Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Go take a swan dive off the roof if you really want a quirk so badly!!"

Something sparked within Izuku as Bakugo said those words. He'd withstood years of torment by the blonde, but telling him to kill himself was a crossing line too far for Izuku to handle.

Izuku near immediately turned around filled with a mix of rage and bitterness, suddenly finding the courage to give a response to his tormentors.

Amused by Izuku's sudden bravery, Bakugo raised his hand and created a few small explosions in his hand as a reminder.

"Yeah? what?"

Any bravado Izuku felt in the moment instantly vanished like the wind. After all, what could he do to someone like Kacchan who had a quirk, and a very powerful one at that. Any attempt at retaliation would simply make things worse.

Seeing his sudden shift back to submission, Bakugo and his lackeys simply laughed at how pathetic the whole situation was and left the classroom, leaving Izuku alone to wallow in misery.

After their interaction, Izuku somehow found his way outside of the school, trying to salvage what remained of his notebook from the koi tank that it landed in.

As he tried to stop the Koi fish from consuming what remained of his notebook, his hopelessness began to truly fester

I really am a useless Deku huh?

What do I even have in this life?

He would never amount to anything.

He was a disappointment to those around him.

Why did he even bother?

Maybe Kacchan's right.

Sometimes, a single sentence can plant seeds of thought that grow to bear disastrous fruits.

At the moment, Izuku was on the rooftop of Aldera Junior High, preparing for his "swan dive".

He was too scared choose any other ways out like hanging or slitting his wrists out of fear of the pain. Instead he’d chosen a way that was the quickest to guarantee his end.

It was surprisingly easy to get onto the rooftop the school, given that the school was near-empty during afterschool hours. More surprising however, was the fact that the door to the rooftop wasn't locked, easily giving any student direct access to the rooftop.

Nonetheless, even if the door to the rooftop was locked, he wouldn't have been deterred. A random classroom on the third floor with a window view was also a possible place to carry out the deed.

Izuku removed his shoes, placing them near the railing beside his backpack. He didn't want anyone to think that there was foul play involved. After all, he chose this.

Inside his backpack, was a note explaining his decision. In the note, he'd asked his mom not to blame herself since it wasn't her fault, that she was the best mom he could ever wish for. He expressed his self-loathing as a quirkless person, of how he was done and of how he decided it would be better to move on to another life, where maybe he wouldn't be so different and where he wouldn't be useless to everyone around him.

Despite Kacchan's involvement leading up to his choice, Izuku chose not to mention him in his note, as he didn't want to implicate Kacchan as a factor in his seemingly negative choice and ruin Kacchan’s future prospects and dream of being the best hero in the world.

A deku like him didn't deserve to stain someone else's future.

He stared forward into the view of the city, trying to enjoy the view and to prevent himself from looking down and feeling afraid for what he was about to do. It felt calming, at the very least.

Izuku took a deep breath, readying himself for his final deed in life. Mustering the will to move his useless body, he shut his eyes as tightly as he could and leaned forward over the railing, letting gravity finish the job.

As he fell feeling the wind, he only had one thought.

I’m sorry everyone.

In less than a second, Izuku's body impacted into the ground, creating a loud smacking thud. The force of the fall had fractured multiple parts of his body, including his skull, spine and limbs, all shattering into several pieces. Blood began to rapidly flow out the wounds he received, staining his green hair along with parts of his uniform red. The ground around his dying and mangled body was stained a deep red. The damage he suffered quickly sent his body into shock, rapidly rendering him unconscious. Any passerby who stumbled upon the sight wouldn’t be wrong to assume that he was dead.

On that day Izuku Midoriya should have died a gruesome death.

Instead he was blessed by the heavens and survived.

But he would not survive unchanged, for his soul had been transformed, having warped into something that was not of his world.

In the another world…

"What's your name?"

Megumi's eyes widened in bewilderment.

What the hell? Why would he ask a question now? And why ask my name of all questions?

The man standing before Megumi who wielded a sharpened edge of Playful Cloud stared intently, halting his attempts of ending Megumi's life to await a response.

Megumi at this point, had virtually run out of options. Physically he was at his limit, nearing collapse and only kept standing by the adrenaline flowing throughout his body and an intense desire to not die.

That wasn't his only issue though. His cursed energy reserves were nearing zero, having been mostly exhausted during his domain clash with the octopus-headed special grade cursed spirit and even more exhausted from his showdown with the monstrous man in front of him who didn't emit even a drop of cursed energy. His all or nothing gamble at a surprise attack on said man also failed pathetically, as said man simply backstepped to dodge said stab from Megumi.

The man wasn't something he could defeat or outrun even under normal circumstances. It was foolish of him to envision a future of him doing so. He was facing a beast cloaked in the skin of a man. Only a something no lesser than a miracle could allow him to survive.

Dropping his cursed tool, Megumi angled his fists, readying himself to summon his 10th and most dangerous shikigami. Said shikigami was never tamed throughout the history of its existence and had the power to rival Satoru Gojo, currently the strongest sorcerer alive. Summoning it in his current state would most certainly guarantee his death. However, at the very least the man hunting him like his rabbits would also be guaranteed to go down with him, leaving no victors.

Upon hearing the strange man's question however, Megumi was briefly stunned.

Overcoming his initial surprise, he decided to tell the man his name, concluding that telling or not telling the man his name likely wouldn't make a difference in the fight's outcome.

"Fushiguro...” he replied, slight confusion lacing his voice.

Near instantly, the man's demeanour changed. The neutral and blank expression on his face changed, his mouth beginning to warp into a sombre smile. The void-like darkness of his sclera began to fade, returning to the whites of normal eyes. A sense of clarity and awareness also appeared to wash over the man, as if waking up from a long dream.

And that was exactly what Toji Fushiguro felt in the moment.

Realizing that he was fighting his own son, Toji had very briefly regained his senses, breaking free of the spell he was under and returning to a normal state of mind, unclouded by an overwhelming lust to fight the strongest opponent in his vicinity.

Not even experiencing an afterlife, he'd reawakened near instantaneously after his first death to find himself as a puppet of carnage, one that wouldn't stop until it broke. Somewhat aware of this fate, Toji firmly decided on his next action.

He knew that there was only one thing he could do to ensure his son's safety, lest he lose himself to the effects of the seance technique again and actually succeed in ending his son's life.

"It's not Zen'in, huh?”

Upon uttering that response, Toji slowly and calmly angled the sharpened edge of his once long and blunt cursed tool at the side of his head. In one swift and graceful motion that was faster than what Megumi could perceive, Toji rammed the sharpened edge of the Playful Cloud baton into his head, piercing his skull. He proceeded to twist it, allowing the edge to fully lodge into his cranium and guaranteeing a deathblow.

Now Megumi was really confused.

The man who'd tried so hard to kill him earlier was now comitting suicide after he'd revealed his name?

He couldn't even stop or ask the man any questions, as the man's in-process suicide had happened so fast that he couldn't even react in time to give a proper response.

As Toji felt his consciousness fading and his body shutting down, he simply stared at his extremely confused son, feeling a sense of strange and grateful pride for his son that was and would be a better person than he ever was.

He felt a drop of liquid roll down his cheek and heard it splash onto the ground, his heightened senses still unatutally sharp even as he neared death's door. Though he wasn't sure whether it was blood flowing from the puncture wound or a tear from his eye.

Toji had firmly believed that he'd never shed a tear again after his wife's death.

Maybe he was wrong.

With his last breath, Toji passed his final words to his son before he died a second time.

"I'm glad."

Looking back in his life, he wondered if things could've been better for Megumi if he hadn't left.

If he wasn't a coward to overcome his past.

If he'd made the effort to live up to his wife's hopes for him.

What would she think of me?

His wife had pulled him out of the trauma born of his past, helping him believe that he'd truly been healed from the mental scars during the years when he was treated as less than human in the Zen'in clan.

She managed to repair a very broken man.

Yet upon her death from natural causes, said man went right back to being broken, even more perhaps, returning to his vices and worse.

Furthermore, he'd allowed his pride to overcome his instincts. In hindsight, he should've hightailed the hell out the moment he saw a very insane dead man walking. Instead he fought a battle he had no chance of winning in the first place, getting himself killed for essentially nothing in the process.

Too late to do anything now.

Toji could only admit that hard truth as he neared death.

Knowing that his son kept his name, along with dying to save his son and dying on his own terms allowed Toji die gladly, as he'd fulfilled a purpose, unlike the first time.

In both times, he thought of Megumi.

How ironic.

He'd always loved the son he abandoned no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he didn't care.

Closing his eyes for the final time, Toji accepted his fate, uncaring of whatever that awaited him.

With that, Toji Fushiguro died a second time, leaving the world of sorcerers and curses once again.

Death however, was not the true end for Toji Fushiguro, for his soul and memories reawakened in another world far more different than his own.

Izuku slowly rose to the surface of consciousness, escaping from the depths of his mind, gradually awakening from his deep slumber and becoming increasingly conscious and aware.

In his swim to the surface however, he was bombarded by foreign memories that flooded his mind and soul.

In his memory of this world, there was no such thing as quirks, only jujutsu and sorcerers.

The first memory of note he experienced was when his “mother” hung herself from a cherry tree, after realizing he didn’t have something called “cursed energy”.

He heard some of his relatives talking about how her body spoiled the view.

It certainly did.

“Even the weakest, most pathetic monkeys have a tiny drop of cursed energy. But you…”

“You have nothing”

Then he remembered years upon years of abuse, where he was thrown into a chamber filled with horrible creatures that he could never even imagine existed. All of this was in the name of “special” training. There were dozens of them in the chamber. Almost every single day, he fought for his life, trying his hardest to kill every creature in there, using his fists and anything he could get his hands on, even using his teeth at times and biting madly at the creatures in hopes of hurting even one of them.

Cursed spirits they were called.

When the pain was too much to bear or when his body gave in to exhaustion, the creatures swarmed him like flies to a corpse, eating him alive.

In those moments he wanted the pain to end so badly.

But no matter how much damage he suffered, both mentally and physically, his body would never give in to the injury. He would always awaken on a bed covered in bandages, having been carried out by someone before death could take him away.

The moment that he recovered from his injuries, he would be thrown back into the chamber, repeating the cycle of torment. In between his normal and “special” training that lasted for hours on end, he felt himself lose track of time and his surroundings.

Because it’s all filled with the same pain.

Whenever he got used to the same pain, a new one would come along

And all he could do was to endure it.

Endure it.

Endure it.

ENDURE IT!

On one fateful day when he was 14 years old, everything changed.

He was in the chamber, enduring the same pain as usual.

Somehow, on that day he’d been driven the closest he’d ever been to death.

A large cursed spirit resembling a lizard landed a particularly critical blow on him, throwing him into a wall with enough force to break it. The blow was aimed at his chest, shattering his ribcage and partially collapsing one of his lungs.

As he lied on the floor coughing up blood, struggling to breathe, he thought that he’d finally die for good.

At least I’ll be free.

But instead of death claiming his soul, something awakened within him.

He grabbed a piece of debris from the wall that was strewn on the ground. His body hurt so much, but he didn’t care. He rushed the cursed spirit, grappling himself onto the spirit and slamming the rock into its head.

Again.

Again.

And again.

He couldn’t remember much of what happened after that. He only recalled being covered in blood and being baked in the stench of cursed spirits when they came to bring him out of the chamber.

He once overheard a few of the clan members talking about how many cursed spirits there were in the chamber. Apparently there were about 50, mostly ranging from grade three and grade two with a few grade ones in the mix.

He fucking killed all of them.

From that day onwards, whenever they threw him into the chamber again, he would emerge unscathed and smiling. They could no longer torment him, not when he enjoyed it.

No matter what was down there, he would kill it and relish every moment of it.

Ah, the thrill.

A few years later, he heard some gossip about how he the entire clan was at his mercy, of how he could kill everyone in the clan whenever he wanted to. Even the Hei, lead by the clan head Naobito Zen’in would be powerless to stop him. Everyone knew it but no one wanted to admit it; he was the strongest person in the Zen’in clan. Once they realized it, everyone in the clan began to fear him, even Naobito.

Fortunately for the clan, that moment would never come to pass, as he’d left the clan soon after.

After leaving the clan, he worked as an assassin, becoming the infamous “Sorcerer Killer” in the Jujutsu world, successfully completing over two hundred contracts and bounties. Yet he felt aimless, doing it for the money and to pass time. Because that’s all he learned to do.

Killing.

Despite the circumstances, he managed to find love and started a family. Those were the happiest moments of his life. He even had a son. When his wife died however, his life reverted back to his old ways as if nothing had happened.

At first there was no major change, but everything went downhill the moment he decided to take that job to kill the snow-haired boy with the Six Eyes and Limitless.

The end result of this job was his death, leading to his unnatural revival and a series of blurry experiences that resulted in his death again.

All these were the memories of Toji Fushiguro.

Izuku experienced all of these memories first-hand. He felt everything.

The pain, the struggle, the wrath.

He felt it all.

When experiencing and living in those memories, he wasn’t himself, he was Toji Fushiguro.

In fact he’d become Toji Fushiguro.

Or was he always Toji Fushiguro?

Essentially, he lived an entire lifetime in a flash. Izuku Midoriya didn’t exist in that lifetime.

Wha… who am I?

The memories and experiences of the two very different lifetimes deeply confused his mind. After all, suddenly receiving a second set of memories and experiences completely different to your original life was bound to scramble anyone’s mind.

Am I Toji Fushiguro?

Or Izuku Midoriya?

Toji Midoriya?

Izuku Fushiguro?

God, thinking about it in that way sounded corny as hell.

Eventually, he somehow felt the shape of his soul, as strange as it sounded. He didn’t know how to describe it, he simply felt it.

