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The two of spades: A symbol of betrayal, or an upset balance in a relationship; Can also represent the duality of vice and virtue, of reason and emotions—the need to make a choice.
“I stand by my claim, Tobita: Every man has a tell.”
Two pairs of boots squished through the marsh, a contrast to the grit of concrete so frequently underfoot. Fluttering cloaks billowed behind them both: onyx and topaz, gemstones vibrant amidst the swampland that swallowed the hero and his sidekick.
Well. Soon-to-be sidekick.
“What did you say his quirk was? ‘Poker Face?’” Tobita looked to the man beside him, whose walking cane sank into wet grass with every step. “Perhaps he grew too reliant on it. I’m sure others are masters at suppressing anything that might give them away.”
Tobita Danjuro. Better known as pro hero Earl Grey. Snowy hair and impeccable poise made him look well beyond his years, but he’d never minded. In the beginning, he’d assumed his maturity alone would earn the public’s respect; but it hadn’t been enough, even after years of service. When the Hero Commission approved his request for an agency, he found himself accepting calls in an empty building, voice echoing across lonely walls.
“Perhaps,” his partner responded, “but not this poor man. Poker Face or none, he’d drum his fingers on the table every time he bluffed. He masked it as impatience, but I caught the cues—Oh…is this the place?”
Tobita’s eyes flitted leftward. Sure enough, their target awaited: an abandoned, solitary house, decrepit and lurching upon swamp-softened foundation.
“Looks to be.” Tobita said. “Are you ready, Sako?”
Sako gave his cane a twirl. “Showtime.”
Sako Atsuhiro hadn’t just broken the silence of Tobita’s empty agency—he’d shattered it like glass under black-splashed boots and a gleaming cane. Tobita had been painting his office upon Sako’s arrival; he was almost ashamed of his plum-smeared appearance compared to the put-together visitor. Yet, the newcomer’s face revealed no judgement—just an expressionless mask of pearl white, lined in inky black.
He went by “Mr. Compress”: an older sidekick seeking work in an industry that favored the young. Even so, he’d urged Tobita not to let his weak resume define him. “I promise, Earl Grey,” he’d said, whimsy in every word, “I will be the finest sidekick you could possibly imagine.”
The woodlice-gnawed porch creaked as they reached the door. Tobita knocked with a gloved knuckle, careful against the urchins of splintering wood. A shift of his weight. Silence.
“Do you gamble frequently, Sako?”
“I have a beautifully scripted answer for this,” Sako cleared his throat, feigning melodramatic shock. “Ahem, card games? Never. Card tricks? My specialty!” And like magic they appeared, a spread of candy-cane playing cards, face-down. “Pick a card.”
“So, your script includes stage direction?” Tobita scoffed, drawing a card. A two of spades greeted him, and he slipped it back into the deck. “‘Distract Earl Grey then exit stage left?’”
“Stage right, actually.” Sako returned to shuffling, and Tobita watched intently. “What’s that look for?”
“Simply eyeing for your tell,” Tobita smirked. “If I catch you drumming those fingers, I’ll be privy to your tricks, correct?”
“Earl Grey. This is workplace harassment—”
A squeak of hinges, and both men looked to the thinly gapped door. One paint-winged eye peered back.
“Whatever you’re sellin’, we don’t want it,” its owner said curtly.
“My apologies!” Tobita said quickly, Sako’s cards evaporating into an ice-blue marble. “We’ve nothing to sell. Just two heroes on official business!”
“Earl Grey, innit?” The door opened a bit more, revealing buzzed locks beneath a vibrant orange headband, a bell-adorned bracer on one forearm, and two disdainful eyes. “I don’t know the other one.”
“Mr. Compress,” Sako said with a bow. “Earl Grey’s sidekick. Er, well, mid-audition.”
A sudden voice from inside. “Who is it, Yu—
“Codenames,” the doorman cut him short. “It’s a couple’a heroes.”
A second head appeared behind the first. Dark curls spilled over that same headband, glass-hued eyes lined with that same smoky wing.
“We’re not here to cause trouble,” Tobita said. “We were just asked to investigate some suspicious activity in the area.”
“Sounds like a detective’s job,” the first man spat, “not some circus performers who call themselves heroes.”
