Chapter Text
Katsuki Bakugo strode into the Endeavor Agency building with the confidence of someone who doesn’t ask for permission, but demands it as a matter of course. However, as impassive as his face was and as predatory as his gaze, beneath the surface simmered a tension that no amount of confident stride could fully conceal. He had been summoned, yes, but they hadn’t told him why.
The glass doors slid open before him with a slow, obedient hiss. A wave of air conditioning hit his face. The interior of the building looked like something out of a catalog rather than a lived-in space: straight lines, shiny surfaces, cold lights reflecting off the floor as if he were walking on a lake of glass.
It wasn’t the first time he’d gone up there, but every time that place seemed more hostile, more silent. A silence that was too controlled, and that pissed him off.
He got into the elevator without saying a word to the receptionist, who didn’t even bother to look up. He pressed the button for the twentieth floor, not without a slight twinge of annoyance at seeing his own reflection in the highly polished metal surface. He still carried the smell of the explosions: iron, sweat, and something acrid, like smoke that hadn’t found air.
As the doors closed, the elevator emitted that classic hollow clink, too cheerful for that place.
The floor numbers rose slowly, as if the building itself were meditating on what was about to happen.
On the twentieth ring, the doorbell gave a sharp “ding.” The doors swung open onto a long, strangely dark hallway, as if light had never truly belonged there.
Bakugou advanced, the sound of his boots echoing behind him. When he reached the large dark-wood door to Endeavor’s office, it swung open before his knuckles could even think of touching it.
《Come in.》
The voice, deep and hoarse, left no room for hesitation.
He crossed the threshold and found himself in a bright, warm room.
Endeavor was there, standing next to his desk, arms crossed, his face as serious as ever, but with a shadow in his eyes that wasn’t anger. But he wasn’t alone.
Sitting on the windowsill, like a raven perched on a cross, was him.
Hawks.
His smile was vague, almost absent. His gaze, however, was sharp. He was wearing his uniform; his wings, folded but never completely hidden, fluttered slightly, as if sensing something in the air that no one else could perceive.
《Ground zero, You’ve finally deigned to answer the call; we thought you were lost,》 said the winged Pro Hero in a voice that bordered on lightheartedness but lacked it entirely.
Bakugo didn’t respond. His eyes rested first on one, then on the other, as if he were choosing which of the two posed the greater danger. A tense silence, heavy with implications, hung between the polished walls.
《A lot of people are leaving,even entire families at a time》said Hawks.
Bakugou looked up, already visibly annoyed at being held back from his patrol.
《And why the fuck should I give a shit?》
Endeavor didn’t flinch. He simply walked over to the window, observing the urban landscape in the distance.
《They’ve probably gone to settlements off the radar. Some unregistered villages in rural areas. No checks or surveillance.》
《cult?》
《Maybe,》 Hawks replied. 《Or something like that. We’re still trying to figure out who’s running them. But there’s one strange detail.》
He paused briefly, studying Bakugo’s reaction, which didn’t come.
《No use of Quirks has been detected in those areas. Zero. Not even the slightest activity. It’s as if the population were… completely Quirkless.》
No dramatic reaction from Bakugo, just a grimace that barely curled his upper lip.
《So you’re sending me to babysit a bunch of useless living in the woods.》
《You don’t have to babysit,》 Endeavor added, without turning around. 《You just have to check out the place.》
Bakugo stood up slowly, as if even the slightest movement were an effort. The file remained closed on the table.
《If I’m just supposed to keep an eye on things, then someone else can go. Don’t waste my time with this bullshit.》
《We’ve already sent other Pro Heroes to investigate, but the teams didn’t find anything. So you’re going, partly because you’ve been pretty reckless lately, a lighter mission is just what you need… Unless you think you’re too incompetent for a task like this.》
《Tsk》
Endeavor turned, his gaze as hard as stone. 《You leave on Friday. You’ll find everything in the file.》
The sky above the hills was a livid gray, the thin air seemed suspended between two silences: that of the civilized world, left behind, and that of the unknown territory awaiting him ahead. The small aircraft that had carried him to that point, a decommissioned military base, far from any official route, had already taken off again into the sky, leaving behind only the dull roar of its engines and the acrid smell of burnt fuel.