Feeling the shape of his soul, he discovered that his soul was a fusion of Izuku Midoriya and Toji Fushiguro’s souls. However, Izuku Midoriya was still the base of the soul despite fusing with Toji’s soul.

That means I’m still Izuku.

As he arrived at this conclusion, Izuku neared the surface of consciousness, ready to face whatever that came next.

Izuku’s eyelids began to flutter open, slowly but gradually opening. He could tell that he was lying down, feeling himself laying on a soft mattress with a pillow under his head, covered by a comfortable blanket. His face was turned upwards to the ceiling with lights blinding him, causing him to wince. Once his eyes had gotten used the light, he tried to rise up to a sitting position despite his body aching with pain.

As he slowly sat up, he felt someone rushing over and hugging him.

It was his mom.

She was bawling her eyes out, the tears flowing out without reservation mixed with fragments of sentences and broken words that escaped her quivering lips in a desperate attempt to articulate the concern and shock she felt.

Awkwardly, Izuku could only hug back as he let his mom cry a river for about a minute or so before she calmed herself down enough to say something that sounded coherent and understandable.

However, in the midst of hugging her he noticed something strange. There was light surrounding her in the shape of her body, almost like an aura that was radiated by her body. He couldn’t find words to describe the colour of the light, as its colour was beyond what the human mind could conventionally perceive.

Upon laying his eyes on this phenomena, Izuku immediately knew what it was.

The shape of the soul.

The shape of the soul appeared as a strange light that encompassed the body. The body is the soul, and the soul. Izuku understood this very clearly. In spite of this, the shape of the soul was not completely static; it undulated and shifted in response to the individual's thoughts, memories, and emotions. However Toji- no, Izuku could never fully understand how it shifted, he could only perceive it.

So this is what Toji sees, guess I’ll have to get used to it.

“Izuku, you-you’re finally awake! *heave* Please, please don’t you ever dare doing anything like that again, I’m so sorry-”

“Mom it’s not your fault.” Izuku interjected.

He recalled his life as Toji, where he’d never felt love or compassion from anyone except his wife.

Shit that felt weird think about.

Tears also began to well up in his eyes, streaming down slowly.

“I-I should be the sorry one here, what I did hurt you the most,” he continued on, not wanting to see his mom to blame herself for his stupid horrible mistake of trying to take his own life.

Having Toji’s memories and experiences allowed him to truly appreciate his life as Izuku, even as a quirkless person he’d never suffered as much and as severely as Toji did.

More importantly the experience had allowed him to value his family even more than ever, especially his mom.

Eventually, once both of them calmed down enough from their sobbing session. Izuku began to ask questions about what had happened.

“So… what happened after I fell?” he queried sheepishly, cringing mentally at his decision.

“Some passerby’s found you and called for an ambulance. According to them, they thought you were dead, but one of them mustered the courage to check your pulse and found that you were still alive.

Inko’s face shifted into a slightly grim look, paining to continue her account.

“T-The doctors said that you’d fractured your skull and spine, along with a few limbs. Several of your internal organs were badly bruised, a few of your muscles also tore.  The worst injury was the brain haemorrhage. Initially, they said that even if you woke up you’d likely be a vegetable. I-I was so scared. You underwent so many surgeries.” she recalled.

Suddenly, her tone shifted slightly into that of disbelief, as if she was thinking of something she couldn’t understand.

“But then a few days after all the surgeries were done, the doctors told me your body was recovering at an unbelievable rate. They said that in your condition it would have taken a minimum of one year for your body to fully recover. But somehow your body had already been healed from up to 75 percent of the injuries.

A slight smile crept onto Inko’s face, “they even asked me if I was lying when I told them that you didn’t have a quirk.”

“How long was I out for?” Izuku questioned after hearing his mom’s explanation of events.

“If we count today, then you’ve been comatose for 6 days,” she replied.

“Are there any lasting effects from the injuries?” he continued.

“I’m not so sur- oh right! I’m supposed to get the doctors here once you woke up, they can explain it better than I can. Just give me a moment while I get the doctors ok, Izuku?”

“Sure mom,” he approved.

Temporarily ending their conversation, Inko smiled and left the room to get the doctors, leaving Izuku alone in the room.

Taking a look around the room, he found nothing special. The room resembled the hospital rooms you’d see in movies and shows. Clean, white, filled with medical equipment. The usual.

There was an armchair in the corner, likely were his mom sat while she waited for him to awake from his coma.

Finishing his survey of his surroundings, he looked began to inspect his body, finding himself clothed in a hospital gown. His body ached slightly when he moved, but it wasn’t too bad. Compared to what he experienced as Toji, this was nothing.

Expectedly, his hands and legs were bandaged, along with a few bandages that he could feel covering his chest. Notably there was an IV tube connected to his left wrist. But what arguably shocked him the most the fact that he was wearing a fucking adult diaper. Never in his life would he think to find himself wearing an adult diaper. But it was understandable, considering that he was in a coma. Luckily, he didn’t wake up with piss or shit in the diaper.

Sighing, Izuku placed his right hand on to his face in shame. Upon doing so however, he received his second shock after awaking from his coma.

There was a wound dressing patch on the right side of his face, more specifically covering a part of his cheek and the edge of the right side of his lip.

Shit, that scar followed me here?!

He always hated that scar. It was the first scar he’d received after being thrown into the chamber as Toji. It was the greatest reminder of what he’d suffered.

So much for the body being the soul, and the soul being the body.

In all honesty he should’ve expected this when he realized that Toji’s soul had fused with his.

On the subject of souls, it seemed that he had retained his Heavenly Restriction from his lifetime as Toji. Given his ability to perceive the shape of souls and healing factor, this fact was undeniably confirmed. Whether he would or should pass it off as a quirk was a different matter he’d worry about later.

Removing his hand from his face and glancing at said hand, Izuku merely smiled.

He wondered how a Heavenly Restricted person would interact with this world of quirks.

But one thing was for certain.

It was going to be interesting.

Chapter Text

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr Midoriya. I'm glad to see that you're awake"

"Thank you, and you're-?" Izuku asked.

The man before him smiled. "Doctor Miyazaki, trauma surgery specialist for Watanabe Memorial Hospital. I'm the doctor who performed most of your surgeries you underwent and the main doctor assigned to your case."

Doctor Miyazaki appeared to be a man in his mid-forties that possessed a thin face, a side effect of his busy life as a doctor. Beneath his eyes were mild dark circles, indicating that he hadn’t slept enough for the past few days. His hair was neatly combed to one side, showing signs of greying at the roots. In terms of facial appearance, he was relatively average looking, not possessing any indicators of what his quirk could be.

His figure was tall and slender, briefly reminding Izuku of a stick bug.

He was dressed in a collared black button-up shirt, covered by an unbuttoned doctor’s overcoat.

Currently, he was seated on a chair positioned on the left side of Izuku's bed.

Looking at him, Izuku didn't sense anything weird or off about the man. If there was anything truly strange or concerning, his heightened senses would give him a tingle or hunch.

Doctor Miyazaki appeared to be as he was, a simple and caring doctor that was here to help.

Still smiling, Doctor Miyazaki continued. "Now that our introductions are done, I'd like to begin my explanation regarding your current condition. Is that alright?"

"Sure doctor, but before we start I'd like to ask-"

"Other than my mom, who are all these other people in the room?" Izuku questioned.

Doctor Miyazaki wasn't the only doctor in his room. Excluding Doctor Miyazaki, there were four other doctors in the room. There was nothing noteworthy about them, except that one of them had red horns protruding from his forehead.

They stood in different parts of the room. Well three of the doctors were seated in their own chairs, only one of them was actually standing.

All of them appeared to be simultaneously monitoring him and recording something into the noteboards held in their hands.

Furthermore, there was one other man that stood out, also standing in a corner of the room

The man was dressed differently compared to the doctors, wearing a dress shirt and tie complimented by a beige trench coat that was buttoned. He appeared to be in his early thirties, clean shaven and sporting a mop of black hair. He was also tall, but his physique was far bulkier than Doctor Miyazaki’s physique. His face appeared to be in a calm and interested expression.

If the man was dressed in a white coat, Izuku would have assumed that he was another doctor.

"These are my colleagues, pay them no mind. They're only here to have a look as your case is most certainly bizarre, to say the least," Doctor Miyazaki explained, casually dismissing the presence of his colleagues.

Makes sense.

Directing his hand at the man in the beige trench coat, Doctor Miyazaki further clarified. “This fine gentleman here is Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi. He has some questions for you later once I’ve finished my explanation on your current condition.”

Detective Tsukauchi extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr Midoriya.”

Izuku accepted his hand and shook it. “Same to you.”

"Anyhow, let's begin," Dr Miyazaki reminded.

With that being said, Dr Miyazaki began a roughly 15 minute in-depth explanation of the injuries Izuku sustained after his fall. The whole explanation was in Izuku's opinion, pretty boring, filled with medical terminology and riffraff that Izuku couldn't be bothered to fully understand save for a few words. The explanation that his mom had given him was more than enough.

If he was still just Izuku, he probably would have paid full attention to what Doctor Miyazaki said.

Alas, things have changed.

Completing his detailed summary on Izuku's injuries, Doctor Miyazaki continued on to the part that everyone wanted to hear about, regarding Izuku's miraculous recovery.

"I presume that your mother has already told you about this, so I’ll just say it again; your rate of recovery is astounding. To recover from such severe injuries in the span of a few days is impossible for a quirkless individual. Even if we had someone with a strong healing quirk like Recovery Girl to speed up the recovery process, we could at most speed up your recovery by a few months. At your current rate of recovery, we could possibly discharge you within the next two or three days."

"And for you to recover with seemingly no complications, it's quite unbelievable," He added, appearing to be in slight disbelief as he finished his sentence.

Izuku was amused by his Doctor's bewilderment. He had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from grinning at the doctor and chuckling, so that everyone else present wouldn't think that there was something wrong in his head.

"How is this happening, surely there’s an explanation?" Izuku questioned his doctor, but was unable to completely hide his amusement. It slipped out in the tone of his voice.

Hopefully no one noticed.

And lucky for him, no one in the room noticed his slip in tone. Either that, or everyone was really good at hiding that they had noticed his slip. The former scenario was more likely.

Doctor Miyazaki carried on. "At the moment, we doctors are rather unsure ourselves. Ideally one could argue that you experienced a quirk awakening through your near death-experience. However, the oldest recorded age for a quirk awakening in medical history is eight years old. If that was the case, your awakening would be a first in history. Me and most of my colleagues proposed and agreed on this idea at first. However, there are several holes in this theory. The biggest being the fact that you have a double jointed pinky toe, a guaranteed sign of quirklessness. Not a single person with a double jointed pinky toe has ever awakened a quirk at any age."

Doctor Miyazaki's explanation reminded Izuku of his own habit of talking to himself, further increasing his amusement.

Grabbing a plastic water bottle from his coat, Dr Miyazaki took a quick sip to quench the dryness of his mouth from talking so long before continuing.

"Of course, all of this is purely hypothetical. With enough time, we could potentially find a logical explanation for your recovery."

Standing up from his seat, Doctor Miyazaki concluded his explanation.

“For now, that’s all I can say regarding your current condition, I’ll leave the rest to Detective Tsukauchi. But before I leave, is there anything else you’d like to ask?”

“Hmmm. I don’t think so,” Izuku replied.

Completing their conversation, Doctor Miyazaki left the room, followed suit by his colleagues, leaving his mom and Detective Tsukauchi as the only other people left in the room.

Tsukauchi plopped himself into Doctor Miyazaki’s empty seat, but before he began to question Izuku, he turned to Inko first.

“I’m sorry Mrs Midoriya, but would you mind leaving the room while I question Mr Midoriya? It’s standard operating procedure for us detectives to only involve ourselves and the victim during the questioning process. For confidentiality purposes,” he requested.

“Of course, Detective,” Inko was slightly surprised by the detective’s request, but complied with it.

Seeing her slight surprise, Tsukauchi smiled to ease any worries she might’ve had.

“You don’t need to worry Mrs Midoriya, assuming that everything goes smoothly, it won’t take long for the questioning to be done.”

Inko smiled in response and stood up, preparing to leave the room.

Before she left the room, she told Izuku one more thing.

“Izuku, be honest with him and don’t hide anything.”

Inko proceeded to leave the room, allowing Tsukauchi to proceed with his questioning.

Detective Tsukauchi pulled out a device that looked to be some kind of recorder and placed it on a table next to Izuku’s bed.

“What’s with the recorder?” Izuku asked.

“It’s for documentation and evidence safekeeping purposes, don’t worry about it,” answered Tsukauchi.

Clarifying the presence of the recorder, Tsukauchi pressed a red button on it, turning it on.

Tsukauchi began. “Now Mr Midoriya, I’d like to ask some questions regarding your suicide attempt. Is that uncomfortable for you?”

“Nope.” Izuku blatantly replied.

“Firstly, would you tell me what you were able to remember in the moments before your suicide attempt?”

Izuku proceeded to give a simplified testimony of the events that occurred after he got onto the rooftop at Aldera, cutting out the more unbelievable parts of course.

As Izuku was retelling his experience, Tsukauchi realised something very concerning.

My quirk isn’t working on him.

Contrary to what the other officers and detectives believed, his quirk wasn’t a simple yes and no lie detection quirk. He always found it funny about how people assumed that about his quirk.

In truth, his quirk was far more complex than that. In simple terms, his quirk allowed him to sense the brain activity of a person near him. Through years of experience living with his quirk, he could roughly sense whether someone was hiding information or telling the truth based on the way their brain responded when he asked a question. The quirk wasn’t absolute however, as delusions were considered a form of truth, producing near indistinguishable brain activity comparable to someone that told a truth. Only common sense and logic would allow him to determine if there was any real truth behind delusions.

