewer people, more crumbling buildings, graffiti tagging nearly every surface.
The mechanical voice cracked overhead, announcing the stop.
This was it.
He grabbed his bag and pulled it onto his back, stepping out onto the cracked concrete. It was even colder here, the kind of cold that smelled like rust.
Dante pulled out his phone and rechecked the location Mirko had sent him.
Dante rarely ever used his phone, but the old man had gotten it for him as severance pay.
He only had 5 contacts and no games.
He had :
Izuku
The old man
Tetsutetsu
Kazuya
Kendo
This and he was in the Class 1-A groupchat (he has it on silent)
He checked the email Mirko had sent him, "Don't get lost, kid." With a set of coordinates.
He snorted under his breath and shoved the phone back into his pocket, tightening his coat around him as he walked.
The streets were really empty, save for the occasional stray cat darting between alleys. Most of the shops had boarded windows. Old lampposts flickered weakly above him despite it being daytime.
It wasn't really welcoming at all.
He followed the directions street by street, boots crunching on broken glass here and there, until finally, he found it.
"An abandoned factory?"
Massive. Rusty. The old company logo so faded it was impossible to make out.
The chain link fence surrounding it sagged in places and the front gate was wide open like it was begging to be broken into.
Dante slowed, looking around.
This was definitely the adress.
But there was no one here. No welcoming committee. No Mirko standing around with a clipboard.
It was just quiet.
And the distant sound of crows.
His brows knitted together, the hair on the back of his neck standing up as his antennae grew out slightly. "…The hell is this?"
He stepped cautiously through the broken gate, boots cracking broken glass on the ground. The factory doors loomed ahead, wide open. A breeze moaned through the gaps.
Dante edged closer, hand instinctively transforming into a claw.
Then—
*BAM!!*
Before his sludge sense could even pick it up, something slammed into him from the side with the force of a speeding truck.
Dante's body flew a couple meters before he hit the ground hard, skidding a few feet across the dusty floor.
He coughed once, shaking the stars out of his eyes just in time to see a white blur circling him like a predator.
He heard a laugh, short, wild and very amused.
"Not too bad." Came an unfamiliar, cocky voice. "Most kids your age would still be crying on the floor."
Dante quickly pushed himself up, heart hammering.
Standing there infront of him, hands on her hips, grinning like a wolf, was Mirko.
Her white hair was tied up messily, her red eyes matching Dante's own gleamed with excitement.
"Hope you weren't expecting a normal cushy internship," she said, cracking her knuckles. "You wanna work with me?"
She crouched low, muscles coiling like springs.
"Then ya' gotta earn it!"
Before Dante could even think about responding, she flew forward at breakneck speed and Dante braced himself.
She ducked low with a sweep of her leg, aiming to knock him off balance.
Dante jumped, just barely flipping backward and landing with a thud that echoed out.
His mind snapped into focus.
He dove forward to meet her next charge, his arms pulsing dark red, sludge increasing his muscle density, hardening in patches across his forearms, knees, elbows and knuckles.
Their fists collided.
BANG!
The impact ratted Dante's bones but his hardened sludge absorbed the worst of it. Mirko grinned wider.
"Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" She barked, spinning and lashing out from a back kick.
Dante barely managed to duck under it, his antennae giving him the reaction time edge, pivoting low and striking up with a heavy hook aimed at her ribs, only for Mirko to twist out of the way like a dancer mid air, her foot slamming toward his shoulder.
He blocked it with both arms, skidding back from the sheer weight of her legs.
'Damn! She hits hard."
Before he lost his momentum, Dante used it to his advantage, surging forward again. His arms and fists coated in a thicker, denser layer of sludge armour.
He blurred forward, every move drilled into him from years under Kaijin, elbows, knees, jabs all sharp and efficient.
Mirko weaved through all of his strikes like she could see them coming seconds in advance, blocking, parrying, laughing the whole damn time.
"You sure do hit hard! Even harder than most pros I've fought," she said, ducking a right cross and aiming a sharp elbow for his gut.
"But you're still too soft."
The hit connected. Dante coughed and stumbled back, but he didn't fall.
Instead, he dropped low, the sludge armour on his hand retracting to reveal his arm coated fully in flames. He swung his arm up, sending a roaring blast of controlled fire from his arm, hoping to force her back.
The flames roared out of him for a moment before dissipating, he couldn't keep flames alive if they weren't connected to him.
Mirko flipped back with a wide, delighted grin, landing on a stack of crates like a rabbit perched and ready.
Dante panted, flames roaring up his arm and sludge armour coating the other. Steam rising from his mouth.
"You're full of tricks," she said, crouching. "Armour, fire, good hand to hand. Not bad."
Her eyes glinted.
"But you think too much in a fight. Sometimes, you just gotta go with the flow."
And just like that —
She vanished.
Dante barely caught the blur of her movement before a fist slammed into his stomach, sending him flying backward into a stack of rusted metal barrels.
The cracked around him, ringing in his ears.
He gasped, pain blooming in his side, but the sludge absorbed most of the damage to avoid anything breaking.
'Move, move, MOVE—!'
He rolled, dodging another stomp that left a crater in the ground where his head had been.
Adrenaline flooded him.
Tendrils exploded out of the back of his uniform, latching onto the walls and roof.
He spun around midair, catching himself on a wall.
He took off his shirt and his skin turned dark.
Flames suddenly engulfed him.
He launched himself off the wall, keeping low, using his momentum to move faster than before, catching Mirko off guard for a half second.
His knuckles scraped across her side, not enough to hurt, but enough to burn slightly.
Mirko laughed, flipping back and landing with a bounce.
"Finally!" She shouted. "You're finally getting it!"
Dante's chest heaved, sweat evaporating in his flames.
But a small smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.
He wasn't winning.
But he definitely wasn't losing either.
And for a first meeting?
This was probably the best outcome he could've asked for.
Mirko cracked her neck side to side, dust billowing around her boots.
"Alright, rookie," she said, planting her fist on her hips. "You pass."
Dante blinked, his guard still up, his flames heating the air around him.
"I'm sure you've got enough guts to last a week training under me," Mirko said, flashing a toothy grin. "Just try to keep up."
She turned on her heel, motioning for him to follow.
Dante returned to normal, a tendril flying out to grab his discarded shirt and bag.
He wiped some flowing blood from his lip, grinning despite the severe ache in his body and jogged after her.