Katsuki was now walking along a dirt path, dressed like any other passerby, dark jeans, a heavy jacket, sunglasses pulled low over his face. A cheap disguise, imposed from above, with the explicit order not to attract attention. And, for what it was worth, he was following it. In his own way. Not that he’d ever manage to go unnoticed; he was the kind of guy who stood out.
He sighed, deeply annoyed. With his left hand, he dragged a small, hard-sided briefcase, seemingly unremarkable, but inside which rested his true skin: his combat suit. The mere thought of having to do without it for even a few hours irritated him like sandpaper on raw bone.
He had been walking for hours by now when the path began to narrow, the ground grew rougher, and the shadows of the trees grew denser. And finally, at the edge of a thick forest, he saw it: a rudimentary gate, made of thick wood and knotted ropes, guarded by two figures as still as statues. They were identical. Tall, cloaked in gray hooded robes, dark masks concealing their faces, and black gloves covering their hands.
He stopped a few steps away from them, lifting his chin slightly.
One of the figures stepped forward, raising a hand in a silent, palm-forward, decisive gesture.
《Excuse me Sir. you can’t come in.》
The voice was male, distorted by a small amplifier built into the mask.
Bakugo snapped his tongue. 《I’m looking for someone. None of your business.》
The other guard mirrored his movement. 《This village does not welcome strangers.》
Another step. Slow, controlled. Bakugo moved close enough to make his presence felt, without yet breaking the appearance of passivity that had been imposed on him.
《Do you think you can stop me?》he asked, his voice low and taut as a bomb’s fuse.
Silence again. Only the faint rustling of the wind through the trees and the soft crunch of gravel beneath his boots.
His gaze shifted from the first to the second. He studied them carefully, their identical movements, their trained but unprofessional posture. They weren’t heroes; they weren’t even real soldiers.
Fanatics
The thought made him smile. A sharp, joyless smile.
《Either let me through,》 he hissed, 《or in ten seconds I’ll send your teeth flying into your lungs. With or without your fucking permission.》
He let the silence hang for a few seconds, as if he were actually counting down those promised ten seconds. His fingers twitched slightly, an involuntary reflex; small, nervous jerks that betrayed the latent presence of his Quirk, ready to explode at the slightest provocation.
The two guards didn’t move.
Then, suddenly, a third voice rose from behind them.
《Stop.》
The tone wasn’t harsh or authoritative; yet it possessed that singular quality that compels men to obey before they’ve even had time to think about why.
A third figure emerged from the gate. He wore neither mask nor hood, a man in his forties, dressed in simple, almost shabby clothes. His step was calm, his posture composed, and his face bore that polite expression sometimes found in clerks accustomed to dealing with strangers.
He stopped beside the guards.
《Let him through.》
The two figures stiffened imperceptibly, as if an invisible string had run through their bodies at the exact same moment; then, with the same almost unnatural synchrony with which they had been guarding the entrance until then, they stepped aside, clearing the way.
The man took a step forward and gave Bakugou a slight nod, a polite, measured gesture.
《I apologize for the inconvenience sir. They hadn’t received the final notification yet.》
He accompanied his words with a calm gesture of his hand, pointing to the path that led beyond the wooden gate.
《You must be the guest sent by Enji Todoroki’s agency.》
Bakugou looked at him with the obvious impatience of someone who considers any explanation a useless waste of time.
《Finally someone with a fucking brain. I'm Ground Zero》
The man didn’t seem bothered by the response. His face remained composed; only a hint of a smile, barely perceptible, touched his lips, as if that rudeness had been anticipated and factored in.
《Yes, Katsuki Bakugo we know. We were told someone would be coming for an inspection. A quick invastigation, if I’m not mistaken.》
Bakugou didn’t even bother to confirm. He simply walked through the gate.
The village gradually revealed itself before his eyes, as images sometimes do when they slowly emerge from the fog: at first indistinct, then increasingly clear, until every outline finds its place in the landscape.
The houses were low-slung, built of dark wood and rough stone, and lined the dirt path. There were no neon signs, no cables strung between the roofs, nor any of those technological contraptions that now plagued even the poorest neighborhoods in city centers.