For the first time in his life, his quirk didn’t work on someone. When he used his quirk on Izuku, he couldn’t sense any brain activity. It was impossible that his quirk suddenly stopped working. It was working fine when he used it on Doctor Miyazaki and Mrs Midoriya just minutes ago. Even for someone unconscious, there would still be a slight amount of brain activity, But in Izuku’s case,

There’s completely nothing.

The only cases where his quirk wouldn’t work on someone was if they were dead or in a vegetative state, where brain activity was zero. But as clear as day, Izuku Midoriya was alive and talking to him.

It was like facing a blank wall, or more precisely an inanimate object. If Detective Tsukauchi wanted to be creative, he’d dub Izuku an invisible man that was before him.

Stunned by this revelation, Tsukauchi’s eyes briefly widened. He tried to quickly brush it off, something that Izuku took notice of.

Looks like he tried to use his quirk on me, probably something mind-based. Guess he’s shocked that it didn’t work on me.

If Izuku had to guess, it was likely related to how certain quirks didn’t work or weren’t as effective on someone with a Heavenly Restriction, assuming that he equated Toji’s experiences against cursed techniques with his own understanding of quirks.

“Is there something wrong, detective?” Izuku subtly mocked, deciding to play around with the detective’s shock a bit.

Quickly regaining his composure, Tsukauchi responded.

“Not at all, please- continue”

Damn it, focus Naomasa. You can figure that out later.

If his quirk wasn’t going to work, he could at least rely on the basic skills of a detective such as observation and deduction to help him during his questioning of Izuku.

After Izuku had finished his account, Detective Tsukauchi moved on to his next question.

“Next, during your suicide attempt, what were your feelings and thoughts?” the question sounded rather insensitive, but as a detective he needed all the information he could get. Rates of quirkless suicides were rising fast these days. Most of the time, these people were victims of bullying and abuse. He found it abhorrent that such incidents were so prevalent in their society. Whenever he heard of such cases, he tried his best to find those who were responsible and hold them accountable through the power of the law.

He suspected that Mr Midoriya was one of these individuals that fortunately survived.

Izuku sighed, “It was like my body was on autopilot. I felt hopeless. I wanted to get rid my useless self. Even as I fell, I didn’t have any regrets. It was only after I woke up and saw my mom that I realised how foolish I was.”

Tsukauchi nodded in response.

Matches up with what you wrote in that suicide note.

“Moving on, do you have any idea when these thoughts and feelings started?” he followed up.

“Well, it’s just that a lot of people around saw me as someone that was useless, someone who wouldn’t amount to anything in his life. I guess their treatment got to me.”

“I see, were you bullied or abused by those around you, such as your friends in school?”

Izuku paused for a while.

“You could say that.”

“Is there anyone specific that coerced or influenced you? Any names?”

“No.”

That was a fat lie on Izuku’s end.

Tsukauchi was taken aback by Izuku’s answer.

“Mr Midoriya, I can only help you if you’re honest with me. Are you- ”

“No.” Izuku firmly repeated.

Tsukauchi stared at Izuku, face filled with concern.

“Look, I can promise that whoever that drove you to do this will be held accountable and be punished accordingly. You don’t need to be scared,” he pleaded.

“No.” Izuku reaffirmed unflinchingly.

Tsukauchi scanned for any signs of fear or hesitation on Izuku’s face, but instead found that his facial expression was deadpan. Tsukauchi could’ve sworn that Izuku’s face even looked mildly annoyed.

In fact, there was something unsettling about the way Izuku looked at him. There was no concrete way to identify it, he was only able to recognize it through years of experience in interrogation and questioning villians.

Izuku’s face didn’t show it, but his eyes appeared cold and calculating, as if he was analysing something in disturbing curiosity. Not too dissimilar to how a wolf would look at its prey.

He’s just a kid, you’re imagining things Naomasa.

The reality was that Izuku didn’t care anymore.

Spending a lifetime as Toji gave him a new perspective on people like Bakugo.

Toji was taking a stroll around the Zen’in Estate when in the corner of his eye, he noticed a small black mass that moved towards him. His heightened perception allowed him to instantly know who it was the moment said person entered his field of view.

With a simple glance that didn’t even move his head, he could tell that the person approaching him was a little boy with black hair running towards him, his mouth in a wide smile and eyes filled with joy.

The little boy was Naoya Zen’in.

Naobito’s spoiled brat.

The boy was deemed a prodigy by almost every member of the Zen’in clan, having inherited Naobito’s Projection Sorcery technique. Everyone talked about how he was going to succeed Naobito as clan head.

Naoya came to see him, likely after hearing about how he didn’t have even a drop of cursed energy. The boy probably wanted to see how pitiful he was, to laugh and jeer at him

As Naoya approached Toji however, the wide smile vanished from his face, the joy emptying from his eyes. A mix of terror and awe filled his face, leaving him physically shaken.

Toji continued with his leisurely stroll as he passed Naoya, unbothered to spare even a second glance at the boy.

Naoya, like the rest of the clan members, were nothing to him.

At most, they were like rabbits.

In the end, Bakugo and the schoolmates that bullied him were just like Naoya.

Rabbits

Like rabbits, they weren’t worthy of Izuku’s attention.

Worthless.

He couldn’t be bothered to deal with rabbits. Sure, if they attacked him he could humour them, maybe even play with them. But, if he ultimately wanted to, he could crush them all with a single step.

Though he wouldn’t, because it’d be a waste of time and create extra work for him. For him to bother and do any extra work because of rabbits was unnecessary and idiotic.

With Toji’s experiences and memories accompanied by a Heavenly Restriction, this perception was no longer just a mere thought.

It was a fact.

He let himself be influenced by rabbits once before, believing that he was less than them.

But he wasn’t going to let it happen again.

A wolf doesn’t concern himself with the opinions of rabbits. Only a fool would be concerned over rabbits.

Besides, it would be far more interesting to see if Bakugo’s antics would lead him to more trouble in the future, where he would risk losing more as a hero in training. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t find Bakugo’s future being ruined by his own actions satisfying

Wanting to ease Detective Tsukauchi’s concerns as his boredom was beginning to grow, Izuku began an emotionally driven rant on how he blamed himself for his decision, and about how others around him didn’t deserve to have their lives ruined by a decision that was purely his choice. He thought that his rant sounded convincing, considering his years of dealing with many varieties of clients as Toji boosted his conversational and persuasion skills by a great margin.

Most of what he spouted out was mainly bullshit that he thought of on the spot. It would be laughably pathetic if he felt anything for those so beneath him. He just wanted the detective to move on to the next question.

In his mind, Tsukauchi felt defeated. If the victim wasn’t willing to provide a name for investigation or press charges, there was nothing he could do to help.

Unfortunately due to his quirk not working on Izuku, he was unable to find any ways to nudge the conversation in a favourable direction. He also couldn’t detect anything notable in body language and facial expression that signalled to him that Izuku was lying.

I can’t sense his brain activity and he doesn’t want to press charges against whoever that influenced his suicide attempt in the first place. But he also seems to not care that much about what happened, wanting to get over it as soon as possible.

…and his eyes 

Something’s up. But what exactly?

Despite this unresolved mystery, Tsukauchi decided to end his questioning session with Izuku. He felt dour on the inside, but appeared fine on the outside.

Stopping the recorder then shoving it into his trench coat, Tsukauchi rose from his seat, thanking Izuku for his time.

“Thank you for your time, Mr Midoriya. If you have anything that you’d like to ask or if you change your mind about pressing charges, you can contact me.”

As he said that, he handed Izuku his business card. The white card was engraved with Detective Tsukauchi’s full name and contact details in black lettering.

Nice card.

Izuku placed the card on his bedside table.

“Get well soon,” Tsukauchi wished to Izuku, promptly leaving the room.

Once Detective Tsukauchi left, Inko returned into the room, sitting in the seat where Doctor Miyazaki and Detective Tsukauchi had previously sat.

“What did he question you about?” she curiously asked.

Izuku recapped his entire session with Detective Tsukauchi. He gave an honest account of the whole questioning session, but didn’t divulge his inner thoughts for obvious reasons.

Once he was finished, his mom expectedly prostested his decision to not press any charges or provide any names to Detective Tsukauchi.

“Izuku, are you sure about not pressing charges? Your schoolmates were the ones who caused you to do this in the first place,” she concernedly protested.

“Yeah, I don’t blame anyone else but myself. I stupidly made that choice,” he admitted.

“But-”

“Mom, trust me. It’s fine,” Izuku reassured, looking at her with a firm but kind gaze.

In that moment, Inko saw a resoluteness in her son that barely appeared ever since that fateful day where he found out that he was quirkless. 

“I-I trust you Izuku,” she conceded.

“Thanks mom,” Izuku said as he leaned forward to give his mom a hug. As they hugged, Izuku felt teary eyed.

Admittedly, one of the reasons that he chose not to press charges was to not trouble his mom with the challenges of litigation.

Letting go of their hug, Inko had another question to ask Izuku about.

“Izuku even if you don’t plan on pressing charges, do you want to transfer to another school? So that these people don’t hurt you again.”

“No need. There’s only a few months left before the school year ends. Then I’ll start high school. Besides, this whole experience gave me a new perspective on how to deal with them. I can handle it,” Izuku reasoned, filled with an air of confidence and subtle arrogance.

Inko felt mildly hesitant, but accepted his answer anyway.

“If you say so honey.”

“Also, can you ask Dr Miyazaki to come over again? There’s something I want to ask him,” he added.

“Sure Izuku,” she replied, accepting his request.

Within minutes, Doctor Miyazaki was back in Izuku’s room.

Once the doctor was seated, Izuku began his question.

“Doctor, is it fine if I share my theory on how my body is recovering so quickly?” he asked.

He formulated the theory in the midst of his boredom while Doctor Miyazaki was explaining about his injuries.

Doctor Miyazaki politely accepted. “Of course, of course. There’s no harm in sharing an opinion. In fact, sometimes even we medical professionals need an outsider's perspective to solve certain problems.”

Receiving Doctor Miyazaki’s go ahead, Izuku proceeded to explain his theory “I’m probably wrong, but my theory is related to the quirk factor. Everyone knows that all humans have the quirk factor, even quirkless people do as long as they have an ancestor that had a quirk. And I’m not trying to brag, but what if my body was supposed to be born with a strong quirk, but it didn’t manifest due to a mutation in my quirk factor. Maybe when I had my near-death experience I was supposed to awaken a strong quirk to help me survive. But since the quirk factor in my body didn’t recognize the presence of a quirk and couldn’t awaken it, the quirk factor mutated again, somehow enhancing my body far beyond its normal limitations to help me survive.” The entire theory was mostly hypothesized  based on Toji’s knowledge mixed with Izuku’s current knowledge about quirks.

That whole explanation was definitely more Izuku than Toji.

Dr Miyazaki processed the theory with great interest, in contrast to Inko who appeared confused by what Izuku had said.

“It's a very interesting theory that you’ve proposed. The theory does break some conventional information about quirks. However, information on quirk genetics is never static, evolving every year as a result of more and more previously thought impossible quirks appearing. Simply put, your theory might be feasible” commented Doctor Miyazaki

“I’m afraid I can’t comment much about the validity of your theory though, as I’m not that knowledgeable when it comes to the field of quirk genetics. I’ll refer your theory to a few of my colleagues who are genetic specialists to determine whether it could be possible,” Doctor Miyazaki added.

“I am curious though, if your theory was accepted or deemed possible, what name would you give it?” he queried.

Izuku smirked.

“Let’s call it a Heavenly Restriction.”

Chapter Text

Please don’t be there.

Izuku looked in the mirror as he removed the white wound dressing patch that covered the right corner of his mouth, carefully peeling the patch away in anticipation.

He hoped that the wound had healed up completely, or at least healed in a way that didn’t resemble Toji’s scar.

To no one’s surprise, the moment the patch came off, he could see the same vertical scar that Toji had. The same cut, the same size, in nearly the same position on his face too.

The scar hadn’t fully healed, still slightly reddish in colour. Once it was fully healed, only then would it truly be identical to Toji’s scar.

Focusing on the scar, he sighed.

So that scar really followed me here? Damn.

Izuku brushed over the scar with his right hand, feeling its rough texture.

He brushed over the scar a few more times, before deciding to stop.

A “Tch” slipped out of his mouth, mildly disappointed and annoyed by the presence of the scar on the right corner of his mouth.

Despite having the scar as Toji for so long, he still disliked the scar as it reminded him of the Zen’in clan’s cruelty towards him.

Admittedly, it was very petty for him to care over such a small scar. Making a fuss over something as minor as this was useless and unnecessary.  

He lived with it as Toji, and he’ll live with it as Izuku.

Exiting his bathroom and entering his room, Izuku performed some morning stretches, simultaneously taking the opportunity to plan today’s routine.

As Doctor Miyazaki predicted, Izuku was discharged three days after he awakened from his coma. According to the various doctors that carried out physical and psychological exams on him to determine whether or not he was fit for discharge, Izuku was perfectly healthy as if he’d never fallen in the first place. The only indication that he’d suffered any sort of injuries were the scars that he’d gotten from the fall along with several more that appeared after his surgeries. 

His notable scars included a long surgical scar that ran down his spine, a large scar on his left collarbone where his clavicle had pierced his skin in an open fracture, four surgical scars on various areas on his chest as a result of repairing his rib fractures, an irregularly shaped scar similar in shape to a leaf on his left forearm where he’d experienced a second open fracture and lastly, two surgical scars that ran down his shins. There were also two surgical scars on his head, but they weren't visible due to being obscured by his hair. Other than that, there were also a few other minor surgical scars from repairing fractures scattered around his body. 

