A Big Cat on Campus [MHA]

[w34v3r]

Ummmmmmm
Does that feel sudden to anyone else or am I just dense? I get letting the 'cats in after a traumatic experience, but the rant about his parents reads like something that's been percolating a while.

 

[Isomin]

Ummmmmmm
Does that feel sudden to anyone else or am I just dense? I get letting the 'cats in after a traumatic experience, but the rant about his parents reads like something that's been perfecting a while.

Click to shrink...

I will admit to feeling similar, but that might just be because it's been a while since I've read the earlier chapters. Maybe after a reread it'll feel less abrupt?

 

[7734]

Ummmmmmm
Does that feel sudden to anyone else or am I just dense? I get letting the 'cats in after a traumatic experience, but the rant about his parents reads like something that's been perfecting a while.

Click to shrink...

I will admit to feeling similar, but that might just be because it's been a while since I've read the earlier chapters. Maybe after a reread it'll feel less abrupt?

Click to shrink...

This is a six of one, half dozen of the other. Considering I wrote the leadup to this in... like, June... I can understand it not being fresh in people's minds. That said, this is also a massive, massive betrayal of his faith in his family to effectively render support. Remember his family's cartel is entirely based around vertical integration: the family does everything, and that means they have to live in each other's pockets or a breakdown in communication will get everyone in danger.

Meanwhile, here's Arsenio, coming out of a bloody disaster, wounded and traumatized, expecting to see his family there to help pick up the pieces because his entire life they've been there to help him, just like he's been there to help them. He's coming unwound at the seams, walks out barely holding it together, and bang. He's looking for the cavalry, he gets the fucking clown car. This isn't just a kid getting snubbed by his family, this is a professional watching the social contract he subscribes to getting stomped on. The end result? It burns. It burns like hell- and I'll be going into that more later.

 

[NCRTrooper]

This is a six of one, half dozen of the other. Considering I wrote the leadup to this in... like, June... I can understand it not being fresh in people's minds. That said, this is also a massive, massive betrayal of his faith in his family to effectively render support. Remember his family's cartel is entirely based around vertical integration: the family does everything, and that means they have to live in each other's pockets or a breakdown in communication will get everyone in danger.

Meanwhile, here's Arsenio, coming out of a bloody disaster, wounded and traumatized, expecting to see his family there to help pick up the pieces because his entire life they've been there to help him, just like he's been there to help them. He's coming unwound at the seams, walks out barely holding it together, and bang. He's looking for the cavalry, he gets the fucking clown car. This isn't just a kid getting snubbed by his family, this is a professional watching the social contract he subscribes to getting stomped on. The end result? It burns. It burns like hell- and I'll be going into that more later.

Click to shrink...

Jeez, whatever Arsenio's parents are doing that involves Overhaul must be pretty serious if they won't even visit their son after a big villain attack at his school.

Will this become a catalyst for Arsenio to doubt the lifestyle that he's been preparing for basically his entire life? It'll be interesting to see how he handles this going further.

 

[7734]

Jeez, whatever Arsenio's parents are doing that involves Overhaul must be pretty serious if they won't even visit their son after a big villain attack at his school.

Click to shrink...

In their defense, they are fighting a well-established Yakuza family with nothing more than a few suitcases full of cash, some dubious contacts near sixteen years old on both sides of the law, and an old Papa Nambu that Mama de la Veracruz got as the equivalent of the silver spoon inheritance. Well-situated, they are not.

 

[7734]

Spoiler: Music

Sitting down at the kitchen table next to Kota, I carefully opened up the light novel I'd purchased from the flea market while he meticulously assembled the Gundam in front of him. For the Incident, the entire school had been award three days off so that inspectors could get to work and we could get to healing up. Flexing my claws, I winced. For a lot of the students, that had been figurative. For Class 1-A, it was all too literal. Splints, casts, and bandages had been the rule, not the exception. I myself had two broken ribs still, as well as several bruises on my left arm and from under my armor.

As another sprue tree fell into the pile next to me, I turned the page. It was all some meaningless econo-drivel, rendered down to a fine understanding of market psychology and gaming numbers. It was calm, it was peaceful, and there was a cute wolf-girl on the cover. No stupid romantic shenanigans, no fighting, just calm discussion on markets and a little bit of happiness when the traveling merchant made out well.

Muttering a curse, Kota winced as he trimmed a little too close to the piece, before reaching over for his sanding stick. It didn't take any real work to buff the slight score mark out, and soon enough he was back to assembling the leg. Once it was done, another sheet of plastic came out, and it was back to the grind.

Snip… snip… snip…

Drip… drip… drip…

Flicking my claws idly, I winced as I could see the blood still on them. Not the first time a wash hadn't gotten them clean, wouldn't be the last. Still, if soap, water, and even my abrasive tongue hadn't gotten them clean, there was always other options. It was just a layer of blood, so it wouldn't take much work to fix. Stealing Kota's sanding stick, I slowly worked over the top and bottom of each nail, bringing them to a sanguine sheen. The red just wouldn't come off, naturally, and somehow it was on both hands.

Odd. Well, fine then. Starting work on the opposite hand, I scowled at the disobedient coloration. My claws were white, damnit.

"Hey, Arsenio, can I have my sanding stick back?" Kota asked, and I nodded. Passing it over, I sighed, closing my eyes to kneed my hands into my face. The other reason I was reading this light novel: it was sleep-inducing. These last two nights had been… restless. Even for my spastic four-hour naps, they had been poor. It hadn't helped that the asshole's disintegration had been treated like a burn, so I now had a large, shaved patch of my neck so there was room to tape the bandage with burn salve to. It itched, and no matter how I rested my neck I could feel it, and hear that damn laugh.

Turning another page, I winced as a claw slid through the paper like silk. Fuck. The kanji and hirigana were sliding off the page, now, mocking me as the cut ran through lines and left minimalist prose broken beyond all recognition.

Looking over at me, Koda squinted. "Are you doing okay?"

"Just tired." I said, lying as easily as I breathed.

"I'll talk to Auntie." he said, squinting. "You don't look so good."

"I'm doing fine, I'm just tired." I explained, sighing. "I can't sleep well with my neck like this."

"That's nice, I'm still getting Auntie." Kota said, frowning mightily at me. "She told me, 'if Arsenio is acting funny, get me' and this counts."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I complained, before taking the sanding stick to my claws again. This blood was soaked in deep, damnit. "Damn claw stains are just bugging me, is all."