“Arrow, let’s be courteous,” soothed the glass-eyed man. Arrow shifted grumpily, revealing his other arm: a crossbow woven in skin and bone.
“Every hero I’ve met?” Arrow said. “Just a firecracker gettin’ off on collateral damage.”
“My God, no! I swear, we’re—Oh!” Tobita dipped into his pocket. “Look, we have a warrant, it’s more than official—”
“Hold out your hand, Earl Grey?”
Tobita’s brows furrowed. “Pardon?”
“I’d prefer some mutual trust over a piece of paper,” the glassy-eyed one said. A mousy man behind him stepped forward, eyes enormous saucers against his eyeliner. “Would you be okay with Past Life scanning your work history?”
“Sc…scanning?”
“You know Sir Nighteye? Think of Past Life’s quirk as an antithesis to his. Just a peek into your past; if you’ve nothing to hide, should be no harm done.”
“And if you’re tricking us with a lethal quirk?” Sako stepped in. “I’m sure you don’t mind me readying for defense?”
“Not at all,” The man twisted a stray curl. “I did say mutual trust. Let’s both earn our share.”
Sako’s hand settled on Past Life’s shoulder, ready to compress him in an instant. With a swallow, Tobita extended his hand, and Past Life took it in his own. Doe-like eyes went blank. Every man stood silent. Finally, depth trickled back into Past Life’s vision.
“He’s clean.”
Tobita sighed in relief, but then the small hand reached for Sako. “Now you, please.”
“Oh,” Sako, still ever-poised, offered a hand. “My pleasure.”
Sako’s gloved palm slipped into Past Life’s, and the eyes fogged again, expression slack. Another lull, every ear awaiting Past Life’s approval.
What they got instead was a lightning beam of shock.
“Let them in,” Past Life demanded, color zapping back to his eyes.
“He’s clean?” The first man cocked an eyebrow.
“Let them in.”
A stunned nod before the unnamed man turned, Past Life and Arrow tailing behind. Tobita and Sako shared a glance—then followed at a cautious distance.
The shack’s interior was only marginally more put-together: heat-hazed candles made up for a lack of electricity, rafters bare and brittle overhead. The most glaring disrepair was in the floorboards below them: Tobita could feel his cape snagging on every loose splinter in the wood.
“Your reputation must precede you,” Tobita whispered. “Did you forget something on your resume?”
“Are you saying my resume didn’t already spark showstopping awe? Speaking of which…” Sako’s hand rose: crisp between his fingers, a two of spades. “…Is this your card?”
“I’ll be damned…” Tobita said, plucking the playing card in shock. “How’d you manage this? You must’ve cheated.”
Sako’s footsteps paused, and Tobita followed the cue of sound, still scrutinizing the spades.
“No reply, hm?” Tobita’s joking eyes lifted as he pocketed the card. “Have I caught you red-hande—”
The first thing he saw was Sako’s mask, expressionless but frozen. Confused, Tobita followed his partner’s gaze; took in the dusty pink blossoms, the glint of polished gold, the flawlessly maintained butsudan…featuring a shockingly infamous face.
“Is that…” Tobita looked to the four men before them, the homage of their outfits finally clear. “…the Peerless Thief?”
“Indeed,” their leader said, glass-glazed eyes locking on Sako, “and he’s finally come home.”
Perplexed, Tobita turned to his partner, then back to the men. “Mr. Compress? I assure you, my sidekick is not the long-dead Peerless Th—”
“Your sidekick’s a direct descendant of Harima,” A new face, long hair fashioned of stony tresses. “Past Life saw him! In your friend’s lineage!”
“I—You can look as far back as our ancestry?” Tobita struggled to follow. “I was under the impression this was just job history! ”
“We needed a grasp on your reputation,” The leader’s tone was calm, but those eyes were still dancing. “Past Life just happened to spot a miracle along the way.”
“Miracle!” Tobita scoffed. “If anything, your dear Past Life has exposed himself as nothing but a fraud—”
“You obstructed a rescue in your teens. Through unauthorized quirk usage.”
Past Life’s voice. A near-murmur. But enough to turn Tobita’s blood cold.
“The victim was hospitalized because of your carelessness,” Past Life continued. “You had to fight to earn a license after that. And you overcame, except…” Those big eyes drifted to Sako, and Tobita’s stomach lurched. “…Earl Grey, was your past never public knowledge?”
