Une mer de corps. Une tempête de voix. Un flux sans fin de clics et de tiques et de lumières clignotantes comme des doigts brouillés contre des écrans et des boutons, des coups désespérés pour être giflés sur une page Web avec quelques textes écrits hâtivement et peut-être une citation de choix ou deux, selon ce qui tirerait le plus de coups de citoyens ennuyeux ou curieux à la recherche de quelques minutes de divertissement inutile en vérifiant le dernier buzz sur la scène héros. Certains le tourneraient comme une pièce de bien-être, les enfants défavorisés se voyant offrir une chance généreuse de rédemption. D'autres tiraient pour la controverse, peignant Tumble comme un début irresponsable essayant de traîner des jeunes mentalement instables et des criminels littéraux dans ce qui était censé être un domaine de travail prestigieux et étroitement réglementé. Si l'une ou l'autre des histoires se vendait assez bien, elle pourrait même finir par être récupérée par l'arbre mort presser le lendemain matin.
Vraiment, cependant, tout le clusterfuck pouvait se résumer en une seule phrase: c'était l'attention, quelque chose que Toma Shuko faisait de son mieux pour éviter en ce moment.
Elle savait que ce serait l'un des risques dès le moment où elle avait reçu l'offre de Tumble, mais avait espéré que le héros en question garderait les choses calmes. Évidemment, elle ne l'a pas fait. Ce qui a conduit à la question inquiétante de savoir si toute cette affaire n'était qu'une grosse affaire de relations publiques. Ce ne serait certainement pas la première fois que Shuko était pris pour un tour.
Heureusement, elle n'avait pas été la première à arriver, et au moment où elle avait montré la presse et les gawkers avaient déjà embusqué les autres héros potentiels, la laissant libre de regarder toute la scène à quelque distance. Quelques personnes l'ont peut-être vue, mais quand il y avait un gars qui jouait comme Satan criant de la douleur et de la violence à quelques mètres de là, personne n'allait prêter beaucoup d'attention à une fille râpée aux cheveux sales dans un pull gris rongé, griffant un mince carnet à sa poitrine.
Ce dernier était un choix délibéré de sa part, destiné à la rendre aussi ennuyeux que humainement possible pour les caméras. Des traits simples et une expression morte faisaient le reste, et pour l'instant, une seule paire d'yeux la regardait.
"Shuko. Je suis assez sûr que vous êtes censé être debout devant cette foule."
Elle a rencontré le regard de son père, essayant d'avoir l'air beaucoup plus calme qu'elle ne l'a réellement ressenti. "Vous avez raison. J'hésite encore." Elle s'est arrêtée. "Mais moins je dois passer de temps dans ce gâchis, mieux c'est."
"Si vous allez passer par là, vous verrez beaucoup plus de la presse à partir de maintenant. Vous ne pouvez pas les éviter pour toujours."
"Je peux les éviter maintenant."
"Peut-être. Mais plus la foule s'épaissit, plus il sera difficile de passer à travers, et vous ne voudriez pas être coincé ici et manquer votre premier jour." Doucement, il s'est reposé une main sur l'une de ses épaules, lui donnant une pression rassurante. "Je sais que tu détestes cette partie. Je sais aussi que vous êtes assez fort pour le braver."
"Pas fort."
Il a un peu roulé les yeux là-dessus. "Tu es aussi pédante que ta mère. Très bien, pas fort, mais capable. Tu as déjà un plan pour ça, n'est-ce pas?"
L'expression froide de Shuko s'est fendue, juste un peu. Un sourire, fugace, trop rapide à attraper si on ne le cherchait pas.
Son père s'est aperçu, et a souri tout de suite. "Allez, alors. Avant que le temps ne s'épuise."
Elle a hurlé et a avancé.
Une partie de sa raison de s'accrocher au dos était une simple réticence, l'autre partie était un besoin d'observer. Ses pensées avaient dérivé, des types de vêtements exposés aux lumens de chaque caméra flash à l'absence de Tumble elle-même aux autres candidats héros à une discussion interne quelque peu cynique sur les médias et toute cette situation. Tout ça, c'était du fluff. Fluff a passé le temps en regardant la foule, en recueillant des informations pour son Quirk à mâcher.
Les êtres humains en tant qu'individus pourraient être incroyablement imprévisibles. Les humains en tant que groupe l'étaient beaucoup moins. La foule avait des paramètres qu'elle pouvait utiliser, des points où les gens avaient concentré leur attention, ce qui a déterminé le mouvement global de la foule. Une fois qu'elle a compris comment cette grande masse de corps fonctionnait, elle a pu faire une estimation approximative du chemin le plus rapide à travers elle.
Ce qu'elle venait de faire, elle n'avait rien à faire d'autre qu'entrer directement.
La tête baissée, les épaules affûtées. D'abord à travers les zones plus ouvertes, où il restait un peu de respect pour l'espace personnel, puis dans le brouillage à l'avant. Les corps l'ont poussée, plus grande qu'elle, plus forte qu'elle, et elle s'est concentrée, en s'assurant de pousser à travers de manière à déplacer les gens vers les centres d'attention, leur donnant une excuse pour pousser vers l'avant contre les autres plutôt que de repousser contre elle. Tout le monde n'a pas répondu de la même façon, mais la loi des moyennes était en plein effet ici, et elle a glissé à travers la foule comme un fantôme.
Jusqu'à ce qu'un regard roving l'attrape et fasse le lien, et qu'une main tende la main pour essayer de la saisir, une question criait déjà dans les airs. Shuko s'est tordu d'un côté, loin des doigts, et s'est déplacé comme si rien ne s'était passé.
Certains avaient pris vent, maintenant, et criaient ou coupaient des photos, mais le plus qu'ils obtiendraient serait un flou gris terne quand elle s'éloignait d'eux, et un silence raide et inébranlable. Si elle n'a rien dit, qu'est-ce qu'ils pourraient écrire? Une pression suffisante l'obligerait à parler, mais elle comptait sur une simple règle de la nature ici : lorsqu'elle était présentée avec un prédateur de choix, elle avait tendance à s'en prendre à la proie la plus facile.
Bien sûr, l'attention est passée, retournant au chien et au diable et à qui que ce soit d'autre faisait un spectacle. Shuko respira un soupir tranquille de soulagement, son pouls retournant à la normale alors qu'elle s'approchait d'un garçon qui semblait squatté et qui semblait aussi s'être levé. De tous les autres, il semblait le moins susceptible d'être photographié- les médias ne favorisaient pas le peu attrayant. Elle se tenait à côté de lui, et avec un peu de chance, ils seraient ignorés jusqu'à ce que Tumble arrive.
(Avec le caractère pour l'instant)
Shuko Toma

