The Loser | by Isaac7525

Turning back to the scene before them, the duo immediately took notice of their peculiar matching outfits. All of the half-unconscious men in the street were clad in white uniforms, which were now littered with debris and wettened by the snow. 

"If I can brainwash them one by one, I can have them sit here until the law enforcement are informed." 

"Brainwash? I thought you just consumed your potion," Oboro appeared momentarily puzzled as he watched Shinso approach the men. 

He turned back to Oboro and offered him a small smirk. "It's already in my toolkit. Now go see if Florence is alright." 

Oboro nodded, approaching the woman and offering her assistance. Shinso had already long known the limitations of his quirk, so attempting to prompt out information from the men wasn't achievable even with the Brainwashing. The boy couldn't enable people to conduct complex functions like memory recollection or anything related to their minds. 

He had prompted the men with gentle questions like "Are you alright?" or had resorted to straight-up taunting them for their victory over them to get them to reply. As long as they replied to anything Shinso said, they would succumb to the Brainwashing. He then directed them one by one to sit down and wait for the law enforcement to show up. He also couldn't command more than one person at a time, so the process quickly grew tedious. 

"They're all in these white uniforms," Shinso made a deduction as he approached Oboro, turning back around to gaze at the scene of the dazed men sitting in the middle of the road. 

"They look like uniforms a prisoner would wear," Oboro observed, putting the pipe back into his mouth and blowing out a small stream of smoke. 

"Wouldn't it be weird though, all these men on the road?" Shinso pointed to the cluster. 

"The Pollinators will get this situation settled," The blue-haired man said, stuffing the pipe back into a hidden pocket on his coat. 

"The Pollinators?" The boy turned to look at him, momentarily confused. 

Just then, Florence spoke up. "The faction of Mother Nature's church that deals with criminals." 

She pointed east and turned back at the duo. "Their headquarters are down that way. If you're up to it, I could delay my arrival and inform them of what happened." 

Shinso shook his head. "My Brainwashing lasts for an indefinite amount of time. Due to this part of the kingdom not having that many people from what I've observed, the chance of someone rousing them from it and running away freely."

This part of Seraphis Kingdom was lined with tall buildings bearing smokestacks which pumped out thick amounts of smoke into the sky. The roads weren't as clustered with snow, but the roads were icy to a certain extent. 

"How far is your establishment from here?" Oboro asked. 

"Only about another ten minutes. If we leave now, you two can go to the Pollinators and report this happening with time to spare." 

"Alright," Oboro nodded his head to Shinso. 

"Come now, the closer we get her home, the higher a chance we have of finding wherever Isaac is."

…

"I once requested the kid jot down stuff in a journal, but he hasn't come to me since to tell me anything," Mr. Ryujin leaned back in his chair, prompting his feet up onto the table. 

"What have you learned from his past entries?" Aizawa asked, remaining still in his chair whilst flipping through the catalog of jobs. 

"Well, he doesn't really speak to me through journal entries. But rather, he talks to me about his dreams, one dream in particular." 

Aizawa cocked an eyebrow. "Go on." 

Mr. Ryujin slowly let out a long sigh. "He dreamt of a boy playing in the forest, and he ended up killing a bird by accident." 

His hands absentmindedly rapped against the wooden table as he kept explaining. "This boy was scorned for being foolish and stupid for doing that. Now that you killed one of the animals, the rest might not want to play with you."

Mr. Ryujin had recalled what I had said in precise detail, a trait gained from helping hundreds of students with their own issues. 

"We came here for a psychological profile, not a philosophy ramble," Olivia sighed, lowering her head into her hands, which wrapped into her blonde locks. 

"But, you see…"

At that moment, Mr. Ryujin took out an object from his pocket. It appeared to be a small black book with a spiral-bound binding. The pages of the book were wrinkled around the edges, a silent telling of its origins.

"In order to understand one, you must peer into their thoughts. Isn't that right, assistant counselor?"

Even if Olivia was one of U.A's guidance counselors, she was overall new to the profession. She had known Mr. Ryujin during her time as a school nurse.

Olivia's face flushed slightly as she sighed. "I'm still learning, we both are." 

The man with dragon horns flipped through the weathered journal for a few moments before turning the book to the others. On the pages were three lines etched in barely legible, crimson handwriting. 

Seeing these phrases, Aizawa's face couldn't help but visibly pale. "What the…" 

He slowly took the book from Mr. Ryujin, analyzing the writing closely. "Is this…Isaac's journal?" 

Mr. Ryujin nodded. "Yep. I'm not one for prying, but before we initially conducted his quirk test, I snuck into his backpack and took it out for safekeeping." 

