Chapter Text
Yagi, the former number 1 hero and holder of One for All, was having a very strange day. Which, considering the bizarre events in his life, said something. What exactly, he wasn’t sure. Detective work and foresight had never been his strong suit― Sasaki had been his sidekick for a reason― but he was inclined to think the events of the past twenty-four hours shared in a messy text from Naomasa, a monotone voice memo from Sasaki, and multiple calls from Nedzu and David, a crossover of characters from various chapters in his life that still left him reeling― was a positive sign for Japan.
A headache? Absolutely. Concerning? No doubt. But productive change never happened in safety. Evils sulking in the shadows, eyeing the vacuum of power All for One left behind, had persisted for too long. The defeat of the MLA and Shie Hassaikai was long overdue. Yagi just wished he could be there to help…
He inspected the withered, skeletal hand grasping his cup of tea and sighed. Those days were over for him. Instead of punching villains and chasing criminals, Yagi spent his days studying. That was also odd. Who knew one needed to study to teach studying?
Yagi tucked aside his teaching manuals, resting his eyes and leaning further back in his plush recliner, spine throbbing. While his small apartment had been designed for maximum comfort for a shattered body, his joints loved to remind him daily of his youthful foolishness.
Yagi smiled wryly, taking another sip of tea. He hoped the new holder of One for All would travel a much different path. While Melissa, at first, had been reluctant to accept the quirk, she was shaping up to be the perfect candidate. Smart, selfless, and kind.
Still a shame with Mirio, but the lad was a wonderful and successful hero in his own right. Yagi shuddered to think what would have happened if David had never been contacted about the doubled quirk factor research.
Beside him, his phone buzzed, and Yagi answered with a smile.
“Uncle Allmight!” Melissa greeted, and Yagi could just picture her grin. “So sad news―”
“I heard,” Yagi chuckled, taking another sip. “Many, many times.”
Her tone sombered as she hummed before saying, “I’m really sorry about missing the start date―”
“There’s nothing to apologize for, young lady. Your training will come in time.” Yagi eyed the books next to him. And maybe this delay would allow him to feel competent in his teaching abilities.
“Thanks for understanding, Uncle Allmight. This should only be a month or two, and then I promise I’ll be in the States.”
“No rush. Just keep up your training.”
“I will,” she promised solemnly.
Yagi laughed. Always so serious, this one. She never took her science projects so grimly, but being a hero could be an ugly job. Beautiful too. But Yagi had stared evil enough in the face not to be a complete idiot about the horrors of hero work.
There was a beat, but Melissa didn’t say goodbye as she typically did. Well, it hadn’t only been a strange day for Yagi.
“Now, tell me, what mischief you and young Nico have stumbled your way in…”
Melissa giggled, perk returning to her voice. “Well… you know about his new neighbor? Well, Nico says the dude has a stick up his you know what, and it’s so true. So we’ve been plotting a few welcoming gifts…”
Yagi closed his eyes, listening to Melissa’s excited schemes with a content smile. Yes, he missed being a hero, but he had learned that being a hero was more than punting a villain to save the day. Sometimes it was just being company to a young woman who had an exciting few days.
Hitoshi was having a horrible day. And it was all the fault of one particular asshole. Remarkably, the asshole wasn’t Hitoshi. And even more concerningly, it wasn’t Katsuki, Monomo, or Mineta either.
No, it was class 3A’s resident crypted. Todoroki. Normally, Hitoshi wouldn’t loop Todoroki into the hero class assholes; he was too quiet― a trait Hitoshi appreciated except when one was being sparringly, spitefully, and smugly tight-lipped about The Forgotten.
After the hero conference, Todoroki disappeared. One would think that living in the same dorm and sharing all the same classes, Hitoshi would have been able to pin Todoroki down for a quick follow-up chit-chat that mostly involved the words “what the fuck”. But this asshole kept fucking vanishing. One would think he actually had the quirk of invisibility, not Hagakure.
