Internship Time! (Closed, Sigga)

After her interview ended, Sigga had gone back to the dorms to prepare for the following Wednesday. The most difficult and time-consuming matter at hand was getting a hold of a hero suit for herself. She didn’t think she’d end up needing one so soon. Her first priority was to collect and organize all the doodles she had penciled in the columns of her notes from various classes. A lot of those ideas weren’t all that fleshed out and were more fantasy than serious hero suit feature considerations, but they still made for a good starting point. Intent on taking Firebrand up on his offer for a rush job, Sigga converted all her horrid little drawings into something akin to a feature wish-list. The list was long, and far more ambitious than it had any business being. Before sending it off, the girl had decided to run it by a trusted source for feedback first. That source being her grandfather, Heihachiro Tendō.

The man had many years under his belt and was the girl’s primary guardian, source of life advice, and dad jokes, not necessarily in that order. Rather than provide the teenager with a comprehensive review of her wish-list, he simply ask his granddaughter if she wasn’t overthinking and overengineering her first hero outfit. After a bit of introspection Sigga had concluded the wizened fish had been quite correct. As awesome as having things like a jet-pack or sonar goggles would have been, the girl had been fooling herself if she thought for a minute that she’d be able to wear a tenth of the gear listed before passing out from exhaustion. There was also no chance in the space-time continuum for Firebrand to approve such a lavish request. That brought Sigga back to the drawing board.

It didn’t take much research of other Pro Hero costumes to notice one particular feature common among most of them. They were simple. Maybe not in their color palettes, but they weren’t all weighed down with integrated computer systems or plasma torches or any excessive gear. A lot of them seemed specifically tailored to their hosts Quirk and abilities. And therein lay the problem. How was she supposed to design an outfit for her Qurik? There was no chance she’d go with something that left her gills exposed. It was bad enough UA had gone ahead and tailored her academy swimsuit with such a feature...

Before long the diligent fish landed upon an idea. A simple wetsuit could get the job done and she didn’t have to waste any more time adding unneeded bells and whistles. Rather than go to Firebrand with her proposal like originally planned, Sigga decided to speak with one of her teachers and find out what manufacturer UA used for the class swimsuits. Putting aside the fact Sigga’s had holes for her gills, she found hers to be particularly comfortable. Her teacher was quick to help the student get in contact with the manufacturer, pick out a design, and call in a rush job. She selected something very similar to her academy swimsuit but of a higher material quality, with a bit of a collar, and completely in black. Because black was really cool, of course! Everybody knew that.

On Wednesday morning, the day of internship, her order had arrived. Sigga promptly tried on her new costume. The fit was perfect, hugging her contours like some alien second-skin. It barely felt like she was wearing anything at all. In fact it was almost too form-fitting. You could practically count her ribs, so close did the suit envelope her.

Sigga had always been self-conscious about her figure and her new hero outfit didn’t exactly help. She was more sinew and bone than muscle and whatever muscle there was had done little to contribute to her mediocre performance in physical education classes. Any embarrassment her mind would have begun dreading in anticipation, however, suddenly flew out the window upon Sigga’s horrifying realization that her new outfit had one colossal flaw. It. Had. No. Pockets!!!

There was little doubt that most of those residing in the same dorm as Sigga had heard a ghastly, anguished groan echo throughout the building at this time. How could she be so damn stupid?? Pockets! How could you forget about pockets?!! It was far too late to make any revisions now. Her scheduled meet-up was only hours away.

After a quick, futile search of her personal wardrobe for some sort of bag or article of clothing that might work with her new outfit, Sigga rushed to the nearest thrift store and bought the only thing that was within her meager budget. The cargo shorts may have been orange, subverting the impression she had intended for the black outfit, but at least now the hero pretender had a place to put her wallet. And some snacks.

---

Sigga was punctual, arriving at Flame On’s main office building with less than sixty seconds to spare. Garbed in her new hero outfit, a black wetsuit, coupled together with orange cargo pants and a pair of sneakers that tied the ensemble together, the girl didn’t seem to be as nervous as she had been during the interview. The only part of her minimalistic gear that stood out was the familiar, pink water bottle hanging from her wrist.