Kota crept out, and I superitiously pocketed the sanding stick. We were on the top floor of the Pussycat's house/office/barrack, which was Shino and Kota's apartment. Ryouko was out at the Mt. Naragumo camp, doing basic maintenance, while Shiretoko and Chatora were both here as the Pussycat's fast response force. Since it was about sixteen-hundred, both of them should be asleep, and Shino would be on the ground floor. If I was careful, I could dodge this whole mess by sneaking out a window.

Of course, this would work much better if there wern't these dumb little child locks on the windows. I'd finally gotten one open, and was appreciating the fresh air, when Shino came up the stairs.

Young man, she telepath'd at me, that better not be a draft I feel.

Wisely, I shut the window, and ejected the sanding stick out of my pocket back onto the table. First rule of hiding the evidence: hide the evidence somewhere it won't stand out. Second rule of hiding the evidence: do it before they could realize there was evidence to hide.

As Shino cae into the kitchen from the entryway, I made sureI was curled up around my book, on the couch, looking innocent as possible. I was calm, cool, collected, the absolute personification of a cat.

Then my claws sliced another page.

Sitting down next to me, Shino looked over carefully, before sighing. "Arsenio, when was the last time you got some sleep?"

"Last night." I said, quite truthfully. I wasn't even lying, even if all the little napes added up to only two-ish hours of actual sack time.

Watching me out of the corner of her eye, Shino nodded, and pulled out a tablet to do some work on. I just got back to my work, making very certain I wasn't going to slice up another page. This time, I made it about a dozen pages before the sound of Shino dropping her pen made me slice another one.

"Arsenio, are you still keyed up over what happened at the USJ?" Shino asked, her blunt inquisition stunning me.

After a moment, I nodded. "Little bit, yeah. It was pretty bad."

Nodding to herself, Shino looked at me, before sighing. "And I don't suppose you have a girlfriend yet?"

"What?!"

"Don't blow my ears, out, jeeze." Shino grumbled, rubbing an ear. "Just listen to an old woman, alright?"

"You're not old, Shino-san." I said, earning a friendly whack on the shoulder.

"Bullshit, I've got an adopted kid and I run an agency of feline-themed lunatics. This hair doesn't stay red without a lot of help anymore!" she joked, before her smile dimmed down. "Back when we were starting out, in the bad old days, the Wild Wild Pussycats would sometimes take combat support jobs, Arsenio. Generally, post-battle search and rescue, sometimes policing hotspots and riding with the hospital wagons that had to cross gang turfs. We never had to deal with anything as bad as USJ, but we've been in the shitter before."

I stayed silent for another minute, before Shino sighed. "That's not gonna get through to you, huh. I don't blame you, it wasn't a great idea to begin with."

"Not really." I said, offering a stilted grin that didn't reach my eyes.

"Thought so." Shino said. "Either way, I'm done with all the stuff I have to be downstairs for, so I can finish up the last of things up here. Head down to the bathhouse and have a soak on us- not like our tab cares. Dinner's in two hours."

Nodding, I started hiking out to the bathhouse. Now that I thought about it, an hour-long soak sounded fucking amazing: my back was a knot still, and the assortment of bruises could stand some hot water treatment. Grabbing my shoes and bath bag, I started meandering my way towards the batthouse. Kryat and 17th wasn't a terrible walk, but along the way I found myself checking behind myself every few paces.

My nerves disappeared once I got into the bathhouse. Washing off might have been a little tricky, what with the Big Neck Problem, but draping a washcloth over it took care of most of the problems. After that came slipping in the hot water, and bliss. I had no real comprehension of just how tense I was from all the aches and pains that hadn't worked themselves out from the USJ mess, but this certainly helped.

Half-asleep, I sort of just lounged in the bath for an indeterminate amount of time, until I actually fell asleep or something. The exact series of events wasn't quite clear until I felt someone poking me in the shoulder.

"Hey. Buddy. C'mon, up and at 'em." someone, presumably female, said with a sigh. Rousing myself fully, I sat up straight with a happy sigh and turned around.

"Oh, hey Arsenio." the bath attendant said, and I squinted and rubbed my eyes. I really had fallen asleep, for them to crust up this much! Red- no, that wasn't the right shade to be red, that was pink- skin, curly hair, horns…

Shit. That was Ashido.

"Hey." I said, considering the pros and cons of crawling into a corner and paying her off to pretend this never happened.

"C'mon, I know Auntie told me you got to stay until close, but I need to clear the drains."

I sighed, reaching around for my towel. My missing towel. My modesty-preserving, I-do-not-want-rumors-to-start, conveniently sized towel. I was not a groovy frood at this point, no sir!

"Ah yeah, towel." Mina muttered. "Sorry, moved it when I was doing the dry mop."

I blinked. "Not gonna give me any grief?" I asked, kind of astounded.

"Nah. Auntie would have my hide, and more importantly it's not worth it. You know how many old men wouldn't care and just stand up to go get one from the rack?"

"Too many?" I guessed.

Mina laughed. "Yeah, and then they act like peacocks. Man, ain't nothing I haven't seen before, and more than a few better than that one too! It just gets old, you know."

"I get the concept." I acquiesced, before catching a towel Mina threw me. Making very sure she had her back turned, I stood, wrapping the towel around myself and dealing with the fact my tail was going to be under the damn thing. It was uncomfortable, but it was less uncomfortable than dealing with Mina. Going over to get my caddy of fur conditioners, I blinked at a familiar sizzling sound.

Mina was just casually dumping her acid straight into the bath as it drained, whistling slightly as she checked her phone. Next to her was a bottle of bath cleaner, and she hadn't even touched it. Finally, I had to ask the question.

"So, uh, isn't this technically illegal?" I asked, looking at Mina pointedly. Shrugging, she just kept pouring.

"Well, yeah. Technically, it's Quirk Misdemeanor and with a rider for Hazardous Pollution, but who cares?"

"The nominal hero school trainees?"

Now that got a laugh. "Please, stuff like this? Everyone knows nobody actually cares about private Quirk use."

Rolling my eyes, I sat sidesaddle on the edge of the bath. "I don't know, really." I said, tapping the side of my head. "Remember, where I'm from, Quirk use is a licensing affair, not a criminal offence."

"Okay, so while Quirk use is illegal, it's not… mmm… horribly illegal?" Mina said, trying to figure out how to explain it. "Think of it like traffic violations. Unless someone gets hurt, it's technically a Quirk Misdemeanor, and you just have to pay a fine and some community service- and half the time, they want you to use your quirk at community service to get the job done faster!"

