While Zero lathered up the sponge in her hand, Juno gathered the rest of the dishes. Scarlett had turned in for the night, while Leya had an urgent phone call to answer, leaving the older sisters to wash up in the tiny kitchen of their temporary abode.

  With the sound of cutlery softly clinking, alongside the rushing sound of water from the kitchen tap as their only company, the two made quick work. However, Zero paid little attention to the task at hand, as her mind replayed the conversation they all had at dinner. There was something she couldn’t quite figure out.

  She turned towards Juno, handing her a bowl to dry with a tea towel. “You were unusually pushy about Scarlett attending U.A.” she finally said. “What was up with that?”

  Juno shared an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” she signed after she placed the bowl down. “I wasn’t too bold, was I?”

  Zero shook her head. “No, I just wanted to know what you were thinking. I mean, it was obvious she wouldn’t want to go to a school like that.”

  “I know,” expressed Juno, causing Zero to raise an eyebrow. “I just wanted her to take the initiative and think about what she wants to do. Apparently, she told Leya she hasn’t got any plans now that she’s been discharged from the hospital, and I thought something like this might help push her to decide.”

  “How did you know this would work?”

  Juno silently laughed. “I didn’t.”

  Zero almost dropped the spoon she had been rinsing. “You didn’t know?” She quickly recomposed herself, returning to a calmer tone of voice. ”What do you mean?”

  “Well, what else was going to happen?” Juno shrugged. “Either she agrees to go to U.A.—which was unlikely but still a possibility—or she decides that she wants to go to another school. Both options seem to be fine because we both know an environment like that would be good for her.

  “Alternatively, she could flat out reject the idea, which also is fine because that just opens the conversation about what she wants to do. Either way, it was a conversation we were gonna have at some point.”

  Zero remained silent for a moment, staring at the blurry reflections in the spoon. Like a funhouse mirror, the curved surface distorted her image, warping it into something that barely resembled herself, while the soapy suds completely covered Juno’s visage from her view; a reminder that no matter how much she twisted and contorted herself, she could never imitate Juno when it came to her perception and understanding. Especially when it came to stuff surrounding Scarlett.

  Zero refused to frown.

  “I—Well, damn, June. That’s really smart.” Zero forced out a breathy laugh. “I was so busy thinking about this Nezu fellow, that I didn’t even consider that.”

  “I mean I don’t blame you,” reassured Juno. “When you’re in ‘detective mode’, you tend to focus on how things connect together. It’s what makes you so good at your job as a Pro Hero. But if you’re too busy with that, I’m happy to take care of things at home—I mean, we are a team, after all. It just makes sense.”

  A smile returned to Zero’s face. “Well, since we’re a team, I wanna know your thoughts about this Principal Nezu.”

  “Honestly? He looked adorable in that photo we saw of him.”

  Zero stared at her, taken aback by her answer, before laughing. “That’s all you have to say about him?"

  The older sister shrugged. “I mean, I don’t have much else to go off of, do I? I’ve never met him.” But a soft frown settled on her face. “Why are you so worried about him anyway?”

  Zero sighed. “I dunno, June. I just don’t trust him. I mean, think about it. It’s just too good to be true—”

  Juno held her hand up, cutting Zero off. “Listen, this is not the first time some random teenager tried to help a Pro Hero, and it definitely won’t be the last. Kids do these things all the time—heck, even we did when we were younger. But we were alright.

  “If this was a major issue, the police would have arrested Scarlett instead of letting her go. But that’s what happened. They probably have seen plenty of kids pull even worse stuff than what Scarlett pulled tonight.”

  Zero’s frown reappeared, unveiling the tired look in her eyes. “I get that. I just can’t shake this feeling that there is something more to this, y’know?”

  Juno gently rested her hand on Zero’s arm. “Hey, you’ve had the least amount of sleep compared to the rest of us. Why don’t you go and get some shut eye and I’ll finish the dishes. If this is something we need to be worried about, it’s better to do so after getting some rest.”

  Despite the blue-haired girl’s protest, Juno shut off the tap, shooing Zero away from the sink. “Go and rest,” the older sister expressed firmly. “And also let me handle everything with Scarlett. I’ll help her find a school she likes, and if the police call her for further questioning, I’ll go with her as her guardian.”

  Zero’s eyes softened as she smiled. “We can both do that, y’know?”

  “Yeah, that’s true, but I’m not a problem-solver like you,” signed Juno. “I won’t be much help when it comes to investigating things. But let me help with Scarlett. We always told each other that we would divide the work between us, so let’s just do that.”

  Zero shared a grateful look. “Thanks June. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “We’re a team,” she repeated, before softly tapping Zero’s forehead; a sign for her to drill the idea in.

  She giggled at the gesture, before agreeing and wishing Juno goodnight. The tension between her brows from the near-constant frowning began to melt, as a soft, genuine, smile found itself on her face as she got ready for bed. Maybe she would finally have a good night of rest for the first time this past week.

  As midnight approached the Love Drop Lounge, one of the many hostess bars in Tokyo, a honey-haired bartender tapped her well-manicured fingernails against the polished mahogany counter of the bar, as her phone rested beside her.

  A text displayed itself on its screen. An apology sent by one of her regular customers, who had cancelled on their plans last minute. It was something about their boss dumping a load of work on them so they wouldn’t be able to come tonight, but she didn’t press for details. She didn’t really care. But a simple heart emoji and a message saying she’ll miss him should be enough to convince him otherwise.