And above all, there were people.
Many elderly people.
Sitting in front of their doors, intent on working the wood with patient gestures or braiding ropes with slow, bony fingers. Some spoke to one another in low voices; others barely lifted their gaze to observe the newcomer, with that cautious curiosity reserved for unknown presences.
Bakugou studied them as he walked forward.
Old people.
Too many old people.
《It’s a quiet place,》 said the man accompanying him. 《Life here is… simple.》
Bakugou didn’t answer.
His gaze, in fact, had already settled on something else.
Under the roof of a house, almost hidden among the dark beams, a small black lens reflected the gray light of the sky. Then another. And yet another, a little further on.
Cameras.
They were carefully positioned, camouflaged just enough not to catch the casual eye; but to anyone accustomed to observing every detail of their surroundings, their presence was obvious.
《Are you looking for something in particular?》 the man asked with the same calm friendliness.《We can offer you some tea, if you’d like. Or maybe—》
《Shut up.》
The reply was short and sharp, like a sharp blow.
《I’m doing a site inspection. If you babble, you’ll distract me.》
The man nodded slowly, with studied patience.
They continued along the village’s main path.
Around them, life went on with a slowness that seemed almost unnatural to Bakugou, as if every movement were performed to a different rhythm than the rest of the world.
Yet, among all those people, there was not the slightest sign of a Quirk. Bakugou looked up at the roof of the nearest house. A small black lens was watching him from above.
His tongue clicked against his palate.
《Oi.》
The man turned calmly.
《Yes?》
Bakugou pointed at the camera with a brief nod of his chin.
《Explain me something.》
His eyes narrowed slightly.
《Why doesn’t anyone use Quirks in this place.》
He paused, then added with obvious annoyance:
《And why the hell are you full of cameras?》
The man followed his gaze to the small dark lens. For a moment, he seemed to ponder the question, as if he considered it perfectly legitimate.
He clasped his hands behind his back.《Well..It’s a choice.》
Bakugou snorted.
《A shitty choice.》
The man nodded sympathetically.
《Here, we prefer to live… without interference, we don’t expect that you understand..yet》
Silence stretched between them for a few moments.
Bakugou didn’t take his eyes off the camera.
《And those?》 he asked. 《What are they for? To make sure the old folks don’t run away?》
The man smiled slightly.
It wasn’t an amused or ironic smile; rather, the kind you give a child who’s just asked a question too big for them.
《You almost sound like they’re prisoners. I want to make it clear that we’re all free here.》
He pointed absently at the dark lens.
《The cameras are there to make sure everything stays peaceful.》
Bakugou crossed his arms.
《You know that Quiet is a rare quality these days.》
The man resumed walking along the path, implicitly inviting him to follow.
《There’s so much noise these days,》 he continued in a calm tone. 《We prefer silence.》
Bakugou caught up to him in two strides.《Silence doesn’t need cameras.》
For the first time, the man didn’t answer right away.
He stopped next to a fence and looked out over the village for a few seconds, as if assessing something only he could see.
Then he simply said:
《It depends on what you want to protect.》
And he resumed walking.
《—carves all the bowls himself, while Mrs. Lou—》
Bakugou stopped abruptly.
The movement was so sudden that it broke the rhythm of their steps along the path, as if something had suddenly slammed on the brakes of that slow, orderly pace the man seemed determined to maintain at all costs.
《Enough of this shit, take me to the leader.》
The man accompanying him slowed down only slightly. There was no surprise in his movements, nor irritation: only that measured calm that seemed to accompany his every word.
《I’m afraid that’s not possible sir》
Bakugou tilted his head slightly to the side, watching him with an expression that wavered between disbelief and irritation.
《What the fuck do you mean it’s not possible?》
《The Leader is… very busy.》
《Busy doing what?!》he snapped.
For a moment, the man didn’t answer. Instead, he resumed walking along the path, as if that were the most natural response, and with a small gesture of his hand, he motioned for him to follow.
《Village matters require a great deal of attention.》
Bakugou followed him with two heavy steps, visibly annoyed.
