4 Dragon Fist
The door swerved, floor boards creaked as a man donning a slick black suit walked in, a storm raging outside, thunder crackled, fierce rains flooding the streets.
"You've got peculiar tastes, I wouldn't exactly call the food here appetizing." He smiled, brushing off the water, bowing with his hat.
His voice rattled the chef, who wasn't expecting another visitor. But before he could say a word, the hooded man sitting at the counter interrupted.
"Apologies, he's with me." The ice clinked as a glass hit the counter, he glanced behind him and slid out an extra chair to the side.
Seeing as the two knew each other, the chef continued his grilling, a plethora of meat innards piled on the flat-plate.
"Thanks." The man sat down, a small briefcase to his side that he stacked on the counter.
"Three minutes, not a second more, Johnson." The hooded figure retorted, nudging the briefcase away.
"Cold as always, your personality could use some work." Johnson chortled, grabbing a glass, he poured himself some water.
"I didn't care then, and I don't care now." The man scoffed, downing his drink.
Johnson flashed a melancholic smirk, a click resounded as he swiftly opened the case. Inside, was a single page report outlining the job criteria, filled with details. With a flick of his finger, Johnson slid it over to the other side.
"Read it over, the money is good too."
The man glanced over the page, a hint of ridicule built up in his gaze.
He sneered, sliding the page back, "Martial Arts teacher? I don't run dojo's for children. No matter how rich their parents are."
"Did you read the entire thing" Johnson sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"Not interested in being a glorified babysitter" He brushed Johnson off.
Johnson tapped the paper, "You seriously think I am offering you this for money?"
"You have two minutes left." He quipped.
Johnson frowned, pressing his lips, he flipped the page over, "A quirk resulting in a dangerously mutated physique."
The words caught the man's attention, his ears perked up.
"When I looked it over, it reminded an awful lot of someone I knew. So I acted fast, grabbed the job order and rushed here."
Before he could speak another word, the hooded man chimed in.
"My condolences to the family, but we have no control over what quirks we're born with. He isn't the first, nor will he be the last. Thanks for looking out for me, but I am not interested." His somber voice echoed.
Johnson's eyes narrowed, he saw the man drowning himself in food and drink. Burdened by shattered dreams and unrequited hopes.
Life was cruel. Perhaps, the man sitting beside him knew that best. But it was precisely why he wasn't willing to let him give up.
"Veteran Hero loses arm, fails rescue"
The room fell into silence, Johnson's words struck like a hammer to hot iron. A shudder ran down the man's spine, the glass in his hand quivered slightly.
"Does that headline still haunt you?" Johnson gazed into the man's eyes, unwavering.
His cloak fluttered, the rain felt deafening, lightning dancing in the clouds as he felt an old scar flare up in his left shoulder.
The man grabbed it, clenching hard as he looked down. His vision turned hazy, a stump remained where his left arm used to be.
"Leave" he groaned.
Johnson felt his face flush red, he punched the table, "It's been six years. Did one failure turn you into a coward?"
The man clenched his teeth, his eyes narrowed, a harrowing failure flashing in his mind. "Your time, is up." A dense aura surrounded his right arm, threatening to erupt.
Feeling the air grow heavy, Johnson stuttered, he downed his glass of water, smacking it down on the table.
Exhaling a heavy sigh, Johnson stood up to leave, but he left the paper on the counter. He stepped towards the door, his hands reaching for the handle.
There was a moment of hesitation as he looked back at his old partner. Johnson couldn't help himself.
"The real reason I wanted you to do it." Johnson's words echoed, a dull silence overshadowed the room. The man didn't react, but his ears still focused on his next words.
"When the request came in, I asked some connections and pulled his records. The kid is a special case. Someone, who by all means, shouldn't even be alive."
The man's eyes peered down, slightly misty, perhaps recalling a fond memory.
"His quirk is dangerous. To the point that he lives a dull life. A life so deprived, that it boggles the mind. One mistake, and he'll end up dead. But the kid's a fighter, heck, everyone in the hospital knows it."
"Martials arts is a way for him to learn quirk control early. For him to have a higher chance of living in this world. I thought, you'd be the best choice. Someone who had been through it all."
The man's lips pressed together, he sipped on his drink.
"It was a bit of that, but I really wanted it for you too. For you to see that there's someone out there like you, someone who hasn't given up. Who needs your help."
Johnson stumbled at the door, words stuck in his throat, "And perhaps, by helping him, you'll find some closure." He spoke, a mere whisper.
The words tugged on his heart strings, taking in a soft breath, he put his glass down and closed his eyes for a brief moment.
"Fine, I'll do it."
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[ A few days later]
Felix sprinted around the track, continuing for several laps. Unlike other days, a faint smile lingered on his lips.
"Are you finished? We've got an appointment." His father walked in, pointing to the watch.
"Um" Felix swiftly nodded, swiftly dashing to the other room as he changed into a typical tracksuit. Fashion wasn't really his strongest suit, but he was beyond obsessed with the tracksuits.
Since his entire day was mostly physical, Felix didn't want to change clothes after every session, convenience was appealing to say the least.
He rushed beside Lucas as the two got in a car heading towards the hospital. Nowadays, this trip was a common weekly ritual. But today was different.
They reached the entrance of the hospital as Lucas and Felix walked to Dr.Lindsworth's office. A plethora of nurses waved at Felix, as they went by.
It wasn't long before the two sat before Dr.Lindsworth. The man as always, snapped his fingers as a list appeared in his hand.
"Welcome, please sit."
"I assume the responses are up to par?" Lucas immediately asked.
Dr.Lindsworth glanced through the names, "Of course, rather, it's beyond what I expected."
"A martial arts instructor wouldn't be hard to find. However, once we add the quirk into the mix, our pool of selection is narrowed considerably. Trustworthy and notable names are far and few between."
He passed the list to Lucas, Felix's keen eyes stealing a few glances at the paper.
"The names I've presented are all qualified instructors, with some extent of experiences with mutant quirks."
"What are you leading up to?" Lucas interrupted, catching onto the man's drift.
"Actually, there was one more response. One we didn't expect to receive. Some old connections of mine forwarded your application to a retired hero. Truthfully, that man is very qualified."
"His own experiences, although not as extreme as your son, are quite similar. The way he overcame them through training is a knowledge exclusive to him."
The word "hero" rang in Felix's ears, a strange curiosity plagued his mind.
Lucas felt intrigued, a retired hero had answered his request?
"May I know who it is?"
The doctor nodded, passing a separate page to Lucas, a profile of a hero jotted down on the paper.
"Lee Shin: The Dragon Fist" He read aloud.
"Yes, a decade ago he was a popular hero. Some even revered his abilities. There was news that due to an injury, he quietly retired around six to seven years ago."
In Lucas's eyes, the hero was an obvious pick, an extensive experience with quirks and training, along with his son's fascination of them he knew he would love it.
"We would like to go with Mr.Lee then."
Dr.Lindsworth smiled, "Great choice, I will forward him the response. As for the meeting, you can set it in your house."
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A/N: Hope you enjoyed.