She was quick to survey the unfamiliar people, offering a polite smile and nod in greeting to any that met her eyes. It wasn’t long before the girl noticed not one, but two familiar faces. Firebrand she had expected given that he was the one offering the internship at this agency. The blond boy, on the other hand, was the last person she’d thought she’d encounter.

Jun Tomoshibi. Sigga remembered him vividly. After their previous encounter she had looked him up, still doubting the rumors circling the first-year. It had been quite surprising for the fish to learn he really did participate in the Sports Festival. What’s more, apparently he won! The only thing that took her aback more was now finding this very champion had signed up for internship at the same agency she had. You could almost make out the cogs slowly churning in the bald girl’s head. Just what exactly did this internship have in store for a medalist and the nobody that was now accompanying him?

A silent drop of sweat ran down the side of her head.

She didn’t get a chance to say a nervous hello before Firebrand dove straight into it. His spiel presented two options to the novice duo. They could start with the basics or participate in an investigation. There really wasn’t much to think about here. The obvious choice was to look into this gang war. That actually sounded interesting, unlike… training. It probably wasn’t dangerous or anything. Surely there wasn’t any chance they’d get thrown into something where they'd get hurt on their first day.

Despite already having decided on which of the two options she preferred, Sigga stayed silent, giving her counterpart a chance to voice his choice first. As much as she resented crediting him as being the more experienced of the two, she couldn’t refute that he was the one that won the Sports Festival and she only watched it on her phone after-the-fact.

The bald girl turned her head towards Jun expecting him to speak up, only to find the boy tight-lipped and scowling. At her. This took the girl aback, startled by the expression and expectation that she was to decide what they would start with. Before the silence got any more pregnant, Sigga stammered with a, “Uh... b-basics first?”

It felt like she had just been given a pop quiz on a topic she neither studied for nor knew existed. What’s more, discomfort of being forced to make a choice on behalf of the group led her to bottle-up her preference and go with the safe-sounding option. Her eyes darted from Firebrand back to Jun, trying to figure out if he was actually scowling at her or simply in deep contemplation about something. This was not going to be an easy day.

Sigga’s expression sagged a little, though seemed otherwise minimally perturbed by Jun’s pout. Matter of fact her own inner monologue was also booing the girl’s selection, even throwing tomatoes at the mental process that contributed to her decision. The fish played things far too cautiously at times. Out of the trio only Firebrand seemed amused by her choice.

The teenager’s eyes narrowed at her fellow student, their coach outing the boy’s apparent decision to let her chose. Feeling a little conflicted, Sigga kept her mouth shut instead of voicing any sort of sharp retort. The two had made their beds. And so, her attention returned to Firebrand as the man inquired about their experience.

To her credit, or perhaps detriment, Sigga had never been in an actual fight. That wasn’t to say her experience in situations that suddenly escalated was nil. It was not. As far as combat was concerned, her background lay in avoiding it. As she entered her early teens, Sigga had oft found herself in the cross-hairs of someone who wished her harm. Not a surprise for a former budding thief and fraudster. Surviving the lifestyle her foster-siblings had embroiled her in meant quickly developing skills in risk-assessment and defusing potential conflict. While a significant portion of that involved the girl becoming an expert liar, she had also become rather apt at reading people. At least when she was focused. She might not know how to throw a punch, but she knew when one was about to be thrown at her. And that was without having to use her Quirk. Actual fighting experience though; proper combat? She had none of that.

Sigga’s hands clasped each other behind her back. It was a conscious effort to keep from crossing her arms when a subject she was not schooled in was being discussed. Her mind reviewed some of her previous martial-arts considerations. She wasn’t exactly built for a fight. Maybe she could deliver a solid headbutt, breaking someone’s nose without having to worry about her own on account of not having one, but that wasn’t exactly a style. More like something an opportunist would do in a very specific situation.