《I didn’t come here to talk to some fucking secretary.》
《I’m not a secretary, sir.》
The man offered a faint, almost courteous smile.
《I handle administration. Basically, everything related to the outside world goes through me.》
He paused briefly, as if to give those words the time needed to be understood.
《You can ask me anything that you want to know 》
Bakugou stared at him with obvious irritation, and his gaze grew harsher.
《I want to speak to the person in charge here.》
The silence that followed lasted a few seconds. A brief silence, but long enough to make it clear that the answer would not be what Bakugou wanted.
Then the man said calmly:
《Maybe later. In the meantime, I’ll take you to see the residents’ registry.》
They started walking again.
That was when Bakugou saw her.
An elderly woman was sitting on a bench in front of one of the houses. The wood of the bench was weathered, smoothed by years of use; in her hands, was held a simple glass of water, raised to chest level.
Her lips moved slowly.
At first, Bakugou thought she was talking to herself.
Then he realized she was reciting something.
Her voice was so soft that the words were carried away by the light breeze sweeping through the village. yet the rhythm was unmistakable: slow, steady, cadenced like a formula repeated too many times to be spontaneous.
The woman lowered her gaze to the glass.
She murmured the last words.
Then she drank.
Bakugou stopped.
《What the fuck…》
The man stopped beside him.
《Is something wrong?》 he asked in his usual calm tone.
Bakugou pointed at the woman with a brief nod of his chin.
《 she prayed before drinking the water》
The man watched the scene without any surprise.
《It’s a habit.》
Bakugou repeated the word with obvious disbelief.《A habit..?》
《Yes. You don’t pray sir? To Thank God for the things that have been given to us.》
He was too annoyed to answer. He continued to watch the woman, who had now finished drinking. She set the glass down beside her and, for a brief moment, looked up.
Her eyes rested on Bakugou.
There was a peculiar, profound calm about them. A calm that, for some reason, seemed almost unnatural.
Then he lowered his head again.
《This place is fucking creapy.》
The man didn’t seem to deny it.
On the contrary.
《Many people think that at first.》
He made a small gesture with his hand, pointing toward the village: the houses, the dirt paths, the still silence that seemed to envelop everything like a blanket that was too heavy.
《It’s just a matter of time.》
Bakugou narrowed his eyes.
They walked for a few more minutes along the main path, and with every step it seemed as though the village was sinking deeper into an oppressive atmosphere, as if the afternoon were slowly slipping into evening without anyone, in any of its houses or among its alleys, feeling in a hurry to notice.
It was then that Bakugou noticed the two guards.
They stood a short distance ahead, next to a wooden fence, the same ones he’d seen at the gate. Motionless, composed, like statues of wood and metal, alert and silent, never betraying a single breath.
One of them made a small, barely perceptible gesture, and the man accompanying Bakugou stopped.
《Excuse me a moment, sir.》
He didn’t wait for a reply, he advanced toward the guards with measured steps. He spoke to them in a low voice, so low that the light, steady wind carried every word away before it could become sound.
Bakugo watched them from a distance, his hands tucked into his pockets, his body tense like a spring ready to snap. The conversation didn’t last long. Just a few exchanges, a few imperceptible nods, a silent agreement that seemed written in gestures more than in words. Then one of the guards pointed, with a very brief movement, in his direction. The man nodded slightly, as if a reality that Bakugo himself could not see had been confirmed.
When he turned back to him, the polite, composed smile was back on his face.
《It’s late,》 he said calmly. 《We’ll be eating here soon.》
He made a small gesture toward one of the larger houses, the one that, by size and location, seemed intended to accommodate those arriving from outside.
《Are you hungry? You can come with us.》
Bakugo stared at him for a moment, as if the proposal struck him as absurd. Then he snorted impatiently.
《No.》The reply was immediate and firm.
《I’m leaving.》
The man’s smile didn’t change; it didn’t shift even a millimeter.
《As you wish sir.》
Bakugo took a decisive step toward the path he had come from, leaving the still air of the village behind him.
《There’s nothing to see here anyway》 he added, as if to reinforce the point, to make it clear to anyone listening that his decision was final.
