Chapter 31 - Threads of Transformation

The class gathered on the platform, waiting for the train to arrive. The air was filled with chatter and nervous energy as everyone discussed their upcoming internships. You adjusted the strap of your bag, glancing at the clock. Though you'd planned to head to Best Jeanist's agency, you had arranged with Aizawa to make a stop in Hosu City, where Tenya Iida was interning. It was on the way, and something about Iida's recent behavior had you concerned.

When the train finally arrived, its brakes screeched to a halt, and students began filing in. Aizawa lingered at the platform's edge, his ever-watchful eyes scanning the group. He caught sight of you and stepped closer. "Be careful out there," he said, his voice firm but tinged with subtle concern.

You offered him a warm, reassuring smile, your wings shifting slightly as you adjusted your posture. Reaching out, you clasped his hand briefly. "Don't worry, Mr. Aizawa. I'll be fine," you replied, your tone confident but gentle.

Aizawa's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he gave a small nod and stepped back as the train doors slid open. You entered and found a spot near Iida, who stood rigidly by the window. He seemed unusually tense, his shoulders stiff and his usual formal demeanor subdued.

Sliding into the space beside him, you tilted your head, studying his profile. "Who are you interning with?" you asked softly, trying to break the silence.

Iida nodded slightly, his movements mechanical, but he didn't meet your eyes or elaborate further. The silence stretched between you, and a faint crease formed on your brow. This wasn't like him. Iida was always polite, verbose even, especially when explaining his decisions. His uncharacteristic quietness only deepened your unease.

As the train rumbled forward, you decided not to press him further—for now. Instead, you shifted your focus to the scenery speeding past the window, but your thoughts remained on Iida. Something was weighing on him, and you silently resolved to keep an eye on your friend during your time in Hosu.

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Arriving in Hosu, you stepped off the train, the buzz of the city enveloping you instantly. The streets were alive with energy, but your focus was split. You had watched Tenya walk off in another direction without a word, his stiff posture and uncharacteristic silence gnawing at your instincts. Deciding not to follow for now, you scanned the area for the person you were supposed to meet.

Not long after, a figure emerged from the flow of pedestrians—a tall, slim man with an unmistakable air of authority. His features struck you immediately: an unnaturally long and flexible neck that swayed slightly as he moved, sharp, heavily-lashed eyes tilting inward with a piercing intensity, and blond hair combed drastically to one side, almost completely obscuring his left eye.

His attire was unmistakable. The man was a walking testament to denim: a perfectly tailored waistcoat, a high-collared dress shirt, and a pair of jeans that fit with precision. His face was partially obscured by the exaggerated collar of his shirt, lending him an air of mystery. Completing the ensemble were two belts—one snugly around his waist, the other forming a choker—and dark brown boots with thick gray shafts and soles.

The man stopped a few paces from you, his posture straight as a board, exuding an almost military discipline. "Are you L/N?" he asked, his voice calm and measured, carrying a tone of authority without arrogance.

You stepped forward, wings tucked close, and nodded politely. "Yes, that's me. I take it you're Best Jeanist?"

He inclined his head slightly, his expression unreadable beneath his high collar. "Indeed. I've heard much about you. Your presence alone speaks volumes. Dragons are rare, and even rarer still are those who can control such immense power with grace. Follow me."

He turned with a precise, almost choreographed motion, his long neck tilting slightly as if to ensure you were following. You matched his stride, his commanding aura making you instinctively straighten your posture. This was going to be an interesting internship, you thought, a small smile curving your lips as you caught up to the Denim Hero.

Best Jeanist led you through the bustling streets of Hosu with the same composure as if he were walking a runway. His presence, tall and stoic, cut through the noise of the city like a blade. As the two of you neared a towering, modern building—the unmistakable headquarters of his agency—he glanced at you, his sharp eyes appraising.

"Don't worry about not being dressed the part," he said, his tone calm yet authoritative. "During your time here, you'll not only refine your public image but also learn to keep your dragon side in check. Discipline is key to mastering both."

You blinked in surprise but nodded, appreciating his confidence in your growth. "Understood," you replied, your voice steady. His reassurance was unexpected but welcome, and it settled some of the nerves that had been simmering under your calm exterior.

