The initial awkwardness of Souta's 20% Full Cowling output began to iron itself out with each passing second of the intense spar. The dull ache in his limbs became a familiar thrum. The unfamiliar surge of speed and power started to sync more cohesively with his intentions.
Mirko, a relentless force of nature, gave him no quarter. Her attacks came like a hailstorm – fast, furious, and from every conceivable angle.
She'd clip him with a kick to the thigh, sending a jarring shock up his leg. An instant later, she'd be airborne, aiming another for his head.
Souta, now moving with a semblance of his usual fluidity despite the higher OFA output, would duck. The wind from her strike ruffled his hair. He'd attempt a counter, his mist-wreathed, orange-sparking fist lashing out.
But Mirko, with a predatory grin, often wasn't there anymore. She was already repositioning for her next assault.
The blue mist clinging to Souta pulsed with his movements. Each time he blocked or landed a glancing blow, an erratic patch of frost would bloom on Mirko. One such block against a lightning-fast jab left a significant layer of jagged ice encasing her right gauntlet and forearm.
"Tch! This stuff is damn cold!" Mirko grunted. She shook her arm vigorously to crack the ice off. The momentary distraction was all Souta needed.
He pressed forward, unleashing a flurry of OFA-enhanced strikes. His control over the contact-freezing was still inconsistent. One punch might leave only a faint shimmer of frost. The next, a chunk of ice that made Mirko hiss in annoyance as it numbed the impact point.
He wasn't just relying on the new ice technique, though. Thin, sharp sheets of his conventional blue ice would suddenly erupt from the ground to trip her or block her path. This forced her to adjust her acrobatic leaps.
Small, controlled bursts of his azure flames would try to corral her movements, though she evaded these with disdainful ease.
"You're learning fast, kid!" Mirko shouted. She backflipped over an ice slick Souta created, then launched off a nearby boulder with a powerful leg thrust. "But speed and tricks ain't everything!"
She came at him like a cannonball. This time, Souta didn't just try to meet her with a single strike. He dropped his Full Cowling percentage slightly in his legs for finer control, then surged it through his core and arms.
He met her incoming kick not with a block, but by redirecting her momentum. Simultaneously, he attempted to land a palm strike – wreathed in blue mist and orange sparks – to her side.
The redirection worked partially, throwing her trajectory off, but her raw strength was immense. She still managed to twist, her other leg scything towards him.
Souta brought up an arm. A thick layer of blue ice instantly formed over his P.E. uniform sleeve as a makeshift gauntlet.
CRACK!
The impact was jarring. Mirko's kick shattered the ice gauntlet, but it absorbed enough of the force for Souta to remain grounded.
He used the close proximity, dropping his OFA output in his striking hand to about 10% for maximum control over the ice mist. He landed a solid, open-palm hit on her thigh.
This time, the effect was more pronounced. A significant patch of dense, white ice instantly encased a good portion of her powerful leg muscle. It wasn't just superficial frost; this was deep, numbing cold.
"Gah!" Mirko yelped, a genuine note of pained surprise in her voice. She leaped back, landing awkwardly, favoring the chilled leg. The ice was constricting, and the cold bit fiercely.
Souta pressed his advantage, orange sparks flaring as he lunged.
Mirko, however, was far from done. With a furious roar, she stomped her good leg. The sheer power of her muscles, combined with a burst of her own energy, shattered the ice encasing her other thigh. Shards flew outwards.
"Not bad, Axiom Peak!" she snarled, her eyes blazing with even more intensity. "You actually made that sting! Now let me show you how a REAL Pro fights!"
She came at him again, faster this time, seemingly unbothered by the lingering cold or her previous misstep. Her attacks were more ferocious, more focused. She aimed to overwhelm him before he could land another debilitating freezing hit.
Souta found himself pushed back. His developing fluidity with 20% Full Cowling was tested to its absolute limits. He was blocking, dodging, countering, the orange and blue energies around him a constant, shimmering dance against Mirko's pure white-and-brown blur.
He managed to score a few more freezing touches. Each one earned a growl or a sharp curse from Mirko. But she fought through the numbing cold with sheer willpower and explosive strength, adapting her own movements to account for the temporary stiffness.
She landed a spinning heel kick to his chest that sent him flying backwards. He skidded across the packed earth, the air knocked from his lungs.
Souta coughed, pushing himself up. Every muscle protested the sustained output and the impacts.
Mirko stood a short distance away, breathing heavily. A wide, exhilarated, almost bloodthirsty grin was on her face. Several patches of frost still adorned her limbs, but she seemed to be actively radiating heat, melting them slowly.
"Okay, kid," she panted, wiping a trickle of sweat from her brow. "Not bad. Not bad at all."
She continued, "You're quick on the uptake, and that ice-touch thing is a nasty surprise." She bounced lightly on her feet. "I've seen enough for a baseline."
