Basically, he and I had 3 issues to discuss.
First of all, creating a hero suit for Himiko based on splicing her DNA into the fabric - like Mirio from grade 3 - was not as easy as we thought, as the mechanism of both Quirks is similar at first, but in reality they are completely unrelated. The support tool I also conveniently requested wasn't any easier to make, because making it as compact as Izuku's Full Gaultlet with full functionality like a thruster module to accelerate the fist, able to fire customized wax-coated bullets at high speeds was nearly impossible.
Second, there was the matter of the "Quirk Amplification Device." David looked at the broken suitcase containing the device with a complicated look, mixed with regret, shame, and disgust. For him, it was the embodiment of his biggest mistake in life. I understood that, but I also made it clear that repairing and perfecting it was a must. Not to give it to All Might, but to make it the "final trump card" for the next battle. In a war, you can't throw away a powerful weapon just because it's dangerous. Instead, you have to learn how to control it, and only the one who created it knows how to do that best. Furthermore, studying its structure can also help us figure out how to deal with it if the enemy possesses similar technology.
And finally, the third issue, is the long-term plan. I had given David some selective "prophetic" information about upcoming events, emphasizing that the League of Villains would soon take larger-scale actions against U.A. students. We needed to prepare support technology and backup plans. I also frankly admitted my own limitations: My Quirk was flexible, but lacked long-range attack capabilities, and my physical endurance was weaker than that of a normal person. Others might be better than me, but that didn't mean things would be any easier for them. So the two of us, along with Melissa, had agreed to first create a mecha for All Might - flexible enough, powerful enough, and "faithful" enough to fill the power gap when the "One For All Remnant" completely disappeared.
After exchanging all sorts of things, Himiko and I said goodbye to the Shield father and daughter and returned to the hotel, to prepare our luggage to return to U.A. tonight.
As soon as I stepped out the door, Himiko suddenly turned to me with a surprised and confused look.
"Ryuga," she began, her voice low and far from her usual mischievousness. "Your second Quirk… that 'premonition'… What exactly is it?"
"It doesn't matter at all..." I replied, trying to keep my voice even.
"Yes," she countered, her golden eyes boring into me, no teasing, just terrifying seriousness. "It does matter. You did tons of crazy things, Ryuu-kun. You killed Stain. You confronted an entire gang and even kill that ironmask face motherfucker. You almost died, not one, not twice, but even 3 times and more. And all you said was 'premonition.' I'm not stupid like that, I know there's something bigger. What did you see in my future?"
The moment I heard that, the first thing that came to my mind was the scene of her sacrificing herself to save Ochako from losing her life by giving her her own blood - when transformed - to Ochako. It was noble? Yes. And it was also extremely painful when Himiko realized that love also involves giving instead of just receiving, she gave her own life...
Of course, this scene was actually witnessed by no one, so the whole world still only saw Himiko as a psychopath...
In the end, there was only one person who understood her, and when Ochako understood what she had gone through, she had already dead...
"Ryuu-kun, what's wrong with you...?"
Before Himiko could finish her sentence, I immediately hugged her tightly, not letting go, then suppressed everything that was overflowing in my heart to speak in the most normal tone possible.
"I don't want to see that scenerio at all... And I don't want to talk about it either..."
"Why are you so nervous..."
Himiko suddenly stopped talking when she saw my extremely unsightly tormented expression - even though she had suppressed it to the utmost, then seemed to understand something and hugged me to comfort me.
In that moment, she understood what would her life gonna be, but somehow still managed to cheered me up.
"You've done enough, Ryuga," she said, her voice firm. "You did your best. Don't beat yourself up. If my future is that bad, then I want to enjoy the remaining time by your side even more. The future can be changed, nothing is permanent... But even if it is inevitable, so what? I'm still me, still the person who loves you and the person you truly love..."
Her words were like a stream of cool water that soothed my troubled mind.
Unconsciously, I tightened my arms around her, burying my face in her golden hair, inhaling the familiar scent of wildflowers...
Yep. The future can be changed. That's why I exist in this bullshit world. And if fate has arranged a tragic end for her, then I will be the one to tear that fateful page to shreds.
"I understand, darling," I whispered, my voice calm again. "Can we stay like this for a while longer...?"
She just smiled, a rare gentle smile, then gently removed my hand and wiped the tears from my face - which I couldn't believe I was crying.
