[Hyou/Jon] Get out the Way

“It’s a whole damn rainbow, brick house.” Jon offered up another brazen grin, all teeth and round cheeks that never quite thinned out from their youth. They were both equally scrutinizingly perceptive and dumber than a bag of rocks, Isamu hadn’t penned their most recent nickname for nothing. They weren’t known for their tact, the lack of it rather, still their poking guideline eased off. They wanted to make sure the kid knew where to hit, but they didn’t need to cause any extra discomfort. Guy took a size four sneaker to his chest, twice, without calling it quits. Dude was due some mad props.

“Remember, practice?” They reached out, resting a hand atop of his bicep for aided balance. “Normally I wouldn’t do this, but Barda’s been giving me lip all week.” Jon bent slightly, rapping their knuckles dully on their right thigh where the socket encased it beneath their shorts. Shifting their stance, the curved bow of the prosthetic bent elegantly as their weight rested fully on it. It was a thing of beauty, built for fighting rather than looks, but still the ever present green detailing stood out against the black and silver.

“Excuse me, gonna flash a little leg. Try not to swoon.” Dragging the edge of their baggy shorts up, Jon unceremoniously dug a finger at the edge of the socket, just below their hip and tugged on the hidden liner insider. They refrained from groaning at the instant relief and an itch in a nonexistent limb was scratched. They figured they had another good half an hour tops before they’d have to take a break and actually check

“So, super quick recap.” Jon drew their left knee up nearly to their chest, balancing on their prosthetic with a slight wobble. “Chassé, front kick and let it come from your hips and plant with the heel of your foot. Did I say that already? Feels like I said that already. Whatever. It puts a lot more destructive force behind it.” They gave a quick snap kick before dropping back down, shifting their stance easily, keeping a hand on the teen’s arm. “Fouette is the side kick and you want to lead with your toes. Drive them hard into a soft squishy part. You know for maximum cool points.”

The teen snorted, pleased the first year was fine with their finesse art of teaching. “Don’t forget to yell, ‘That’s my purse! I don’t know you!’ while junk punching. Kinda like a power mantra.”

“Don’t.” They held up two fingers, pointing them directly at the teen. “headbutt unless you know what you’re doing, like seriously. Looks badass in movies, but you can really knock yourself for a loop. Not that I speak from experience.” They scoffed, knowing their shorter dreads covered an old scar near their hairline. “Use your palm here.” Jon waggled the heel of their hand in Hyou’s face. “Drive it right up into your enemies schnoz. Lots of soft delicate bone and cartilage there, makes for a good crunch. And even if you don’t break bone, it’ll cause a lot of tearing up. Which could be beneficial or detrimental. Cause nothing weirder than a villain crying while they try to eviscerate ya. Also, not from experience.”

Jon paused as if their endless drabble finally caught up with them and had to process it. “Wow, okay, totally went a little morbid there. Sorry, lets put a pin in that for later. Anyways, you don’t always gotta be stronger that your op. Just smarter. Also feel like I said that too. Let me know how this is all going, never really gave any some tips before. Most of the time, people ignore me.”

“Thanks for letting me feel ya up, blondie.” They patted the arm they’d held onto before spinning around and stepping backwards with a couple of quick little hops. Soft grey eyes flickered up as drawn to the scar across his eye, shit looked like it had hurt, and the third year was no stranger to pain.

“Tell me about it. I think I’ve gotten more scars and bruises in my three years here than my whole damn life.” And if it sounded like they were complaining, they added, tipping their head from side to side to crack it. “Lookin’ forward to a lifetime more.”

At his ready stance, Jon lit up, ready and excited. “Sweet times deux, and then I’ll show you how to block this entire madman attack. If you need it, it’s basic blocking techniques, nothing fancy. Anyways, come at me bro.”

Jon was pretty sure they shouldn’t be as excited as they were to being punched and kicked. But here they were, all excitable puppy with the flop of dreadlocks with each little bounce and sway they did. “If thick skulls got you anywhere, I’d be the mother effin’ champion.” Ooo, self burn. Nice. Jon’s self awareness was almost comical in its simplicity.

Taking a light hearted punch and jab, they didn’t so much as flinch, entirely too trusting their fellow student wouldn’t sucker punch them. There really wasn’t a point other than to be an ass. And, in the short amount of time Jon had met Hyousuke, he hadn’t ticked any checkmarks. “Nothing better than practicing, on some work out dummies. Not this dummy, mind you.” Jon floated a hand to point backwards at their self. “That’s my money maker, plus I like breathing.”