The only scar that bothered him was the lone scar on the right corner of his mouth. The doctors said that it was miraculous that he only suffered one injury to the face. In all honesty, he didn’t mind having more scars on his face, as long as it was anything other than the single cut-shaped scar that served as a loathsome reminder.

Based on his injuries, it seemed that the left side of his body took the brunt of the impact when he fell.

Izuku assumed the reason that he had an abundance of scars was as a result of his Heavenly Restriction not fully manifesting immediately after he impacted the ground, providing him with an inferior healing factor. If his Heavenly Restriction was complete after he had his injuries, not a single injury would’ve left any scarring on his body.

What was more shocking to the doctors however, was that Izuku's physical condition was beyond peak. In fact, Izuku’s body appeared to be similar in structure to someone with a strength based quirk despite technically still being quirkless, his muscle density having increased by an extreme but undetermined amount. Izuku could still remember the wide eyes and gaping mouths the doctors had when they received the results. 

Upon receiving the results, all of the doctors approached him separately, requesting that they run more experiments and tests on him. Izuku refused all of their requests, proposing that he’d only accept if they were each willing to pay him 20 million yen, which was apparently slightly below half the yearly salary of an average surgeon in Japan. The doctors were obviously offended by his offer, finding it atrocious and unnecessary. In turn, they turned to begging Doctor Miyazaki for approval to run their tests on him. 

In response, Doctor Miyazaki claimed that he would deal with and look into the matter himself, demanding the doctors to calm down and not harass Izuku. 

On a less annoying note, his psychological assessment went smoothly. The psychologist determined him to be mentally stable in spite of his previous suicide attempt, deeming him fit for discharge without the need for medication. Even if he was forced to take medication, it would’ve been ineffective due to his Heavenly Restriction granting his body a resistance and tolerance to the effects of medication and drugs.

In total, he spent about 11 days in Watanabe Memorial Hospital, eight of which that were spent in a coma.

He arrived home yesterday around the afternoon. The rest of his day at home involved him lazing around. The reason for this was because Doctor Miyazaki permitted a week-long medical leave for him to further rest and recuperate at home before returning to school, so he wasn’t in a rush to get anything done. He mainly did a decent amount of self reflection and spent some time compounding his thoughts about the changes that had transpired in his life so far.

Izuku still wanted to save people and become a hero. Even after obtaining Toji’s memories, experiences and most significantly merging with a portion of Toji’s soul, his core personality mostly  remained the same, untainted by Toji’s more abhorrent and “villainous” traits, e.g. Toji’s willingness to kill innocent people, even 14 year-olds as long as he was paid to do it or Toji's general indifference and uncaring nature towards those around him.

Despite that, he wasn’t completely clean. Toji’s personality manifested in other more minor but still significant ways.

For starters, taking human lives was no longer an issue for him. He wouldn’t kill innocent people no matter the situation, but killing villains or criminals was no longer a moral dilemma for him.

Secondly, he’d become more spiteful towards people that scorned him, such as Bakugo. Nonetheless, he wouldn’t trouble himself with any plans of revenge, preferring not to waste his time and effort, unless the blonde did something first. Then he would respond in kind.

Still though, it’d be fun to see Bakugo’s face if he got into UA.

Thirdly, he felt very inclined to avoid doing any extra work for free, if he was capable of squeezing any money out of it. If it was something actually serious that posed any sort of real threat or urgency, he wouldn’t hesitate to deal with it no matter what. For more mundane matters however, there was no harm in trying to earn some extra cash.

All three of the previous traits paled in comparison to the next one . The most damning personality trait of Toji that manifested in Izuku was a desire for the thrill of battle and the hunt. This bloodlust that Izuku subtly craved was undoubtedly why Toji chose a life of violence and crime instead of picking easier jobs like working in construction or being an athlete where he was guaranteed to dominate, given that the majority of people in the world of Jujutsu and curses had no special abilities. 

What started as a job that Toji happened to be good at turned into a form of satisfaction and a pseudo-thrill, where the  fun came with the challenge of ending a target’s life. Toji’s bloodlust was only tempered after he met his wife. Still, embers of this lust burned within Toji, remaining even after meeting his wife.

Izuku didn’t know what to make of this certainly malicious desire. He’d have to figure it out later.

Completing his morning stretches, Izuku turned to his closet and slid the closet door open, picking his clothes for the day. Carefully going through his clothes, he settled on a white sweatshirt and a pair of black tapered pants. Normally, he would’ve chosen a t-shirt and a pair of shorts as casual wear, but the sweatshirt and tapered pants felt weirdly attractive. 

Did Toji’s sense of fashion rub off on me?

As he changed from his sleeping clothes, Izuku also took some time to analyse his scrawny figure. Comparing his figure to Toji’s was like comparing a twig to a brick. But it was nothing some training couldn’t fix. After all, the UA entrance exams were about nine to ten months away. He still had time to improve his figure before the exam.

Once he was done changing, Izuku ambled to the kitchen, where he opened the refrigerator and grabbed the breakfast his mom had prepared before leaving for work. 

His breakfast was some egg rice and miso soup. After heating his breakfast in a microwave. He absent-mindedly enjoyed the meal on the dining table, slowly consuming it without hurry. The breakfast was simple, but tasted good. Toji’s experiences taught him to appreciate even the simplest meals.

After finishing his breakfast and doing the dishes, Izuku exited his and his mom’s apartment and donned a pair of black slippers before leaving, intent on checking off one of the things for today’s routine.

Nothing of note happened as Izuku walked to his destination, save for him passing by a few strangers. He was thankful that he chose to wear a sweatshirt for the day, as anything that wasn’t long sleeved would have exposed the scars on his arms. His scarred arms would likely attract the gaze of most people that passed him.

The scars didn’t make him feel uncomfortable, but he didn’t want any sort of annoying attention. For now, he preferred to keep a low profile.

Soon enough, he arrived at his destination, that being Takoba Beach. The place was an absolute dump, a literal dump ever since someone left their junk on the beach a few years ago, causing other like-minded individuals to follow suit. 

From the road adjacent to the beach, Izuku could see that the beach was filled to the brim with waste, piles upon piles of it covered the coastline in several patches, cramming the whole area. It left little open space for anyone who wanted to spend their time there, if any.

Their selfishness turned the once pristine and white sands into an unsightly junkyard of scrap and trash. 

Izuku was surprised that the municipal council let the situation at the beach become this bad, but it wasn’t completely unexpected. He heard rumours about how the municipal council was misusing some of their public maintenance funds. Whether it was as the rumours claimed or a mere case of incompetency, Izuku wasn’t at the beach to verify it. 

His purpose for coming to the beach was to test the changes to his physical capabilities. As a man with a complete Heavenly Restriction, monster was a severe understatement to describe Toji’s physical prowess. With a Heavenly Restriction, Izuku was guaranteed to possess physical qualities similar to Toji, albeit reduced due to his younger age and smaller body size.

Izuku descended onto the beach, passing by heaps of junk clumped into mini-hills before deciding on a scrapped refrigerator, moderate in size. It was a common sight among the piles of junk, with each pile hiding at least two or three fridges.

He assumed that the fridge weighed at least 100 kilograms, making it perfect for the first part of his test. He wrenched the fridge from the junk pile, doing so with ease. Placing it in an open area, he attempted to lift the fridge with one hand, managing to do so with minimal effort. 

To put it into a regular person's perspective, it was as if lifting a small book.

Continuing to test his limits, Izuku scoured for more similarly sized and weighted fridges, stacking them on each other and lifting them with one hand, Eventually, he reached eight fridges before beginning to feel any kind of strain. 

Confident in his physical prowess, Izuku found a small scrapped truck. The back of the truck was loaded with heaps of scrap metal, mixed with a few discarded electronic appliances. He lifted the truck off the ground using both hands, doing so with moderate effort. If he had to guess, the truck along with its load weighed a total of roughly five tons. However, he wasn’t able lift the load for long, lasting for about a minute before his arms gave in to exhaustion.

Suddenly compelled by an intrusive thought, Izuku dragged the truck a distance away from the junk pile in front of him. Placing a foot on the truck, he prepared to launch the truck into the junk pile just because.

This feels vaguely familiar. Did Toji do something like this while he was under the effects of the old hag’s technique?

Izuku shoved the truck with a simple kick, causing it to barrel into the junk pile. The truck skidded in the sand before ramming into the junk pile, creating a strong collision that sent several pieces of junk flying.

One of these pieces, a piece of scrap metal, flew towards Izuku’s direction. Boredly, he dodged the chunk, sidestepping it easily.

Proceeding to his next test, Izuku looked for something that was solid and durable. Eventually, he found a large black safe . It was close in height to him, just a little shorter. The lock of the safe was broken, revealing its empty interior and the reason as to why it was discarded.

Too bad. Might’ve had something valuable inside.

The safe seemed to be layered with thick metal, durably resistant and perfect for what he was about to do next.

Laying the rectangular safe flat on the sandy ground, he raised his right hand and balled it into a fist, slamming it downwards into the safe. The punch was mediocre, lacking any serious strength with roughly average effort. For a normal person without any sort of quirk that enhanced strength, the effort used would have struggled to bruise a person, creating at most some mild pain that would quickly fade.

In Izuku’s case, such an action punched through the safe like a pile driver, shattering it into metal chunks. The safe was destroyed in a near instant, producing a loud boom followed by a dust cloud. In addition to destroying the safe, he'd also created a small crater about a metre in radius and a quarter of a metre in depth.

Waving the dust cloud away, Izuku processed the results.

Satisfied with his strength test, Izuku decided to move on to the next main test, that being a speed test. 

Finding a large gap between two piles of junk, Izuku crouched slightly, leaning forward and readying himself for a straight dash from the coastline to the edge of the beach facing the road.

Putting in some actual effort, he rushed towards the edge with a high speed dash. During his dash, he appeared as a brief blur. If someone saw him as he dashed, they’d struggle greatly to track his movement. Some would even be completely unable to process the blinding speed that he moved at.

In between one to two seconds, he’d reached the edge of the beach, covering considerable distance. The speed of his dash was very close to Toji’s speed, just slightly slower. Despite this, Izuku was faster than a good number of the current pro heroes, barring the top ranked heroes.

Deciding to test his limits even further, Izuku returned to the coastline, removing his sandals, placing them aside and rolling his pants up to his knees.

He was going to try running on water.

He vaguely remembered Toji running on water near-effortlessly while fighting a humanoid octopus-looking cursed spirit. If Toji was fast enough to run on water, then he could probably do so too .

At the edge of the water, Izuku took a deep breath, getting ready to replicate Toji’s feat. Honestly speaking, he felt nervous, hoping that his legs wouldn’t give in mid-run causing him to fall into the sea and drenching his clothes in the process. It’d be a hassle to walk back to his house soaking wet.

Ankle deep in the water, Izuku began to run in the direction of the sea, gradually accelerating as he felt more and more weight in his steps. Slowly but surely, he was running on the sea as if he was running on land, akin to a sprinter in a race.

During his run, a grin was plastered on his face. He could feel the wind blowing past him, pushing his messy green hair backwards and growing in intensity with each step he took. He could hear each splash of water that trailed behind him, rhythmically in sync with his steps. 

It all felt so calming and satisfying. To imagine that he was a mangled pile of flesh and bone that was on the verge of death, with impossible odds of survival just a mere two weeks before was simply unbelievable to say the least. He smiled even brighter. 

Now, he was doing something that most people with quirks could only dream of doing in their wildest dreams.

What’s happened to me? All of this… it's like a dream.

He was quirkless, but he suddenly gained this power that only worked and was as powerful as it was exactly because he was quirkless.

The Heavenly Restriction was so similar to a quirk, yet it was completely different in nature.

Obtaining the memories and experiences, along with his soul merging with a man from another world was like something out of some battle-shonen manga from the past, before the age of heroes came and overtook the manga scene.

Yet it was real. The universe worked in mysterious ways.

For as long as he wanted to enjoy the moment, he couldn’t do it for too long. After a few minutes of sprinting on the sea. He returned to land, feeling winded and slightly sweaty.

With his clothes mildly wet from the splashes of water, Izuku mentally analysed what he learned from his tests, catching his breath at the same time.

My strength’s about 60 percent of Toji’s and my speed’s just a bit slower. But my stamina’s really bad, so I’ll have to work on that along with increasing my physical strength.

Once he was done with his short rest, Izuku made his way to the road and out of the beach. Before leaving the beach, he turned to look at the beach one last time.

For a moment, he pondered whether he should help clean up the beach. After all, the junk really did make the beach look ugly. There was enough junk around that just moving it out of the beach could potentially be a form of training to build muscle. Plus, he’d be doing his community a service.

“...” 

“Nah,” Izuku decided, turning his back on the beach and shrugging his shoulders. It was too much work to do so and it wasn’t his business unless he was paid for it.

Besides, going to a gym to train would be far better, giving him access to equipment and machinery that allowed him to train more efficiently and easily plan his exercises. There was air conditioning in the gym too.

With the subject of gyms popping into his mind, Izuku pulled his phone out of his pocket. As he pulled out his phone, he realised that being so close to the sea with his phone in his pocket may have been a bad idea. To his relief, his phone wasn’t wet.

He loaded up a search engine, searching for a suitable gym that was near where he lived.

“Just fill up this form here and we’re done." said the gym’s counter receptionist, casually explaining to Izuku what he needed to do.

The gym’s counter receptionist was a young guy, probably in his twenties. Nothing stood out about him, if one ignored the brown reptilian tail that was wagging behind his back and his yellow slitted eyes.

If his skin colour was the same as his tail he’d look like some humanoid cursed spirit.

Whatever. Izuku wasn’t one to discriminate.