Then, when Hitoshi finally caught the asshole, Todoroki would stare at him with that brain-dead look of his, say in the most monotone, bullshit voice Hitoshi had ever heard, that that was all he knew. As Hitoshi’s one lead was pretending to have amnesia, his investigation into The Forgotten had all but stalled.
Which left him here. Moping in Ochako’s room during lunch break. Perhaps not his most dignified moment.
“I win!” Ochako crowed, pulling piles of poker chips toward her.
Hitoshi dropped his cards. “This is not helping.”
“Oh, it’s helping me,” Ochako giggled and carefully stalked her towering pile of poker chips. It almost reached the top of her bedframe.
“Perhaps another game,” Momo suggested with a spirit of diplomacy. Hitoshi knew better; she just wanted to play a game she’d win. Bakugo and Ochako had rubbed off on her.
“I’m down!” Eijiro called from the mountain of pillows on Ochako’s bed, craning his head to where Bakugo chilled in the desk chair, headphones on, schoolbooks overtaking the dusty desk. “You in Baku-bro?”
Because it was Eijiro, he got a “no,” instead of a middle finger.
“Oh, come on,” Ochako prodded, poking at the rolling chair with her heel. “Scared I’ll beat you?”
Bakugo spun the chair around, red eyes narrowed in a tight glare. Ochako beamed at him. With a sneer, he shoved his books into his backpack. “I’m going to study somewhere else. What all of you losers should be doing instead of wasting time.” He stormed out of the room. Hitoshi winced at the door slam.
They all did.
“Give him time,” Momo said quietly.
Ochako sighed, knocking down her tower of poker chips. “I tried talking to him earlier… but…”
Eijiro shrugged. “He’s pissed. I would be too. He’ll work it out of his system. We just need to be there when he’s finally ready to talk.”
Momo and Ochako nodded in agreement.
Ochako glanced over, saw he wasn’t nodding, and smacked him with a pillow. Hitoshi rolled his eyes. “I’ll leave handling the live bomb to you guys.” He had tried and only made it worse. There was a reason he was training to be a hero and not a therapist. “But,” he added. “Now that he’s no longer here...”
His friends looked at him with varying degrees of concern. Hitoshi leaned forward. Todoroki was an asshole, which meant Hitoshi couldn’t take the quick route. But Todoroki had shared more than he thought…
“The Forgotten double-crossed All for One and were the ones who walked away. My word of advice? Stay away.”
There was only one time Hitoshi knew where All for One lost. Hitoshi eyed the group who’d disobeyed teacher orders and snuck into the middle of a war zone for a damsel rescue. “What do you guys remember from Kamino?”
Katsuki’s day had been fine. Until he woke up and reality came roaring back in with all the bullshit. The pitying glances from his friends weren’t fucking helping.
Katsuki’s grip tightened around his backpack’s straps until they ached, music blasting loud enough to sting. Neither sensation helped. He was fucking losing it, and he hated that. Snapping at extras, teachers, his friends― people just trying to help.
Just like he wanted to do, and no matter what, couldn’t. Especially like this. Fucking Deku. This was all his fault.
Katsuki growled and made a quick pivot in direction. A few minutes later, he was banging on an office door.
Aizawa poked his head out, an eyebrow raised. “Bakugo. Yes?”
“I’ll fucking talk to someone,” Katsuki spat. “But not the mutt.”
Aizawa nodded, face neutral. “I’ll find someone.”
Katsuki jerked his head sharply before storming away. He couldn’t be a hero with his head fucked like this. Deku might have ruined everything. But he wasn’t going to ruin Katsuki’s dream.
One adapted to perpetual chaos when in the business of caring for kids, but Fuyumi had to admit that this past day exceeded the norm. She pushed up her glasses with one knuckle, juggling a stack of children's books in her other arm while strolling down the sunlit hallway. Laughter, excited shrieks, and thundering feet rocked the orphanage.