The bald girl shrugged at Firebrand’s question, eyes starting to roll as she thought hard for an answer. “Grappling maybe?” That would be a useful skill to have if she ever came up against a threat she couldn’t run from. An untrained hundred-pound teenager wasn’t likely to do much throwing punches or kicks, but getting within someone’s comfort zone before they could attack and putting them in a pin could be a style for her. Learning how to avoid getting grappled would be useful too, but it would be a long road for Sigga to learn something like that. The fish didn’t even know the basics of how to shrimp.

Clearly she just needed to shut up, but responding to questions from her new boss with silence wasn’t exactly going to put her in anyone’s good graces. Sigga looked askance at her classmate as Firebrand mentioned him being the one with the most experience with grappling. But of course, a wayward process inside the girl’s head exclaimed to itself sardonically. The girl didn’t have anything against Tomoshibi. Not anymore anyway. She had long since dismissed any perceived slights from their previous encounter, but unconscious bias was a difficult thing for one to overcome when one wasn’t actively aware of it.

She managed to keep herself from flinching at the mention of her Quirk, the details of which the teen had gone to lengths at keeping from her classmates. Her reasons for doing so would likely elicit eye-rolls from anyone that knew of her motives, but what was a girl to do? Just stop feeling so self-conscious knowing full well how society would treat her if they knew both her history and the full nature of her abilities? Rubbish! She wasn’t going to make it a whole thing though. Her teachers already knew her Quirk and it was only a matter of time before everyone else did as well.

Whatever feelings of misgiving Sigga did or did not have, her attention to Jun’s explanations was rapt and fastidious. The girl was here to learn and that was exactly what she intended to do regardless of who her teacher might be. To his credit, her classmate didn’t appear to have any reservations and launched straight into a lengthy spiel. Her amber peepers observed him while her mind slowly processed the blonde’s explanation.

It didn’t look like they were going to simply stick to theory, though. No sooner had Tomoshibi-san finished listing some basics – than Firebrand ushered the duo to a training room.

---

Sigga could feel her footwear leave impermanent footprints in the soft matting as they entered the room. Though her sneakers were pretty new, it still felt a little sacrosanct to walk across the training room floor in them. That discomfort wasn’t doing much to server her right now so the bald girl’s attention returned to their instructor. He gave a brief explanation before announcing he’d act as referee, and passed the proverbial baton back to Jun.

Wait. Referee? Hopefully the man only meant he’d be supervising and Sigga wasn’t about to be the unwitting participant in some sort of impromptu combat bout. The last thing the first-year desired was to start off her internship by being the target of some agency-encouraged hazing ritual. It was lousy enough that she was to be instructed outside the comfort of UA’s familiar environment.

Striving not to telegraph any of her wariness, the fish’s eyes locked with her classmates’s.

She made a point not to focus too heavily on the irrelevant information her mind couldn’t help but glean from the young man’s opening line. It sounded like his father had personally contributed to his training. No reason to feel jealous or anything. If she ended up fully committing to this whole UA-enrollment escapade it would be nice to find a mentor for herself, but that was not a priority at this time.

She raised a suspicious eyebrow at Jun’s coy interjection in his speech. He knew she had just been joking about that whole undressing thing, right? He certainly couldn’t know the particulars of her sense of humor so Sigga quickly brushed off his remark and stood across from her slightly-taller classmate.

“Ready.” replied the fish, eyes slightly narrowed, uncertain what exactly she was expected to be ready for.

One of Sigga’s head-fins twitched. Now a literal baton was being passed between the two men. The girl’s eyes followed the telescoping prop as it flew through the air before being elegantly snapped up by her training partner. She was beginning to get an idea of what Tomoshibi had in mind for the lesson and, sure enough, his spoken explanation solidified her hypothesis.