Tobita’s mouth felt bone-dry, and he wished he were back in his empty office, sipping tea to the scent of drying paint.
“Proof that Harima’s views are truth,” the leader said, hands clasped. “That the title of ‘hero’ is given far too freely.”
“I—” Tobita looked to Sako, face unreadable behind that mask. He wanted so badly to crack the eggshell with his own hands, watch Sako’s expression ooze free like yolk—but Tobita found himself paralyzed thinking of what he’d find.
“You can atone,” their leader continued. “Renounce this flawed ‘heroism.’ Join us in reviving the Peerless Thief’s will. For with his kin at our side…it’s more attainable than ever.”
“He would never…” Tobita shook his head, though it only dislodged more sloshing unease. “W-will never—"
“To refuse, however, I’m afraid we’d all be quite insulted…”
“Mr. Compress,” Tobita’s eyes shot to his unmoving sidekick. “Please make them stop this.”
“Be it Stone, who can turn you into solid rock with a five-second stare…”
“Compress, they’ll listen to you, just…say something!”
“Arrow and Past Life, whom you’ve already met…”
“Sako!”
“And of course, yours truly: Mirror,” The frightened hero looked back, catching the leader’s cryptic smile. “With a snap of my fingers, I can reflect any damage done unto me right back onto any man I touch.”
“…Are you...threatening us?” Tobita asked, as if he didn’t already know the answer.
“Mutual trust, Earl Grey,” Mirror grinned, glassy eyes sparkling. “Just letting you know—honestly—where you stand.”
Grit-toothed silence. For a moment, it seemed no man even breathed.
“All this…for my great-great grandfather?”
Finally , Sako’s voice. Relief flooded Tobita as he looked Sako’s way, his partner seemingly coming to his senses—
“Why,” Sako chuckled, “it’s almost flattering.”
Tobita’s smile dropped.
“S-Sako—”
“I’ll be frank, I was unsettled at first,” Sako continued, “but knowing you side with Harima, an inspiration I’ve hidden since youth—”
“You can’t be serious!” Tobita said, stunned. “They want you to renounce heroism, and you’re not even putting up a fight?”
“Please forgive my lovely assistant, he hasn’t considered every aspect of this.”
“Assistant?”
Sako whirled to Tobita, tone finally snapping. “Hero society has made me nothing but ashamed of my lineage. Can’t say I’m against someone finally embracing me for it!”
Once again, Tobita was speechless. His hand met Sako’s arm—and Arrow’s crossbow took aim. Leaping back, Tobita blasted a membrane of elasticized air just in time, Arrow’s bolts rebounding loudly.
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Sako spoke up, but Tobita was breathing too hard to hear. His attention had redirected to Stone, who eyed him, unblinking. How many seconds did his quirk take to activate? Ten? Five?
He wasn’t about to stay and find out.
Boots thundering against hole-worn ground, Tobita barreled through the nearest door, flinging it shut behind him. He’d hoped for a room with a window—but this seemed a storeroom-turned-bedroom, barren besides a wall clock, moth-gnawed mattress, and a few scattered knickknacks. No window in sight.
“Please, he’s my partner,” Tobita whirled sharply at Sako’s voice, cloak snagging on a jagged divot in the wood. “Perhaps I can make him see reason.”
“You’ll only be killed in some ‘heroic’ conquest!” Arrow countered as Tobita yanked himself free. “Ain’t gonna happen!”
“You forget that Harima’s platform wasn’t just to take, but to give,” Sako said. “Aren’t you above these false heroes, enough to give a second chance? Or are you mindless killers also?
An answering chorus of “no’s,” and the door creaked open. Over Sako’s shoulder, it was not Stone’s eyes that greeted Tobita, but the glassy irises of Mirror.
Sako’s masked gaze combed the room, cracked ceiling to ragged floor, before turning to the cult. “You’re welcome to stand in the doorway, if you’re worried about any funny business.”
“From him? Yes,” Mirror finally spoke. “From the Peerless Thief reborn? Also yes,” The leader’s hand settled between Sako’s shoulder blades, assured and comforting—a sharp contrast to the cornered, helpless Earl Grey. “The difference is, yours will be for the right cause.”