I laughed. "Seriously? Did you actually get stuck with one?"

Mina grinned. "Yeah. I actually had about a half-dozen, when I was a kid."

"And UA let you in with a criminal record?" I gaped.

"Told ya, they're like traffic violations. Nobody actually gives a damn, except maybe Iida."

I groaned. I'd been out running with Chatora yesterday, and we had run into Ingenium since we were doing a one-way jog to Hosu since the model store had more Gundams in and Kota was trying to snag another Jagen so he could complete his "one in every livery ever" collection. The result? A two hour discussion on Quirk Ethics and enforcement priorities.

While jogging. In Hosu. I nearly died.

"Yeah, that just… no sense." I finally worked out. "Back home in Mexico, we'd just license the shit out of it. Come to think of it, I might actually have my license still in my wallet."

"Can I see?"

Shrugging, I went into the changing room, before getting dressed. Heading back into the bath, I dug around in my wallet, before pulling out three cards. "Here we go. Basic extra-sensory license, identificación de cuerpo non estándar, and the rider card for that one."

Tilting her head at the second one I'd said in Spanish, Mina goggled. "The what?"

I'll admit, it took me a minute to put it in plain words. "My medical card, lists things to be aware of in case I get put in an ambulance. Anyone with significant bodily divergence from their Quirk needs to have one."

Looking down at her bath, Mina shrugged. "I'll come and ring you out, so walk and talk. This sounds important."

"I mean, it depends on how you define important." I shrugged. "All it says is I'm a full-body heteromorph, and a list of things to expect. Y'know, digitigrade feet, lower sweat, whiskers, claws, a few chemical concerns, dietary notices, that sort of thing."

"I mean, I can see a doctor thinking that's important!" Mina said as she slipped behind the counter, doing something to the ancient ringing-up machine. "Would anyone else in our class need one?"

"Hm. Tsu, Iida, Ojiro, Shoji would have a bloody monster of one, Tokoyami, Jiro would technically but it's not like a major thing, Hagakure, Bakugo if his quirk has any internal chemical mechanisms, and maybe Momo?"

Nodding along, Mina grinned. "Not me?"

"Not unless your Quirk affects internal ph or medical items. Horns and atypical skin pigmentation aren't even worth blinking at, honestly."

"Well then." Mina muttered. "Anyway, the bill. For time of three and a half hours, no charge."

I blinked. "Excuse me what?"

"No charge." Mina said, tapping the screen. "See note on file… oh."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"UA students are on the house for the next two weeks." someone else said, and I turned to see the owner of the bathhouse. Now that I was looking for it, I could see the family resemblance with Mina. "Which reminds me-" she added, staring at Mina. "-I thought I told you to go back to your parents for the break."

"Well I was." Mina huffed, before turning away from me. "But Mom's running an exhibition, and Dad's got a gig in Shibuya so he's never home. Might as well stay here."

"Hmph."

Edging towards the door, I stopped as Mina stared at me. "That reminds me: you've got the class chat on LINE, right?"

"No." I said, before Mina sighed, pulling out her phone and writing down a string of characters.

"Alright, then get LINE, get your account set up, and get in the chat." Mina told me, staring. "Now c'mon, I gotta close up."

Nodding, I left, thinking. I was doing better right now, sure, but it wasn't because I was getting better on my own. Maybe keeping in contact with the rest of class would help? If nothing else, it would be a place where I could quietly gripe without waking everyone else up. Game Night with Owl Eye had been ended rather explosively, and now the middle of the night was as much a curse as a blessing. If I wasn't sleeping, well, most of the class wasn't either, and they were my friends.

Of course, then when night came around and I actually got LINE, I then discovered two problems. Problem one, my flip-phone viscerally hated it; and problem two, oh god the kanji. I had to cross-index off my computer for the dictionary so much, and when I finally woke up in the morning, I was crashed out on my desk, face in a piece of paper I had been referencing.

Still somehow the best night's sleep I'd gotten since the Incident, though.

 

[Wentley]

Hah! One way to get some sleep.

 

[Shance]

There's two problems to that theory; the first being that there wasn't a massive shift to teaching icons and inspirational heroes at the beginning of the series, and the second being investment return logic.

While it's easier to teach an ounce of caution to a young icon over building a careful child into a shining pillar of the community, the fact of the matter is that schools cost money, and publicly funded institutions need to justify their results to a bunch of soulless suits rather often. For their expense of education and general utility, you're looking at a twenty to thirty year hero career on average before their bodies crap out on them. Once you have that and your target heroes per capita (something like 40/10k people) you can and will do the math to figure out how many heroes you need to graduate a year to keep that number steady. You then need to weigh that number versus your standards and education system, and then you start seeing things. Specifically, bright young men who meet your exacting standards are rare as hens teeth. The more things you ask for, the more orders of magnitude you loose in your incoming population. Start asking for smart people, with combat ability, quirks that can be applied to fighting, and a shining spark of inspiration for others? You wouldn't be able to fill all your class seats. Start accepting flaws like recklessness, willingness for self mutilation, and violent tempers? Might get you a little further, but then you're accepting more short careers later down the line.

Logically and rationally, Midoriya shouldn't get into UA in the first entrance exam; he should spend a year unfucking his Quirk and eat a lost year of academics. Fortunately, however, rationality is generally in short supply.

Click to shrink...

A bit late but, I think the only reason Midoriya got in is because of his fck off powerful quirk. Rescue points are completely subjective after all. They saw his power, though the mid has potential, and used the first excuse to get him in.

that's the reason Ausawa kinda dislikes him alot. Instead of helping he drssess him down.

 

[7734]

A bit late but, I think the only reason Midoriya got in is because of his fck off powerful quirk. Rescue points are completely subjective after all. They saw his power, though the mid has potential, and used the first excuse to get him in.

that's the reason Ausawa kinda dislikes him alot. Instead of helping he drssess him down.

Click to shrink...

Aizawa dressing Midoriya down is completely understandable, honestly. He doesn't like what Izuku is- a troublesome and self-destructive student- and he doesn't like what he's going to become- a perennial showoff hero with a limited shelf-life. Either he accepts that Izuku's growth isn't his responsibility by getting rid of him, or he actually kicks Izuku's ass until he figures out how to run whatever's passing for his brain cells to stop running a linear operation and starts working in parallel with such trains of thought as 'will this hurt me' and 'does everyone have to help save my ass after this'.