《This shitty inspection is over.》
The man didn’t stop him immediately. He let him take a few steps, allowing the silence between them to stretch like a taut rope.
Then he spoke:
《Actually,》 he said, 《the inspection is supposed to last from 4:00 p.m. to 7:30 p.m.》 Then he glanced at his watch. 《It’s still 6:26 p.m.》
Bakugo stopped and turned slowly, as if he had realized, in that brief moment, that nothing he thought he controlled was actually within his power.
《I don’t have time to waste.》
《I understand sir,》 the man replied, his voice measured and courteous.
Bakugo took a few steps toward him.
《Yet the request was quite clear,》 he added, and although his words retained a natural politeness, there was a firmness in them that left little room for reply.
《You were supposed to stay until evening.》
Bakugo snorted again, showing his obvious irritation.
《And to do what?》 he asked, gesturing dismissively toward the village. 《Watch other old peaple drink water?》
A brief but intense silence fell between them. Then the man tilted his head slightly, and a gentle smile lit up his face.
《You’re a really funny man, you know that?》 he said, and laughed with a calmness that seemed to know neither haste nor agitation. 《Follow me.》
The room where they were about to eat was larger than the other rooms, yet it did not differ significantly from them. The dark wooden walls enclosed a long table; the chairs, each one different from the next, seemed to have been collected over the years with patient care.
By now the elders had already eaten, leaving room for the guest.
The smell of food still lingered in the air: not unpleasant, but faint, almost suspended between nothingness and flavor.
A clear soup steamed in the earthenware bowl; the bread, dark and roughly cut, lay next to some boiled vegetables.
Katsuki sat down with obvious reluctance and annoyance.
He tasted the soup; the spoon remained suspended, halfway between his lips and the bowl.
《…Tsk.》
He set it down on the table with a sharp movement.
《It has no flavor.》
The man sitting across from him, with his usual calm smile, didn’t seem offended in the least.
《I’m sorry, sir.》
He bowed his head slightly, as if to apologize for the inadequacy of his explanation.
《The elders of the community do the cooking here,》 he added, gesturing gently toward the pot. 《Their hands shake a little, and sometimes they forget the salt.》
Bakugo didn’t dare touch the bowl again.
The man then lifted a bottle, as if to offer an alternative.
《Perhaps you’d prefer some wine.》
《I’m at work,》 came the prompt reply. 《I don’t drink.》
《I see… it’s a real shame; it was prepared especially for the occasion…》
The bottle was calmly set back on the table, and the man then poured a glass of water, sliding it toward him. Bakugo watched him closely, but did not take it.
The silence lingered for a few moments, filled with that inexplicable tension that accompanies mistrust.
Then the man tilted his head slightly.
《Ah.》
The smile, already calm, widened just a little. 《I see.》
He took the glass in his hands. 《Do you think there’s something in the water, sir?》
Casually, he took a long sip and set it back on the table, without any hurry.
《As you can see,》 he said with quiet firmness, 《there isn’t.》
《I’m not hungry,》said Bakugo, pushing his chair back with a sharp motion.
《I must make a call.》
The man asked no questions. He simply took a step back, with that composed discretion that seemed to accompany his every gesture, as if he already understood that, under certain circumstances, the best form of politeness was simply not to interfere.
Bakugou opened the hard-sided briefcase he was carrying.
The metal of the lock clicked with a sharp, crisp sound that seemed to echo more than necessary in the quiet stillness of the village. Inside, from among various carefully organized compartments, he pulled out a small transmission module. He connected it to the phone with quick, practiced movements.
Within seconds, the private line went live.
《Speak》 replied Enji Todoroki’s rough voice.
Bakugou snorted. 《You’re wasting my time.》
He took a few steps, moving away from the main path and the few people moving slowly between the houses.
《There’s nothing here. Just a bunch of old folks living like two centurys ago.》
The wind swept through the trees at the edge of the village with a long, monotonous rustle, carrying with it the scent of damp earth.
《Ground zero, Did you at least interview the residents?》asked the voice on the other end of the line. The tone made it clear he already knew the answer.
Bakugou clenched the phone.
《There’s no need to ask anyone anything. There’s nothing here. I saw the records, and those people aren’t here.》
At this hour, I should be kicking criminals’ asses, not wasting my time in this fucking place.