Lunch break at FOUND was never a quiet event.
Fuyumi hid a smile behind her stack of books. Over a year ago, the kids had been so quiet: afraid of the shadow they cast, the oxygen their breaths stole, the drum of their own heartbeat…
Fuyumi swayed to the side of the hallway, Solace charging by with a bundle clutched to her chest, Seven on her heels. A striped black and white tail poked out of the bundle.
Hold up.
Fuyumi spun onto the tip of her toes.
Was that a raccoon?
As Solace and Seven hightailed it down the hallway, the bundle squirmed, a fluffy head joining the tail. That was indeed a raccoon. Solace, Seven, and the stowaway raccoon vanished around the corner.
Fuyumi pursed her lips, then shrugged. That was Natsou's problem if one of them got bitten. She’d long since grown from taking on everyone else’s chaos. What was that English saying Shoto loved to say? Ah, yes. Not my circus, not my monkeys.
Well, not her kids, not her raccoon.
Still, she poked her head into the staff room, scanning the warmly lit, cozily furnished reprieve area for their small roster of staff. A blonde-haired man in his mid-thirties with an old scar on his forehead peeking out from a black bandana was stacking a house of cards on the center coffee table. Huh, she didn’t often locate the original.
“Hey, Jin,” Fuyumi called, hooking her hip on the door to keep it from shutting. “Seven and Solace just smuggled in a live raccoon. Mind taking care of it?”
Jin beamed at her, quiet for a moment. He’d gotten better at only replying with one of his thoughts, but it sometimes took a moment. “Yeah,” Jin agreed after a pause, rising to his feet.
“Thanks!” She ducked back out and wound her way to the newly added wing. After a year of sharing rooms, the kids deserved their own space. Plus, the staff were hoping that soon, they’d expand to accept new kids.
Fuyumi stopped before one of the recently furnished bedrooms, shifting the books to free one hand and knocking on the wooden door.
Izuku’s voice called her in.
Fuyumi took a deep breath, hoping her smile wasn’t too tight. Izuku did what Izuku wanted, but that did not mean she had to like it. Then again, lies had only ever served to hurt her family. Fuyumi found that in the long run, they bit you back.
Still, she’d hold her tongue. Eri was Izuku’s family, not hers. She’d respect his authority over Eri. Out of the solutions Izuku would accept, this was the best option. If she had it her way, though, both Izuku and Eri would be here safely protected at FOUND, not Izuku tramping all around Japan with The Forgotten.
He was just a kid, too.
Fuyumi cracked open the door and slipped into the room, a smile in place for the two kids on the bed. The little girl looked up from her sketchpad, two thick white braids framing bright eyes. Happy eyes. Fuyumi hoped those remained when this was all over.
Fuyumi set the children's storybooks on the empty shelf, and said softly, “Hey, Eri.”
For the first time all day, Naomasa’s life was still. The park was quaint, located in a slower area of Tokyo, and only a breeze and a group of kids chasing one another around an old playground disturbed the silence.
Naomasa groaned, legs stretched out from the bench, his body soaking in the warmth of the sunlight, and resisting the pull of sleep. Midoriya would be here soon. But for now, it was nice to rest.
A few trees over, Second Wind lounged, appearing to be reading a book. The chances were slim that this would get messy, but it was better to be prepared. And now, well, who knew with Midoriya anymore? He apparently kept at least a few secrets.
“Detective?”
Naomasa straightened, a hooded figure with his hands shoved into his pockets shuffled over.
Midoriya dropped down on the other side of the bench, green eyes peeking out below his hood. He seemed tired, which was rather odd, considering the last time they’d interacted, it was past 3:00 in the morning. Perhaps it had been the adrenaline that kept him going, or maybe, despite sleeping all of yesterday― if that was even true― hadn’t been enough.
“Midoriya,” Naomasa greeted. “Get enough rest?”
