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[attr="class","likedoinfo"]DESCRIBE THE NATURE OF YOUR REQUEST: requesting the unarchival of homura makishima, please & thanks!
RELEVANT LINKS: right here

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[attr="class","vpostbg"]He's sure that someone is either calling the police, or pressing some kind of panic button somewhere. They have to be. Homura's mind is running at a mile a minute as the situation progresses, listening to the heavy steps of the robbers as they bark orders at the cashier.

It's as he's starting to step forward, as one of the mouths on his hands starts to open, that something... unexpected happens. A figure darts past his peripheral, and there's some kind of creature staring down the robbers first. Homura has to do a double-take for just a second, wrapping his head around what's happening. He only affords himself a single second to focus on that, though; odd as it is, it's a distraction.

The one with the tentacle-like limbs focuses their attention on the creature. "The hell kinda Looney-Tunes thing is this?" He barks. He pulls one arm back to try and swing at the creature as Homura moves forward, focusing on the one with the baseball bat.

Is it smart? In the moment, yeah. In practice, well. He's not entirely sure. Robbery procedures in school tended to focus on things as though you'll have another hero near you - and, in this moment, as far as he knows? It's him and the broom-like creature. A weird pair, but a pair all the same.

All the same, Homura pulls one arm back. He swings a hell of a haymaker forward, landing it on the baseball-bat wielding thug's jaw. There's a beat, before the mouth on the back of his hand speaks - "Push."

The thug staggers back against the counter.

Looks like a real brawl is brewing - and the broom and third year are leading the charge!

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[attr="class","vpostbg"]Maybe there's a better way to go about things. Homura has considered this before while shopping, but the thought becomes especially prominent as - in his peripheral - he sees someone reach up to grab some udon. Ever polite, he steps to the side to give them a little more room, then turns his attention back to plucking what little else he needs.

That central consideration of a better way lingers. It has, of course, nothing to do with shopping in the moment. Rather, it's a notion directed back at the demons that raised him. Maybe there's a better way to go about being what they need him to be; perhaps he doesn't have to hold his head up ever so high, and can instead simply walk among the average person without much issue arising from it. He may be an equilizing force, but that does not mean he has to be cruel. Certainly doesn't mean his tongue must carry so much vitriol to it.

It's as he's for once considering the ramifications of being a better person that the doors to the door are blown right the fuck open.

"Down on the ground!" A gruff voice shouts. Barging in are two rather big figures, each wearing thick black clothing to obscure both their physical features and whatever mutations might be hidden beneath. One is armed with a baseball bat, and the other with nothing more than what the gods gave them: a large pair of tentacles for hands. Well, so much for hiding identifying features.

"Oh, joy." Homura mutters. He glances at the person beside him, a young woman by the looks of things. From the looks of things, the two are - sooner rather than later - probably going to realize that not everyone is following their directions. Timing, then, is going to be made his priority.

"Ma'am, please take shelter. I'll deal with this to the best of my abilities until the authorities arrive." It's a simple request, but one that carries a certain authority to it. The additional mouths scattered across his body crack themselves into various grins, expressions of anticipation that directly contrast with Homura's own calm demeanor.

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[attr="class","vpostbg"]He doesn't really have to go shopping. Let's make that clear: Homura doesn't actually have to go shopping and get things, because he could just as easily ask someone else to do it. He could order them and get them delivered to him, he could send someone to do the errand and use their best judgement to get what's needed... he doesn't have to be here.

Shopping as of late, however, has become a sort of stress relief. Not in the sense that he's spending thousands upon thousands of yen on fancy clothing (not any more than he already does, anyhow), but in the sense that everything has a price. There are no random factors. Everything in the store is organized, everything in the store is ripe and perfect for the taking, and there are no sudden shouts or exams to worry about here. In an odd way, stores have become a sort of stress-free zone for him because of that. He doesn't have to worry about potential internships. He just has to figure out if the fruit he's looking at is ripe or not.

The corner store he's taken to as of late isn't some massive joint, either. It's just a nice mom-and-pop sort of place, ran by an old couple who he's crossed paths with a handful of times. They regard him kindly, and he regards them casually, and everything tends to work out well because of it.

If it weren't for the expensive clothing he's wearing, maybe Homura could pass as someone who's middle class. Lord, though, he wouldn't be caught dead with that sort of air lingering around him now. No, he's wearing some designer shirt whose salmon sleeves end just shy of his forearms, showcasing the intricate tattoos that run down the rest of his limbs as a result. Sacred symbols carved into him, the essence of a god, each ending at one of the mouths at the end of his hands... Oh, they're masterfully done. Terrifying for those who eventually see them up close in a fight, but masterfully made all the same. His pants are just as designer as his shirt, a golden chain attached to some barely-working pocket watch dangling out from their pockets.