“Alright,” Izuku replied.

Izuku grabbed the black pen on the glass countertop, filling his personal information into the form.

Once he was done, Izuku handed the form back to the gym’s counter receptionist.

The receptionist smiled in response, exposing his fangs. “Thanks for choosing to be a member of our gym. Your membership starts tomorrow.” 

“About the membership card, it should be ready by next week. I hope that our gym is up to your standards. Stay fit and have a nice day,” he pleasantly added.

“You too,” Izuku wished in turn.

Completing the sign up process for the gym’s membership, Izuku turned for the exit.

The gym was located in the Taguchi Building at downtown Musutafu, blatantly indicated by the large “TAGUCHI” name on the side of the building. The gym was also fittingly named the Taguchi Gym.The building was roughly a 20 minute walk away from Izuku and his mom’s apartment building.

Almost the whole building was a dedicated mega gym, occupying the ground to the third floors. The remaining two floors were occupied by the Taguchi Wellness centres. Each floor of the gym was filled to the brim with exercise equipment, suited for all body types, sizes and strength levels. The gym was also catered for those with more unique physiques that stemmed from mutant quirks.

According to Izuku’s observations and the online reviews on the gym, the gym was well-maintained, providing a comfortable training environment.

Although the monthly membership fee was reasonable for the quality of the place, the regular fee per entrance without membership was absolutely ludicrous, undoubtedly an absolute scam to encourage more people to get a membership.

Exiting the building, Izuku found himself on a bustling sidewalk. The sidewalk was filled with pedestrians, though it wasn’t too crowded since it was a weekday and most people were still busy with their jobs.

As he walked away from the building, Izuku fished his phone out to check the time and found that the time was close to noon. Seeing this, he decided that it would be convenient to get some takeout nearby. Once he was done waiting for the food along with walking back home, he’d probably be hungry enough for lunch.

Strolling around the streets of downtown Musutafu, Izuku eventually found an izakaya restaurant, a common type of restaurant in Japan that also doubled as a bar. The food in this type of restaurant was usually cheap and decently good for the money spent.

Entering the izakaya, Izuku found himself a seat that was deeper into the izakaya. Soon, a waiter approached him, greeting him politely and handing him a menu. Once he picked his order, Izuku called the waiter over, confirming his order and adding that he wanted it packed for takeout.

While waiting for his food, Izuku disinterestedly looked around the restaurant, noticing that more and more people were coming into the izakaya as lunch hour arrived.

Not long later his food, a Katsudon dish, was ready, neatly packed in a container held by a plastic bag. Approaching the counter, Izuku paid about 1100 yen for his food. As he turned around to leave, he noticed that the TV in the izakaya was playing something that was familiar to him.

A live horse race was broadcasting on the TV, attracting the attention of several patrons including Izuku.

“And they’re off, with Mikazuki and Hayashi leading neck to neck! Aikawa is trailing close behind the two followed by Akiyama and Sato. The rookie number 6 Ito appears to be gaining fast! Whether he overtakes Tanaka remains to be seen,” announced the commentator enthusiastically.

Izuku watched the race with interest as he walked through the restaurant towards the exit, head pointed in the direction of the TV.

Might be fun to gamble again. But I don’t have much to gamble so it might be-

Unexpectedly, Izuku felt himself bump into something. Looking forward, he found the left side of his torso in contact with the outstretched hand of another patron, a dark-haired middle-aged man with grey stubble. On the ground was a shattered glass of sake on the ground, the clear liquid contents exposed for all to see. 

Oops.

Apparently, the man was regaling a grand story for his three other also middle-aged friends to hear. While Izuku was distracted and walking past the tables of other patrons, the middle-aged man had stretched his right hand out as a gesture to describe something. A glass of sake was loosely held in his hand. 

Accidentally, Izuku bumped into the middle-aged man’s hand that was in the way, causing the man to drop his glass.

Immediately, the man was infuriated.

“Woi!” he loudly exclaimed in anger, attracting the attention of everyone in the restaurant. His friends gave dirty looks at Izuku.

Standing up to confront Izuku, the middle-aged man continued. “Look where you’re walking basta-”

Before the man could fully stand up or complete his insult, he locked eyes with Izuku.

Why is he looking at me like that? What is this? How is he making me scared?! He’s just a kid.

Izuku glared daggers at the man. If looks could kill, a dagger would have been stabbed clean through the man’s throat, and slashed through his torso from the throat.

The middle-aged man weakly collapsed into his seat, feeling dread. The man’s friends stared in confusion, until they met with Izuku’s eyes and understood the situation, becoming tense as well.

In that moment, the man deeply feared for his life.

After a few more seconds of glaring at the middle-aged man, Izuku sighed.

“How much was your drink?” he asked.

“W-what?” the man stuttered out.

“I asked, ‘How much was your drink?’ ” Izuku repeated.

Breaking out of his daze, the man replied, “800 yen.”

Pulling his wallet out of his pocket, Izuku nonchalantly handed the middle-aged man a 1000 yen bill.

“Keep the change. Sorry for the trouble,” Izuku apologised, trying to sound relaxed.

Settling the problem, Izuku exited the izakaya, leaving the man stunned.

Ten minutes or so after leaving the izakaya, Izuku was making his way home, walking on the sidewalk when suddenly he stumbled upon a strange sight.

There was a floating purse going in the opposite direction that he was walking in, bumping into people around it. With a simple glance, Izuku could tell that it was a man running as fast as he could based on the shape of a soul that emitted around the purse. It appeared that an invisible man was holding the purse. 

Upon closer inspection, the man was camouflaged with his surroundings, attempting to cover the purse with his camouflaged arms. The camouflage wasn’t perfect, the man’s physical silhouette could still be seen, but to someone who wasn’t paying attention it would easily pass as invisibility.

Izuku stared at the camouflaged man as he ran past him, observing what was happening when a red-headed young woman entered the scene soon after, chasing the camouflaged man.

“THAT’S MY PURSE! THIEF!!!” she yelled out, catching the attention of the other pedestrians around

Hearing this, Izuku slowly turned around to the direction of the thief and handed his takeout to a random older lady next to him, much to her confusion.

“Hold this for a second,” he requested

He closed the distance between him and the thief with a single flash-step, startling everyone around him with his speed.

Grabbing the thief by his shoulder, Izuku turned the thief to face him, much to the thief’s shock.

A “wha-” was all the thief could say before Izuku’s fist smashed into his face. Instantaneously, blood, saliva and teeth flew out from the thief's mouth, splattering onto the concrete sidewalk. A few drops of blood landed on Izuku’s clothes and face, staining his white sweatshirt with specks of red. The three teeth that flew out of the thief's mouth bounced on the ground, with one tooth landing on the shoe of a horrified bystander. If Izuku wanted to be pessimistic, he’d assume that his punch had broken the thief's jaw and cheekbones.

To be honest, the punch was a love tap from Izuku. He didn’t want to punch someone’s head off or crush their skull into paste in broad daylight.

Losing his focus, the thief disabled his camouflage as Izuku punched him, revealing his physical appearance.

Before the thief flew from the force of Izuku’s punch, Izuku grabbed the thief by his collar, pulling him closer.

Reeling from the extreme pain and shock, the thief couldn’t find the strength or focus to defend himself from Izuku, letting Izuku hold him limply.

Rearing his fist, Izuku prepared to deliver a second blow to the man’s face before stopping, realising that beating an already defeated thief to a pulp wouldn’t look good in the eyes of the public, considering that some of the bystanders had started to pull their phones out to record the beatdown. 

Izuku let go and dropped the man, who fell onto the ground like a sack of potatoes. The man was still conscious, but was too overwhelmed by the pain to move properly, breathing hard with terror and grasping his mouth that was still flowing with blood, wetting the ground with crimson spots.

Knowing that staying too long would lead to him getting questioned by a pro hero or the police, Izuku quickly turned away, wiping the specks of blood off his face and speed-walking away from the crowd that had formed around the thief laying on the sidewalk.

Luckily, the older lady that he entrusted his takeout with hadn’t run away with the food, staring in awe and fear as Izuku approached her.

Izuku thanked and took the plastic bag from her, wanting to leave the area as soon as possible.

Before he could leave the area however, the red-headed young woman trailed behind him and called out to him.

“I can’t thank you enough stopping that thief, mister,” she thanked, profusely bowing in respect.

“How can I repay you for helping me?” she added, intent on showing her gratitude.

Izuku thought about it for a while, before deciding that getting some cash to cover for what he spent today would be nice.

Izuku replied, “I just want 8000 yen in return to cover for some things that I bought today.” 

The price for that gym membership and card was reasonable but not cheap. Hopefully his request wasn’t too much for the red-headed woman to fulfil.

Gladly, the woman opened her purse, handing Izuku a 5000 yen note and three 1000 yen notes before thanking Izuku once again and leaving.

Izuku shoved the notes into his pocket and continued on his way home.

On his way home, Izuku was swiftly struck by an epiphany.

I should be a bounty hunter. That way I can get that thrill and satisfy my urges while also earning some extra cash on the side, perfectly killing two birds with one stone.

It was a great idea that made him feel stupid for not thinking about it earlier. He wouldn’t hunt innocents and civilians as bounties of course, but villains and criminals were fair game. Essentially, he would do some contracted vigilantism.

Izuku grinned in anticipation for what he would soon do.

Chapter Text

After his epiphany on the way home, Izuku spent more time refining his thoughts. It wasn't befitting of someone who wanted to be a hero, but he believed it to be the most morally-sound and optimal to get what he desired.

To be fair, he also considered becoming a vigilante. The fact that he was quirkless might’ve been a loophole to bypass vigilantism laws. However, he preferred not to work for free. Options that allowed for extra benefits like monetary gain were more welcome in his eyes.

In light of his morally reprehensible plan, becoming a pro hero was still something that Izuku wanted. 

He did genuinely desire to help and save innocent people and being a pro hero would be the best way to do so. But being bound to act morally in the eyes of the public felt unsatisfying, for the lack of a better word and left something more to be desired.

Reflecting on the incident with the thief, Izuku supposed that he could have acted with less violence at the time. 

If all was as it seemed, the thief just had a camouflage quirk that wasn’t dangerous and a nuisance at most. 

In hindsight, he should've just grabbed the thief by the shirt and held him in place until a pro hero or police arrived for the arrest. 

Instead, he instinctively slammed his fist into the thief when it wasn’t necessary in the first place. He held back, but he was already readying his arm for a second blow and likely a few more before reason kicked in.

When his fist slammed into the thief’s face, he appeared stoic in the eyes of the bystanders for stopping a criminal, even though the way he acted was questionably excessive. He did it to help, but there was a less noble side to it.

Truth is, he enjoyed the moment.

The moment his fist impacted into the thief’s face. 

The enjoyment didn't come from dominating those lesser than him like some villains would feel. No, It came from how alive he felt. 

He relished the heat of the moment.

As the Sorcerer Killer, he killed with efficiency, preferring to not drag his task out for too long. 

After all, he was still doing a job with money on the line.

That didn’t mean that he didn’t enjoy his job. Sure, part of the enjoyment came from hunting sorcerers and curse users alike as a man without cursed energy, to prove that even a monkey could utterly destroy them. 

Yet there was always this lingering thrill and satisfaction that came from eliminating his targets and the fight that ensued. It made him feel more alive than anything else in his life, at least until he met his wife.

It seemed that this feeling had become ingrained within Izuku.

But a hero should never be like that. A hero wasn’t a demon that lusted for battle and blood. A hero had to be someone who was focused on neutralising a threat, restraining themselves to minimise harm for the sake of others around, cultivating a positive image for others to look up to.

Thus, replicating that indescribable feeling that made him feel so alive was nigh-unfeasible as a hero.

He could never feel it by just being a hero.

So what better way to feel alive than by hunting down the scum of society in the streets of Japan?

It was fair game. The risk of being killed applied to everyone who chose to involve themselves in a life of crime and villainy. If a villain or criminal had done enough to warrant a large bounty or hit on their head, they likely deserved it. 

Toji was someone that hunted anyone as long as he was paid, even if they were completely. Izuku would be better than that, going after people that deserved it.

The old Izuku who was nothing would call him a monster. 

But he didn’t care. No longer was he this naive kid who completely believed in morality when dealing with villains and criminals. 

Living Toji’s life exposed him to the worst of people. He gained an understanding that mercy wasn’t a right, but a privilege.

Ultimately, his perspective on a great deal of things changed for better or worse.

Society believed that it would be selfish to do so, even if they deserved it.

So what? Compared to what he was doing, there were far worse people and things to be concerned about. He would even be doing society a favour.

Once he’d cleared his mind of his initial uncertainties and doubts, Izuku gave more thought to the plan itself. 

Getting involved in underground businesses especially bounty hunting or contract killing was difficult. Most of the time, a person had to be already neck-deep in a life of crime or have existing connections to involve themselves in such businesses without issue.

For now, Izuku had none of that luxury. His best bet was to use the internet, more specifically the dark web. 

He’d come upon a handful of videos online before about the hidden side of the internet that harboured all varieties of illegal activities. Among said illegal activities were claims of websites, forums and message boards that catered to bounty hunting or contract killing services.

To do so, Izuku ended up spending roughly a day watching tutorials online on how to access the dark web. As Toji, he frequented anonymous websites for curse users to find jobs that were open. He used to do so personally, until he met his old business partner Shiu Kong. Knowing Kong saved him the hassle of finding jobs or contracts by himself.

Although he had experience surfing the dark web during his lifetime as Toji, Izuku expected to face some trouble. The era difference of about two hundred years between his and Toji’s world led to a more complex online environment that was completely different compared to Toji’s time.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t as complicated as he expected to access the dark web in the first place. He easily set up a few safeguards such as a virtual machine and a VPN (Virtual Private Network) on his computer to ensure his anonymity. Along with that, he tested several browsers that didn’t block access to the dark web, eventually finding a suitable browser named Tor. 