The kid blushed. “Yeah, again, sorry about yesterday. I meant to text you when I got back, but… yeah, fell asleep. Sorry.”
True. At least Midoriya wasn’t lying to him about everything. “It’s fine. Just be more consistent with updates in the future.” Naomasa pulled out a notebook and a pen. “Are the Shie Hassaikai suspicious?”
“They didn’t question me being gone all night besides the expected, and the Boss seemed satisfied with that.”
“And what does the Boss think about the trade bust?”
“Pissed,” Midoriya said bluntly and sighed. “He’s not happy that we didn’t get Overhaul back.”
“Does he blame you?”
Midoriya hesitated for a second. “No,” he finally said.
Lie.
“Midoriya.”
“No, yes? Ugh,” Midoriya scrubbed his face, “he thinks there’s a leak in the Shie Hassaikai, and I’m pretty sure I’m on the list of suspects.”
“What makes you think that?”
“He’s not including me in the search, but―” Midoriya’s nose wrinkled and mouth twisted like he had tasted something sour, “―I could just be overthinking it. But also… I mean… If I were him, that’s what I would be thinking.” He paused, then grimaced, like he realized that statement said a whole lot more about him than it did his Boss.
Apparently, Midoriya had severe trust issues. Was that why he didn’t mention Eri? Naomasa tucked that thought away, humming thoughtfully. “If you’re right, that’s not good.”
“No, but I’m pretty sure I can get him to relax. At least long enough for us to set them up.”
“Seems like a rather important detail to not mention,” Naomasa commented.
Midoriya scowled at that, mouth opening, but Naomasa cut him off with a glance. “Were you planning on sharing that?”
Midoriya deflated, back knocking against the bench with a dull thump. “No.”
“Why not?”
Midoriya rolled his eyes. “Because I have it handled.”
“This isn’t the first time you have withheld information.”
Green eyes blinked in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
Naomasa raised an eyebrow. “You never mentioned the bullets were made from Overhaul’s quirk. Which I’m guessing you knew?”
Midoriya heaved a sigh. “Yeah.”
“Why did you not mention that?”
“If I mentioned that, it would have sent us on a side tangent that we didn’t have time for.”
True.
“Fair enough,” Naomasa conceded. “What’s your justification for Eri?”
Midoriya flinched as if Naomasa slapped him. He spun, hood falling off, sunlight showcasing his pale, drawn face.
Naomasa stared at him calmly.
Midoriya flushed and looked away first. “How do you―”
“Overhaul.”
A deep, angry frown crossed Midoriya’s face. Curious reaction. Midoriya held anger like it was a part of his blood, but in the few hours Naomasa knew him, he rarely caught it bleeding out.
“Overhaul was recovered last night by heroes.”
“Where is he?” Midoriya demanded.
“Under witness protection, and that’s all I can say for security reasons.”
Midoriya huffed and slumped back with a mutter.
“Eri?” Naomasa prompted.
Midoriya’s jaw locked, hands clenching his sweats. “Safe,” Midoriya said quietly. “And that’s all I can say for security reasons.”
Naomasa pinched his nose, and Midoriya shrugged unapologetically.
“She’s in danger, Midoriya.”
“Why? Because Overhaul broke, and now all heroes want her quirk?”
Naomasa stared at him speechless. “Is that truly how you perceive heroes?”
Midoriya hooked his hood back up. “Sorry, that was unfair of me. Not all heroes. Commission, though.”
Naomasa nodded. Hadn't Tanuma and he been concerned for the same reason?
“A gang of violent criminals is safer than the commission?”
Midoriya stared unwaveringly into Naomasa’s eyes. “Undoubtedly.”
True.
Hmmm, an interesting perspective, and Naomasa wasn’t sure how to view that, so he tabled it for now.