Sako nodded. Stepped forward. Tobita’s final shield of distance was stabbed clean through.
The wood creaked under Tobita’s feet, rotten honeycomb threatening to plunge him into the crawl space below. But his eyes were glued to Sako, the man’s invincible grace sending chills down his spine.
“Sako, I’m not here to judge you for your past,” Tobita said, Past Life’s words stirring guiltily in his stomach. “God knows I don’t have that right. But…all our joking this morning, I never thought you’d—”
“Card tricks and gambling tales,” Sako cut him off. “All that rambling of tells, seems to me you’re just awful at spotting them.”
One hand poised for defense, Tobita fished in his coat pocket, searching for a miracle. The crumpled warrant…and the chill of the two of spades. He withdrew his hand. Swallowed.
“I…” he let out a breath. “I really did think you’d be the one, Sako.”
“Because we’re both showmen,” Sako shrugged off the sentiment. “But me...I think I’ve been cast in the wrong role.”
Tobita looked up as Sako’s hand met his shoulder. Face wrinkling in revulsion, the hero smacked the betrayer’s hand aside, but it only found his shoulder again. Tobita could only glare—that damned heartless mask, face-to-face with him now.
“I know my calling,” Sako said, “and it’s with these trailblazers.”
The gloved fingers drummed against his shoulder.
“With Harima.”
Another drum of fingers against his shoulder. Abrupt realization pricked at Tobita’s spine.
“I know this twist might’ve convinced you otherwise.” Sako’s drumming stopped with a gentle squeeze, and Tobita finally understood. “But I just need you to trust me.”
The card in his pocket burned like fire—but instead of a death sentence, it had become a lifeline. He looked at Sako’s mask, softer now, spades of black drifting gently through pure white.
A single quiet nod.
The gloved hand tapped his shoulder, and Tobita’s world vanished. An orb of glassy walls. Rushing air. He uncurled upon a blanket of dust, the hole-worn floor now above his head, pinpricking light across his skin.
The crawl space. He’d compressed and thrown him, straight through the rotten wood.
And now, four enraged cultists were stampeding overhead.
“Sako!” Tobita shouted. His palms shot upward, wood melting to rubber under his fingers. Another reach, and Tobita brushed against the brick foundation, transforming the walls as well. Sako had already proven himself quite the magician—hopefully, he was also one hell of an acrobat.
“What the—” Arrow shouted, steps stumbling overhead. Sure enough, one figure had started cleanly springing about the room, and judging by the cultists’ reactions, it certainly wasn’t any of them.
“I can’t keep an eye on him!” Stone yelled as Tobita rolled over, gloved hands prying at a hole in the floorboards.
“And I can’t land a damn shot—” Arrow’s words halted with a burst of noise, the same Tobita heard when Sako first compressed him. “Past Life!”
“So brutal to a descendant of Harima!” Sako’s voice bounced about as Tobita wrenched a second hand through the gap. “Talk about killing your darlings.”
“You’re no darling of ours!” Stone hissed. “Harima would be disgusted by you!”
“Good thing I inherited his acrobatic skill then, hm? Else we’d both be rolling in our graves!”
The rubber room quaked. Tobita forced an arm above. Other hand straining, he worked his head through the hollow, just in time to see Sako seize the newly-compressed Arrow.
Stone turned his glare to the clock, snatching as it morphed to solid rock. A discus-like fling that just missed Sako—the clock ricocheted wildly, clattering to a stop against the mattress.
Elastic wood at his chest now, a stunned grin pulled at Tobita’s face as Sako bubbled the distracted Stone. In mere minutes, they’d reduced four men to one. Now all they had to do was—
Sako dove for Mirror, who stood shockingly unfazed, fingers poised. And Tobita suddenly remembered that pat on the back, a single touch from the mirror-quirked man—
“Sako, don’t!”
A snap of Mirror’s fingers. Sako withdrew his hands just in time, tumbling to the ground. Tobita strained against his confines, watching as Mirror’s glassy eyes—sharp with fury—locked on his sidekick.
“You’re lucky your lovely assistant is so observant!” Mirror said as Sako rose to wobbly legs. “I touched you, traitor. Right before you came in. Now any damage you do to me harms you just the same.”
“You think I’m scared to compress myself?” Sako countered.
