Capítulo 6: Shattered 1.06
[A/N: Word Count: 3644 words]
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Oliver swam to the pool's edge and lifted himself out, water streaming off his body. He walked over to one of the beige poolside chairs under the skylight, grabbed a white towel, and dried his curls. "So, did y'all have anything you wanted to do before dinner? We still have—" Oliver glanced at the clock on the far side wall of the pool. "—about three hours before it's ready."
The personal chefs—hired by Nigel, of course—were preparing various dishes, so finishing took longer than normal. That was fine with him. He wanted to show his guest a good time.
"We can go to the theater, watch a movie, bowl, or play games in the arcade. It's up to y'all."
It took Izuku and Ochaco about thirty minutes to calm down after they saw the pool—rather, the heated, Olympic-sized pool with diving boards and all the works. It was on the first floor, at the end of the second wing of the estate. Conveniently, the theater and arcade were on the same wing, just on a different floor. It was basically the entertainment wing.
Ochaco, comfortably sprawled on a lounger, turned her attention from the 300-inch T.V. to Oliver. "Ollie, didn't you say you would show us your quirk? Can you show us first, then we can play some games?" Even though she tried to hide it, her excitement and anticipation were palpable.
Izuku lifted the unicorn floaty out of the pool and walked over to them, water dripping from his green hair onto his semi-visible abs. He tried to stop his gaze from flickering toward Ochaco's sprawling form. Ochaco, though, was none the wiser.
Oliver did his best to hide his chuckles.
Izuku was just too easy to read. He held his emotions in his face and in his eyes, and it was indisputable that he was attracted to Ochaco the entire time he had been over.
"R—right, Ollie." Izuku said, sitting beside them on an empty chair, "Can you tell us more about your quirk…? O-only if you want to… that is."
Oliver's eyes slowly trailed from Izuku to Ochaco and back to Izuku. After a beat, he said, "Sure, why not?"
Oliver wasn't hesitant to talk about his quirk or show it off for a couple of reasons. First, they had signed iron-clad NDAs that would ruin their entire lineage if they divulged any information—not that he got the impression they would. And second, Sohvi's assessment of Izuku and Ochaco deemed them fit to be his friends.
Sohvi's quirk, Inquisitor, alongside her analytical prowess, is what made her one of the best interrogation specialists in the U.S. Hero Enforcement and Safety Agency (USHESA) back in America. Her quirk allowed her to ask questions, and after receiving the answer, she could determine the truthfulness of the statement. Her quirk also allowed her to deduce additional information.
If someone lied in response to her question, she would immediately recognize the lie and also know the truthful answer. Of course, she has to ask specific questions that point her to what she is searching for, but that's not an issue for Sohvi.
When Oliver went to wash Izuku's juice-stained trunks, Sohvi approached him with her report: "They are young, ambitious, and naive. But they have good intentions and harbor no ill will towards you or anyone you know. Aside from the girl's childish crush on you, there is no cause for concern."
Despite this reassurance, Oliver hesitated. His past experiences with how people his age treated him after learning about his quirk gave him pause.
In America, Oliver grew up under the care of his mom and aunt—America's number one hero, Star and Stripe. That meant once Oliver awakened his quirk at four and his family discovered its potential, he was immediately brought to the USHESA to hone it to perfection. This rigorous training was necessary because if Oliver used his quirk incorrectly, it could be deadly.
He knew that firsthand.
The USHESA staff started with his body—the foundation of it all. They said he had to have a solid base to build upon, one that would not break or falter, one that would rise past the clouds and into the heavens, one that would give him the ability to hold the weight of being the next number one.
Oliver's training was brutal. Not because the USHESA pushed him, not because his routine bordered on torture and child abuse, but because Oliver forced himself to exhaustion and beyond every waking moment of every day.
He asked for it.
He begged for it.
He yearned for it.
Partially, he wanted to please his father. Partially, he relished the pain and the way his wandering thoughts and feeling of inadequacy faded away when he was vomiting up his guts and on the edge of passing out. And partially, he was acutely aware of the invisible expectation others had placed on him. But mostly, Oliver pushed himself because he wanted to be the best (a trait his father molded into him).
Not just the best hero in America, surpassing his aunt.
Not even the best hero in Japan, surpassing his idol, All Might.
Oliver pushed himself past his limits day in and day out because he wanted to be the best hero the world has ever seen. He wanted it to be undeniable that no one was better than him—no one would ever be better than him. Ever.
His obsession with being the best made him sick more than a few times. His mom and aunt weren't so happy about that, which earned him a couple of trips to therapists, psychologists, counselors, life coaches, and even a couple of wellness retreats.
The USHESA, however, loved his "enthusiastic desire for development."
They ate it all the way up.