Female

16

Shuko's a daydreamer, a girl who always seems to have something going on in her head. In the right situation, she's both imaginative and thoughtful, but the frenetic pace of life often pushes her to retreat into herself rather than fully express these qualities. She's disorganized, even careless, with untamed hair and a disjointed, eclectic fashion sense that never seems to quite click. A textbook introvert, she feels nervous around other people and somewhat inept socially, a flaw that she despises in herself but has little idea how to correct. She's quiet and very obedient, to the point where it's almost too easy to push her around- a weakness which has proven dangerous of late. 

For most of her childhood, Shuko was raised by a single father. She doesn't remember her mother nor where the woman went, and has learned not to broach the subject with her remaining parent. Her dad has always been fair and affectionate, but he's also had to work full-time while trying to care for a child, and though the familial love is there, the situation has created something of a disconnect. Sensitive to the stress her parent was under, Shuko has always done her best to avoid sharing problems with him- but the lack of conventional family dynamics and her somewhat introverted nature left her with nobody else to go to.
Academically, she performed incredibly well during her earlier years, especially once her Quirk emerged and began to develop. Her potential was noted by important figures, and it became a source of pride for her. Unfortunately, it was also noted by her peers. Shuko was marked as a target for bullying and harassment, a situation only exacerbated by her apparent inability to fight back. Rather than seek help from authority, she withdrew further, hiding her talents and doing her best to escape unwanted attention. It worked, to some extent, but as a result her marks dropped down to just above average, and Shuko was still plagued by a bad reputation among her fellow students. Cut off even further, she found some solace in art and literature, as well as her Quirk- the one thing about herself that she still valued.
So when she was approached by a business that had noted her early talents and wanted to hire her for part-time work, she jumped at the chance. The job was easy enough: someone wanted her to manage and distribute funds, a task that was easily accomplished with her Quirk. Once her employers had taught her the basics of what they wanted her to do, she played her part perfectly, taking home a decent salary for relatively light hours and enjoying the opportunity to use her talents to their fullest, even if she was working largely behind the scenes. It seemed she'd finally found herself a place in the world.
Then the police came knocking at the door.
As it turned out, the "business" that had recruited Shuko was of the less-than-legitimate variety, and had exploited her number-crunching ability to help manage illegally obtained funds, turning money into more money through both simple investment and various financial loopholes. She'd been a completely unwitting accomplice to a number of serious crimes, and was dragged into court with little but her own testimony to defend her.
In the end she was found innocent, in part because nobody could believe such a harmless girl could possibly be a cunning criminal. Still, her sense of stability was shattered, she'd missed weeks of classes while on trial, and her bad reputation was soured still further. The law might have let her go, but rumors spread relentlessly among teachers, students, and even her father's colleagues. Surrounded on every side by whispers and suspicion, she shut down entirely. No more school, no more friends, no more life. She'd failed. She was done.
It was her father who pushed her towards an alternative. Shuko didn't know much about Tumble, or particularly care, but it was this or the psych ward. Becoming a hero was a foolish dream, but at least the attempt might earn her some form of redemption.