 

[Shance]

Aizawa dressing Midoriya down is completely understandable, honestly. He doesn't like what Izuku is- a troublesome and self-destructive student- and he doesn't like what he's going to become- a perennial showoff hero with a limited shelf-life. Either he accepts that Izuku's growth isn't his responsibility by getting rid of him, or he actually kicks Izuku's ass until he figures out how to run whatever's passing for his brain cells to stop running a linear operation and starts working in parallel with such trains of thought as 'will this hurt me' and 'does everyone have to help save my ass after this'.

Click to shrink...

Thing is though, just kicking someone elses ass without constructive criticism is not good.

telling someone stop, is worthless when compared with let's see how we can make this better. Aizawa has incomplete info, but still. The guy is really unhelpful.

 

[7734]

Thing is though, just kicking someone elses ass without constructive criticism is not good.

telling someone stop, is worthless when compared with let's see how we can make this better. Aizawa has incomplete info, but still. The guy is really unhelpful.

Click to shrink...

You can't constructively criticize someone who is in the active process of turning themselves into a fine red mist. The constructive criticism in this case is 'stop, pull your head out your ass, and sit down to learn' because frankly, Midoriya doesn't know shit. None of them know shit. This is okay. They're students, they're here to learn: a situation that is impossible when, again, they're busy filling up hospital beds. The disrespect it shows the teachers is staggering, really, because it doesn't let the teachers have the students to teach. Kicking the shit out of someone to get them to sit down and shut up shouldn't be the standard operating procedure: it damages trust, it harms students, and it breaks teachers down. When you're dealing with someone who has this many problems, though? Sometimes 'sit down and shut up' is the right answer.

 

[7734]

(AN: So I got some creepy PMs about this story that were coming from an SV-adjacent Discord server, and decided the best way to handle the issue was to go radio dark for a while. This seems to have worked. If issues persist, I'll engage in other means of handling it. For now, though, we're back)

Spoiler: Musica

Settling my twitching tail down, I walked into class. Things were quiet, despite the multitude of missing students. Mineta was out, obviously, but so were Iida and Todoroki. Hagakure was sitting quietly, too-visible bandages standing out against her head, while Uraraka had a gauzy mitt on one hand. Bakugo, normally decently early, wasn't even there when I walked in, still rubbing my bruised shield-arm. I- and the entire blasted class- were wearing a yellow card on a lanyard: the school's medical pass. Much like football, if we caught another yellow card, we would be out on medical leave- sometimes for a day, sometimes for as much as a month, as Recovery Girl explained when she'd ambushed students to force us to wear them.

When homeroom started in earnest, I half-expected to see Aizawa taking his usual position at the front of class. Instead, Jokezura, the perpetually tired teacher's assistant, took to the podium.

"Ahem." he said, drawing our attention. "While Aizawa-sensei is out on medical leave for these next three days, I am to be your homeroom manager, handling affairs in his place."

One by one, jaws across the class dropped. Undaunted, Jokezura kept talking. "While I know I'm not a proper substitute teacher, I'd like to reassure you Aizawa is watching. Probably through a helper-bot. Look for the one with a snake hat, Midnight keeps it handy if any of the teachers has to puppet one of them."

At that moment, the door rolled open, with both Bakugo coming in, followed by a human-size helper-bot with a battered snake hat and a red card on a lanyard decorating it. As the blonde bombardier sat down with a snarl, the robot came up to the podium.

"This is Aizawa." it said, in a rather uncomfortably digitized version of our teacher's voice. "Unfortunately, I am on medical leave after Recovery Girl determined I had four broken ribs and a damaged orbital floor. Even more unfortunately, she also told the Hero's Association. As such, I have very little to do. This means grading papers, filing insurance claims, and most importantly, helping prepare for the Sports Festival."

At that, everyone relaxed, right up until the robot leaned forward.

"Since you will be collectively debut at the UA Sports Festival, which is in two weeks, I expect the best from all of you. Get ready."

Of course, that relaxation flew into tension at the drop of this particular hat. As the class raged and Jokezura tried ineffectually to calm everyone down, I just leaned over to Kirishima.

"So, uh, the hell's a sports festival?" I asked, scratching my ear, before grabbing a thermos. My sleep was getting better, but was still shot up pretty bad. Oh, but to nap in homeroom.

"You've never done a sports festival?" he asked. "Never even seen a Pro Hero School festival?"

"One, we don't have sports festivals, unless you count some places doing a track and field day." I grumbled. "Two, we don't have Pro Hero Schools like you do, and three, I had a girlfriend."

"So?"

My stare was cold and horrifying. "We watched so. much. Isekai."

"Wait hold on, your girlfriend liked isekai shit?" Kirishima gasped. "Hold on. That's not fair."

"Yeah well if I ever get the chance to introduce you I'll make sure to make sure there's a riveting conversation." I grumbled, slugging back some of that thermos' coffee. Thank God for coffee. "Just remember to harden up if she's looking interested."

"What, she got a thing for boulders covered in sandpaper?"

"No, you presumably want to keep your blood inside ya. She bites."

And if that wasn't the truth, then the fine-lined bite scars on my arms were some hellaciously good liars. Still, pulling back from the conversation, Kirishima started talking with Bakugo, while I stood up to move back towards Yaoyorozu and Jiro. They were sitting together, and Jiro started to move away, before Yaoyorozu put a hand on her arm, bringing her to a hard stop.

As much as it looked like I lost that race, I couldn't just admit it was over and done with now. Pulling up an empty chair from Todoroki's empty desk, I sat next to the pair.

"So is this as weird for you as it is for me?" I asked, watching Deku hound on to Jokezura as the assistant-turned-substitute tried to keep up with the peppering of heroic questions.

"Yes." Momo muttered. "When I woke up today… I forgot anything had happened, until I sat down for breakfast. I was wondering why I was holding a punching needle instead of chopsticks, before it came back to me."

Kyoka nodded. "I didn't even notice I had been listening to the building until Dad asked about the holes in the drywall."

"I was trying to clean up my claws." I muttered, flicking one out. "Thought I still saw blood on them."

As the slight blade gleamed in the morning light, Momo squinted. "Because it was red?"

"Yeah."

"It's still red, Arsenio." Kyoka added, causing me to blink. Turning the hand and claw into the light, I gulped. At the edges, my claws pulled down to be nearly transparent- and now, in the haze of the bulb, it was a thin, bloody red.