He ended the call with a sharp gesture.
For a few seconds, only the wind remained, passing through the beams of the houses with a faint sound, like a whisper.
Bakugou slipped the phone into his pocket and snapped the briefcase shut.
When he turned around, the man was still there. He hadn’t moved a step.
He was watching him with the same composed expression as before; yet now, there seemed to be something different in his gaze. Not curiosity. Not annoyance. Something else.
《Have you done sir?》 he asked politely.
Bakugou stared at him for a moment.
《Yes. And now I’m done here, too.》
The man tilted his head slightly.
《I see.》
A brief silence fell between them, light but perceptible, as if the village itself were holding its breath.
Then the man spoke again, with the same calm composure one might use to make a casual remark.
《It’s curious.》
Bakugou narrowed his eyes. 《What.》
The man’s gaze drifted for a moment toward one of the small cameras hidden under the roof of the nearest house, its dark lens barely reflecting the gray light of the sky.
《Usually,》 he said softly, 《the heroes who come here think they’ve come to help us…》
Then he looked back at him.
There was something deeply wrong with the smile that gently curved his lips.
The wind ceased for a moment, and with it, one of the few sounds that.
The wind died down for a moment, and with it, one of the few sounds that brought life to the place seemed to fade away.
Then the man added, almost gently: 《maybe you were sent here so we could help you.》
Later, they were walking toward the lodgings. The village lay almost entirely shrouded in darkness; only a few lit windows broke the shadows between the houses.
Bakugo walked with his hands in his pockets, clearly irritated.
7:28 p.m.
《I’m leaving.》
The man beside him didn’t reply right away.
《The inspection—》
《It’s definitely fucking over》 Bakugo interrupted him, his tone resolute.
Then… a sudden noise, a rustling that seemed to come from the shadows between the houses. Both of them spun around, their eyes alert to every movement, and saw a figure emerge from the darkness.
It moved with surprising speed, too agile to belong to an old man; and, before they could comprehend it, it darted toward them like an arrow shot from an invisible bow.
Bakugo stepped forward, determined to put his own body between himself and the intruder. He held out his hands, and a small explosion erupted from his fingers, enough to halt the advance without damaging the surrounding houses.
The figure, however, did not slow down. It changed direction and weaved through the narrow alleys, leaping over a low fence without slowing its pace, zigzagging between the houses like an elusive shadow.
Bakugo picked up speed, his heart pounding and his judgment clouded by his thirst for action.
《You won’t get far, you bastard!》 he shouted, but the other man didn’t even bother to answer. He kept running, moving farther and farther away from the center of the village and leaving behind the sounds of animals agitated by the commotion.
The houses gave way; the path led deeper into the woods. Gnarled roots dotted the ground, dry leaves crunched beneath his footsteps. The wind, now stronger, swept through the trunks as if whispering ominous portents. Bakugo was about to catch up to the intruder when a thin mist appeared among the trees.
In a few moments, a white veil spread between the trunks, dense and impenetrable. Bakugo slowed down, torn between astonishment and unease.
《What the hell…》 he muttered.
It must be his quirk
He raised his hands, ready to defend himself against a possible attack.
The figure before him faded into the mist until it vanished completely. A heavy silence fell over the woods, broken only by the rustling of the wind. Bakugo stood motionless, clenching his fists, then took a few steps forward. Slowly, the fog began to dissipate. When the air cleared, he looked up and stopped, his heart in his throat.
Before him stood a tall gate of gold iron, far more imposing than the one in the village; the bars seemed to defy the canopy of trees and the sky. Bakugo furrowed his brow, his expression tense.
《…What the fuck is this…》
He looked around: the path behind him had now vanished into the lingering fog, as if swallowed up by the shadows. He was in a different place. The sun shone down on him as if no time had passed. Then a voice spoke up behind him.
《You asked to speak with the Leader.》
Bakugo spun around. The villager stood there, as if he had arrived at a leisurely pace, with his usual composed smile on his lips.
《I relayed your request,》 he said, and a small gesture of his hand indicated the gate. 《You will be honored to know that He accepted.》