Chapter 78: A Reporter in Peril
Satomi Ishihara felt like her luck today had been pretty good.
Not only had she managed to snag the highly coveted tickets to the U.A. Sports Festival and secure press credentials, but she had also gotten to see the student she felt rather fond of put on a spectacular performance.
What she did find a little regrettable was that he had been forced to withdraw due to his injuries and missed the final awards ceremony. But that couldn't be helped; after all, he had taken that monster's attack head-on. Thinking of Katsuki Bakugo's villainous face, Satomi couldn't help but shiver. Even though he was technically a student, anyone who saw that ferocious expression would assume he was an out-and-out villain.
If I get the chance to see Kira-kun, I have to cheer him up!
Although Satomi had intended to, she was dragged by her team leader to a celebratory dinner at their usual restaurant immediately after the festival, leaving her no time to wait for him.
The celebratory dinner was a team tradition. Whenever they captured a huge, explosive story or got some news that would grab a lot of attention, the team leader would pay out of his own pocket to treat Satomi and the cameraman to a meal.
At the table, the team leader was ecstatic. He believed that their station had managed to beat all the other magazines to the scoop entirely thanks to Satomi getting the tickets in advance. He repeatedly toasted her, getting himself completely drunk in the process.
Although Satomi had only been taking small sips, the alcohol still brought a flush to her cheeks.
After dinner, the cameraman dumped their boss into the back of a taxi, explaining with a wry smile that he had to take him back to the studio to edit the footage, hoping to get a final cut ready by that night.
He had originally wanted to call a taxi for Satomi as well, but she refused.
While she was an on-location host who looked glamorous on screen, in reality, she was just a university graduate who hadn't been working for long. She wasn't wealthy by any means and still couldn't accept the luxury of taking a taxi, even if it was on the team's expense account.
She politely declined the cameraman's offer, telling him her apartment wasn't far and she could walk. He didn't insist, climbing into the taxi and speeding away with their boss.
The cool night breeze felt good on her face, sobering her up quite a bit. She walked along the road toward her home. Every so often, her spirits would lift, and she would suddenly make a goofy face at her own reflection in a shop window, playing rock-paper-scissors with the figure in the glass.
She thought she was sober, but to any passerby, she just looked like a woman in professional attire having a breakdown.
"Another one snapped," a person on the street muttered, giving her a wide berth and sighing.
Satomi lived in an apartment that wasn't in the best part of town. But compared to the people who struggled for years in the heart of Tokyo and still lived in a tiny, five-square-meter rental, her life was pretty good.
This city was full of people hustling just to get by, but it also had plenty of thugs who lived without any goals, surviving on extortion. Although All Might's arrival had made these thugs a bit more cautious, impulsive crimes were still far from rare.
As Satomi walked, she sensed an extra set of footsteps behind her. The sound of the footsteps maintained a shocking synchronicity with her own. When she slowed, they slowed. When she sped up, they sped up.
A bad feeling bloomed in Satomi's heart. While it was possible it was just someone heading the same way, she wasn't naive enough to bank on that coincidence. Not many people were out walking in this area at night. Her intuition told her this person was coming for her.
I have to run.
She made the decision in her heart, but she gave no outward sign, just continuing to walk at her usual pace.
Then, as she passed a street corner, she ducked and suddenly bolted into the alley.
She knew she couldn't run fast in her high heels. Without hesitation, she kicked off the shoes she had spent half a month's salary on and ran barefoot on the pavement. No, that wasn't right—she was still wearing her black stockings, so she wasn't technically barefoot.
Satomi hadn't taken this alley many times, but she knew that not far ahead was a small police box. There were always one or two patrol officers stationed there. If she could just make it there, she would be safe.
However, the reality was not as simple as she had imagined. The person behind her, realizing he had been exposed, no longer bothered with concealment. He let out a yell and charged after her.
The distance she had created didn't buy her much time. The footsteps behind her grew more rapid, and soon, they were right behind her. A man's voice called out, "Where do you think you're going? Stop right there and let grandpa here have some fun!"
Satomi instinctively glanced back. A beak-faced man with unusually thick legs that were completely out of proportion to his body was grinning savagely, his steady gait covering twice the distance of her own steps. He was about to catch her.
Satomi was one of the rare Quirkless people in the world, but she had taken a Quirk research class in university and knew a little about the various Quirks that could warp a person's body into strange shapes.
If she had seen such a man during her usual reporting, she might have just remarked on his unique appearance. But here, in this dark alley, he was utterly terrifying.