Jon had a gift for not looking like they were paying attention, when they really were. They also didn’t pay attention most of the time anyway, so it was difficult to actually differentiate between the two. Heaven help any mind reader who wanted to traverse that labyrinth of chaos. Dude was a natural, definitely praise worthy and not one to trifle with. Skillful and quick, they’d have to really keep on their toes around him. It was an absolute blast to get hit by him if he was already this good as a first year, he’d be a bangin’ hero by the time he graduated.

“Oh yeah?” Jon said absently in reply to the other guy’s teacher, rolling their shoulder and arm before being wholly distracted by the tape that was rolling up around their knuckles. There was an unpleasant sting settling between their ring and middle finger and they rubbed at the sticky residue. They’d misplaced their wraps earlier in the week and who the hell knew where they left them, Jon certainly didn’t. So, they’d gone with gauze and tape. Their brother would be appalled at their sloppy take. “Who taught you? Bet it was Meka, dude never did go easy on any of us.”

“Us third years finished our last group spar with him.” Tipping their head up to meet Hyou’s gaze. “Pretty sure he would have pushed me off a rooftop,” and took note of the looming aura of silence, like slamming into a wall with an awkwardly trailing off of, “if I didn’t jump first.”

It was easy to read a room when there was literally one other person but Jon struggled nevertheless and trailed off from picking at their wrappings. It lasted for the briefest of moments before they were shaking it off and throwing themselves back into the moment.

“Kicking’s kinda like a hit or miss with me, but I’m pretty flexible where it counts.” They clucked their tongue. “I can’t believe I’m actually asking this, but do you got like a work out routine or anything? Like stretching? Sure, if you kept a consistent thing, it’d help or something. Ugh,” they sighed at themselves. “I’m getting worse at this teaching thing by the second.”

“Okay, you ever get a song stuck in your head?” They paused and looked expectantly at the teen, waiting for him to acknowledge the sudden conversation change. “Just some whatever tune, your fave song of the week, been digging some real old school Mariya Takeuchi. Plastic Love? That shit snaps. Totally recommend it.” Limping their way closer, they raised both hands as if they were about to redirect traffic. “So, like everyone else in this world, I like to listen to music. It’s easier to work out or practice with tunes, it give you a beat and you can work with the tempo. I guess like dancing,” they said, as if suddenly realizing the connection, drawing their hands into fists and tucking arms close to their sides.

“Make it a easy beat to get use to, high steppin’ kick it to the funk. Just don’t try it with Moby. Damn near had a heart attack listening to Thousands.” They exhaled, swallowing back the war flashbacks to that one time in first year. “Anyways, ready to try it for real?”

Jon grinned again much bigger than before as if they were trying to break a record. It was almost too upbeat for cheery third year and bless the guy for not knowing the difference between the various smiles they’d amassed over their life. Their eyes squinted a little with the power behind it, a smirk sneakily hiding in the upturn corner of their mouth. Their only tell was a slight tip of their weight before Jon swept the top of their foot to catch the back of Hyou’s ankle.

In the same instant, they were turning and pivoting, dancing out of the way again and rounded with another smile. “Whomp, whomp,” Jon sing songed back at him, patting their rear end and laughed their god awful wheezy laugh, before lunging forward with a left hook.

“All right, hipster,” Jon teased back. “Keep your secrets. But probs yeah, I’ve only been living in Japan for like,” they paused, scrunching their face in thought. “three years? A little before school started. If you couldn’t tell from the,” their gaze flickered down their bare arm, the one free of tattoos, “accent, I’m not from around here.”

“Sounds… exhausting, mate. But in a good way? If anime’s taught me anything, everyone needs a wise, old man who can beat your ass seven ways from Sunday to show you an enlightened path. Third years got Firebrand, but don’t tell him I thought he was old. I’ll never hear the end of it.”


“Yeah, mostly for coordination, a beat helps muscle memory. Had a pretty good teacher back in Toulouse, absolute baller, but I only got a year or so with him. My broski helped me more, learned how to do combos with video game music. Mortal Kombat baby, Jax Briggs.” They pointedly wiggled their faded green brows. “My Iron Fists are based a little off him, think metal punching gloves.” If only they could master them and move on, was another story.