“Look,” Midoriya said. “I get why you’re worried, and trust me, I do not want Eri with the Shie Hassakki. But. There’s no way you can promise her safety if I give her over. Her family is dead, and the best case? The Commission will get custody, like they did with Hawks. Worst case? A monster steals her. Admit it, detective. You can promise all you want, but that doesn’t change that Eri is safest when both heroes and villains don’t know she exists. And that will change if you take her. She’s safer right now.”
True.
Naomasa nodded understandingly. “And I agree mostly with that, but Midoriya. I also can’t overlook where she is living, especially how it will become a warzone in a few months.”
“Few months?” Midoriya cut in.
“MLA has taken precedence,” Naomasa grimaced, “This will take longer than planned.”
Midoriya’s head hung back, and he mumbled again.
“Midoriya, what do you plan for Eri when this is over?”
“I take her,” he said earnestly. “I’ll be free of criminal charges, and I have the best case to argue for the right to her custody.”
Naomasa tried to stare into Midoriya’s eyes, but it was too shadowed. Still, the earnestness in Midoriya was hard to ignore. There was something innately likable about Midoriya, which made what he was about to say all the more painful. “Midoriya, I’m sorry, but I can’t let Eri stay.”
Midoriya's shoulders tensed, sneakers scraping against the dirt path as he shifted like he was readying to bolt. “And I’m not letting you guys have her. Please. Detective. If you take her now, the Commission will get her. You know that. Maybe in a few months it will be different. Something else can be arranged, but right now―”
“You can’t keep her safe.”
“Yes, I can,” Midoriya said. “Who do you think made sure Kai got kicked out? Detective. I will die to keep her safe.”
True.
Naomasa leaned back, studying the young man before him. So that’s why Midoriya kept her secret. It was truly protectiveness.
Midoriya did have a point. If heroes took her now, the Commission would probably find a way to enroll her in one of their hero training programs. It wasn’t like their programs were unethical, but Eri had no guardian or anyone to look after her own interests. She, like every child, deserved to be a kid. But that couldn’t happen in a gang either.
“Please,” Midoriya pleaded, pulling Naomasa out of his thoughts. “Just let her disappear. It’s the safest thing.”
Naomasa pressed his lips together. “I’d like to meet her. And then… I will reconsider.”
“No.”
“If I’m going to consider finding alternative methods besides taking her into police custody, I need to make sure she’s safe,” Naomasa said firmly. “And no, this is not negotiable.”
Midoriya's face twisted. “She’s not here,” he said instead.
True.
“No, but she’s close by, isn’t she?”
Midoriya buried his head in his hands. This time, Naomasa did catch what he muttered. “Darn detectives.”
“You wouldn’t leave her alone for long hours.” Naomasa pocketed his notebook and rose to his feet, knees cracking.
“No. No, I wouldn’t.” Midoriya dropped his hands and stood to meet Naomasa. The shorter man crossed his arms, eyes still shadowed by the blue hoodie. Rather unfortunate; Midoriya’s eyes were especially expressive.
“I’ll leave the decision up to Eri. If she wants to talk to you, that's fine. If not, we’re done,” Midoriya said.
Naomasa didn’t agree. Instead, he gestured for Midoriya to lead the way. Perhaps Second Wind would need to become involved after all. Behind him, Second Wind rose, cracking her back with a yawn, and shadowed the pair.
Outside the park, across the street, at a pink and teal café, Midoriya stopped. He spotted Second Wind following, and shot Naomasa a look that screamed, “Really?” before ducking into the café.
Through the glass windows, Naomasa watched Midoriya head to a corner booth, a young woman’s head visible over the back of the bench. Naomasa couldn’t hear what was said, but finally the young woman slid out, holding a box of crayons and papers and waving back at the table before vanishing into the kitchen.
Midoriya offered his hand, and a little girl hopped out of the booth to clutch it. A bell rang as the door opened again before shutting behind the pair.
Eri was a young girl, looking to be closer in age to seven than ten, with large red eyes that peered up at Naomasa from around Midoriya’s legs, long and loose white hair nearly hiding a tall horn on the left side of her forehead.