He’d also found that cryptocurrency was commonly used for underground transactions since it was less easy to trace compared to conventional transaction methods. He ended up creating a cryptocurrency account too.

Done with setting up, Izuku spent the next few days finding related websites or forums in his spare time. Unsurprisingly, scamming fools on the dark web was common practice. Many fools would fork up their money for websites that promised real assassination services in exchange for thin air. 

As a consequence, finding a dedicated website that was legitimately involved in bounty hunting and contract killing services became a challenge. 

Fortunately, It was easy for Izuku to figure out whether a website was a scam based on the way that said website advertised itself.

Even though identifying the scams weren't difficult, it was still undeniably tedious to sift through loads of fake websites just to find one that didn’t even pique his interest.

In light of this, Izuku shifted his focus to forums and message boards, where the people there were hopefully more inclined to engage in actual business than to carry out scams.

Izuku explored several of these forums and message boards, going through threads and posts until he found something that interested him.

On day four of his medical leave, something interesting finally happened.

While going through a thread on a message board for contract killing, Izuku saw a posting that caught his eye. 

For real?

Staring at his computer screen, Izuku came upon something absurdly unexpected.

The post itself was simple, asking for anyone who was interested in a job to directly message the poster’s account.

Its text read:

Looking for agents operating in the Musutafu area of Shizuoka prefecture. Anyone interested contact me for more details.

The message itself wasn’t anything out of the blue. He’d already scrolled past heaps of similarly worded postings on other websites, though this was the first one that was looking for someone from Musutafu.

But what stunned him was the poster’s username and profile picture.

The poster’s profile picture was the kanji word 孔 in black, lying on a white backdrop. The username was also the single word 孔, followed by the kanji words for mediator, 仲介者 in brackets.

It’s Kong.

Shiu Kong used the exact same username and profile picture on the curse user message board that Toji once operated on.

No way it's him, could it really be?

Clicking on the poster’s username, Izuku entered the profile page, finding an option on the UI to send a direct message.

Before he was able to send any message  however, the system wanted him to create an account first.

Of course.

Rolling his eyes, Izuku quickly created an account, offhandedly choosing the kanji word 緑(green) as a username. Once he finished, he sent a rather straightforward message

緑: Your full name’s Shiu Kong isn’t it?

Within half an hour or so of sending his message, the account's owner responded to Izuku’s strange and sudden message.

孔(仲介者): How the hell do you know that? Let me guess, someone placed a hit on me?

緑: Do you know a guy named Toji?

Asking if this mysterious mediator knew who Toji was would hopefully tell Izuku whether Kong from Toji’s world had somehow ended up in this world of quirks too.

孔(仲介者): Never heard of the guy. Is it him that wants me dead?

Maybe it's a different version of Kong in this world? No, it is a different version. Too big of a coincidence that I stumbled upon someone else named Shiu Kong who happens to work as a mediator and handler for assassins.

Meeting and seeing what this person had to offer was the best way to confirm Izuku’s assumption.

緑: Relax. I’m not carrying out a hit on you. Only a fool would contact their target before killing them.

緑: Someone I know told me about you before. I’m interested in your job opening in Musutafu.

孔(仲介者): Good to know that you’re not an idiot. If you really are interested in doing business, meet me at the L’Marechaussee restaurant near Tatooin Station. 1 pm tomorrow. Tell the server that you’re looking for Kong. I’d advise against trying anything funny.

Smart move. Heroes patrol that part of the city really often. If I did want to kill him there, I’d be caught the moment I stepped foot out of the restaurant.

Ending their conversation, Izuku felt mildly excited and intrigued for tomorrow.

Izuku glanced at his phone, making sure not to bump into anyone as he followed the GPS’s instructions.

Soon after leaving the station, Izuku casually made his way to the restaurant, wearing in a dark aquamarine hoodie with its hood up. Hopefully the hoodie would help in hiding his identity if anyone who passed by him recognized him or if he got into any sort of trouble.

That restaurant should be just around here.

Two more turns and a few dozen more metres of walking later, Izuku arrived at the restaurant.

A large black sign with the white words “L’Marechaussee” in fine cursive and smaller words that read restaurant in Japanese above the frontage indicated that he was in the right place.

Peering in from the outside through the glass windows, Izuku could tell that the place was relatively full. He couldn’t make out much detail about the interior, since the windows were darkly tinted from the outside, allowing him to only make out the silhouettes of people and the warm glow of lights.

Grabbing onto the steel handle, Izuku gently pushed the glass door open. Upon opening the door, Izuku's ears were pleasantly greeted by the sound of classical music playing.

(The music playing in the restaurant is the Elegant Time track from JJK S2’s OST.)

Izuku wasn’t disappointed by the sight.

“Fancy place,” he let out subconsciously as he laid his eyes on the place. 

The restaurant’s design appeared to be a mix of a minimalistic and western style, with a hint of French décor. The floor was covered by black and white tiles in a mosaic pattern, while the walls and pillars were coated in a mix of dark wood panels and mirrors. As for the ceiling, it was beige in colour, supporting a few chandelier-like lamps that emitted a warm yellow light. Further adding to the luxurious aesthetic were the presence of tall leafed plants in white pots.

As Izuku was taking in the restaurant’s design, a server of the restaurant, a young man attired in a white dress shirt with a black tie and black vest came to greet him, welcoming him and asking whether he had a reservation or wanted a table on the spot. 

“I’m looking for someone named Kong,” Izuku clarified.

The server politely nodded.

“Follow me,” the server motioned kindly, walking deeper into the restaurant.

Izuku followed the server, walking past the restaurant’s main area until he reached the entrance to a hallway that had five dark wooden doors on both sides. Each door was labelled with roman numerals ranging from one to ten.

The server pointed his hand at a door labelled IV, informing Izuku that Kong was in one of their private rooms.

Izuku thanked the server, who bowed in response before returning to the reception area, leaving Izuku in front of a door labelled IV in gold lettering.

Twisting the brass doorknob, Izuku readied himself to meet Kong again, except this time he was a scrawny fifteen year old teenager that was shorter than average instead of a monstrously bulky twenty something year old man who towered over most people.

What he saw as he opened the door however, briefly sent his mind haywire, leaving him wide-eyed.

Even in a million years, Izuku could never expect what he saw after opening that door.

Instead of being greeted by the sight of the mediator that he was so familiar with, Izuku was greeted by the sight of a lady.

No way.

No fucking way.

The lady was in her mid to late thirties, dressed in an unbuttoned dark grey suit with a black tie and also dark grey pants. Underneath the suit was a very light grey button up shirt. Her figure was hourglass in shape, being decently attractive for Izuku’s (Toji’s?) standards.

But that wasn’t the point.

The fucking point was that she looked like the Shiu Kong that Toji knew, except more feminine and pretty. Her face wasn’t directly copied and pasted from Kong’s face, but it resembled Kong’s face enough that Izuku wouldn’t hesitate to call her Kong’s twin. 

Her hair was in the same shade of black as Kong’s hair, but it flowed to her shoulders and was wavy in stark contrast.

Without beating around the bush, she was virtually a female version of the Kong that Toji knew.

At the moment, she was seated at a cloth-draped round table, pulling out a lone cigarette from a pack and lighting it as Izuku entered the room.

“Didn’t expect my new agent to be a kid,” she plainly remarked, placing the orange tip of the cigarette into her mouth.

“For real?” Izuku muttered, taken aback by the surprise.

The lady pulled the cigarette from her mouth, exhaling the pungent smoke. “What do you mean by ‘For real’?” she questioned, slightly annoyed by Izuku’s odd response.

Recovering from his initial shock, Izuku managed to stutter out a reply.

“Y-you’re Shiu Kong?!” he exclaimed, still in disbelief.

“I thought that you knew who I was already, yet you’re surprised?”

“B-but you’re a woman. Shiu is a guy’s name!” Izuku claimed, attempting to defend his reaction.

Raising an eyebrow, she explained, “Si-Woo, or Shiu in Japanese, is a unisex Korean name. It’s mostly a name for men but women can have it too you know.”

“Now are you here to gawk over the fact that I’m a woman, or are you here for a job?” She added before taking another puff of her cigarette in exasperation.

Still bewildered but regaining his composure, Izuku took a seat opposite to Kong, lowering his hood and more clearly revealing his younger appearance. He could still hear the classical music faintly playing through the wall.

“You really are a kid. How old are you? Twelve? Thirteen?” she teased, smoke trailing from her mouth.

Izuku felt faintly offended by the question. 

“I’m fifteen.”

“Tell you what kid, this isn’t a game. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. I know you’re thinking that this is gonna to be fun, but this isn’t like in the movies or video games. Don’t call me when you’re laying on the ground in a pool of your own blood, crying for me to save you. Cause I won’t. Go back home now while you still can before you really regret this,” she warned, shifting to a more serious tone

Hearing this, Izuku couldn’t help but smile lazily.

“I may not look like it, but believe me when I say I have plenty of experience in this line of work,” he confessed.

As crazy as it sounded, it wasn’t a lie on Izuku’s part.

Kong placed the cigarette into her mouth once again, staring intently at Izuku. She was psychoanalysing Izuku, using her experience as a former detective in an attempt to discern his behaviour.

This kid’s insane.

She expected to find an overconfident kid who was lying on the spot. Perhaps someone who showed signs of delusion?

Instead she was met with something more intriguing.

Upon focusing on him, she realised that the kid’s emerald eyes had a cold blooded glow. His face was certainly that of a baby-faced teenager, but his eyes told a different story, as if they’d seen far too much violence and death than possible in his lifetime. He oozed an aura that most killers possessed, a smell familiar to Kong.

But she wasn’t intimidated. She’d met people who exuded a similar aura like the kid at least a hundred times throughout her career. She was more interested by the fact that he was the youngest person she’d ever met involved in her line of work.

Remaining sceptical, she let out a puff of smoke and questioned Izuku further. “How do I know that you’re not lying? A kid like you can’t possibly have that much experience in assassinations”

Izuku subtly bragged, “Give me whatever job you have, then you’ll have your proof.” 

“If you say so. But I warned you. Don’t expect me to save you if things go to hell,” she conceded.

If the kid had a death wish she wasn’t exactly obliged to stop it.

Done with that conversation, Kong decided to start on a different subject.

“Anyways, tell me your name, so I can call you that instead of kid,” she began.

Izuku contemplated for a few seconds on whether to reveal his real name, ultimately deciding not to as revealing his real name could cause issues down the line.

“Call me Fushiguro,” he lied.

Is it really lying to use your own name from a different lifetime?

“Is that your real name or an alias?”

In a playful manner, he replied, "Depends on what you think.” 

“So an alias it is. Smart that you’re not using your real name for this kind of work,” Kong complimented.

“Then why do you use your real name?” Izuku pointed out. 

She elaborated, “My clients only know me as Kong. No one in this line of work knows my full name, except for you somehow.”

Pausing for a while, Kong pressed the cigarette butt into an ashtray, extinguishing it.

“Enough chit-chat. The job’s-”

“Wait,” 

“I don’t take jobs targeting innocents, only criminals and villains,” Izuku mentioned, making his stance clear.

“A contract killer with morals huh? You don’t see that often.”

Izuku couldn’t tell whether that was meant as a compliment or an insult.

Kong proceeded. “Well you’re in luck, Fushiguro. Tell me, have you heard of the Kyokujitsu (Rising Sun) Alliance?”

Chapter Text

“What’s that?” he asked.

“It’s an umbrella group uniting over a hundred smaller Yakuza groups in Japan. The second largest Yakuza confederation in Japan with over five thousand members, if I recall correctly. As expected from the name, the alliance idealises Imperial Japanese beliefs and values to ‘combat the modern ills of Japan’, mixed in with some quirk supremacy. In essence, they’re right-wing extremists. They aren’t particularly favoured by many due to their values, but they held a lot of power in the underworld.”

“Wouldn’t such a group already be dealt with by heroes? From what I know, the Yakuza are on their last legs,” Izuku queried, curious on how such a large criminal organisation could still exist in an era where heroes like All Might were so prevalent.

Letting out a chuckle, Kong debunked the claim, as if she read his thoughts. “All Might is good, but he can’t be everywhere in Japan at once. You’d be surprised at how well the Yakuza hides itself these days. They’re ghosts compared to their glory days, but they’re nowhere as extinct as what the media wants you to believe.”

“Recently, the entire alliance crumbled. Likely due to some infighting between their higher ups if the rumours are true. All the gangs that were a part of it splintered off. As a result, people from both the Kyokujitsu alliance itself and other alliances are taking the opportunity to deal with people they want dead.”

“That’s not all. For some reason a fair number of said gangs have flocked to Musutafu, even though that’s where the top two heroes in the nation live,” she added.

“Why so?”

“Hell if I know. That’s none of my business. My job is to be a mediator and smoothen things out,” she admitted.

“How much is the pay for this job that you’re offering me?”

“One million yen.”

Izuku almost opened his mouth to protest. The amount was chump change compared to what Toji normally earned per job. But considering that he was just starting out in this business, he couldn't be too picky about the jobs he received.

“We’ll start with something small. If you’re as good as you claim to be, I’ll give you some better paying jobs to do.”

She clarified, “That is if you decide to continue working with me, of course”

“Fine,” he accepted.

“Perfect.”

“Now to finally talk about the job. The job is to deal with Kazuhiko Kitamura. He was in charge of one of several trafficking rings within the Kyokujitsu Alliance. As for what kind, either sex or quirk trafficking according to our client” 

“Our client has requested for his name to be kept secret, so we’ll keep it at that.”