"I've taken three baths and it's been four days." I muttered. "This isn't a stain."

Our respective trains of thought were cut off by a loud war whoop from Present Mic signalling the start of our English lesson. From there, things stayed quiet- or as quiet as they ever got- until lunch, where I was picking tiredly at my pork cutlets. Naturally, to 'help us get ready for the sports festival', we had a Japanese Lit test coming down the pike for Friday, and a Math test on Thursday.

Let it be known, for all and sundry, that I am a roaring dumpster fire at Japanese Lit. I didn't like it, I didn't have the background for it, and most importantly fucking old-ass kanji everywhere. So, in sum, I was kind of screwed unless I could find a manga with a little more faithfulness to the original story than, say, your average Naruto rerun.

Lunch rolled around with this semi-depressed air that always came with a test. Life moved on, and if we didn't move on with it then life would transition to a fast-moving kei truck to send us on to a reincarnation where we'd probably have to be directly saving the world instead of our little corner of it. Therefore, in the interest of dodging responsibility like a bullet as a good future public servant should, we needed to move past things- and for that, we had Mina.

Mina, bless her heart, was bad at math. Cancerously bad. She had forgotten her squares on the Pythagorean Theorem, turned slope-intercept form into slope-point-intercept, and most egregiously, had once divided by zero to multiply out a fraction. Even I, who'd mostly learned bookkeeping, could see that her math was best weaponized against small island governments who were claiming to be colonized. Fortunately, however, for all that Mina couldn't divide her way out of a wet paper bag, that didn't make her dumb. She knew she sucked at math, and therefore, the correct way to fix this was obviously a study group!

As she beamed at me and my 87/100 homework, I stared right back into those jet-black eyes. She was being cute, getting dangerously close to my personal space, and was deviously wafting the smells of her tray of Lunch Rush's jerk chicken towards me. Now, to be fair, jerk chicken was delightful, but I also had two pieces of it and a really savory basil roll and hot mustard I was gonna use for a sandwich. As such, I had one answer.

"No." I said with the finality of a gate closing, as I started sawing my roll in half. "I am not coming over to help you study."

"Please!" Mina asked, begging. "It'll only take an hour or two!"

"Let me think, do I want to spend two hours teaching you how to double-check your work, or do I want to spend two hours slamming my head into a kanji dictionary so I can go back to figuring out Momotaro?" I asked rhetorically, tapping my chin.

Of course, karma came swinging in like a bitch that exact moment, as Momo's head bobbed up from her ludicrously huge rice bowl the size of Deku's head. "Someone mention me?" she asked, working the words out between delicate bites and a furious speed of consumption that put my sisters to shame.

"Just talking about studying." Mina said, sighing. "I don't suppose you're good at math?"

"Practical stuff, yeah." Momo said, shrugging. "The formulae for what we're doing now, not so much."

Turning, Kyoka raised an eyebrow. "I can help too, if someone will help me with science."

"I can help." I said, with an eerie soprano backing. Looking over at Momo, I blinked- we'd offered at the same time. With a gesture, I gave her right of way, and went back to my sandwich.

"Come over to my place, and we can get you up to speed without too much work." Momo said, smiling, before I suppressed a physical wince. I had dropped the laser pointer right on my foot, there.

Of course, Mina had to stick her acid-covered oar back in. "But that means I'd have to study with Arsenio, and he's a grumpy cat!"

"That's like saying you're a hydroxide factory, but sure." I sniped back. "You can study with Momo, and I'll take care of Jiro."

The mildly betrayed look I got from Kyoka was worth it, right until Kirishima jumped in. "You know, Arsenio, don't you have issues with lit?"

My face grew pinched. "Yeah. I keep fucking up with kanji."

"That sucks, bro." Kirishima said, without a hint of guile. "Tell ya what, if you all kick in dinner, I'll come and help out with that."

Everyone's heads turned, and Kirishima grinned. Finally, Momo took the bait. "Alright, then how do you do 'depression' as one character?"

Kirishima grinned, before squirting out a pack of soy sauce and doing… something… in the middle of the table. Momo looked suitably impressed, though, so I'd buy it. "You do not want to play this game with me. Dad likes playing with odd kanji as a hobby."

"Alright, so what's the weirdest one you know?" I asked, perhaps foolishly.

Kirishima just grinned, and started drawing. After thirty motions, I lost track, and everyone was screwing up their brows. "And that is how we write 'garden' when the teacher doesn't like some of our 'simplistic vocabulary' because they dislike the other manly virtues."

"Dude, how long have you been doing calligraphy?" Mina asked, finally breaking down and asking the question everyone else was thinking about.

"Mom said I had to be educated rightly, so since I was eight."

I whistled. That would have been about when I learned to start really bilk tourists for cash, so he was probably pretty damn good by now. At that point, Momo smiled. "So it's decided, we'll head over to my place for studying. Does tonight work?"

As we all nodded our heads, I started cracking my hands together. Tonight would be good. Once lunch was done and we shuffled back through the classroom, I thought things could finally start sliding back to normal.

Then I saw Jokezura, absent the teacher-bot that was taking the place of Aizawa, speaking with Hound Dog. That, by itself, was odd- we wouldn't be having classes with Hound Dog until next semester at the earliest. Then the details started trickling in, especially the fact that Jokezura was wearing his swords- and I didn't know which one was live steel, and which was a bokken. He was obviously nervous as he turned to me, with the other teacher giving him silent support.

"de la Veracruz," he said, a forced calm over him. "I need you to go to counseling with Hound Dog. It should only take a half-hour."

My nerves slowed down, while the rest of the class around me tensed up. A few muttered words trailed along behind me as I moved up.

"Don't worry." Hound Dog growled as we stepped out of the classroom, his voice thick under his muzzle. "We only have to go over a few schedule changes as a result of the USJ Incident."

Oh fuck.

 

[SpiritualSlacker]

Great to see this back in action.

Also, sorry to hear about your discord-experience. Hope it stays resolved.

 

[7734]

Also, sorry to hear about your discord-experience. Hope it stays resolved.

Click to shrink...

Either it stays closed or I start getting drastic, yeah. That's all I'll say. Fortunately, I'll be updating this every other day or so until we're caught up with the SB master; how long this takes is open to debate.

Which reminds me I need to update the AO3 and QQ archive copies...

 

[shinaobi]

thread locked for review

 

[shinaobi]

all clear
After an extended review, staff have concluded that as this fic stands it's not in violation of any of SV's rules. No infractions will be issued, and no other action will be taken; the thread's unlocked.