“Heart of your Quirk.” They snorted, before giving a flick of their hand, the meaning unclear as they settled back. Their own bran of humor would never truly make sense, if ever made the effort to explain it. “No, I like that. So, like, what exactly is your Quirk, Yugioh? Don’t gotta give me weaknesses or anything, just curious.”

They popped a thumb against their chest and proudly boasted. “I’ve been likened to a bargain basement Magneto.”

It was like Hyou had a laser beam precision and Jon was starting to slow, even if they didn’t want to admit it. They caught the glancing blow across the barely healed scar from Psycho Cure, but it was enough for them to grit their teeth. “Merde,” they hissed through a grimace and pressed a hand against their thigh, instantly regretting it as the alit nerves flared again. Mika had done a great job in healing, even if Jon damn near fought him at every impasse.

The third year was quick to shake it off, giving it another brush before breaking into a rough laugh in overcompensation. “That’s more like it, blondie! Make me regret it!”

They barely faltered at their new limp, snapping forward like a reed with an equally aggressive swing of punches, intending to push him back against the ropes again. Quick as a wink was their leverage, small and flighty, and even if Jon could hit hard it didn’t matter in the end if their opponent hit harder. They pivoted, shifting their stance to their prosthetic to take their weight to deliver a whip kick with their real leg. It was an active choice, while Barda could take the impact (And they have done so in real fights) getting hit with reinforced titanium was not a fun activity. Again height was their disadvantage, so even though they were still aiming for his head, they knew they’d never connect. It was a focused move and not as willy nilly as their wild punches had been. Point and shoot, like a revolver instead of a grenade.

Still they landed wrong and staggered to stay upright, opening up the gap between them.

“Oh yeah?” They echoed after the first year’s explanation. “Guess I got a real run for my money, huh.” Stamina, no wonder the guy was a beast. “Don’t sweat the small stuff, big guy. You’re a first year, we all didn’t come out the mom chute playing Mozart.” There was no holding the snort of laughter that followed, Jon terribly amused at their brand of stupid. “That’s impressive as shit, Duracell. Just think, when you can charge a phone and beat ass, you’ll be unstoppable.”

“Hells yeah, can’t argue with that. But uh, what’s your backup plan should your batteries deplete? Mine’s crying an excessive amount.” Hyousuke was starting to sound more and more like them, Jon no better. Hit ‘em hard and fast and if they get back up, try not to panic. In the three years at UA, they still hadn’t found a real battle strategy other than reign chaos from above. “Figured if it didn’t appeal to the tender hearted, it’d make things a little uncomfortable.”

“Heavy Metal’s my game, but don’t let the name fool you. I can do a bunch of stuff, more than the average playa but more ain't always better. It’s a real Jack-of-all-trades, master of none. If things get a little junked up from here,” they tapped their temple, “to here,” and raised a hand, flexing fingers, “Then I’m royally screwed. Then I gotta kick ass the old fashion way and like, who has time for that? Not me. Jeopardy isn’t gonna watch itself.”

Exhaling slowly, Jon’s gaze flicked to Hyousuke’s feet, then back up along his body in a flighty path before catching their tongue between teeth in a mock aborted raspberry. They inwardly hummed to whatever song their brain switched to, bouncing back and forth with the melody. Sweat slicked the back of their compression shirt under their loose tank top and if they were hot before, they were starting to swelter. Eventually they’d have to take a break to mop themselves up, the joys of having trouble regulating body temp when you were down a limb. The tape around their knuckles was shredding and they figured they had a couple more rounds before it was straight knuckle on behemoth first year muscle and spending a few hours on the mat and bag hadn’t made the transition any easier. And they were pretty sure bleeding on your fellow student was not a team building exercise, no matter how they spun it.

Sweeping around to try and stay a step ahead of him, Jon could only brace for impact as the giant wall barreled toward them, connecting hard. Two things happened, the hair tie holding the impossible amount of hair back snapped, flipping off into the ether where it’d join a hundred other comrades in death. Green dreadlocks framed their face, softening their already cherub features, a few longer ones spilling into their face like an annoying curtain. They were quick to give a quick shake of their head to allow for the second thing, the comically wide-eyed look they gave him was matched with an open mouth of surprise. All it needed was a perfectly timed fly before Jon was laughing, a hand pressed to their reddening cheek, fingers grazing along their jaw as they straightened up.