Midoriya crouched down, putting a comforting arm around Eri’s shoulders. “Eri, say hi to the detective.”
“Hi,” she whispered, shy, but not frightened. Those red eyes assessed Naomasa, and he was surprised by their sharpness.
Naomasa bent slightly. “Hi, Eri. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You’re helping, Izuku-nii?” She asked, glancing between the two with a contemplative frown.
Naomasa noted the honorific. So Eri viewed Midoriya as a brother, and from the protective stance of Midoriya, the sibling bond was not one-sided.
“More like he’s helping me,” Naomasa said, standing back up but careful to keep his demeanor friendly.
She smiled a little. “He’s very good at that.”
Naomasa offered a small smile back. “Yes.”
Midoriya raised his eyebrows in skeptical surprise.
“I just need to ask you a couple of questions. Can you do that?” Naomasa asked as he slid out his notebook.
She nodded but tucked herself deeper into Midoriya’s side.
“Do you like it at the Shie Hassaikai compound?”
Eri stuck out her lip before finally saying with a decisive nod, “I like it because Izuku-nii is there.”
“You close to your brother?”
“Yes.”
“Want to stay with him?”
“Why? Would I have to leave him?” She craned her head up to look at Midoriya, a small hand intertwining with his pant leg. Midoriya squeezed her tighter, shooting a look at Naomasa. From this angle, despite the hood, light struck Midoriya’s eyes. They were pained… pleading.
Naomasa didn’t answer the question, tapping his notebook. Why was anything touched by Midoriya so complicated? His goal was to get Eri to safety. Now, though, he wasn’t so confident where that was. “Are you safe?”
“I’m safe because Izuku-nii is always looking out for me.”
True.
For some reason, Naomasa realized he'd predicted that response. “That’s good to hear. It was nice to meet you, Eri. Midoriya.” He paused, staring down at his notebook, then back at the two kids. Midoriya had a point. Until this mess was over, Midoriya couldn’t take custody of Eri, and before that, well, the Commission would take Eri. Not to mention that if Naomasa took Eri into protective custody, it would jeopardize this whole operation and Midoriya’s safety. There was no ideal solution.
Naomasa accessed Midorya. How much did he trust this kid? More than the Commission, which was a discouraging realization. More than he should, if Naomasa was being honest with himself. He’s not sure if that said more of him or Midoriya. The fact remained, though, that Naomasa did, and he learned after years to trust his gut. Naomasa sighed.
“It sounds like Midoriya knows what’s best for you.”
Midoriya’s eyes widened slightly. He stood hurriedly and bowed deeply. “Thank you, detective. Thank you.”
“We’ll connect later.” Naomasa glanced down at Eri. “Have a nice day, Eri.” He looked back at Midoriya. “And stay safe. If you ever think she’s in dan―”
Midoriya nodded. “I will. I promise.”
True.
Naomasa nodded once more before strolling away. He’d trusted his gut about Citizen, and that had led over the course of two years to thousands of lives being saved. He hoped that in this case, it was right too.
Izuku, for the first time in months, was having a good day. Mostly because after the infuriating meeting, he got another six hours of sleep― a miracle― Tomura’s and Oboro’s project had been a success― finally a win― Eri was safe, and he navigated another conversation with Naomasa without getting busted. More successes than had happened in a while. In fact, he was starting to feel optimistic. The situation sucked, but it might allow multiple goals to be accomplished at once. He also had more resources, well, strings to pull than before.
He could use this. Have this turned around. Kaina was concerned, and he’d be cautious, but he was used to fighting at a disadvantage.
Izuku watched Naomasa leave before ducking behind the alleyway.
Next to him, Eri melted before twisting up, sludge dripping onto the alleyway floor. Toga stretched.
“I like him,” she commented.