 

[7734]

Well, that was a stressful few days. I'll get an update off the bench in celebration.

 

[7734]

Spoiler: Musica

Settling my twitching tail down, I walked into class. Things were quiet, despite the multitude of missing students. Mineta was out, obviously, but so were Iida and Todoroki. Hagakure was sitting quietly, too-visible bandages standing out against her head, while Uraraka had a gauzy mitt on one hand. Bakugo, normally decently early, wasn't even there when I walked in, still rubbing my bruised shield-arm. I- and the entire blasted class- were wearing a yellow card on a lanyard: the school's medical pass. Much like football, if we caught another yellow card, we would be out on medical leave- sometimes for a day, sometimes for as much as a month, as Recovery Girl explained when she'd ambushed students to force us to wear them.

When homeroom started in earnest, I half-expected to see Aizawa taking his usual position at the front of class. Instead, Jokezura, the perpetually tired teacher's assistant, took to the podium.

"Ahem." he said, drawing our attention. "While Aizawa-sensei is out on medical leave for these next three days, I am to be your homeroom manager, handling affairs in his place."

One by one, jaws across the class dropped. Undaunted, Jokezura kept talking. "While I know I'm not a proper substitute teacher, I'd like to reassure you Aizawa is watching. Probably through a helper-bot. Look for the one with a snake hat, Midnight keeps it handy if any of the teachers has to puppet one of them."

At that moment, the door rolled open, with both Bakugo coming in, followed by a human-size helper-bot with a battered snake hat and a red card on a lanyard decorating it. As the blonde bombardier sat down with a snarl, the robot came up to the podium.

"This is Aizawa." it said, in a rather uncomfortably digitized version of our teacher's voice. "Unfortunately, I am on medical leave after Recovery Girl determined I had four broken ribs and a damaged orbital floor. Even more unfortunately, she also told the Hero's Association. As such, I have very little to do. This means grading papers, filing insurance claims, and most importantly, helping prepare for the Sports Festival."

At that, everyone relaxed, right up until the robot leaned forward.

"Since you will be collectively debut at the UA Sports Festival, which is in two weeks, I expect the best from all of you. Get ready."

Of course, that relaxation flew into tension at the drop of this particular hat. As the class raged and Jokezura tried ineffectually to calm everyone down, I just leaned over to Kirishima.

"So, uh, the hell's a sports festival?" I asked, scratching my ear, before grabbing a thermos. My sleep was getting better, but was still shot up pretty bad. Oh, but to nap in homeroom.

"You've never done a sports festival?" he asked. "Never even seen a Pro Hero School festival?"

"One, we don't have sports festivals, unless you count some places doing a track and field day." I grumbled. "Two, we don't have Pro Hero Schools like you do, and three, I had a girlfriend."

"So?"

My stare was cold and horrifying. "We watched so. much. Isekai."

"Wait hold on, your girlfriend liked isekai shit?" Kirishima gasped. "Hold on. That's not fair."

"Yeah well if I ever get the chance to introduce you I'll make sure to make sure there's a riveting conversation." I grumbled, slugging back some of that thermos' coffee. Thank God for coffee. "Just remember to harden up if she's looking interested."

"What, she got a thing for boulders covered in sandpaper?"

"No, you presumably want to keep your blood inside ya. She bites."

And if that wasn't the truth, then the fine-lined bite scars on my arms were some hellaciously good liars. Still, pulling back from the conversation, Kirishima started talking with Bakugo, while I stood up to move back towards Yaoyorozu and Jiro. They were sitting together, and Jiro started to move away, before Yaoyorozu put a hand on her arm, bringing her to a hard stop.

As much as it looked like I lost that race, I couldn't just admit it was over and done with now. Pulling up an empty chair from Todoroki's empty desk, I sat next to the pair.

"So is this as weird for you as it is for me?" I asked, watching Deku hound on to Jokezura as the assistant-turned-substitute tried to keep up with the peppering of heroic questions.

"Yes." Momo muttered. "When I woke up today… I forgot anything had happened, until I sat down for breakfast. I was wondering why I was holding a punching needle instead of chopsticks, before it came back to me."

Kyoka nodded. "I didn't even notice I had been listening to the building until Dad asked about the holes in the drywall."

"I was trying to clean up my claws." I muttered, flicking one out. "Thought I still saw blood on them."

As the slight blade gleamed in the morning light, Momo squinted. "Because it was red?"

"Yeah."

"It's still red, Arsenio." Kyoka added, causing me to blink. Turning the hand and claw into the light, I gulped. At the edges, my claws pulled down to be nearly transparent- and now, in the haze of the bulb, it was a thin, bloody red.

"I've taken three baths and it's been four days." I muttered. "This isn't a stain."

Our respective trains of thought were cut off by a loud war whoop from Present Mic signalling the start of our English lesson. From there, things stayed quiet- or as quiet as they ever got- until lunch, where I was picking tiredly at my pork cutlets. Naturally, to 'help us get ready for the sports festival', we had a Japanese Lit test coming down the pike for Friday, and a Math test on Thursday.

Let it be known, for all and sundry, that I am a roaring dumpster fire at Japanese Lit. I didn't like it, I didn't have the background for it, and most importantly fucking old-ass kanji everywhere. So, in sum, I was kind of screwed unless I could find a manga with a little more faithfulness to the original story than, say, your average Naruto rerun.

Lunch rolled around with this semi-depressed air that always came with a test. Life moved on, and if we didn't move on with it then life would transition to a fast-moving kei truck to send us on to a reincarnation where we'd probably have to be directly saving the world instead of our little corner of it. Therefore, in the interest of dodging responsibility like a bullet as a good future public servant should, we needed to move past things- and for that, we had Mina.

Mina, bless her heart, was bad at math. Cancerously bad. She had forgotten her squares on the Pythagorean Theorem, turned slope-intercept form into slope-point-intercept, and most egregiously, had once divided by zero to multiply out a fraction. Even I, who'd mostly learned bookkeeping, could see that her math was best weaponized against small island governments who were claiming to be colonized. Fortunately, however, for all that Mina couldn't divide her way out of a wet paper bag, that didn't make her dumb. She knew she sucked at math, and therefore, the correct way to fix this was obviously a study group!

