Chapter 23: The Board, The Mouse, and the Brooklyn Bounce
[Sunny Midoriya POV]
Now, listen here, see?
When you rearrange a guy's molecular structure so he can't tie his own shoelaces without crying, the big-wigs tend to notice. They don't like it when the script gets rewritten without a union contract. They like things neat. They like things tidy. They like things boring.
I was currently perched on top of a giant, floating typewriter, clacking away at the air with my white gloves. I was wearin' a detective's trench coat that was three sizes too big and a fedora that shadowed my eyes like a noir film.
"The heat is on, Eri-chan," I said, blowin' a bubble with a piece of gum that sounded like a gunshot when it popped. [BANG!] "The coppers at the Hero Public Safety Commission are havin' a closed-door huddle. They're lookin' at photos of us and wonderin' if they should call the army or a psychiatrist."
Eri was sitting on the "Carriage Return" of my typewriter, kickin' her legs. She was wearin' a little yellow raincoat because I'd decided it was 'Metaphorically Drizzling' for the aesthetic.
"Are they gonna take me back, Sunny-nii?" she asked, lookin' at a candy apple like it was the most important thing in the world.
"Take you back?" I let out a laugh that sounded like a slide-whistle goin' up a flight of stairs. [WHEEEEE-UP!] "Kid, I've edited the legal records so thoroughly that according to the government, you were born from a giant peach in my mother's backyard. You're a Midoriya now. And if they want to argue, they gotta talk to the Mouse. And nobody... and I mean nobody... beats the Mouse at his own game."
[Third Person POV - HPSC Secret Headquarters]
The room was dim, lit only by the glowing blue screens of a dozen monitors.
"This is a disaster," a woman in a sharp gray suit hissed, slamming a folder onto the table. "The Shie Hassaikai, a major yakuza organization we've been tracking for months, was dismantled in forty-five minutes. By a group of middle-schoolers."
Sir Nighteye sat at the table, his fingers steepled. His eyes were bloodshot. "They didn't just dismantle them. They... invalidated them. Every member of the Hassaikai currently in custody is suffering from what the doctors call 'Slapstick Trauma.' Their quirks are functional, but their brains refuse to trigger them. Overhaul himself begins to hiccup uncontrollably whenever he thinks about matter reconstruction."
"And the leader of this... 'Chaos Crew'?" the Commission President asked.
The screen flickered to a photo of Sunny Midoriya. He was mid-jump, his body stretched like a rubber band, waving at a security camera with a giant foam finger that said 'YOU'RE NEXT.'
"Sunny Midoriya," Aizawa's voice came from the shadows. He looked like he wanted to crawl into a sleeping bag and never come out. "Quirk: Toon Force. He operates on a logic that bypasses the laws of physics. He doesn't just fight; he edits the reality of the encounter. He's not a hero. He's a glitch."
"He's a vigilante!" a general barked. "He broke into a private compound—"
"Actually," a new voice chirped.
The door opened, and Principal Nezu strolled in, sipping from a teacup that was somehow perfectly full despite him walking on a 45-degree angle.
"According to the revised 'Emergency Youth Intervention Act,' which I helped draft last Tuesday," Nezu smiled, his eyes glinting with a terrifying sharpness, "the Midoriya boy was acting under 'Implicit Scholastic Authority.' He found a child in danger and acted. As for the property damage... I've already sent you the bill for the marshmallow-scented repairs."
"Nezu," the President warned. "You're shielding a monster. That boy has more power than All Might, and zero respect for the status quo."
"Respect?" Nezu chuckled. "He thinks the status quo is a suggestion for a bad Saturday morning cartoon. You can't arrest him. Every time you try to send a summons, the paper turns into a flock of origami cranes and flies away. You can't contain him. He treats the concept of 'Walls' as a personal insult."
Nezu leaned forward, his reflection in the polished table looking like a predator.
"The government wants control. The heroes want order. But Sunny? Sunny just wants the girl to be happy. And if you try to take her, or if you try to label him a villain... well, I suspect the next thing to be 'edited' out of existence will be your budget."
The room went cold.
[Sunny Midoriya POV]
Back at the house, the "Government Threat" felt about as scary as a soggy noodle.
"Kacchan! You're holdin' the spoon wrong, see?" I barked, leanin' against the kitchen wall like a mob boss. "You gotta give the soup some pizazz! Some moxie!"
"I'LL PIZAZZ YOUR FACE, YOU GAG-BREATH NERD!" Bakugo roared, though he was carefully stirring a pot of soup for Eri. He was wearing an apron that said 'KISS THE COOK OR DIE.'
"Sunny-kun," Toga whispered, appearing from a literal ink-puddle on the floor. She had a tablet in her hand. "The news is callin' us 'The Vigilante Symphony.' They think we're a secret branch of UA."
"Let 'em think what they want, Toga-chan," I chirped, snapping my fingers. [POP!] A giant plate of cookies appeared in my hand. "As long as the moms are happy, we're golden."
Speaking of the moms...
Inko, Mitsuki, and Sato-san were in the next room, looking at Eri's school enrollment forms.
"She's so normal," Inko sighed, dabbing her eyes. "She actually sits still when I brush her hair. It's a breath of fresh air compared to Sunny, who usually turns his hair into a family of squirrels the moment I touch it."
"She's the only one in this house who doesn't give me a headache," Mitsuki agreed.
I looked at Eri. She was sitting on the floor with Izuku, lookin' at a hero book. She looked up at me and gave a tiny, Brooklyn-style wink I'd taught her.
The heroes were mad. The government was terrified. Nezu was playin' 4D chess with the world's leaders.
And me? I was just the Showrunner.
"Alright, crew!" I yelled, my voice echo-ing with a brassy, big-band sound. "Eri's startin' school tomorrow! I want a full security detail! Aqua, you're on hydration! Kaminari, you're the portable charger! Izu-chan, you're the historian! Let's make this the best first day in the history of the script!"
The Chaos Crew roared in a mix of cheers and explosions.
Reality leaned back and sighed. It knew better than to argue.