“Even if you do compress us both, removing yourself from the marble will free me as well.” Tobita could almost see Sako’s masked face fall. “Until I snap my fingers again, you can’t touch me.”
“Your quirk…it prevents you from harming me as well,” Compress attempted to stand his ground, as Mirror confidently crossed the room. “So, it’s inevitable. Sever the bond, and let’s be done with this.”
Mirror paused beside the now-settled stone clock, exhaling as he readied a resigned snap.
“I guess I can humor one last request...for Harima’s bastard kin.”
A flash of glassy eyes, the jangle of bell-laced wrists, and the clock was flying, bursting into the roof. A sickening groan of architecture, before an avalanche of debris tumbled towards Sako, Tobita still caught helplessly in the floorboards.
Suddenly, his hands were young, trembling, frantic—and once again, that wall of elastic air rushed from Earl Grey’s fingertips.
The landslide rebounded against the disc, inches from Sako’s head. Before anyone could respond, the wreckage slammed onto Mirror’s poised arm, and Tobita paled as Mirror’s cry was smothered by Sako’s own, arm pinning under an invisible weight.
Dear God...the two were still tethered.
“Sako!” Tobita shouted, clawing until he finally tore from the stretched planking. Stumbling to Mirror, the frantic hero snatched the villain’s free wrist. “Sever the bond,” Tobita demanded, “or I’ll destroy everything dedicated to your precious Harima! I mean it!”
A pain-laced laugh. “Might as well,” Mirror spat. A single snap, sharp in the air, and dancing eyes flitted over Tobita’s shoulder. “The damage is already done.”
“No…” Tobita squeezed his eyes shut, terrified of what waited behind him: another failed rescue, immortalized in crushed arms, legs, body—
“Oh, dear. That was expensive.”
Confused eyes flew open, and Tobita toppled backwards at the sight of Sako, who hastily swiped Mirror into a marble. Baffled, Tobita scanned his partner for injury—nearly fainting at the sight of an empty coat sleeve.
“Oh!” Sako looked to Tobita, gesturing wildly with his remaining arm. “No, don’t worry, this wasn’t your doing!” Sako bounded to a still-pinned metal arm, left on the ground. A detached prosthetic…and its wearer, unharmed.
“Lost my arm in a villain attack years back,” Sako said, nudging the crushed limb with his foot. “A round of applause for this understudy, though. It served well. And speaking of applause—” Sako whirled around. “What is the sound of one hand clapping? Because you, my friend, deserve a standing ovation!”
“What?” Tobita shook his head. “No, that was entirely you—were it not for wild luck, I—"
“Luck or none, your quick thinking and teamwork? Impeccable,” Sako said. “Especially when I couldn’t properly communicate…I’m…sorry I had to frighten you like that.”
“No, no, Sako,” Tobita stopped him, drawing a deep breath. “Mr. Compress, you…you’re a more compatible sidekick than I ever thought existed. Our quirks and personalities, why, they fit like a glove!”
“...But…my ties to Harima?”
A quiet sigh. A gentle smile. “Your past doesn’t make you any less of a hero, Sako,” Tobita said. “...Believe me.”
Every drop of coldness had melted from Sako’s mask. Tobita could practically see the smile beaming straight through, and it warmed him just the same. It seemed he and Mr. Compress were going to get along just fine.
“So!” Sako finally broke in. “We’ve some errands now?”
“Indeed! First to the police, then whoever repairs your arm…” A sudden familiar longing danced in Tobita’s head, and he chuckled. “Silly question...is the arm more urgent than a quick cup of tea?”
“Depends,” Sako rubbed his chin in exaggerated thought, “am I the one paying?”
“I’d say my treat, but…” Tobita yanked out his near-empty pockets, chuckling at the playing card that poked free—the duo of black spades gleamed back, two souls perfectly aligned. “Perhaps a friendly wager?”
“Me? A gambling man? Never, ” Sako gasped jokingly, taking the card as Tobita offered it, “But for you? I’ll make an exception.”
Tobita grinned as Sako plucked a marble from his pocket—the flurry of playing cards filled his hand yet again, a wing of red-white feathers set for flight in Sako’s fingers.
“Go ahead, Earl Grey,” his new sidekick grinned. “Pick a card.”