As she beamed at me and my 87/100 homework, I stared right back into those jet-black eyes. She was being cute, getting dangerously close to my personal space, and was deviously wafting the smells of her tray of Lunch Rush's jerk chicken towards me. Now, to be fair, jerk chicken was delightful, but I also had two pieces of it and a really savory basil roll and hot mustard I was gonna use for a sandwich. As such, I had one answer.

"No." I said with the finality of a gate closing, as I started sawing my roll in half. "I am not coming over to help you study."

"Please!" Mina asked, begging. "It'll only take an hour or two!"

"Let me think, do I want to spend two hours teaching you how to double-check your work, or do I want to spend two hours slamming my head into a kanji dictionary so I can go back to figuring out Momotaro?" I asked rhetorically, tapping my chin.

Of course, karma came swinging in like a bitch that exact moment, as Momo's head bobbed up from her ludicrously huge rice bowl the size of Deku's head. "Someone mention me?" she asked, working the words out between delicate bites and a furious speed of consumption that put my sisters to shame.

"Just talking about studying." Mina said, sighing. "I don't suppose you're good at math?"

"Practical stuff, yeah." Momo said, shrugging. "The formulae for what we're doing now, not so much."

Turning, Kyoka raised an eyebrow. "I can help too, if someone will help me with science."

"I can help." I said, with an eerie soprano backing. Looking over at Momo, I blinked- we'd offered at the same time. With a gesture, I gave her right of way, and went back to my sandwich.

"Come over to my place, and we can get you up to speed without too much work." Momo said, smiling, before I suppressed a physical wince. I had dropped the laser pointer right on my foot, there.

Of course, Mina had to stick her acid-covered oar back in. "But that means I'd have to study with Arsenio, and he's a grumpy cat!"

"That's like saying you're a hydroxide factory, but sure." I sniped back. "You can study with Momo, and I'll take care of Jiro."

The mildly betrayed look I got from Kyoka was worth it, right until Kirishima jumped in. "You know, Arsenio, don't you have issues with lit?"

My face grew pinched. "Yeah. I keep fucking up with kanji."

"That sucks, bro." Kirishima said, without a hint of guile. "Tell ya what, if you all kick in dinner, I'll come and help out with that."

Everyone's heads turned, and Kirishima grinned. Finally, Momo took the bait. "Alright, then how do you do 'depression' as one character?"

Kirishima grinned, before squirting out a pack of soy sauce and doing… something… in the middle of the table. Momo looked suitably impressed, though, so I'd buy it. "You do not want to play this game with me. Dad likes playing with odd kanji as a hobby."

"Alright, so what's the weirdest one you know?" I asked, perhaps foolishly.

Kirishima just grinned, and started drawing. After thirty motions, I lost track, and everyone was screwing up their brows. "And that is how we write 'garden' when the teacher doesn't like some of our 'simplistic vocabulary' because they dislike the other manly virtues."

"Dude, how long have you been doing calligraphy?" Mina asked, finally breaking down and asking the question everyone else was thinking about.

"Mom said I had to be educated rightly, so since I was eight."

I whistled. That would have been about when I learned to start really bilk tourists for cash, so he was probably pretty damn good by now. At that point, Momo smiled. "So it's decided, we'll head over to my place for studying. Does tonight work?"

As we all nodded our heads, I started cracking my hands together. Tonight would be good. Once lunch was done and we shuffled back through the classroom, I thought things could finally start sliding back to normal.

Then I saw Jokezura, absent the teacher-bot that was taking the place of Aizawa, speaking with Hound Dog. That, by itself, was odd- we wouldn't be having classes with Hound Dog until next semester at the earliest. Then the details started trickling in, especially the fact that Jokezura was wearing his swords- and I didn't know which one was live steel, and which was a bokken. He was obviously nervous as he turned to me, with the other teacher giving him silent support.

"de la Veracruz," he said, a forced calm over him. "I need you to go to counseling with Hound Dog. It should only take a half-hour."

My nerves slowed down, while the rest of the class around me tensed up. A few muttered words trailed along behind me as I moved up.

"Don't worry." Hound Dog growled as we stepped out of the classroom, his voice thick under his muzzle. "We only have to go over a few schedule changes as a result of the USJ Incident."

Oh fuck.

 

[SpiritualSlacker]

Well that's ominous.

 

[7734]

That's also a copy of 6.2 which should be 6.3, so I'll fix that in a minute.

 

[7734]

Spoiler: Musica

It was a short walk to the teacher's annex, and I was surprised to see Hound Dog earned his own enclosed office. It was quite homy, despite being a bit dark, and the light gray walls were pinned up with a number of diploma frames. A surprising number, really, complete with a well-worn license missing three corners pinned up in a glass case.

"So, about my schedule." I asked, before Hound Dog pointed to a chair for students- a chair, which I might add, was rather conveniently provided with a nice back-slot for tails. Letting mine curl through it, I sat down. This wasn't the time to be confrontational, but it didn't stop me from wanting to press the attack.

"It's nothing hideously serious." Hound Dog said, before sitting down himself and pulling out a well-worn planning book. "Or, at least, serious enough to warrant something completely new to the school's operation. Are you familiar with your graduation schedule?"

"Vaguely." I replied. Hound Dog just chuffed agreeably, before pulling out a pamphlet and handing it to me. A quick read-through revealed the basics, as well as a few interesting tidbits.

"Something that makes UA fairly unique is homeroom classes are fixed all three years you're here. This allows the class to handle scheduling in tranches, which is rather important considering how tight-pressed we can be on staff. There aren't many heroes of the caliber we require who are willing to go into teaching."

"Fair enough, but I'm not sure then how I, personally, am affected by this."

Tapping the pamphlet, a finger trailed down. There was the normal bevvy of academic courses, some basic one-off classes, and then an oddity- Heroic Ethics & Deportment. More importantly, the fact it had two variants.

Hound Dog sighed, before taking off his muzzle as he put his head in his hands. "de la Veracruz-san, may I admit something?"

This was a horrible sign. "Yes."

"The USJ incident was a broadcast attack. The school's recording of events was spoofed, but the local recorders have all the information. We know everything that happened in the facility."

They knew.

Ice rolled down my spine, ears pounding. They knew. My claws, still shining red, slipped out and dug into the chair's arms. My family was good, but they were still mostly in Mexico. A bevvy of aunts and my uncle's reach wouldn't stretch here, there weren't any of my local 'villian' friends to contact, no way to sneak on a banana boat to get the hell out of dodge. I was trapped.