“Moving on, our client has a grudge against Kazuhiko. He’s wanted the man dead for a long time, but didnt do anything out of fear of retaliation from the alliance. Since that’s no longer the case, he’s acting now.”

Kong handed her phone to Izuku. The phone displayed a photo of Kazuhiko, who was a younger man, possibly in his mid-twenties with a somewhat boyish face. His hair was choppy and medium length, light beige in colour. Notably, he had pale skin and red eyes. But what really stood out about him was the red streak along the right side of his hair.

In the photo, Kazuhiko appeared to be at a nightclub, wearing a red dress shirt. His face was cheerful and relaxed, maybe even kind if Izuku wanted to generously describe him.

If Izuku didn’t know about Kazuhiko’s background, he would’ve thought that his job was to kill a random salaryman who had hair that stood out.

Handing the phone back to Kong, she continued providing information. “His quirk is called Windforce. He can generate winds that are strong enough to push someone or knock them to the ground, but it's not anything special. He should be easy enough to deal with.”

“After the alliance collapsed, he and his little group moved to Musutafu just a few days ago to set up a new ring. Like most villains and criminals, he’s set up shop at a small abandoned storage facility located in the deeper and older parts of Musutafu’s industrial district.” 

“Tomorrow night, he’s going to meet our client to discuss business. Our client wants him ambushed and killed after they’ve finished their discussion, at any time as long as it's within the same night,” 

“Also, get yourself a burner phone. I’ll keep in contact with you and send the facility's address through that,” she abruptly added.

With that, she concluded her explanation.

“That’s all I can tell you about, anything else you wanna ask?”

“Yeah.” 

Unexpectedly, Izuku’s tone shifted, tinged with a hidden sheepishness that Kong managed to detect.

“I don’t have a weapon. I need your help to get me one.”

“...”

“Seriously?”

Izuku finished his incapacitation of the last member present, causing the man to collapse into the ground with a stab to the shoulder.

As the man fell, a few words spilled out of the man’s mouth in between gasps of pain.

“What… are… you?”

Izuku simply stated, “Just a guy doing a job.”

He was dressed in an all-black outfit consisting of a dark windbreaker, black jeans and sneakers. A black cap hid his green hair. The hood of his windbreaker was also up, further covering a portion of his head. 

Further hiding his identity was a black face mask obscuring the lower half of his visage. Only the upper part of his face and cold eyes were visible.

In his black-gloved right hand was a katana, soaked in the blood of Kazuhiko’s men. The blade was tilted downwards, causing drops of crimson to drip onto the ground slowly but profusely.

He spent most of his morning shopping for clothes, trying to find pieces of clothing that were cheap but had decent enough quality to last him a few jobs. 

In Izuku’s opinion, the outfit he wore was much too edgy for his tastes. In fact would even go as far to say that he actively disliked it. He wanted something less restrictive that didn’t make him look like a cosplayer. Lesser clothes also meant that there was a lesser chance for any residuals to be left behind.

On short notice however, the edgy outfit was the best disguise that he could put together.

When Toji carried out his jobs, he never bothered to hide his identity at all. The sorcerers didn’t actively hunt malicious people in the Jujutsu community such as curse users, enabling them to operate freely as long as they acted in secret and refrained from involving non-sorcerers too much. Of course, operating freely also meant not attracting the ire of Satoru Gojo.

But Izuku couldn’t take that kind of risk. Heroes patrolled every part of the city, even the more deserted areas. There was a chance that some hero would come into the storage facility if they saw or heard something strange. If that happened, he needed to escape as soon as possible

Not wearing any disguises would allow a hero to identify and expose him. If he was caught, he was absolutely fucked, considering that he’d be labeled as a villian and be hunted relentlessly.

Besides patrolling heroes, surveillance devices were also a problem. Surveillance devices were something of little concern during Toji’s stint as an assassin, since the tech for devices like security cameras wasn’t as commonplace and an assassin like him was skilled enough to stay out of a security camera’s sight.

Jujutsu associated areas where he mostly operated in also barely had anything as advanced as security cameras.

But in quirk society where technology was much more advanced, surveillance devices were everywhere. The danger of missing one camera and slipping up was far more likely with how many camera networks there were in public. Even a few seconds of footage with his face exposed could be enough to link him back to a crime.

As for his katana, it was of acceptable quality. It was nowhere comparable to the quality of the Zen’in clan’s weaponry, but it would suffice for now. 

Kong bought him the katana. He received the katana from her when they met just before he headed for the storage facility.

But there was a catch. To pay for the katana, Kong ended up docking eight hundred thousand yen from Izuku’s base pay. He begrudgingly accepted it, though he had a feeling that she pocketed a couple thousand yen for herself to round off the numbers.

Paying for the katana, his outfit and a burner phone left Izuku with a measly one hundred and thirteen thousand yen or so as his actual pay for the job.

This job had better be worth it.

Hopefully Kazuhiko wouldn’t take too long to return to the facility. As an excuse to return home late at night, Izuku told his mom that he was going to queue for the release of some limited edition All-Might merch, and that it was probably going to take two to three hours for his turn to buy it.

Awaiting Kazuhiko’s arrival, Izuku wiped the blood off his blade with two gloved fingers. Once the katana was clean enough, he slid it into the sheath on his left hip, producing a soft chink that echoed in the foyer.

Soon enough, Kazuhiko returned.

Kazuhiko approached the entrance of the storage facility. His mind was floating on the satisfactory meeting he just had, having sealed a beneficial deal involving his trafficking business.

When he stepped foot into the main foyer, Kazuhiko came upon a gruesome scene. 

On the concrete floor lay his men. All sixteen of them were seemingly dead, strewn around the main foyer of the mostly empty storage facility. Their bodies were covered in brutal but precise cuts. Small pools of blood pooled around their injuries.

Stumbling into the main foyer, Kazuhiko struggled to process the sight.

“What… what is this?” said Kazuhiko, horrified.

Hearing a thud to the right of him, Kazuhiko snapped his head.

He saw someone taking small steps towards him, walking past scattered rubbish and remains within the main foyer.

Based on where this person was walking from, Kazuhiko could tell that the person had jumped down from a two-story tall viewing platform in the facility, producing the loud thud that he just heard.

The platform provided a wide view of the main foyer, allowing this shadowy person to monitor Kazuhiko's arrival.

But what really disturbed Kazuhiko was how silent this person was. There was no noise with each step they took, as if there was no one present in the first place.

Somehow, Kazuhiko knew that whoever this was had intentionally landed with a loud thud to alert him.

Once this person was closer but still a distance away, Kazuhiko was able to make out that this person was dressed black from head to toe, hiding their identity.

The person’s viridian eyes locked with his, almost looking amused.

“You, you did this. You killed my men,” he slowly said, stricken with a mix of rage and unease.

“I didn’t cut any of them deep enough to kill. Don’t worry, I’m only here for you after all,” Izuku taunted.

“Who sent you?! Hayato? Tsubasa?”

“All I know is that I’m here to deal with you, I could’ve hid and killed you from the back, but I’ll give you a chance to put up a fight.”

Kazuhiko cursed at Izuku. “Damn you!” 

Stepping back, a syringe filled with red liquid appeared in Kazuhiko’s hand. He jabbed the needle into his neck, causing him to yell out in pain.

“GRAAAAGH!!”

Dropping the syringe, Kazuhiko seized on the spot for a few seconds before he recovered.

“You’re dead!!” he called out, sounding more agitated and guttural than before. 

Lashing his arm out in Izuku’s direction, Kazuhiko sent a blast of wind in Izuku’s direction. The wind was extremely violent and intense in nature, having been amplified by the drug that Kazuhiko had injected himself with.

Izuku sensed the changes in air pressure, easily dodging it with a rapid leap into the air before the blast of wind could hit him.

He landed on a pile of crates that were some space behind Kazuhiko with a loud thud. Both his legs were bent and an arm were placed on the wooden surface, allowing him to balance his landing.

Rising up, he questioned, “That’s Trigger, isn’t it?” impressed by Kazuhiko’s power.

Now this is getting fun.

“You talk too much,” growled Kazuhiko, madly sending another burst of wind towards Izuku’s direction.

Based on the changes in air pressure, Izuku noticed that the attack was different than the previous one, as the wind wasn’t spread out in a large area like a blast, but was instead concentrated into a slash.

With a sharp dodge, Izuku shifted his body to the left, causing the large slash of wind to miss his body by centimetres.

The slash of wind hit the wall behind him, producing a loud boom as it impacted. Izuku looked behind, where a large slanted cut scarred the wall, spanning a few metres. It caught Izuku’s attention for a brief moment.

Kazuhiko was flabbergasted. “You…dodged it. How?!”

Steadily unsheathing his katana, Izuku redirected his attention to Kazuhiko, jumping down the crates and rushing towards him with katana in hand.

Seeing the beast dressed in black charging towards him, Kazuhiko sent a flurry of wind slashes at Izuku’s direction in hopes of landing one that would be fatal.

Izuku weaved through each slash maniacally with precision, lost in the thrill of the moment. He finally felt alive like Toji did. 

Underneath the mask, his expression was crazed.

As Izuku neared, Kazuhiko prepared to send a blast of wind to create some distance between the two of them in favour of himself.

Anticipating that Kazuhiko would try some sort of trick, Izuku rushed past Kazuhiko, circling to his back instead.

Gripping his katana with both hands, Izuku angled his katana to strike Kazuhiko’s back, attempting a heavy horizontal slash that would have bisected or cleaved clean through Kazuhiko’s torso if it landed.

In a stroke of luck, Kazuhiko managed to react in time before the blade came into contact with his flesh. He swatted his hand behind and unleashed a blast of wind.

Unfortunately, the blast of wind was aimed straight at where Izuku’s face was, forcing him to directly tank the brunt of the blast.

The wind blast sent Izuku flying into the air. He smashed into a concrete pillar, shattering it before tumbling onto the ground.

Recovering from the ground, Izuku quickly felt for any injuries and expectedly found none.  

His wind’s powerful. But it’s a disappointment compared to the strength of the Limitless technique’s Reversal Red, less than nothing even.

It's only that strong because he took a dose of Trigger too. I can wait for the Trigger to wear off and attack him then.

But where’s the fun in that?

He also noticed that his face mask and cap had been blown away, revealing his teenage face and mop of green hair.

In the heat of the moment however, he wasn’t concerned with that. Either way, Kazuhiko wasn’t going to leave this place alive tonight.

With a single dash, he returned back to face Kazuhiko. He expected Kazuhiko to mention something about his appearance, but it seemed that Kazuhiko was too enraged and high off Trigger to comment on anything.

With an arrogant smile, Izuku cautioned, “I’m going to speed things up, try to keep up,” giving Kazuhiko a heads up.

As Izuku finished that sentence, he disappeared from Kazuhiko’s line of sight, moving with immense speed.

Trying to see where Izuku had disappeared to, Kazuhiko found that Izuku was speeding around the foyer like a bullet. The sound of Izuku’s leaps repeated like gunshots, followed by whizzing noises from Izuku’s speed that reverberated throughout the foyer, as if bullets from a machine gun were whizzing from all directions. 

Overwhelmed, he quickly looked around in all directions, trying to track Izuku’s movements to no avail. Whenever he tried to see where Izuku was, Izuku was already gone, having already moved to one or two new positions.

Shit! SHIT! He’s too fast! I can’t follow him! I need to-

“Krssht.”

Before Kazuhiko could finish that line of thought, he heard the sound of a blade going through flesh and the splattering of liquid onto the ground.

Looking down, he saw a long blade protruding from the right side of his chest, covered in blood with the sharp edge facing upwards.

(Cue JJK S2 OST Track: Toji Fushiguro)

Izuku impaled Kazuhiko from the back, his right hand gripping the katana’s handle while his left palm was on the pommel.

The katana had pierced Kazuhiko’s right lung, causing him to cough up blood in horror. His mouth quickly filled with a coppery taste.

Izuku repositioned both his hands to hold onto the katana’s handle. Seething with frenzy, he pushed the katana upwards in a single motion, causing blood to spill into the air. The blade sliced through the right side of Kazuhiko’s chest and shoulder like a hot knife through butter, creating a clean gap of severed muscles and flesh.

As Kazuhiko turned to face Izuku in shock, he received a horizontal slash aimed at his gut, followed by a diagonal cut that extended from his left bicep to his torso.

Both of the slashes happened so intensely and swiftly that blood burst out of Kazuhiko’s torso in the shape of a cross.

As a finisher, Izuku delivered a push kick to Kazuhiko’s midsection, sending him falling backwards to the ground.

Unable to scream in agony due to the blood that filled his throat, only gargling noises came from Kazuhiko’s mouth.

The last thing he saw before the end was his assassin standing over him, face marred with a cut-shaped scar on the corner of the right lip. 

A glint of bloodlust tinted his assassin’s emerald eyes.

I’ll remember you.

Seconds later, the glow of life in his red eyes faded.

Finally done, Izuku took a deep breath, taking in his work.

“Shit, I should’ve aimed straight for his heart. Less of a mess that way,” he realised, rubbing away some of Kazuhiko’s blood that was on his face

Izuku went around the foyer to collect his mask and cap, before returning to Kazuhiko’s corpse.

Looking around, Kazuhiko’s men remained on the ground, heavily maimed by Izuku’s initial assault and still reeling from their wounds

Did I really cut them that bad? Hopefully none of them died.

He wasn’t paid to kill them, so he didn’t see any necessity for them to die. Yet.

Though he might have left some of them crippled for life.

For a moment, he planned to find a nearby public phone to call the police to have aid sent to the storage facility but decided against it.