“You say that every time.” Izuku strolled down the alleyway, glancing at the time while his hand curled around the tracker. “I need to head back.” This freaking darn tracker was really messing with his schedule; it wasn’t like he could have Oboro teleport him around. That would be a fun one to try and explain to Naomasa. “But there’s no reason for you to be stuck on a subway train for 2 hours.”
Toga slipped past him. “Perfect! I need to let my friends know Bleeding Heart is on vacation for…” she trailed off, looking at Izuku. “Do we actually have a time frame?”
“I don’t think I can do that. Mei’s already been informed that she needs to make a tracker for you, but I don’t know how long that will take. We also need to figure out a way for you to message us while you’re in the MLA. And get enough of Eri’s blood so that you can stay disguised for a few days. And also a help button.”
“I still don’t think I need all that,” Toga pouted.
“This isn’t like when you infiltrated the League as Stain. Even if you’d been found out, you’d still have been useful to them. After Redestro’s healed, you're expendable.”
“Which is why I’ll escape before then,” she chirped.
Izuku looked flatly at her.
She giggled. “You’re so adorable when you worry, I’ll be fine, dum-dum.”
Izuku just sighed. “Two hours.”
She ran off, scampering up the wall to the roof.
Izuku watched her go before shuffling his way back to the Shie Hassaikai headquarters. Plans, fears, and lies chased one another around inside his head. Plans for how to stop the MLA and Commission while keeping Eri safe and getting out with Citizen, the Forgotten, and Found intact. Fears for the trouble Kai might get into at I-island, the fights all his friends had chosen to bear, and that just maybe he couldn’t hold this all together. And for the lies? Too many to count.
But in the center, there was a hand that offered a way out. The hope that the horrors his friends and he had promised to heal all those years ago might finally be reached. Izuku smiled. It was thin, but a smile all the same. Izuku boarded the train.
The president of the Commission was not having a good day. Then again, she supposed that any week involving that infuriating rat, which did not end in a complete waste of time, a migraine, and a minimum of three overhauls of their timeline was cause for celebration. So, despite the numerous setbacks, like Chisaka Kai vanishing into witness protection, the stalls in Hawk’s investigation, and the blunder of the MLA, the president would settle for a not-so-good day.
She glanced up from her files as Kumoro knocked on her door. She waved him in, and he shut the door behind him. So, it was one of those conversations. With a flick of a button, the president darkened the windows, the tidy room cast in muted shadows.
“Well?” she asked, leaning back in her leather chair.
Kumoro slid a report towards her. “I-24S believes the leak of information originated from someone within the Shie Hassaikai.”
“Citizen has many connections.” She flicked the report aside, turning back to her paperwork. “Citizen likely found a loose tongue.”
“I thought the same, but I-24S was adamant that this information could only have been leaked by the higher ranks of the Shie Hassaikai. I examined the timing, and while Shie Hassaikai has rarely overlapped, in the cases they have, there seemed to be an in-depth knowledge of how the Shie Hassaikai operate. I think it’s likely we’ve found a confirmed connection to Citizen.”
The president’s hand stilled on her paper, and she picked up the report, tapping it against the desk thoughtfully before dropping it down. “Follow it. See if it's promising.”
Kumoro nodded before sliding across another report. “There’s also the matter of the attacks. They’ve been quiet for a while.”
The president scanned over the timeline of strikes committed by villains Hawks had yet to identify. “You believe they’ll attack soon?”
“I’m more concerned about the deviation from the pattern. It was consistent. Every month, no-name facilities, anything potentially incriminating destroyed.” He paused. “I think they’re planning on escalating.”
The president pursed her lips. “A nuisance, but not insurmountable. What of the hearing today?”
“It passed.”
Damnit.
“Now that. That could be a problem. Move hindering HOPE’s development up to your second priority. Also, I want the major players in the Decentralists movement re-investigated. I smell a rat.”
Kumoro raised an eyebrow. “Second?”
“Top priority of your department, secondary for you.”
“And what is my first?”
She looked up with a thin smile and handed Kumoro’s first report back.
“Citizen.”