“Holy shit, way to go Battery Pack!” It’d been a solid hit and they may have wheezed a little. “Damn near saw my life flash before my eyes. But you forgot one thing.” They paused before tilting to look around him, barring teeth in a feral grin. “I got backup.”

Jon was a dirty liar and they may have felt a twinge of guilt, but they all but yelled, look a distraction, at Hyousuke, and if he fell for it, then it was own fault. If he didn’t well, then the joke was on them. They went for a low kick, aiming for the back of a knee with the intent to drop him, or at least make the kid falter. Then they’d try for his back, intent to climb him like a mountain and... and honestly, Jon hadn’t thought that far ahead.

Focused thinking aka tunnel vision led Jon to climbing halfway to their goal before they realized exactly what was happening and they paused, one leg tossed over Hyousuke’s shoulder and an arm wrapped loosely around his neck. They were pretty sure he didn’t want a metal knee joint digging into any part of him and was the only thing touching the ground with surprising little weight resting on the prosthetic’s sole. And most certainly wasn’t because of their height difference or the awkward piggyback ride Jon found themselves in.

They were all too happy to met the odd look directed at them and returned it with a polite smile. “Gotta keep the Energizer bunny on his toes, expect the unexpected. Never know when someone’s gonna reign a little terror from above.” And left it at that, as if it was an actual explanation and reasoning.

“Uh... sure?” Jon shifted their grip to avoid strangling the teen and proceeded to give the softest karate chop to the side of his neck with an cheery, “Hiyah. All right, now I officially win.” They tossed back their head, giving a theatrical, dramatic laugh. “I have slain the man with the strength of a thousand suns and with it, I win the adoration of every woman and enby! Ever. And like five really hot dudes.”

Jon plopped a hand atop of the blonde locks and briskly ruffled them. “Hey, do you think if I tug on your hair, I could pilot you like a meat mecha and make some linguini?” They made no attempt to move from their half perch, and added as if it was some sort of consolidating alternative, “I’ll even take a microwaved can of ravioli.”

“You know what would have been a good move? Pretty sure you could toss me like a small sack of beans, but like say I was like a medium Hulk size, pretty beefy but not like squish you beefy, yeah?” They wiggled a little, hiking themselves up to free up their hand again to point with two fingers in front of Hyou.

“So, your op gets you on your knees, what do you do? Stop, drop and barrel roll, only instead of flames you’re putting out, you’re rolling your enemy into a pancake. Boom, they’re on their back, you’re on top of them to elbow them in the gut or face or anywhere. Unless they grab you, hmm…” Jon trailed off thoughtfully, resting their thumb and index finger against the first year’s chin in a mock thinking pose.

Jon shrugged awkwardly in their position, dwelling all of a fraction of a second to think it over. “Basically yeah, go cave dweller on their ass. I dig the windmill approach, swinging both arms till you hit something. Pending of course the position you’re in. Personally, though, I’d probs just elbow someone in the chest and duck out. I’m a better fighting on foot, so log that away for future ref, Ratatouille. But, with my hero gear you do not want me landing on you, because I will break something.” And terribly uncomfortable and painful for them, but semantics.

“Please don’t.” They made a face, sticking their tongue out and tightened their grip as if expecting to be tossed over a shoulder. “Dunno ‘bout you, but I’m all funned out. I’m getting too old for this.” Jon groaned, more painful and annoyed than anything else. “These eighteen-year-old bones ain’t what they used to be.”

Being plastered to his back, they had a slight advantage of every little movement and didn’t need a phd to know they’d overstayed their welcome. “Sorry, I am a feral gargoyle and will perch unless otherwise told.”

Jon clambered off Hyou, dusting off his shoulders and back with a quick flourish before offering him a hand up, flashing their traditional lopsided grin. “Thanks for kickin’ my ass, you really do hit like a freight train and that’s super hot.” They tugged on their tank top, flapping the hem to give them the pretense of getting air, flashing bits of the grey compression shirt they wore underneath.

“Speaking of hot, I gotta call it and grab something to drink. I have zero concept of time, so dunno if the cafeteria is serving lunch or dinner. If you’re down, I’ll buy you the finest carbonated beverage it has to offer. As thanks for letting me whale on ya.” Jon tugged on their wrappings, unrolling a length around their fingers, giving pause. “Unless you got more in you, then I can watch respectfully from the floor and be the greatest peanut gallery you’ve ever seen.”