Chapter 4: Helping?

"I'm bored" Miyabi muttered to the empty ceiling of her bedroom.

The grand celebration the higher-ups had planned was still delayed. They had been teasing the event for days, shifting the schedule, coordinating with public relations, and moving the venue. It was agonizing.

Is this what they call 'edging'? she thought, her face completely expressionless despite the mild existential dread. Yes. It definitely is. How dare they edge my craving for premium melon.

She wanted to complain, but realistically, she couldn't. She didn't have to organize the security, manage the guest list, or coordinate with the media. Her only operational objective for the entire event was to show up, look intimidatingly heroic, and eat whatever was put in front of her. It was a hassle, but a highly profitable one in terms of catering.

With a soft groan, Miyabi slammed her head back into the plush pillows of her bed.

Living in this world could get remarkably quiet. True, she knew plenty of people. She commanded an entire division, spoke with the police commissioner on a first-name basis, and coordinated with top-tier hero agencies. But at the end of the day? They were coworkers. Subordinates. Political figures. Five years in this universe, and she hadn't made a single actual friend.

"I'm quite pitiful, aren't I, Tailless?"

A small, floating entity with a single, massive eye and tiny, curved horns drifted into her line of sight. It gave her a slow, deeply judgmental eye-roll before turning back toward the television screen, completely ignoring her.

Yes, that was Tailless. The spirit bound to her katana.

When the system had first granted her the form and abilities of Hoshimi Miyabi, she had fully expected the sword to just be a highly refined piece of steel. She hadn't expected the actual companion spirit to manifest alongside it. At least she had someone to talk to, even if the little guy was completely mute, spent ninety percent of his time freeloading in her apartment watching reality TV, and only retreated into the blade when it was time for work.

A total freeloader, Miyabi thought, nodding to herself. Yet, despite his absolute lack of utility around the house, Tailless was the closest thing she had to family in this world.

Lazily, Miyabi rolled over onto her side, pulling out her smartphone. The screen illuminated her sharp features as she scrolled aimlessly through the app store. She recalled hearing some of the younger officers in the breakroom gossiping about a massive, globally popular social media app that everyone in the My Hero Academia world seemed to use for networking and public updates.

It should be this one...

She tapped the download button. The progress bar filled up, the icon appeared on her home screen, and Miyabi tapped it open—only to be immediately greeted by a massive, glaring login screen demanding credentials she didn't possess.

She stared blankly at the text boxes for a full minute. How do I navigate this?

Realizing she had no intention of wasting her afternoon deciphering an interface, she decided to utilize her resources. She opened her work messaging app and found the contact info for the new intern who had joined her unit a week ago.

Hoshimi Miyabi: How to login?

Hoshimi Miyabi: [Screenshot_20260620_2146.jpg]

She watched the screen. Within three seconds, the status indicator changed to Typing...

Miyabi continued to scroll, waiting for a response. A notification popped up indicating a new direct message from Ryu, but before she could tap it, the message vanished. The system text simply read: 'This message was deleted.'

She tilted her head, her left fox ear twitching in mild curiosity. Did he panic? Before she could type out a query to ask what the matter was, a massive wall of text suddenly erupted into the chat window.

Ryu had compiled a hyper-detailed, step-by-step, bullet-pointed guide on how to register an account, verify an email address, bypass the two-factor authentication, and set up a secure password. It read less like a casual social media tutorial and more like an official police operational briefing.

Miyabi read through the instructions, gave a slow, satisfied nod, and typed out her standard, brief response.

Hoshimi Miyabi: Thank you.

Ryu: No problem, Chief!! Let me know if you need anything else! Have a great evening! 👍👍

[Status: Offline]

The intern's profile icon turned gray instantly. Miyabi shrugged, entirely unfazed by his sudden departure, and began following his meticulously written instructions.

Within a few minutes, the account was fully registered and verified. Finally, the app prompted her for the most critical component: a profile picture.

Miyabi opened her gallery and selected the exact same photo she used for her official police badge, her internal email, and her emergency contact profile. It was a crisp, high-resolution photo of herself in her full Special Operations uniform, staring directly into the camera lens with absolute, unblinking intensity.

The public relations team had once told her it made her look "resolute, professional, and terrifyingly serious." To Miyabi, it was just the only photo where she wasn't actively looking around for a piece of fruit.

With her profile officially active, she leaned back, waiting to see what the digital world of heroes had to offer.

As she scrolled lazily through the newly created account, the algorithm immediately began churning out "People You May Know" suggestions. Right at the top of the list was a familiar pink-haired profile.

