Chapter Text
Toshinori knows the woods are not safe, especially not on this night but he will not be cowed any longer.
The full moon guides his path as he ambles through the trees in his charmed brown cloak following the howls of a Wolf. His cloak does nothing to dispel the chill in the air, does nothing to warm his icy skin but it keeps him from being seen, from being noticed and a little cold is nothing compared to the usefulness of his favorite hunting gear.
He keeps his bow in his hand, his other resting above the quiver at his hip as he continues stepping carefully through the night. He can’t help but miss his old sword, the feel of it in his hand, the power it lent his attacks, the comfort its weight alone brought him. But he was a hunter long before Lady Shimura passed the sword to him and he can still be a hunter now– though no longer a licensed one.
Ever since Toshinori had woken from the Healsleep to discover that the Commision had somehow ‘lost’ his successor he’d known there would be no point to returning. He had been sure to squirrel away as much wealth and property as he could get away with in his long years as All Might and they serve him well now that he lives as a ghost.
Hunting though.
Hunting again is something very recent.
For a long time Toshinori had despaired, lost his way and sat idly by while the peasants called for the Hunters and waited in vain for their requests to be heard.
He’d shed tears and helped wrap wounds and dispensed with as much coin for Healers as he could spare. But the people had continued to call and Toshinori had felt helpless.
He no longer had a license, One for All was lost, and to open the trunk holding his old gear had been…
He’d been weak, both in body and soul– weaker even than the time before Lady Shimura had Chosen him. He had thought that he was doing all he could.
And then came the whispers.
The Hunter of the People.
An unlicensed unknown who would help any who called for him no matter the cost to himself. A young boy, barely older than a child, with the weight of the world on his shoulders and a bright smile for all he saved. He was said to charge nothing, only accepting gifts and food when they were forced into his hands and Toshinori had felt...
Ashamed.
Hopeful.
Envious.
And the next time his people had called for the Hunters he’d done as the Hunter of the People did— as he always should have done— and donned his cloak to hunt, consequences be damned.
So here he treads, steps cautious, bow drawn as he follows the pained, angry howls through the wood.
He is prepared for an injured beast awaiting a mercy shot– or perhaps one not so wounded as to be unable to pounce at his arrival which would require a more finessed hit.
What he is not expecting is a Wolf, thrashing at the air from where it is chained to an old oak tree.
Were Toshinori a hunter more like Endeavor his shot would have flown true immediately no questions asked. But Toshinori is a hunter that values prudence and intent behind his hits and so he lowers his bow and he thinks. The chains hold the Wolf fast as only Hunter grade can and the tightness about the hold alludes to the cuffs having been fastened pre-shift on wrists still thin and human. The Wolf howls once more, clawing at the ground in pure animal fury at its continued denied bid for freedom and Toshinori leans back against a tree and shakes his head. This must be an elaborate trap set to snare the beast’s pack when they come to answer the Call. It is a bit strange that a Hunter was able to identify a Wolf in human form to use as bait like this but still it is a daring plan.
In fact, now that he thinks on it, Toshinori finds it somewhat odd that the area has not been overrun by said packmates yet, considering the lateness of his own arrival… and now that he’s thinking on it, he may be rusty as a Hunter but his Tracking skills are still up to snuff so to speak. And yet the only signs of struggle to be seen are the fresh marks from the Wolf’s thrashing against its bonds. There are no marks of a Hunter’s Band in the nearby trees and Toshinori has seen no signs of a Spell Seal around the area… Has a Hunter truly captured a Wolf and left it out to call for its packmates so close to town? But even that rings hollow. The Wolf has been howling for hours now and yet no one but Toshinori himself has arrived to investigate. Curiouser and curiouser.
Toshinori is about to throw caution to the wind and shuffle closer when the Wolf’s head twists as it snarls at the sky and moonlight glints off something shiny hanging off a thin rope around the creature's neck.
Toshinori freezes.
Is that. The key?
It’s too far to tell for sure but Toshinori is not stupid enough to get close enough to tell for sure. A Wolf without a Pack is unheard of and pained Howling such as this transcends hearing and distance in the quest to assemble aid. The Pack might not yet be near. But by the very nature of a Wolf’s Howl they will be unable to resist the call and even now could be traversing the considerable distance by leaps and bounds. Another point towards this being an elaborate trap. If the Wolf were snatched while in human form and taken far away for tonight, the Pack would arrive worn out from the considerable trek, leaving them easy pickings for whichever Hunter is lying in wait. If Toshinori wishes to gain answers without giving himself away, there's only one way for it.
He climbs a nearby tree, making sure to get high enough to be safe from Wolves and deftly gouges the bark with an easy concealment charm before slipping his dagger back into its concealed pocket and settling in to wait.
It’s going to be a long night.
***
Toshinori wakes to the rising of the sun and the sudden transition of angry howling shifting into pained screams.
Toshinori startles to full wakefulness so suddenly he almost loses his balance on the tree limb.
The Pack did not come.
The Pack. Did not. Come!
How-
How can this be?
And what was all this for if not to trap a–
The scream cuts off abruptly as if forcibly silenced and Toshinori immediately looks down. His view is half obscured by leaves and the harsh glares of the rising sun but he can just make out a pale freckled face and a head of hair so green it almost seems to blend into the forest around them. A pale hand is pressed over the young man’s mouth and his green eyes are wide and shiny in what looks to be utter horror.
Toshinori frowns.
Was this the boy’s first shift? No that cannot be. First shifts are too jarring for the screaming to have been silenced so completely. And so soon too. Toshinori can smell the blood in the air from the too tight cuffs having chafed at the Wolf’s skin. Perhaps the horror stems from the wounds, or perhaps the chains, or even–
The hand finally drops from the mouth and Toshinori stills at the fresh-faced youth revealed below him.
There are rules and Orders in place to protect the young from being Turned.
Someone...
Someone did this.
Perhaps even the same person that chained the boy to the tree in the first place.
But no sooner does Toshinori have this thought, then the boy’s hand harshly grips at the key around his neck and tugs.
The thin rope snaps with seemingly little effort and then the boy is fitting the key into the cuffs at his wrists, first one and then the other until both are free to the open air. The boy rubs at them, head ducked low and lips moving silently though Toshinori is too far to make out what is being said.
He is just wondering if he should perhaps go down there and see if the boy is okay- to hell with the Hunter Guidelines, when the boy suddenly moves.
One second he is crouched on the ground massaging his bloody wrists and the next he is gone, with only the faint rustling of the treetop above him to give clue as to his whereabouts.
Toshinori hastily scrapes away at his concealment charm. Skilled hunters will know what to look for and if anyone comes looking he can’t afford to leave a trace of his presence here behind. Hopefully the boy leaves soon and Toshinori will be able to get down and–
The boy hits the ground with the harsh thud of sturdy Hunting boots impacting the dirt. His key is back around his neck, though on a shiny silver chain this time, and his white shirt and brown trousers are almost entirely obscured by the pale green cloak around his shoulders.
The pale green Hunter’s cloak.
Toshinori manages to keep a swear back but only just.
This boy is…
He can’t be!
But he is.
The boy bends down to collect his chains, wiping the blood off with a Seeping Rag and shoving both into a satchel at his side and Toshinori freezes once again.
Because there at the boy’s hip, hanging from a familiar sheath on the boy’s belt, is the hilt of a sword that Toshinori would recognize anywhere.
One for All.