To be fair, they knew what they were doing. The staff monitored his vitals and stopped him before he pushed himself too hard—usually before he passed out.
Oliver's routine was extraordinarily regimented and detailed.
Its purpose: to build an unshakable foundation for Oliver, America's next number one.
Training began at 5 o'clock and lasted five hours. He started with stretching, contorting his body into impossible positions for an hour to increase his range of motion and flexibility. Then came two hours of conditioning, followed by strength training, and finally, quirk training and analysis.
Any sane person would think such intensive training at four years old would stunt his development and affect his mind, but that couldn't be further from the truth. The USHESA had the best and most attentive staff with quirks ready to rejuvenate his body and mind at a moment's notice.
Of course, Oliver wasn't the only kid trained to be America's next top hero. The trainers shuttled countless children from memory enhancement classes to language immersion programs, combat drills to quirk analysis training. Oliver interacted with most of them, and all had unique quirks with the potential, mindset, and training to propel them to the top ranks right after their debut.
But Oliver discovered early on that when kids found out he would work out until he was dry-heaving and then push himself even more, or how the staff gave him more attention than everyone else, or especially what his quirk could do, some became fanatical, praising him as if he were the next messiah. But most became distant, cold. Critical.
That hurt him, as it would any kid his age.
That's why he was hesitant to talk about his quirk with Ochaco and Izuku—not because he was afraid info about his quirk would leak. That was bound to happen now that he had, without a shadow of a doubt, passed the entrance exam and was about to attend U.A. He was hesitant because he didn't want them to become distant, jealous, or put him on some pedestal and treat him like their better. He wanted real friends who treated him as their equal, not some deity. Guess now's the best time to find out how they would react, right? Just bite down and pull the bandaid off.
"Let's go to the basement," Oliver said as he stood up, put on his white tank, and wrapped the towel around his neck. "It'll be easier if I show you down there."
"Okay, that sounds perfect! She turned to Izuku, noticing his flushed face. "Izuku?"
Izuku yelped. "H-huh?"
"Are you okay? Your face is pretty red."
"O-oh, um, yes—yes! I'm sorry…"
"You don't need to apologize. I was just checking. If you're not feeling well, let us know, okay? You've been through a lot today and might be experiencing late shock from what happened on the train."
"…Okay… I—I will. But I'm okay… promise."
Ochaco winked at him. "I'll take your word for it."
Oliver thought he saw steam coming out of Izuku's ears but dismissed it.
After covering up, Izuku and Ochaco followed Oliver out of the natatorium and down the hallway. After a while, Oliver stopped at a wooden door, turned the golden handle, and opened it.
Ochaco gasped. "Woah! A hidden elevator."
Oliver chuckled. "Not hidden, just a decorative decision. Nigel thought a visible elevator would be tacky."
"Nigel?" Izuku asked as they stepped inside. The sleek elevator was spacious enough for about ten people.
"He's my godfather. You'll meet him at dinner tonight." As the doors closed, a panel slid open to reveal a fingerprint scanner and six round buttons.
"This is like… we're in a spy movie!" Ochaco marveled.
Oliver placed his thumb on the scanner, which blinked blue twice before turning green. He pressed button B1, and the elevator began its descent. Elevator music played as they stood silently.
"Apologies in advance for the sparseness. I haven't had much time to organize everything," Oliver said.
"Oh, I'm sure it will be—" Ochaco started, but the elevator stopped, and the doors slid open. "—Fine…"
Oliver stepped out first. "So, this is the basement. We can start with the gym or the lab, whichever you prefer. Since you want to see my quirk, we should probably start with the gym."
When he didn't get a response, Oliver turned around. Ochaco and Izuku stood frozen, jaws practically on the floor.
"Guys… is everything okay?" Oliver asked, tilting his head in concern.
"… This… this… this…" Izuku stammered, unable to find the words.
Ochaco, however, found her voice. "This is what you call a basement?" she nearly shouted, her head swiveling as she took in the expansive space.
"I'm sorry, I'm not following," Oliver replied, genuinely puzzled.
Ochaco took several steps forward, her hands rising to gesture at the massive room. She scanned the high ceilings, the state-of-the-art equipment, and the endless rows of training gear. "This is not a basement. This is like—like a… I don't even know how to describe it. This is huge, Ollie. How big is this space?" Her eyes darted from one corner to another
Oliver responded with a calm, almost casual tone. He was so accustomed to spaces like this that the scale didn't faze him. "It's about 230,000 square feet… give or take."
The basement practically covered most of the estate. It was a last-minute addition Oliver had Nigel implement—nothing a little money and quirks couldn't handle.
The basement had two levels, and upon exiting the elevator, one was greeted by a balcony in the middle of the room, offering a view of the first level below. Flanking the balcony on either side were two marble staircases leading to the lower level.