"Okay, my silly boy, stop being so cheesy. Now, what's your next plan?"
I took a deep breath, put on my practical mask, pulled out my phone, opened a video sharing site, and played a clip.
On the screen, a man in a tailcoat, with elaborately styled hair and beard, elegantly defeated a low-level pro hero, then bowed to the camera in a gentlemanly manner. "Gentle Criminal, goodbye!"
"Don't tell me you're going to become a content creator or something bullshit like that??" Himiko frowned. "I can't get used to you acting so cringe."
I shook my head, a mocking smile crossing my lips. "Nah, i don't have that kind of talent. What I want is the one doing this..."
Yeah, these guys had already experienced the feeling of being a capitalist slave, so even if they had found out my information, they would still follow me even if it means death...
But I have to ask Himiko about the budget first, if it's too much I'm afraid she'll get angry at me...
...
A few days later, in the small, cramped, but tidy apartment, Tobita Danjuro was sipping tea.
It wasn't the high-end black tea he favored or anything fancy, just a cheap tea bag, but he still enjoyed it with a solemn demeanor, as if he were sitting in a luxurious living room.
Across from him, Aiba Manami was biting her lip, her eyes glued to the laptop screen. The view analytics chart of the "Gentle Criminal" channel was showing dismal numbers.
Their "crime" videos had a loyal following, but that number hadn't increased even a bit. The advertising revenue was now only enough to pay this month's rent and buy the cheapest necessities. That harsh truth hung in the air, heavy as a thundercloud.
"Will the legacy of Gentle Criminal end in oblivion, Manami?" Danjuro spoke, his voice low and sad, setting down his teacup dramatically. "Our efforts, our art... will it fade like the steam on a window?"
"No way, Gentle!" Manami replied immediately, the determination in her voice a stark contrast to his despair. "Our latest video already has three more positive comments! We just need a breakthrough video, a big enough deal to get the world's attention!"
"But a big deal requires preparation, requires resources," he sighed. "And our resources... are running out."
"Six years, Tobita. We've been through this for almost literally six years, can't you just hang on a little longer?"
Their little argument wasn't a scream, but a waltz of despair and hope. He was drowning in the romantic sadness of a failed artist, while she fought with the unyielding optimism of a loyal fan.
Amidst the gloomy atmosphere, a gentle "ping" sounded from the computer. A new email had arrived.
Manami glanced at the screen. "A strange email..."
Subject: "A proposal for content collaboration."
Both of them fell silent. Doubt was written all over Danjuro's face.
"A trap?" he muttered, his fingers habitually stroking his neatly trimmed mustache. "Maybe from some hero agency, luring us into revealing ourselves."
"Or just a fan prank," Manami replied, but her eyes didn't leave the screen. She clicked open the email. "But..."
Both of them held their breaths as they read. The content was extremely concise, without a single extra word, without a single emoticon or fan slang.
Dear Mr. Gentle Criminal and Miss La Brava,
We have been following your work with great interest. We see great potential in the brand you are building.
We would like to request a meeting to discuss a mutually beneficial partnership opportunity to develop content and expand our reach.
Please respond if you are interested.
Sincerely,
A potential partner.
The professionalism in every word made the joke theory seem unlikely. Manami quickly checked the email, but it had been sent from an anonymous, untraceable server.
"It's too professional and shady, but..." Manami whispered, excitement beginning to creep into her voice. "Although this email address can be used to find any information, I don't think this is a trap. The actual message address is from a famous studio there..."
She glanced at another tab on her browser slightly - their bank balance was running at an alarmingly low level. The price of artistic pride was meager meals and worries about tomorrow.
Danjuro saw her eyes. He understood this was a gamble. The risk was a trap that could end their careers. But the reward could be a way out of this impasse.
"All right," he said after a moment of silence, determination returning to his eyes. "But we'll do it our way. Please reply it Manami."
Waiting for the chance, Manami immediately composed a reply email, her fingers flying quickly over the keyboard.
She agreed to meet, but gave them a place and time of their own: an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town the night before, suitable for hiding and doing shady things - even if they weren't actually doing anything. It was a place they had scouted thoroughly, a place they knew all the entrances and exits, and it would take the police at least an hour and a half to get there. That would be enough time for them to escape and get a decent amount of video.
But they knew, the moment this email was sent, their fates were uncertain whether they had been placed in the right place or not...