Miyabi tapped on Akane’s page, her crimson eyes scanning the grid of photos one by one. Nearly every single post featured Akane visiting pet cafes, volunteering at shelters, or crouched on sidewalks, enthusiastically patting stray dogs and rubbing the ears of every cat she could find.

She really likes animals, Miyabi noted, giving a small, understanding nod.

Satisfied that her curiosity had been fulfilled, she swiped the app closed. It was functionally identical to Instagram from her past life—nothing truly innovative, just wrapped in a slightly more tedious registration process.

Before she could set her phone down, the device vibrated violently in her hand, an incoming call lighting up the screen. She tapped the screen and brought the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"HELLO THERE, YOUNG MISS HOSHIMI!"

The booming, artificially boisterous voice practically blasted through the phone's speaker. Miyabi instinctively pulled the device away from her face, staring blankly at the caller ID. It was All Might—or rather, Toshinori Yagi in his current, heavily diminished state.

Without a word, she tapped the red button and hung up.

A few seconds passed. The phone immediately rang again. She answered it, keeping it at arm's length this time.

"Wait, wait! Miss Hoshimi, please don't hang up!" The voice on the other side had instantly dropped its theatrical booming quality, shifting into a hurried, raspy cough.

Miyabi brought the phone back to her ear, her left fox ear twitching. "Better. What do you want?"

"Ahem... I need to ask a massive favor of you. I need someone to take my place today," Toshinori said, his voice laced with genuine exhaustion.

"A favor?" Miyabi raised an eyebrow.

They weren't particularly close. Her grandest interaction with the Symbol of Peace had occurred during the aftermath of his catastrophic, hidden battle with All For One years ago. By the time her Special Operations unit had arrived on the scene, the battle was technically over. She hadn't actually fought; she had simply carried a bloodied, broken Number One Hero back to his agency for emergency medical treatment.

It had been a massive disappointment, honestly. If she had arrived just a fraction earlier to join the fray and eliminate the ultimate villain, who knows? She might have fulfilled the system's hidden criteria and cleared this world entirely. A golden opportunity, completely lost to timing.

"I need someone to replace me for a class field trip with the first-year hero students," Toshinori explained. "They are heading to the USJ today."

The USJ? Miyabi tilted her head.

The Unforeseen Simulation Joint. It was UA High’s specialized facility designed to train future heroes in disaster rescue operations. But as the acronym echoed in her mind, a faint, long-buried memory sparked.

Wait... has the main plot of My Hero Academia actually started?

She had never paid much attention to the media or the school’s academic schedule. To be entirely fair, her knowledge of the original timeline was incredibly spotty. She remembered the general events of season one from her past life, but everything beyond that had just been a blur of TikTok spoilers and fan edits she had scrolled past years ago. Her memory was blurry, a faded relic of a life she barely remembered.

If she accepted this request, she could check the status of the timeline herself. That broccoli-haired main character would be impossible to miss.

"I am not a hero, All Might," Miyabi replied flatly. "You have an entire network of pro heroes. You should ask one of them to babysit instead."

Toshinori let out a weak, raspy chuckle. "If it's you, I can rest easy knowing they're completely safe. Your strength is... well, it's outside the norm, Miss Hoshimi."

"Is that so?" Miyabi muttered, entirely unmoved by the flattery. "What do I get out of this?"

A hero's gratitude was worthless to her. You couldn't slice it, you couldn't serve it, and it didn't taste sweet. If she was going to drive out to a specialized training facility on her day off, she required tangible compensation.

The line went quiet for a moment before Toshinori spoke up, a tone of mild amusement in his voice. "I happen to recall a certain report from the Police Commissioner mentioning your... particular fondness for premium fruit."

"Yeah?" Miyabi’s focus sharpened instantly.

"If you cover for me today, I will personally arrange a shipment of top-grade, greenhouse-cultivated melons. Sourced directly from premium distributors outside of Japan."

Miyabi’s fox ears perked straight up, pointing toward the ceiling. "How many are we talking about?"

"Ten."

"Deal," Miyabi said, her voice dropping any trace of prior hesitation. "When are they leaving?"

"The bus is already on its way to the facility," Toshinori said, sounding immensely relieved. "If possible, Miss Hoshimi, you should head there immediately."

"Ok."

She hung up the phone, threw off her blanket, and stood up from the bed. A ten-melon bounty for a simple observation mission was a flawless trade. It was time to go see what the future heroes of this world looked like.