Calculator - Shuko is a genius with numbers, able to perform calculations faster than most computers and understand complex mathematical concepts almost intuitively. This ability also extends to her senses and memory: she can identify the exact dimensions of an object at a glance, and can perfectly recall numbers and measurements, juggling hundreds of digits in her head with little need for pen or paper. This often works at a subconscious level with few visible effects, but when she puts it into intensive use the blood flow to her brain massively increases, causing the veins in her neck and face to bulge outwards.
Unfortunately, this excellent memory doesn't extend beyond mathematics: she forgets non-numerical concepts easily unless reminded. She can remember the width of someone's eyes down to the millimeter a year after having met them, but will likely forget their name within a minute. Additionally, she has trouble concentrating on ordinary tasks or situations. Everything around her offers numbers for calculations that her mind performs almost instinctively, and it's often hard for her to keep track of the real world, especially when her quirk is under heavy use.


Artist - One of the few ways Shuko can fully express herself is through drawing and painting. She's not good nor renowned enough to be featured in galleries, but is still noticeably talented for a high school student. She's also a decent pianist.
Animals - She's pretty bad with people, but gets along well with animals. They seem to like her, and she's patient and gentle with them in return.
Endurance - Shuko has never been one for sports, but she does exercise somewhat. Her build is slight, and she's still pretty weak in terms of lifting strength, but she can keep up a moderate level of physical activity for hours if necessary.

The rachis, or shaft, of a flight feather branches along its length into hundreds of barbs, often of asymmetrical length but always aligned on opposite sides of the rachis. In turn, the sides of each barb are layered with tiny barbules...
Shuko's eyes moved slowly and silently over the page, picking out each word with dazed indifference. She'd been staring at her book for over an hour now, sometimes reading, sometimes logging the heights and widths of the printed letters and noting their individual surface areas. Didn't matter which, really. It was something to do, something to lose herself in for a little while longer.
She shifted slightly, blinking as she realized she'd reached the end of a page, then deftly turned it over.
...many of which are in turn covered by minuscule hooks. These allow the barbules to interlock with one another, forming small connections which hold the barbs together, effectively forming a single cohesive surface...
She was idly adding up the areas of each punctuation mark in the last two sentences when a noise caught her attention. A footstep, someone entering the room. Its exact volume in decibels popped up somewhere in the midst of her thoughts as she turned around, staring through overlarge glasses at her father.
She should say something. Her mind grasped for ideas, clawing desperately at anything she could shove through her mouth to break the silence. A few incoherent syllables were bundled together and shoved up her throat, and she blurted out, "I'm-"
Just as her father opened his mouth to speak. "There's-"
Their words collided, waves of sound overlapping and causing a dozen separate calculations to spark off in Shuko's head. They both stopped. Then her father gestured, indicating that she should go first.
She shook her head, voice barely above a whisper. "It was nothing. Please, go on."
He paused for a second, as if hoping she'd change her mind, then nodded. "There's a letter for you. I know you... that you need some time right now, but I think you need to read this. It's not the kind of opportunity that comes often."
He was trying to pique her interest, she could tell. He failed. Still, when he held out a neatly folded sheet of paper, she took it. Shuko didn't care who had written it or what it said, but she didn't want to disappoint him. Not again, not after everything that had happened.
It was clean, neat, official. She unfolded it carefully, letting her eyes drift over it, if only for the sake of formality.
Then her gaze sharpened. She blinked, narrowed her eyes, then sped up, racing through each sentence with a growing disbelief. For the first time since everything had broken down, she felt something, a hint of drive beneath layers of despair. Curiosity. True or not, what was on this page didn't make sense. She turned it over and over in her mind, thoughts churning and sparking and wondering at this new mystery.
Who was the hero Tumble? If she was a big shot like it sounded, why had she gone looking for Shuko? Who in their right mind would want anything to do with her, let alone think that she could become a hero?
She stood up, letting her book fall from her hand as she clutched at the letter with the other. Was it a blessing? A stroke of luck? Another failure just waiting to happen? She didn't know- but it was something, and something was better than letting time drift away without hope.
She looked back at her father. "I think... I'd like to try it."
They left the room together. Behind them, the book lay open, unfinished.
...which presses against the air, generating lift and allowing the bird, so ungainly on land, to take flight, and soar upon the winds.

- She's far-sighted, and will have trouble making out anything within six feet without glasses.
- She often carries around a small notebook to sketch in.