"Veracruz!" Hound Dog snapped, and I locked eyes with him. If I was fast, I could slice him stem to stern before he even blinked- and then I noticed something. He had placed a hand, palm up, in front of me- and on his wrist, there was something I saw. It was an odd old scar, wide and shallow, glossy with age and care, shining through thin fur. Handcuff scars weren't too common these days, but I'd seen Abuelo's often enough to know what they were. "de la Veracruz, just calm down for a minute, please!"

"You know." I spat out, forgetting the little tricks that kept my words clean. "You know what I did."

"Hound Dog knows that he has a student in his office who may still be suffering mental trauma related to an incident that occured on school grounds. Dr. Inui Ryou, however, knows he's dealing with a student involved in a case of manslaughter who needs help making sure he doesn't internalize these events."

That threw me for a loop. "You're a doctor?"

"Mental health and wellness. Ain't exactly licensed for medicine, but I'm the best Nezu could get." Hound Dog- no, Dr. Inui now- said, his voice quickly losing the overtones of his canine appearance. "Nearly lost my license when the Creature Rejection Clan pulled a suit on the Hero Public Safety Commission. Went into mental health to help kids like me- Heteromorphs who wore their Quirk on their sleeve, and would get nailed on Villany charges every time they sneezed. Did a hell of a lot more good writing papers than catching perps, and then Nezu brought me in."

"So you know what you're talking about." I said, thinking aloud. The panic was starting to recede, even if my claws didn't, and the murderous thoughts that had percolated up through my mind were dying back down. Nobody had to get hurt today. "Good. That means you can explain the manslaughter charge."

"It's not a manslaughter charge against you, but rather against the school. We failed, de la Veracruz. We failed all of you, and we're taking the blame for that. Heroic training institutions have been attacked before- Destro, the CRC, the Mutant's Alliance, even the Yakuza at a few points in the bad old days." Dr. Inui said. "Student actions taken in defense of self are ruled as failings of the school to protect them. You're not on the hook for killing anyone. None of you are."
It was almost enough to make me relax, before the thought of a simple claw tracing a short path across an artery brought me back. "The way you say that implies I'm not the only one."

At this, Dr. Inui winced, scratching the side of his snout. "I can neither confirm nor deny that. Your mental health is important, but I can't compromise the status of any other students- it isn't fair to them or you."

Translation- I wasn't the only one with blood on his hands from USJ. Wonderful. "Well, thank you for that non-answer." I said blithely, trying to pull my claws back in and failing miserable. Guess I'd just risk cutting paper, then. "So back to the original excuse for me being here, I suppose: that scheduling change."

"Normally, in your second semester, you take a personal elective class or two." Dr. Inui said, still crisper and clearer than normal. "However, all of Class 1-A are going to be taking the nine-oh-seven course in Heroic Ethics & Deportment. This is close in, personalized counseling taught by Principle Nezu himself, on the topic of handling unsuccessful and failed heroic initiatives- with focus on handling incidents that involve loss of life."

"We have to wait until next semester?" I asked rhetorically. "Doesn't this sort of thing work best when you start it immediately?"

Dr. Inui's muzzle twisted into a canine snarl. "Any sooner and someone might be able to guess the real reason that course exists. This school is still ruled by public opinion, and if they could figure out we're putting you into organized therapy, then they'd start screaming."

"That's stupid."

"I know, right?"

We shared a sensible chuckle at that, before I sighed. "Anything else?"

"No, you can head back to class."

-/-/-/

I'd say the rest of the day passed without incident, but that would be a lie since we had First Aid class today and got to spend an hour staunching artorial flow. There was a part of me twitching at the wings not to handle this, and another part twitching to notice anyone noticing the first, but the only result was that I ended up catching a spray of fake blood under the chin. The red stained my lighter fur there, giving me a ghoulish cast for the rest of the lesson. When school ended, I was about to start walking towards the train station, when an arm looped around mine.

"Mina?" I asked, looking over at the rosette girl next to me.

"Did you forget about us going to study?" she asked with a slight smirk.

Yes, my mind said, while my mouth said "of course not."

"Good. Yayo-momo's called a car for us, now c'mon. I'll do you a favor if you do me the same."

"Oh?"

Mina stopped, and looked me in the eye. As I was again reminded that goddamnit everyone here is taller than me, she sighed. "I know you've got the hots for Jiro, so I'll help you get with her. In return, all I need you to do is just get me alone with Kirishima. Twenty minutes tops."

"I mean you could have just asked." I said, snorting. "Getting Kirishima to calm down about being manly won't hurt anyone."

Mina just smirked at me. "Nah, not yet. That'll come later when he finally gets up the nerve to ask."

"Well, uh, okay." I said, nonplused.

"Relax." she said, smiling. "I think I've got Jiro's number. You'll be a shoe-in, trust me!"

Ah, yes. You're going to get me together with what's looking to be my gay best friend. Truely, this is a plan that will proceed unencumbered by reason and logic. Still, as I headed towards the car, I smiled. It would be a good day with Momo, and things were looking up.

 

[Verdthandi]

So 鬱 is the kanji in question for "depression", and with 29 strokes I'm pretty sure it's a record setter (and hence a neat albeit obscurish thing for Kirishima to know).

Which word was he using for "garden"?

 

[7734]

So 鬱 is the kanji in question for "depression", and with 29 strokes I'm pretty sure it's a record setter (and hence a neat albeit obscurish thing for Kirishima to know).

Which word was he using for "garden"?

Click to shrink...

I'll be damned if I can actually remember (my Japanese is incredibly weak ATM) but it was one that was obsoleted at least twice over, and is only really seen in pre- and early Waring States period texts. I did take the time to look through a kanji dictionary for this, though, and basically tried to find the spiciest mess of radials I could.

 

[Verdthandi]

I'll be damned if I can actually remember (my Japanese is incredibly weak ATM) but it was one that was obsoleted at least twice over, and is only really seen in pre- and early Waring States period texts. I did take the time to look through a kanji dictionary for this, though, and basically tried to find the spiciest mess of radials I could.

Click to shrink...

Maybe 回遊式庭園 or 池泉回遊式, both of which refer to a garden with a path around a pond? Alternatively,座観式庭園 is a garden best enjoyed from a single viewing point.

As an aside, when researching this I ran across and fell in love with 脳内お花畑, which literally translates to "intracranial flower garden" and refers to someone who is overly carefree.

 

[w34v3r]

... I don't know if I need to stop giving the English language flack based on what I'm learning or if I need to rag on it more often.