Sins Of The Father - MHA

Tokyo Patrol

"WOAH!" The group collectively yelled all trying to grab onto Midoriya's sludge arm with their fingers threading through it.

A black haired boy with a bowl cut weaved his way through the group until he was in front of Midoriya. He then lifted his shaking arms and produced a notebook.

"C-Could I please have your a-autograph? You were s-so awesome in the Sports Festival!" The child said, proving Bakugo at least somewhat right. There was a fan from the festival.

"Of course you can!" Midoriya smiled warmly at the boy and took his notebook, opening it up and signing the front page before handing it back.

"T-Thank you so much!" The boy squealed as he looked up at him in awe, before taking his notebook back and clutching it to his chest.

After that the kids quickly dispersed running back over to a nearby playground. As they vanished from sight, Deku took a sigh of relief. Truth be told, it was hard for him to hide his anxiousness while speaking to the boys, and it took a lot of effort to not stumble over his words. Despite not embarrassing himself as well as making the kids happy, he replayed the situation in head, and felt he could've done better...

"That wasn't very heroic now was it Bakugo?" Best Jeanist's voice called out, making both of the boys stiffen, despite only one of them being ridiculed. They hadn't even had time to consider that he was watching them before he made it clear he absolutely was. Bakugo opened his mouth to respond, but was quickly cut off.

"Don't even try to defend that action. If something like this happens again you're staying at the agency next patrol and practicing talking like a PRO until Avarice and I return. And speaking of Avarice..." Jeanist turned his head to Deku, who could've been mistaken for a mannequin at the moment, before addressing him.

"I'm glad to see you actually heard what I said. You did good." He said, his tone noticeably lighter than when he spoke to Bakugo. Despite the praise, he could see that the boy had doubts. While it was clear that he was trying, confidence wasn't something that could be haphazardly sewn into someone overnight. Instead it needed to be slowly and carefully woven into them, with intent and restraint, so as to not muddy their pattern and make them foolhardy. He wouldn't be able to complete Avarice's inner tapestry within their time frame, but it was his hope that the teachings bestowed upon him would allow the trainee to do so himself. And if he could continue to improve like this, then Jeanist felt that had little to fret about.

He turned his head back to Bakugo and the light tone was gone.

"And since you've clearly forgotten, allow me to remind you. The purpose of our patrol is not only to deter criminals, but also to remind people who we are. Our presence gives the public peace of mind, and helps to weave a tapestry of trust between the protectors and the protected." He reiterated to the boy, and as if on cue, a small group of school girls passing by noticed Jeanist.

"AHH~ BEST JEANIST! THANK YOU FOR KEEPING US ALL SAFE!" They all screamed a variation of this together. Jeanist nodded to them while waving, and they only cheered for him more. While Deku was busy marveling at how he could take such attention so nonchalantly, Bakugo watched on with a deadpan expression.

"It seems like you just want to hear your own name."

"And it seems like you want extra training after patrol."

As Bakugo paled at the realization that Best Jeanist had heard him, said man and Deku had begun to resume their patrol. The gobsmacked boy didn't even notice when he too started walking in autopilot, too occupied with the thought that he'd be talking to the sidekicks for hours when they returned to the agency.

His terrifying thoughts (they were terrifying to HIM at least) would end up coming true. Jeanist had been more than serious with his threat, and while Bakugo was usually fine with training, he didn't consider talking to second-rate losers that couldn't be heroes on their own and acting like they deserve HIS respect to be training. The only word that could accurately describe it was: Agony.