He patted his pocket. "If I hadn't done so, it'd be trapped in an entirely different dimension with no way to read it." 

Aizawa's eyes narrowed as he read through the lines. "These are…awfully morbid." 

Olvia glared at the journal too, but she refrained from making any comments. Her eyes were widening as she gradually translated the messy handwriting. 

Mr. Ryujin dragged his feet off the table and sighed softly. "As you can see from what he's written, his psychological profile is one that peaks my interest." 

Aizawa looked at Mr. Ryujin, his expression slowly resembling a glare. "You sound like you want to test him." 

The man shook his head, raising his arms in defense. "I don't consent to doing things like that. In a way, he's still a child, a child with boundaries that need to be respected." 

"But …you'll still try to learn more about this, right?" Olivia pointed to the black journal in Aizawa's hands. 

Mr. Ryujin nodded. "Indeed." 

He silently took back the journal and closed it, tucking it back into one of his pockets. "After we find him, I'll make sure to ask him plenty." 

Aizawa absorbed the man's words and felt a surge of gratitude. "Alright." 

The trio suddenly looked back towards the working papers nearby. "Using what we learned, I don't entirely think he'd be up for…"

Mr. Ryujin trailed off as he opened the pamphlet. "Babysitting, with quite handsome pay." 

"Babysitting?" Aizawa and Olivia seemed taken aback. 

"Are you sure Isaac's a take-care-of-child typa guy?" Olivia quickly grew speculative, leaning in a little closer to gaze into the papers in Mr. Ryujin's hands. 

The man's lips curled upwards a little bit as he smiled. "I don't think he'd turn down this." 

The trio all tacitly agreed at that moment to check the address for hiring. Mr. Ryujin immediately began to sharply scan the page for any additional information. After about twenty seconds of uninterrupted silence, his eyes widened as he pointed to a section of the page. 

It was labeled inside a separate box beside the hiring information. 

"Apparently, Madame Charlotte Fitzgerald has been vying for a position in the papers for quite a while. Due to the long period of time she's been opening this position, Isaac was most likely to take this job without a second thought upon seeing the pay amount." 

"Sounds reasonable. I'm sure he's the type of person to take the opportunity when the time presents itself. On top of the reward, the difficulty and resource have both been labeled as minimal." 

At that moment, Olivia's brows arched. "Mininal experience, for babysitting?" 

She folded both of her hands over her chest and assumed a more solemn position as if to amplify a point. "If a person with no experience were to watch whoever the child is, they'd either struggle immensely or gradually learn as they go." 

"That either signals desperation or confidence in the job done," Aizawa deduced, scratching his chin. 

"I'm sure someone named Madame Charlotte Fitzgerald would have little knowledge in regards of how to raise children; her house is probably crawling with servants." 

"Then why hire to begin with if servants can get the job done?" Olivia asked. 

"Either sheer laziness or unconfidence in the servant's performance," Mr. Ryujin replied, leaning back in his chair. 

"Laziness?" Aizawa seemed taken aback. 

"It may sound unorthodox. But maybe the servants don't do a good job either. If they did, she'd have no reason to put the job in the papers," the man with dragon horns speculated. 

After spending another five minutes putting pieces together and conducting arguments, they all unanimously agreed on heading over to the establishment to ask questions, disregarding the time of night. Putting on their coats and heavy gear, they headed back out the door and into the weather, which had gradually calmed down over time. It wasn't as potent as before, but wearing winter garments was a habitual precaution. 

As they walked down the street, Mr. Ryujin scanned the nearby roads to look for a rental carriage. A portion of the streets had been paved, so the chances of a rental carriage being available were higher than earlier in the night. 

"I picked up this map from inside the lobby, and from the looks of it, walking to Madame Fitzgerold's establishment would take about an hour. That's another hour of Isaac without anyone."

"Or another hour of Isaac with someone we don't know." Gradually, Aizawa had begun to consider the possibility that I could have gotten kidnapped, so his persistence in gathering information had accelerated. 

The trio kept walking for a few minutes before the distant sounds of clicking against the snow-covered road. Mr. Ryujin quickly turned around and caught sight of the incoming carriage.

The driver was a slim man with a broad forehead, and he led two brown horses down the road. Upon seeing the group, along with Mr. Ryujin's hand signal, he froze in front of them.

"Need a ride?" He asked.

Mr. Ryujin nodded, looking back and gesturing for them to climb into the carriage. 

"To Madame Charlotte Fitzgarold's."

The coachmen quickly whipped the horses forward, sending them all down the road with great speed. Gradually, the sinking feeling in Aizawa's stomach began to dissipate.