Once inside the sleek lobby of the agency, the atmosphere shifted. The air was crisp and professional, a sharp contrast to the chaotic energy of the city outside. Employees in neatly tailored attire bustled about, their movements precise and efficient. Before you could take in more of your surroundings, a woman appeared seemingly out of nowhere, her polished demeanor matching the agency's pristine environment.

"Come with me, Ms. L/N," she said briskly, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly. Her no-nonsense attitude suggested she wasn't one to be kept waiting.

You cast a glance at Best Jeanist, who gave the slightest nod of approval. "Follow her," his expression seemed to say without words. Straightening your posture, you allowed the woman to lead you deeper into the building, her pace fast and purposeful. Whatever lay ahead, you were ready to face it head-on. This was your first step into the world of pro-hero internships, and you intended to make it count.

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The woman led you through a series of hallways, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. She exuded efficiency, not sparing a glance over her shoulder as you tried to keep up with her brisk pace. Eventually, she stopped in front of a sleek door marked "Fitting Room" and pushed it open with a flourish.

"This is where we'll start," she said crisply, gesturing for you to step inside. The room was pristine and bathed in soft light, with racks of impeccably tailored clothes and a full-length mirror dominating the space. A faint scent of fabric softener and cedar lingered in the air, reinforcing the high-end, professional vibe.

Before you could ask any questions, she ushered you toward the center of the room and began appraising you with a critical eye. "You'll need something that complements your unique form," she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. Her gaze flicked from your wings to your talons, then back to your posture. "We're aiming for balance: striking but not overwhelming, practical yet elegant."

She disappeared momentarily into the racks of clothing, returning with an ensemble that made you raise an eyebrow. A fitted jacket with a high collar reminiscent of Best Jeanist's style, paired with sleek trousers designed to accommodate your dragon-tail and claws, along with reinforced stitching in case of sudden transformations. The outfit was completed with subtle metallic accents that gleamed like scales, a clever nod to your heritage.

"Try this," she instructed, handing you the garments.

You complied, stepping behind a divider to change. The fabric was surprisingly comfortable, moving with you instead of restricting your natural range of motion. When you finally emerged, she clapped her hands together, a satisfied smile on her face.

"Perfect," she declared, circling you like an artist admiring their masterpiece. "You look professional, heroic, and distinctly you. Best Jeanist will be pleased."

You turned to the mirror, taking in the reflection. The outfit not only looked good but also felt right—it was a seamless blend of your human and dragon aspects, emphasizing both your elegance and your strength. You ran a hand over the jacket, a small smile tugging at your lips. This was more than just clothing; it was a statement of who you were becoming.

"Now," the woman said, her tone softening slightly, "let's see what the boss thinks." She gestured for you to follow her, and together, you stepped out of the fitting room to face Best Jeanist.

You found Best Jeanist seated at a sleek glass table, engrossed in conversation with a group of assistants who surrounded him like planets orbiting a star. He exuded his usual air of precision and authority, every movement calculated and deliberate. His attention briefly shifted to you as you approached, his sharp eyes taking in the polished ensemble you now wore.

A faint smile curved his lips, accentuating the subtle hollows of his high cheekbones. "Good work, Jessica," he said, his voice calm but laced with approval as he glanced at the assistant who had dressed you. "She looks presentable and poised."

The assistant, Jessica, gave a small bow, her expression brightening at the praise. "Thank you, sir." She hurried off without delay, leaving you alone with the imposing hero.

Best Jeanist rose gracefully from his seat, his movements fluid, like the fabric he manipulated so expertly in his hero work. He regarded you with an approving nod, gesturing for you to stand at ease. "You'll do well," he said. "A strong appearance is the foundation of a strong impression, and you wear that foundation well."

You dipped your head slightly in acknowledgment, trying to suppress the flicker of pride his words ignited. "Thank you, sir. I'll do my best to meet your expectations."

He held your gaze for a moment, as if evaluating the sincerity of your words, then gestured toward the hall. "For tonight, you'll be shown to your room. Rest and settle in. Tomorrow, we begin in earnest."

As you turned to leave, his voice stopped you. "Dinner will be at eight. Be prompt." The precision in his tone made it clear that tardiness was not an option.

You nodded again, your voice steady. "Understood."

With that, you followed an assistant down the corridor, your thoughts already turning to the challenges ahead. Best Jeanist was a man of high standards, and if you were to rise to his level, you'd have to be ready for anything.