There was plenty of information provided, but not much in the way of concrete instruction on what she should do after grabbing his wrist. It looked like some improvisatory problem solving was in order which, in and of itself, was not a problem. On the contrary. Sigga was good at following instructions, but this kind of heuristic learning was something she intrinsically enjoyed. Anyone could connect numbered dots or paint by numbers, but given a partially completed canvas allowed for more creativity.

Firebrand too chimed in with his own two-cents, offering advice that Sigga whole-heartedly agreed with. De-escalation was a motto she could get behind, but that wasn’t always an option. Neither was running away. Not when you were trapped in an elevator or on a train with someone who intended you harm.

She gave a curt, attentive nod to the advice then turned back towards Jun.

The other teen gave the fish plenty of time to formulate her plan of action, moving as slow as molasses going uphill. In January. With crutches. Sigga made full use of the extended opportunity to brainstorm. Her feet moved very deliberately along the mat, only a little faster than the comically slow pace of her training partner. No need to rush in.

As she sidestepped the baton and raised a hand meaning to grab on to the student’s wrist, Sigga froze. The slow movement of the two made it easier to identify errors in her actions. The baton Jun was wielding came with a predictable trajectory. So predictable that the girl almost dismissed the nuances of the motion so she could perform the first step of grabbing the wrist’s arm that was, in turn, grabbing said baton. The error would have been simple to make. If the swing had been going in full speed and her hand attempted to grab the offending wrist too closely, the hilt of the weapon would undoubtedly have shattered her own wrist.

The girl frowned, wholly focused on the task at hand and no longer aware of what kind of reactions her overly-methodical approach might be garnering. She amended her movement, this time making sure to give the gripped baton plenty of space as her oversized teenage hand avoided the arc and safely wrapped around Tomoshibi’s arm. Sigga’s long fingers easily made their way around the boy’s wrist, locking firmly in place as she continued her slow movement. Fortunately the girl was too focused in her task to be bothered by the bit of skinship occurring.

The remainder of the performance was more instinctive than analytical. She had never performed this action before so the girl simply went with the flow, like her training partner had suggested. Sigga pivoted on her heel, her other leg moving in towards Jun’s. Instead of trying to trip him, her foot landed squarely on his own in a pin. It was the kind of underhanded move one might see in a street fight rather than in a training room. Sigga didn’t consider herself beneath such tactics. In tandem, the hand that wasn’t in the process of twisting Jun’s wrist grabbed his shoulder and her full weight tried to slowly push it and her colleague to the ground.

There was no slowing down gravity, though, and the two of them quickly found themselves sprawled on the matted floor. Success?

Sigga was quick to collect herself after the stumble. The girl really hoped that she’d never find herself in a situation where today’s training would be put to the test. Even having put theory to practice wouldn’t mean she’d be able to call on the knowledge in any given circumstance. Not to imply Jun and Firebrand were wasting their time with her. It just happened to be an uphill struggle. One that wouldn’t fully pay off until the girl acquired proper combat experience in the field, something that she dreaded the idea of going through. The novice was quick to acknowledge pointers given out by her two teachers. Tomoshibi-san seemed patient and thoughtful with his instructions, a quality the girl had not expected from the lackadaisical boy when they first met.

They continued coaching her for some time, gradually picking up the pace until the bald teen acquired a very general understanding of how to perform various takedowns, pins, and grapples. General, being the cardinal term here. Her movements were still a little stiff and her follow-through and technique needed work, but as far as the actual moment-to-moment movements were concerned Sigga had those carefully memorized.

The longer they trained the easier it was for the girl to dismiss any and all thoughts irrelevant to the task at hand. It’s difficult to dwell on self-conscious criticisms when one’s full physical and mental acuity was being fully engaged like this. However, it wasn’t long before Sigga began to reach the limit of her admittedly meager stamina pool.

The girl leaned against her own knees, briefly raising a hand in request for respite. Deep, hissing, breaths wheezed in and out of her as she tried to catch her breath. She certainly hadn’t expected her first internships to go like this, that was for certain. This was as bad as some of her physical education classes, but that shouldn’t have come as too big a surprise. The fish was not known to be in great shape.