Souta straightened, still catching his breath. He was battered. His PE. uniform was torn in several places from near-misses with her claws and the general rough-and-tumble. The sustained Full Cowling had left his muscles screaming. Well, at least that was what his mind told him to feel. The regeneration basically healed his muscles as they were damaged, leaving only a part of the pain.
But he also felt a thrill. He had held his own, his speed was superior to hers, but her experience and technique held firm.
Mirko pointed a thumb towards the house. "Hit the showers. Then we talk strategy for the week."
Her grin returned, full force. "You've got potential, Axiom Peak. Lots of it. Now we gotta see if we can beat it into shape. This is gonna be a fun week."
---
Souta peeled off his torn and sticky PE. uniform, the cool water of the shower a welcome relief against his aching muscles and scraped skin. Mirko, he assumed, was doing the same in a separate bathroom. He quickly washed up, the lingering scent of iced coffee, now, finally completely gone, and changed into a fresh set of clean, comfortable clothes he'd packed.
When he came downstairs, Mirko was already in the open-plan living room and kitchen area, toweling her damp white hair vigorously. She was dressed in a simple tank top and athletic shorts, looking much more relaxed than when she was in her full rabid fighting mode, though the formidable aura of power still clung to her.
She tossed the towel aside. "Alright, intern. First things first. You know how to cook?"
Souta shook his head. "Not really, no. My older brother Toya was a professional chef, so he's incredible. My sister Fuyumi got the second highest of the culinary talent in our family then. But it seemingly went hard downhill from there. With every subsequent sibling, the talent for cooking noticeably lowered. My brother Natsuo… well he can keep himself fed. I, as one of the fourth 'generation'," he gestured to himself, "have basically zero aptitude for it. I learned the very, very basics for survival, but nothing more."
Mirko nodded thoughtfully, as if processing vital information. She then plopped down on a stool by the kitchen island, grabbed her phone, and her fingers danced across the screen with surprising speed. She looked up at him, her expression dead serious.
"Ultimate question, then, Axiom Peak: Pizza or burgers?"
Souta blinked, looking at her strangely for a moment. That was not the follow-up he'd expected. "Uh... burgers, I guess?"
"Good choice." She tapped a few more times, then held the phone to her ear. "Yeah, Rabbit Hutch delivery... Usual for me... and for the kid..." She looked at Souta expectantly.
"Two double cheeseburgers, please. No onions," Souta supplied.
"...Yeah, two double cheeseburgers, no onions. Make it fast." She hung up. "Done. Should be here soon."
With sustenance secured, the topic shifted again. Mirko leaned back, crossing her powerful arms. "So, this internship. You picked me, which means you probably know how I operate, right? I don't do sidekick coddling or office paperwork."
Souta nodded. "Your agency is essentially just you. You patrol wherever you sense trouble, often across wide areas of Japan, choosing your focus based on instinct or immediate need rather than sticking to one city."
"Damn right," Mirko affirmed with a sharp grin. "No point sitting around waiting for trouble to knock when you can hunt it down. So, our week is gonna be pretty straightforward. Mornings, early, we train. Spars like today, Quirk drills, agility work – basically, I'm gonna run you ragged. Then, we hit the streets. Patrol. We'll cover a lot of ground, so expect to eat on the go." She jerked a thumb towards the door. "Evenings, we come back here, freshen up, debrief. Rinse and repeat."
She paused, her expression turning a bit more serious. "Now, Quirk usage. Officially, as an intern, you're under strict limitations. You're not supposed to engage villains directly with your Quirk unless your supervising hero gives explicit permission and it's a life-or-death situation." Her grin returned, a little more feral this time. "But let's be real. If shit hits the fan and people are in danger, you use whatever damn power you need to save them. If there's blowback from the Commission, I'll handle those paper-pushing clowns. Got it?"
"Understood," Souta said, appreciating her pragmatic, if slightly reckless, approach. It was a refreshing change.
They went over a few more details – communication protocols, basic first aid refreshers Mirko insisted on – and soon enough, the doorbell rang. Mirko launched herself towards it with rabbit-like speed, returning moments later with two large, greasy paper bags emanating a glorious smell.
They ate first, a comfortable silence settling between them as they demolished their burgers. As Souta was finishing up, his phone buzzed in his pocket with a notification. He pulled it out, curious.
It was a message from Shoto.
Souta, the text read. 'You were right. Father was indeed waiting at the designated train station. Apparently, he stood there in what his driver described as 'confused stupor' when my expected train arrived, and I was not on it. He only returned to the agency when one of his sidekicks finally notified him about me, having arrived significantly earlier.'
A small, almost invisible smile touched Souta's lips. Mission accomplished.
'Thanks again for the... alternative transport, the message concluded. His subsequent mood has made for an 'intense' start to the internship.'
Souta pocketed his phone, a sliver of amusement breaking through his usual composure.
This internship should truly be interesting.