A basket hangs in the bend of his elbow. As it stands, it's got a few different fruits in it, coupled with a few different types of noodles. Turns out, channels online have a lot of different ideas when it comes to cooking - and, while he could just ask for someone to make him food... well, nothing bad has ever come of experimentation in the kitchen, right?

All in all, it's a peaceful evening.

He has no idea that it's going to change to anything but soon enough.

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[attr="class","vpostbg"]Her critiques are noted. One by one, he takes careful notes of her responses to each answer and - although he remains silent - chides himself internally for not thinking his answers through all the way. Of course calling for back-up would be an option, he knows this, but... Well, it wouldn't be fitting of someone of his stature to suddenly turn heel and yell for help, would it? But then again, that would be the essence of a hero as well; knowing your limits, and using others to help push you beyond them. Cooperation for elevation. He mentally curses himself for not thinking of that while answering, though his attention never once wavers from the teacher.

She says that her answers need not be responded to, and he intends to take this to heart, but - in his mind - he writes out little responses to each. Counterpoints to her own responses that, if said aloud, would surely only result in the younger of the two falling flat on his face metaphorically. His arrogance is not so proud as to think itself better than a teacher, someone who has been on the field for as long as he has been alive more than likely, but... well, it is still arrogance. A hero would not be a hero if they did not, ever so often, have a moment of questioning the wisdom of those above them.

Wisely, however, he keeps those doubts to himself. Those quiet questions and counterpoints will never be uttered aloud while his teacher is around; perhaps he will mention them if the interview is brought up by those who raised him, which it undoubtedly will be, though perhaps it would be wise to bite his tongue there too.

Homura's ability to create a potential cause for anxiety from nothing is almost as impressive as his Quirk at times. Thankfully, he is well trained enough to hold any impression of nerves or worry from his expression. He would not have gotten as far as he has if he wore his heart on his sleeve - mostly because its absence would surely be noticed by the more righteous around him.

"I see." He finally speaks as his superior comes to a stop. "I apologize for my miscalculations of the situations." He thinks for a moment, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose as he tries to decide on his next statement. Biding time, he sips his drink, then sets it down, and offers a smile of his own - albeit, one that is in equal parts genial and apologetic. A surprise, given his typical confidence, but not entirely unexpected from one in his position; it's hard not to be at least a little shaken when one's superior has noted down what they've done wrong, especially when personal experience with failure makes old scars embroidered across his back spike with recognition.

"I suppose the only question I can ask is if my answers have, in so many words, cost me an internship." He chuckles as he asks it, seemingly shedding his nerves in favor of returning to that lingering confidence and casualness. "Though, I'd also like to know where you got the tea set." He nods to the cups, clearly appreciative of them. "It's quite nice."

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[attr="class","vpostbg"]And now the real show starts. Her response to his answer allows him to relax ever so faintly, the multi-mouthed student nodding along as Mai continues.

"It's not old fashioned at all." He chuckles, shaking his head. "It makes perfect sense. I'll save any of my questions for the end, of course - yours take priority." There's a clear sense of respect in his words; her time, he realizes, is infinitely more valuable than his own. She saves lives, he's merely learning how to do so with half the skill and grace that she has to offer. Best to save his questions for last, just in case anything comes up in the meantime.

The first hypothetical makes him think for a moment. He sips his drink, noting her eye contact, and returning it in kind.

"In that case, I would first make sure the cashier is all right, depending on the intensity of the injuries, and ensure that the proper medical services are called if they're needed. For the robber, I would apprehend them as swiftly as possible. Given the items that they were stealing, I would attempt to have both parties come to a reasonable conclusion so as to avoid any criminal prosecution in the matter. If that would be an unreachable resolution, then I would instead pay for the stolen items and follow the appropriate steps to ensure that they get to who needs them, as well as to ensure that - if there are children in need involved - they get adequate care either from a trusted guardian or family member until the issue is resolved."

It's a clinical answer through-and-through, though he doesn't sound like a robot when he prattles it off. Rather, it's clear that he's thinking through every avenue of the situation. The law must be upheld, but that isn't to say one can't be charitable with their efforts to do so.

The second scenario draws a steady moment of silence from him. Homura sips his drink, brows furrowing.