Sigga accepted the offered beverage, muttering her thanks in between large breaths. You’d think she had just finished a marathon the way the girl was heaving and puffing. At least it looked like they were wrapping up the bit of basic training she had foolishly volunteered them for.

The girl took a knee, before thinking better of it and simply collapsed onto her tuchus.

Firebrand was right, of course. To say her stamina had room for improvement was an understatement if ever there was one. Sigga never partook in any extracurricular activated like sports outside of school. And in her physical educations classes the bulk of her effort went into avoiding physical exertion. Nobody could cut corners in that class as well as the fish and still manage a passing grade.

CkcRKtshhht 

Having caught her breath the exhausted teen opened the aluminum can. She nodded an affirmative at Firebrand’s question, though definitely not as enthusiastically as her blond counterpart. She didn’t have to think twice about it though. Any option that would put an end to the training session would be a step up. Sigga put the beverage to her lips and drank. Hopefully this patrol business wouldn’t be as physically taxing on her.

Once they had finished their drinks the group was given some radios and a brief overview of what their patrol might consist of. It sounded more like busywork to the girl, but she wasn’t about to make any objections. The larger picture of what a hero was had completely eluded her and Sigga found herself more focused on the short-term, more immediate expectations her new boss had of her.

It was a nice change of pace to find that the bulk of their patrol simply involved going for a walk. Walking. That was something she could do without screwing up. It may have been the one physical activity that didn’t bother the girl. Back in America it had been her primary mode of transportation. There hadn’t really been any parental figures to drive her anywhere, and making use of public transportation while evading fare and transit police wasn’t always an option. Walking. Walking was fine.

Their patrol was decidedly unexciting. Just the way she liked it. Sigga mostly observed the others at first. It wasn’t long before she got the grasp of what they were meant to do. Good deeds. Basically.

Whether the reasoning requiring them to do these acts was due to some moral code or a clever but low-key ploy to make them more marketable as heroes was not something the girl was entirely certain of. She had no intention of asking though. Not now. Not here. No sense causing anyone any offense and potentially brand herself as unscrupulous with what such a question could imply. She’d figure out if these actions were the equivalent of lip-service soon enough. In the end she was fine with it either way.

Though the more obvious opportunities to help during their patrol were quickly snapped up by the other two, eventually Sigga found her own way to contribute to Flame-On’s positive image. A couple of English tourists, quite obviously lost and clearly unfamiliar with the language or corresponding land of the rising sun, were the perfect mark for her good deed. While the girl may not have had the trained expertise to climb a tree in order to rescue a stranded feline, like Jun had, Sigga was as fluent in the English language as she was in Japanese.

The fish was quick to insert herself in the foreign couple’s midst, spending more than just a couple minutes helping the English folk orient themselves (pun intended). She even gave, upon their request, several enunciation pointers of some Japanese phrases they were trying to learn in case they got lost again and needed to ask for directions. As the saying went: Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.

The following morning had Sigga waking up bright and early. This was not unusual for the fish. She had become somewhat of an early riser since moving to Japan. With plenty of time before the second day of her internship officially began, the girl went to work on properly laundering her hero outfit.

While the second half of yesterday’s duties had been relatively banal, the training she had gone through at the start did more to her outfit than add in a few wrinkles. She was going to take the internship seriously. At least for now. There was no accounting for the teenager’s ability to retain interest in her tasks long-term, but until it started to waver she’d be putting her best foot forward. And that meant washing her new hero outfit thoroughly.

The black wet suit, Sigga washed by hand. The dormitory laundry room had a pair of sinks large enough hold a plastic tub for just such a task. Her shorts and socks were less delicate and were tossed straight into the washing machine and then into the dryer. By the time everything was dry, the diligent girl had an iron warmed up and ready to smooth out any wrinkles in her outfit. Loose threads were snipped. Shoes were brushed. And a lint roller took care of the rest.