The ceiling soared to thirty feet, with metal beams ensconced in cement serving as sturdy anchor points. Unlike the polished interior of the mansion, the basement had an industrial atmosphere. Metal beams and exposed piping contributed to its rugged quality.
Hanging LED lights cast a gentle glow, highlighting the texture of the walls and beams while casting shadows that accentuated the room's industrial design. The overall atmosphere remained dark—not eerie or cold, but somewhat enigmatic.
The air was cool and carried a faint scent of concrete and metal.
"Let's head down. I'll show you around," Oliver said as he led the way down the marble staircase, which was wide enough for six people to walk side by side. His footsteps echoed softly.
Ochaco and Izuku followed him, their own footsteps joining the chorus of soft echoes. As they made it to the first floor, Ochaco's eyes widened as she took in the vehicles parked in the center of the room.
"Whose are these?" she asked, her voice filled with awe
Oliver grinned. "Mine."
Directly below the balcony lay four cars and two motorcycles. The cars were stay-in-America-please presents from the President.
The motorcycles were from his aunt.
Izuku approached one of the cars. "Is this—is this a… Countach?"
Oliver joined him, glancing at the white 1989 Lamborghini Countach. "It is. It's actually the exact car from an old film called 'The Wolf of Wall Street.' Are you into cars, too?"
Izuku nodded and moved from the Countach to the black 1967 Chevelle, his fingers hovering just above the car's lines, stopping before he touched it. "How did you even get your hands on these? These are practically ancient."
"Someone with a bit of pull gifted them to me for my fifteenth birthday."
"A bit of pull, huh, " Izuku murmured, now standing between the yellow 2003 Ferrari Enzo and carbon fiber Pagani Huayra R EVO. "That's putting it mildly."
"What are these?" Ochaco asked, pointing at the two motorcycles.
"The black one is a Creighton CR700, and the silver one is a Dodge Tomahawk."
"Do they go fast?"
"Fast?" Izuku echoed. "The Creighton can hit 300 km/h, and the Tomahawk can go over 600 km/h! These things are like rockets on wheels!"
Ochaco blinked. "Oh…"
Oliver put his hand on Izuku's shoulder. "I can take you for a ride later?"
"You—you can?"
Oliver shrugged. "Sure, why not?"
Izuku hesitated, glancing at Ochaco. "But… you're not even old enough to drive yet."
"You don't have to worry about that."
Izuku raised an eyebrow. "…why not?"
Oliver chuckled. "Let's just say I've got some special permissions. You don't have to worry about it."
Izuku gave him a curious look, but decided not to press further. "Okay…"
Ochaco still seemed skeptical. "Special permissions?"
Oliver smiled reassuringly. "Yeah, it's all legit. Trust me."
Ochaco nodded slowly, still processing. "Alright, if you say so."
Oliver sensed their hesitation. "I know it's a lot to take in. But for now, let me show you something else." He gestured toward the left side of the basement.
Izuku and Ochaco shared a brief look but followed him, curiosity piqued.
To the left of the vehicles, at one end of the basement, was a state-of-the-art workout area that spanned a significant portion of the space.
It was a meathead's dream.
Rows of stationary bikes, treadmills, and rowing machines lined the floor. Sleek step mills and ellipticals stood beside power racks and smith machines, their polished metal surfaces reflecting the overhead lights.
One section featured a CryoSauna Cryotherapy Chamber, punching bags hung from reinforced beams, and Pilates reformers lined the walls. Rubberized flooring provided a cushioned surface underfoot, and the mirrored walls amplified the impressive size, making it feel even more spacious.
The space was expansive enough for a mid-sized hero agency to work out simultaneously, with room to spare.
"How about this? Maybe we each take turns showing off how our quirks work?" Oliver suggested, now standing in the middle of the workout space, away from the equipment, with enough free space around.
"Sounds good to me!" Ochaco replied enthusiastically.
Izuku's previous excitement seemed to evaporate. He tried to stop his hands from shaking by putting them in his pockets.
Izuku's swim trunks didn't have pockets.
"I… I don't think I can… show mine off," Izuku muttered, almost in a whisper.
"Huh? Why? Are you okay? Feeling sick?" Ochaco asked rapidly. She walked up to Izuku, placed her hand on his forehead, and said, "You're burning up, Izuku! And your face is getting red again!"
Izuku looked like he was about to pass out.
Oliver's eyes moved from Izuku to Ochaco, and he smirked in understanding. To give Izuku some relief, he interrupted, "Is it because something like what happened at the exam might happen again?"