"In that situation, I would attempt to disperse the crowd quickly but without inciting panic. If I could do so, then my next priority would be limiting the collateral damage caused by the bomb detonating by trying to move it to an area without large cars or buildings around, or using my Quirk to push it upwards so as to prevent it from exploding on the ground and minimizing damage in the process." He nods to himself, though it's clear this scenario is puzzling him. "If I could not disperse the crowd quickly, then I would attempt to move the explosive itself into a less population-dense area with the unknown amount of time I have, utilizing my Quirk to make the process easier if able."

That, he thinks, was probably not a satisfactory answer. Maybe she's looking for something akin to 'I would throw myself on the explosive'. That's the most heroic answer, isn't it? ... No, he dismisses that thought. That's the dumbest answer around. A body wouldn't stop the explosion. It would only make the oncoming mess all the harder to clean up.

The third hypothetical, thankfully, is one that he doesn't need to take that much time to think on. He gives an appreciative nod as his drink is refilled, taking one more sip from it before answering the final scenario.

"I would attempt to fix the larger of the two, with two-hundred passengers. My rationale on this is that this boat is likely larger than the other and, as such, when it's repaired, we can have an easier time getting those from the first boat aboard it. If those from the first boat attempt to stop me, I would attempt to explain this rationale to them. My focus would remain on repairing the second ship and getting those from the first ship onto it once repairs were properly made." He seems proud of that answer, if the faint smile is anything to go by.

He waits, patient and observant, for her response.

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[attr="class","vpostbg"]There is always hesitancy when it comes to interacting with U.A staff. Homura has learned this about himself through and through after attending the school for as long as he has and, while he recognizes it as a problem, it has not been entirely solved yet. Perhaps it stems from a worry that their authority will be no different than the authority often responsible for new issues back home, or perhaps it instead comes from the innate envy he has towards the strong. No matter its origin, its presence is undeniable.

Case and point, he can count on one hand the number of times he and Shirayuki have exchanged anything more than casual hello's and goodbye's after class. This is no different from how he interacts with other U.A professors, of course. Homura rarely asks questions, excels on assignments, and has - in some cases - occasionally offered his services as a tutor to those that may need it. By all accounts, he's something of a model student, albeit one that could use a bit more social prodding than he lets on. Hell, given a brief spat he had recently with a younger student in the hall, he could definitely use more social training rather than Quirk or tactical aid.

All the same, however, when he's invited to the stomping grounds of one of the professors - one of them with a damn agency nonetheless - of course he has to accept it. He's not so weak as to allow his worries to get in the way of his success, not by a long-shot.

He's not dressed too formally. Dressed a bit nicer, sure, but he's not to the nines and wearing designer; it's been whispered to him that a more casual approach may work when it comes to internship interviews, lest he come off as the sort of person who values his appearance too much. He does value his appearance too much, of course, it's impossible to deny that fact, but the attempt at stifling his desire to wear nothing but the best may do a better job of voicing his desire to stand beside the professor as an intern than anything else.

He gives the guard a polite thank you once he's guided into the room proper and left with Shirayuki. He moves to the other seat at her instruction, then makes himself comfortable, folding both palms down on his lap. As silent as ever for all of a moment, as though considering her question, Homura really does look something like a hero already; well-built and obedient, clearly organized and at the top of his game when it comes to his intellect...

"Thank you for having me, and for the offered drinks." is the first thing he says when he opens his mouth, bending slightly to offer a sitting bow to to the U.A teacher. Best to show respect right out the gate, lest any of his words leave a sorrow impression. Though he's not actually all that thirsty, anxiety gnaws at him. Wouldn't it be rude to refuse an offer by a hero? By a teacher? By a possible employer? Absolutely to all three. He reaches forward with a nod, pouring himself a glass of water then taking a quick sip from it.

There's an air of relief when she notes that neither of them are the type for small talk. That's good, part of him thinks. The less small-talk he has to do, the better.

"Being a hero is... complicated." Homura finally answers. "On the surface, it's just saving people, though 'just saving people' makes it sound infinitely easier than I'm told it is in practice." He looks away from Shirayuki as he speaks, gaze roaming around the room not out of nerves, but out of intrigue towards the otherwise casual surroundings compared to what he expected. "However, heroes also serve as benchmarks for their respective communities, if not for Japan as a whole. It's a position with heavy social consequences, considering how drastically public attitudes can change on one issue or another depending on what a hero says or does towards a particular event or person."

He puts a hand on his chin, continuing. "I think, when it comes down to it, being a pro hero means both inspiring a sense of law and order, and creating a sense of hope in others. They are the first faces people see on what could be the worst day of their lives and, thereby, have a responsibility to make sure that those going through everything from disasters to villain attacks feel safe." He pauses, then offers a small smile. "Er, was that too long? I can shorten my answer if you'd like."