Suddenly, the man stopped. Satomi had just breathed a sigh of relief when, before she could take a few more steps, she heard a boom. The man with the beastly legs had launched himself from a standstill, flying over her head in a parabola and landing with a crash directly in front of her, blocking her path.
I can't escape. Satomi was struck by this fact and the feeling of her own powerlessness. I never should have walked home. I should have taken the taxi, no matter how much it cost!
"I have money. I'll give you money," Satomi said, knowing she was trapped. She calmly threw her handbag on the ground. "I just hope you won't hurt me."
As a TV host, Satomi had once done a public safety segment on what to do during a mugging. She remembered the advice clearly.
First: run. Run to the nearest emergency point to get help from a Pro Hero or the police.
Second: if you can't run, do not provoke the mugger. Comply with their demands. At the same time, discreetly call for help, turn on your phone's locator, and wait for rescue.
Satomi's handbag contained a signal transmitter. She had already activated the tracker. As long as she activated the transmitter, the surrounding hero agencies and police would receive her distress signal and immediately dispatch someone.
The beak-faced man was a little surprised that she had given in so easily, but he still chuckled lewdly. "Just robbing your money isn't enough. Grandpa here is gonna rob you of your virtue, too!"
Satomi continued calmly, "Are you sure about that? The only reason I'm not screaming is because I'm giving you a chance to repent. If you take the money and go, I won't report this. But if you dare to do anything else..."
"Don't forget, the U.A. Sports Festival was today. Pro Heroes from all over the country are here. If you get caught by them, you know what will happen."
The man's expression changed. He thought about the tragic consequences of being caught by those heroes and decided she had a point. "True," he said, annoyed. "Guess it's your lucky day."
He left Satomi alone and bent down to rummage through her handbag. He felt that the contents were too messy and impatiently turned it upside down, dumping everything onto the ground.
Foundation, concealer, an eyebrow pencil... several kinds of cosmetics, along with her phone and a power bank, clattered onto the pavement. Satomi winced, but she knew that escaping unharmed was the greatest luck she could ask for. She shouldn't expect more.
The beak-faced man took her wallet and her expensive phone, stuffing them into his pocket. Suddenly, he spotted something black on the ground. It was a flat, oval object, about the size of a portable Swiss Army knife. It looked like an egg.
Satomi's heart leaped into her throat. That was the custom signal transmitter she had gotten from the official store. The moment it was activated, all surrounding Pro Heroes would receive the signal and rush to the scene. Customers could order the transmitter in any shape they wanted, whether it was SpongeBob SquarePants or an All Might figurine.
It was a very useful item, but the price was prohibitively expensive for most people.
This particular transmitter had been a gift from her fans. Worried that something might happen to her while she was always on location, they had pooled their money to buy it for her. When activated, it didn't flash any lights, preventing the enemy from noticing it.
The beak-faced man flipped the transmitter smoothly between his fingers. He suddenly grinned. "I never would have guessed. You look so proper, but you're actually into this kind of stuff. Where's the remote?"
"What are you talking about?" Satomi didn't understand what he meant. But she was relieved; it seemed he hadn't realized she had already sent the signal.
"No remote? Then it must be touch-activated..." The beak-faced man pressed the button on the round transmitter. The vibration he was expecting didn't come. Instead, a powerful, confident voice broadcast from it.
"VIBRATING HERO, SHINDO, HAS ACCEPTED YOUR REQUEST! CITIZEN, PLEASE REMAIN CALM AND AWAIT RESCUE! I WILL ERADICATE ALL EVIL!"
The beak-faced man's expression changed instantly. This wasn't the kind of vibration he wanted!
He turned to Satomi Ishihara, his face grim. "No wonder you were so obedient. You already called the cops. Mom was right, the prettier the woman, the bigger the liar!"
Satomi's face also turned pale. She cursed this Pro Hero for ruining everything. She had been so close to escaping, and now he had put her in mortal danger.
Normally, when Pro Heroes accepted an alert, they wouldn't announce anything. No one knew the enemy's situation, so they were accustomed to arriving on the scene silently to perform the rescue. (Because of this habit, it was common for several heroes to arrive at the same scene at the same time to face a single enemy.)
But there were always some new-wave heroes who, desperate for exposure, would broadcast their information on the hero network. They called it "deterring the enemy," but in reality, broadcasting their intentions like this was highly likely to put the civilian who had sent the signal in grave danger.
"It's not like that..."
Before Satomi could even explain, she saw the beak-faced man roar in rage and charge at her.
"I've changed my mind. I want you dead!"
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