Izuku sidestepped Ochaco's hand and took a deep breath. "Uh… yeah." He lowered his head, struggling to find the right words. "I—I… don't have… I can't…"
The words were at the tip of Izuku's tongue, but it was almost like he was embarrassed by what he wanted to say. Either that, or he was holding back something. Oliver's curiosity piqued, and he probed a bit more.
"You can't control it?" Oliver asked.
Izuku's eyes slowly met his, and after a moment, he slowly nodded.
Oliver cupped his chin in thought.
Strange; usually, kids learn some control over their quirks as they age. It was almost as if Izuku had never used his quirk until recently, or it was too volatile.
Oliver pushed one last time. "When did you awaken your quirk?"
Izuku froze. His mouth opened and closed, but no words escaped.
A beat.
And another.
Ochaco finally broke the silence with a light squeeze on Izuku's shoulder, bringing him out of his paralysis.
"It's okay, Izuku. You don't have to explain if you don't want to."
Visible relief filled Izuku's face as he nodded in gratitude.
He was obviously withholding information. Kids usually awakened their quirk before they turn four. There were rare late bloomer cases, but if that was the case for Izuku, why was he so hesitant to talk about it?
Ochaco smiled reassuringly at Izuku and then turned to Oliver, pointing at the dumbbell rack that had weights from five pounds to five hundred pounds. "Do you mind if I use one of those? It'll help me explain my quirk."
Oliver gestured to the weight rack. "Be my guest."
Ochaco walked to the rack and made a move like she was about to pick up a 100-pound dumbbell. Oliver watched with interest, having seen a glimpse of her quirk during the exam.
Ochaco touched the 100-pound dumbbell, letting all five of her fingers delicately touch the cast iron, and then… it began floating, completely defying gravity.
She turned around with a hint of excitement in her voice. "My quirk is called Zero Gravity. I can make anything I touch float by removing its gravitational pull. It's handy for moving heavy objects or helping people in tough spots."
She wrapped her fingers around the weight to hold it in place. "See? The only downside is if I use it too much, or on myself, or on really heavy things, I get pretty nauseous. But I'm working on building up my tolerance."
"That's amazing, Ochaco!" Izuku said, his admiration clear. "I saw a little of what you could do at the exam, but hearing you explain it makes it even cooler."
Ochaco beamed. "Thanks! It might not have as many uses as some top heroes, but I think it fits me and my style well."
"I disagree," Oliver interjected.
Both Izuku and Ochaco looked at him curiously.
"I think your quirk has loads of potential," Oliver said, taking a couple of steps toward them.
"Hmm… what do you mean?" Ochaco asked, intrigued..
"Well, for one, objects that lose their gravitational pull maintain their mass. You can make large or heavy things like this weight—may I?" Oliver motioned for the weight, and Ochaco handed it over. "Weightless, and then shoot them at high speed."
"They'd become powerful projectiles!" Izuku exclaimed.
"Exactly. And not only that, you can use it defensively by creating barriers or blockades with large floating objects. On a micro level, you could incorporate it into your fighting style. It looks like you need to touch something with all five fingers for your quirk to work, right?"
Ochaco nodded. "That's right."
"I thought so. You could focus on a fighting style that emphasizes redirection, adaptability, and hand or fingertip strikes. Something like Bagua Zhang, Wing Chun, or Aikido. That would be a pretty good combo. Every touch would have the potential to make your opponent weightless, disrupting their flow, and if they float up high then you can add gravity back and it's game over at that point. Plus, you can make yourself weightless, which can disrupt their rhythm and catch them off guard."
"I'm—i'm not following. And I get nauseous when I use my quirk on myself, remember?" Ochaco said, puzzled.
"Yeah, I remember, but I can make it so you never get nauseous again. That's not a big deal," Oliver said, clapping his hands together. "You know what? That's a great idea. Let's make it so you never get nauseous again!"
"… And how will you do that?" Ochaco asked skeptically.
"I'll give you a tattoo, of course!" Oliver said with a grin.
"What?" Izuku and Ochaco shouted in unison.
"Just kidding," Oliver laughed, a marker appearing from his right palm. "I'm just going to write on your body if I have your consent?"
Ochaco blushed and stuttered, "Uh… I—I mean… I-if you—if you want…"
"Cool. My quirk is called Inscription. It'll be easier to show you rather than explain it. Can I have your hand? Thank you. Now, no peeking. Turn your head, please."
Oliver took her hand and wrote on the back of it. "Okay, now, please try using your quirk on yourself."
Ochaco looked at Oliver with a hint of skepticism, but after a moment, she took a deep breath, touched her fingertips together, and slowly began to float. She closed her mouth in anticipation of the nausea, but…
"Waaah! Wait! Why am I not nauseous?" she yelled.
"Look at your hand," Oliver grinned.
She turned her hand over and read aloud, "[NAUSEA IMMUNITY] You—you made me immune to nausea!"
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