These self-determined tasks weren’t exactly done for Flame-On’s benefit, mind you. It was the girl’s peculiar way of exercising control over her life. This minor, insignificant portion of her destiny was hers to do with as she liked.

---

The butterflies in the fish’s stomach from yesterday had mostly quieted down. Sigga had, once again, arrived punctually for her internship dressed in her new hero outfit. She casually greeted her boss and peer, ready for her second day at Flame-On.

Firebrand didn’t waste any time, diving straight into the details of their task. The girl remembered him mentioning the gang war the other day. Looking into it had been the more interesting of the options given and she was mostly glad her previous selection of starting with the basics hadn’t cost them the opportunity to do a bit of detective work.

Sigga was a little nervous about looking into this gang war, though. She wasn’t about to simply trust her mentor not to send them into danger. This wasn’t a reflection of the pro-hero in any way. The girl simply had a cautious outlook on life. If one could read her thoughts they might even think her paranoid, but Sigga certainly didn’t see things that way. In her experience, the best way to avoid disaster was the assume the worst would happen and plan accordingly. Step one was to listen carefully to what Firebrand had to say about their mission.

The teenager’s expression was one of rapt attention. There was a lot of information to process; a lot of names to memorize. She already had questions but allowed for Firebrand to finish speaking. No sense in interrupting in case her questions would be answered anyway.

Her amber orbs widened a bit at the mention of her Quirk. She hadn’t exactly expected it to be brought up in conversation. What was more startling was that Firebrand seemed to be suggesting she should use it during their investigation.

Sigga shot a quick glance at Tomoshibi-san, but the blond seemed more focused on asking a question about the investigation than his colleague’s Quirk. Had he somehow found out about it already? Maybe from Firebrand? Or was he simply uninterested, putting aside personal curiosity knowing the fact he’d find out more about the fish’s abilities once they came into play? If they came into play. That was another thing the girl needed clarification on.

It wasn’t until the pink-haired man asked if they had any question that Sigga finally spoke up. She started with the particulars of the investigation, echoing her understanding of the situation. “So, this gang war, it was between these Vipers and Akuma’s group. Goliath got arrested and the power vacuum was filled in by this Bertha.” Pretty convenient for this Bertha character, the bald girl thought to herself.

“-and, this Hush guy,” she continued, “may or may not have been targeted by Goliath before his arrest…” The girl fell silent for a moment, parsing the bits of information in her mind. She didn’t understand Firebrand’s suspicion on why he thought this Hush guy would be lying about Goliath mutilating him like that. That didn’t sound like the kind of thing one would lie about. If it was her she would have promptly done what she could to throw the actual perpetrator under the bus, figuratively or literally. Well… actually… maybe she would have kept her mouth shut fearing future reprisals. Was that what was happening here? In either case, she dearly hoped they wouldn’t be asked to speak with this Goliath.

“Hrm… What exactly was this gang war about, anyway? What are the gang’s modus operandi; what were they fighting over? Money laundering? Drugs? Guns?” Sigga swallowed at the last query. Japan was known for pretty robust firearm regulations so hopefully the gang war didn’t involve guns. Though Quirks could be just as deadly, the girl did not want to find herself in the sights of a firearm. Her Quirk provided no defense against such lethal tools and she wasn’t dumb enough to think she could outrun a bullet either.

Sigga’s questions weren’t about to end there either. Maybe Tomoshibi-san was already in the know, but the fish desired more information. “Do you have some photos or bios on these people we could take a look at?” It seemed pretty important to know what any of these persons of interest looked like and, more importantly, know what their Quirks were. “And what exactly is our goal here? Just intel gathering? Trying to figure out all the what’s, why’s, and where’s of things?” That didn’t seem too dangerous.

Finally the girl got to the final and most important question, though she phrased it more as a statement. “I-I don’t have, like, a Quirk… license… thing…” This hadn’t been something the girl had thought about before, though Firebrand undoubtedly had taken this into consideration and was ready with a reply. She wasn’t sure if she technically needed a license if the target of her Quirk was willing and not in public. But if they weren’t…