  Setting her phone down again, she scanned the club. Her eyes landed on the crushed velvet magenta booths, where most of their clientele resided. The loudest group held her dark-haired colleague with wolf ears, who playfully traced her fingers on an older gentleman in a business suit. She leaned in close, and judging by the smile playing on her lips, she was whispering sweet nothings in his ear. The man took a moment to consider before simply nodding, erupting a cacophony of cheers.

  Judging by the sound, it was clear she had convinced him to buy another bottle of champagne. It was his third one this evening. And at this rate, she was going to beat her with sales for the entire week by this one evening alone.

  The honey-haired bartender sighed. Maybe she could score a couple of sales if she sauntered over. But first, she should get a drink.

  Turning around, she began to assess the beverages in front of her. Each glass bottle caught the soft pink light differently, creating a kaleidoscope of hues that danced across the room. Their labels were written in many different languages she couldn’t read, but they sounded expensive, so that’s all that mattered.

  Now, which one of these would appeal to that group?

  She rested a hand on her hip, carefully weighing the options in front of her. Until she heard someone drag one of the barstools back.

  With a curious look in her eyes, she turned to meet a woman with black hair and black clothing. She was nothing but plain, someone easy to miss in a crowd, other than the fact the pink lights flickered in the clear molten glass that were her eyes. It was almost mesmerising.

  Despite looking a little gaunt and not like the regular clientele that frequent the area, the bartender couldn’t help but smile. A customer is still a customer after all.

  “Well, this is a lovely surprise,” she said sweetly. “We rarely have women visit our establishment.” She leaned in close, a playful look on her face. “So, what do I owe for the pleasure of your company this evening?”

  “I…uh…I was actually hoping you could help me,” she said.

  The bartender tilted her head curiously. She took a moment to take a closer look at her potential patron’s appearance. It was clear that dark circles were beginning to form under her eyes and her clothes had been repaired a few times. The honey-haired woman leaned back, dropping the flirting facade and opting for a more sympathetic look; a simple change in strategy.

  “Let me pour you a drink first,” responded the hostess, turning to scan the drinks behind her.

  “W-wait!” the woman called out.

  The hostess froze, raising a curious eyebrow at her guest. “Wait? Wait for what?”

  The woman scrambled to get her phone from her pockets. “I was wondering if you’ve seen this man?”

  On display was a photo of a large, bald man, with tiny sunglasses, wearing a dark suit as he was leaving a club. The bartender’s brows slowly furrowed, before releasing. This was the second time she had seen a picture of this man this evening, although the previous image of him was his mugshot. Just who was he?

  “Man, this guy must’ve upset a lot of people,” she said. “You're the second person to ask me this.”

  The woman blinked. “Second? Who else was asking about him?”

  “Just some Pro Heroes—from what I heard, the guy was a nasty piece of work, so it’s not surprising that the authorities are looking into him.”

  The woman with dark hair pressed her lips into a fine line. Her brows drew closed together in a furrow, as if she was struggling to process the information. “What…were they asking about?”

  The hostess looked away, her mind wandering back to her earlier conversation. “Just mainly his whereabouts and what he got up to when he was in Japan. Why’d you ask?”

  The woman opened her mouth, only to close it once again. “I…just have some questions for him.”

  She withdrew into herself, casting her gaze downwards. Whatever was going on, it was clear that it was a weight on her shoulders.

  “Well, you’re gonna have a hard time with that,” answered the bartender. “Apparently, he got arrested abroad.”

  The hostess wasn’t sure if she was being cruel, or kind. But the look in the woman’s eye was too familiar, something she often found when she gazed into the mirror. It was better for her to cut her losses early and save herself the heartbreak. Especially if this guy was as bad as everyone was telling her he was.

  But the woman’s glass eyes widened. Her mouth fell agape. “What? He was arrested abroad?”

  She scanned the hostess’s face, searching for an ounce of a lie; anything she could grasp to tell herself to keep hope. But there was nothing there.

  Her face contorted into a pained grimace. Her head bowed. Her shoulders slumped. The hostess couldn’t tell if she was crying or not. But the lack of trembling indicated otherwise. Either way, it would be difficult to get her to buy a drink now.

  The honey-haired woman sighed. With a few swift clinks of glass, a drink slid across the counter, causing the woman to look up.

  “It’s on the house,” she said, her eyes genuinely softening as she took in the woman’s plight. The glass-eyed woman smiled weakly, sharing her gratitude for the drink, while the hostess began to clean some glassware from the other patrons, with a single thought running through her mind.

  I’m really bad at this job, huh.

  Hope Agency Hero Notes:

  Civilian Name: Archie Webber

  Quirk: Control Machine

  With a Quirk that allows him to manipulate electronics within his sight, without having to lay a single finger on any of the devices, Archie is well-versed when it comes to technology.

  However, his Quirk can only be activated when he is listening to music, as it allows him to process information much quicker than the average person, although this heavily depends on the genre of music.

  As far as the Agency is aware, 90s pop music has shown to be the most effective with increasing information processing, while classical and jazz have shown to be the slowest (despite the fact he prefers those genres the most).

  Regardless of his affinity towards technology, Archie prefers to spend his time collecting and reading books. While this can border on slightly obsessive, this is a much better pastime than his former hobbies—

  [INFORMATION HAS BEEN REDACTED.]