His battle in the foyer surely caused some commotion. It was likely that someone from a nearby building had already called for police or a hero to check on the place. If so, he needed to leave fast. 

Before leaving, he needed to take care of one last thing.

Going through his jacket, Izuku pulled out his burner phone with his left hand and snapped a photo of Kazuhiko’s mutilated body, sending it to Kong as proof of a job completed.

After sending the picture, he dialled Kong’s number. 

Kong was at a restaurant meeting with a potential client when she received Izuku’s message and call.

Excusing herself, she went outside of the restaurant to answer the call, taking the opportunity for a smoke break as well.

“It’s done,” he bluntly informed.

“Looks like you weren’t lying, though you were more messy than I expected.  Good job Fushiguro,” she praised, grabbing the cigarette pack out of her pocket at the same time.

Izuku reminded, “Remember to get that money ready for me by the way,” 

“Yeah, I’ll have it deposited in your account by tomorrow. Also, you-”

Before Kong could ask Izuku whether he still wanted to work with her, he’d already hung up.

Kong glared at her phone, sighing. 

“Bastard,” she grumbled.

Pouting, she flicked a cigarette out of the pack in her hand, preparing to light it.

She was a little pissed, but what happened wasn’t something to get too mad about. If she offered another job to him and he accepted, it was a sign that he’d want to continue doing business with her.

Despite the slight, she had a feeling that working with Fushiguro was going to be worthwhile.

Once Izuku (accidentally) ended his call with Kong early, he shoved the phone back into his jacket.

He flicked his katana towards the ground, allowing Kazuhiko’s blood to slide off the blade and removing the crimson layer.

A fiendish grin that stretched from ear to ear formed on Izuku’s face. 

“I’m getting my edge back,” he murmured.

Sheathing his katana, Izuku turned away from the corpse, leaving the scene.

Chapter Text

Nearing the uniformed police officers, Nagai flashed his gold badge, granting him permission to step over the yellow police tape.

Just my luck that I’m on duty today.

Exhaling deeply through his nose, Nagai knew that what he was seeing was going to be a messy case, even without context.

It’s been what? Two years since I’ve had an easy case.

At the moment, he was looking at the aftermath of what appeared to be a rather violent fight.

Heavily injured men covered in blood and what appeared to be long cuts were scattered around the foyer, being tended to by EMTs.

And so the streak continues.

Ambulance sirens wailed loudly from the entrance behind him, fading as he made his way deeper into the foyer.

Based on the amount of blood that pooled around where the injured men laid, he wouldn't be surprised if a few of the men had already bled out. 

Miraculously, it seemed that all sixteen men that he counted lying in the foyer had a minimum of one EMT around them, indicating that they were all still alive. Except for one person.

He wasn’t close enough to determine what kind of injuries the person had sustained. But considering that none of the white-helmeted EMTs bothered checking on them, Nagai felt that it was safe to say that whoever laid there painted in crimson was very much dead.

Based on his initial observations, he quickly assumed that what he was seeing was potentially the outcome of some gang violence. 

A quick glimpse of his surroundings indicated that some kind of fight had occurred. There was noticeable damage to the area, such as a long and deep cut on the wall that was likely made by someone with a powerful cutting quirk. 

The men who were found also didn’t really dress or look like civilians. Yet they didn’t dress with the flair most independent villains did. 

Adding on the fact that there was uniformity among their outfits, it was plausible that they were part of some group, likely a gang.

That’s unexpected. Last I knew of, almost all of the local gangs were stamped out by heroes not long ago.

Of course, he would need to get more information for a clearer image before he could come to any real conclusions. Incidents like these were always never that simple.

And once it becomes clear that things aren’t so simple, they’ll set up a task force, and I’ll be asked to head it by virtue of my achievements.

It was a pattern ever since he was promoted.

God I need a break.

Other than the EMTs, roughly a dozen police officers were present on the scene. Some of the officers were securing the scene, cordoning off key areas with yellow tape. Others were photographing anything of note in the vicinity. No doubt that there were also more officers going through the rest of the storage facility.

Passing by each officer, Nagai inspected their insignias, before finding the field sergeant who was responsible for managing the officers present.

The sergeant was in his forties, probably around ten years younger than Nagai himself. Nagai could tell that the sergeant was a by-the-rulebook type of guy, possessing a broad and stern face with neatly combed brown hair. 

From Nagai’s experience, people like that were either pleasantly blunt or had a stick up their ass.

Straightening his ink-coloured necktie, Nagai approached the sergeant, who was currently relaying orders to a lower-ranking police officer.

Taking notice of Nagai’s approach, the sergeant quickly wrapped up the conversation with his subordinate before turning to face the detective.

“You are-?”

“Detective Inspector Nagai, Musutafu Central Police Department. I’m from the Violent Crimes Unit, assigned to this case,” Nagai introduced, flashing the detective tag that hung around his neck in a lanyard while simultaneously pulling out his police badge.“And you’re sergeant-?”

“Sergeant Nakamura, Kaihoko Precinct.”

Thankfully, it appeared that Nakamura was the former.

“Give me a rundown, Sergeant,” Nagai requested, shoving his badge back into his jacket.

Taking a deep breath, Nakamura began a lengthy explanation. “We received a noise complaint from someone who lives nearby from the storage facility. Two of the officers under my unit who were patrolling together were dispatched to investigate. When they arrived and saw the scene, they radioed in for backup and EMTs, reporting a potential mass homicide or mass attack incident caused by villains.”

“I had the rest of my unit sent here along with some help from other nearby stations. The EMTs arrived at the same time as we did, which was roughly twenty minutes ago.”

“As you can tell, we’re still focused on securing the area. After a preliminary search, we found seventeen people, sixteen injured and one deceased. All found in this foyer. More than half of them are in critical condition. The remaining ones are stable, but they’re not in good shape either. We tried asking anyone conscious about what happened, but no one was able to give a coherent response.”

“From the looks of it, some kind of fight broke out, based on the noise complaint claiming to hear ‘violent winds’ within the building and this bloodbath around us.”

“As for who these people are, Evidence points to them being part of a quirk trafficking ring.  We’ve discovered notes discussing their operations, mainly plans on who to kidnap, potential targets, daily schedules of targets and trafficking routes,” he listed, face scrunching in disgust.

“We also found some equipment for restraining people. Things like quirk suppressing cuffs, cages and sedatives. Hell we even found shock collars.”

“Fortunately, we didn’t find any victims. Seems like they were still in the middle of setting up their operations,” Nakamura hastily added.

Underneath his professional exterior, Nagai grit his teeth. Bastards like these were absolute scum, kidnapping kids and grooming them to be exploited and sold, along with capturing women to be used like breeding stock. 

Throughout his thirty seven years of service in the police force, Nagai could count the trafficking cases he’d investigated on one hand. Even so, the cases made him feel tremendously infuriated with how horrific they were.

Having met with victims of quirk trafficking before, he knew first-hand about the effects of this heinous practice. Many victims were left mentally broken, suffering from all kinds of mental trauma that would never heal, seemingly damaging the soul itself.

“Is there any indication on how long they've been here? Nagai asked, concerned about how long these monsters were left unchecked.

“Based on some documents we found, it seems like they moved from Shinjuku about a week ago.”

That’s concerning. Could all of this be connected to some larger operation?

Nagai frowned. “Any mention of why they decided to move?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Anything else of note?”

“For now that’s all I know. Chances are, there’s still more info and evidence to be found. My men aren’t finished combing through the entire facility yet,” Nakamura explained.

“Has the forensics team arrived?”

“They’re en route,” said Nakamura, eyes quickly pointing at the black-strapped analogue watch on his wrist. “Probably arriving in a few minutes.”

Subconsciously brushing his grey hair, Nagai thanked Nakamura. “Thank you for the rundown, Sergeant Nakamura”

In return, the edges of Nakamura’s mouth curved slightly. “My pleasure, Detective.”

Looking at Nakamura’s face, Nagai wasn’t entirely sure if what he saw could be deemed a smile. 

Rundown completed, Nakamura turned away from Nagai, calling over another officer for a situation report.

Nagai turned away in tandem, making his way towards the lone corpse in the facility and further analysing his surroundings in the process.

He found an officer, a youthful woman with dark hair in a ponytail, taking photos of the body, trying to get every minute detail on camera. 

Police officers were specifically not allowed to touch corpses out of fear of tampering with evidence. Only the forensics team and veteran detectives with the right credentials such as Nagai could. As such, their current priorities were to ensure that whatever evidence found was properly recorded.

Tapping the officer on the shoulder, Nagai politely ordered her to pause her little photography session so that he could inspect the body. Upon laying eyes on his tag, she stepped aside, allowing him to crouch down for a closer look of the corpse.

The body was definitely an outlier in terms of gore he’d seen on corpses. The amount of blood that was splattered around the corpse was almost comical, like something out of a horror film with too much budget for its own good. 

Brutal as it was, he was mostly desensitised to the sight before him. Most police officers were, but some of the rookies might have felt nauseous or even thrown up if it was their first time laying eyes upon such a sight.

This would make good material, if the higher-ups decided to update that video we use for desensitisation training.

Ignoring the almost dried blood that overflowed from the dead man’s mouth, whoever responsible for what happened had left the face mostly intact, much to Nagai’s luck.

At least it’ll be easier to identify who this was.

The dull red pupils of the victim were dilated, obviously in well-deserved fear and pain from whatever that happened before death, assuming that the dead man was also a trafficker.

Nagai shifted his focus to the rest of the body, trying to identify the injuries masked by the mess of red.

Three deep slashes, including one that split open the space between his neck and shoulder, likely made by some sort of edged weapon.

To a bystander’s inexperienced eye, the cuts almost seemed to be made by a madman. With how violent and scattered the wounds were, Nagai couldn’t blame them. The copious amount of blood definitely added to that sentiment. An experienced detective however, especially a veteran of the violent crimes unit, could tell that it was the opposite case.

Sparing a quick but more analytical look at the injured traffickers closest to where he kneeled, Nagai compared their wounds, seeking confirmation about his idea that the bloodbath was the work of a single person.

The width of the cuts matched up, implying the possibility that the same weapon was used to do the deed. The style of the cuts sort of matched up too.

Clean, precise and no signs of drag. No random thug could’ve done this. The killer’s well trained, possibly with years of experience.

Whoever that dealt with the traffickers was no different than a five-star chef gutting a chunk of raw salmon.

The only sure difference was that unlike the shallower but still brutal cuts on the rest of the traffickers, the cuts on the beige-haired man were clearly aimed to kill.

An assassination. That makes sense. Whoever that was in the way got cut down but wasn’t finished off.

In his mind, Nagai quickly cycled through a list of known villains that had the quirks or skills to pull off such a feat of butchery.

It was more likely that a villain was responsible than a vigilante, most vigilantes while operating outside the law, weren’t this violent. 

He narrowed down a few suspects, but the fact that the perpetrator spared all the traffickers except for one threw a wrench into Nagai’s guesswork.

Almost anyone he could think of with the right skillset or quirk was locked in Tartarus already. The crime also didn’t fit the modus operandi of the remaining villains he had in mind. Any of them who could brutalise the traffickers in such a fashion likely wouldn’t have bothered with sparing the remainder.

Only one villain stood out, but even then the idea was standing on half a leg at best.

Could it be Stain?

The injuries inflicted on the traffickers resembled Stain’s handiwork, based on the photos of Stain’s victims that Nagai had seen. A villain like Stain was also deadly enough to triumph against seventeen average men in a fight.

Unlikely. The crime doesn’t fit Stain’s modus operandi at all. Heroes have always been his target. Plus, he ’s never attacked a group of people like this before. Even if he did, it’s more than likely for him to kill all of them instead of sparing anyone.

Possibly, it was someone new, someone unseen before.

Even more concerning.

Finished with cycling through his suspects, Nagai ordered the young officer to retrieve a few evidence bags as he slipped on a pair of black latex gloves, deciding to conduct a more physical inspection of the corpse.

Sticking his hands into the dead man’s pants pockets, he found the dead man’s smartphone and an ordinary brown wallet along with a small mix of 500 yen and 100 yen coins.

Nagai fumbled through the wallet, discovering a hefty sum of money notes, a random assortment of credit cards and membership cards before finding the dead man’s ID card.

“Kazuhiko Kitamura, born 22XX. That makes him… 27,” Nagai noted to himself.

In contrast with Kazuhiko’s current appearance that was locked in fear and agony, Kazuhiko’s photo on the ID was charming, innocent looking and almost naive, hiding the monster beneath

Never judge a book by its cover, as the saying goes.

Next, he turned on the smartphone, only to expectedly find that it was password protected. 

Grabbing an evidence bag from the young officer who had just returned, Nagai placed the wallet, phone and coins into separate bags, before checking the dead man’s shirt pocket.

Upon reaching into the shirt pocket, he found a neatly folded piece of paper.

He slowly unfolded the piece of paper, careful to avoid making any accidental creases.

On the piece of paper was a phone number, written in dark blue ink.

I’ll need to cross check this number with the phone’s call history once I get it unlocked. Big chance of it being a lead. Hopefully I can trace the number to somewhere important.

Just as Nagai placed the piece of paper into a bag, he noticed that the forensics team had arrived, catching a glimpse of the team through the facility’s main entrance.

Currently, most of the team was unloading their gear from police vans, while a few members were suiting up in their hazmat-like forensics outfits.

Now, it was time for him to wait for the forensics team to do their job. Not specialising in forensics and lacking special equipment could only allow him to do so much.

In the meantime, he needed to compose his thoughts and relay whatever he discovered to the higher-ups. If the forensics team failed to find any indication of the killer’s identity, it meant that things were going to get a lot more messy, since a hero couldn’t be pointed in the right direction to deal with the issue.

With a few exceptions like Eraserhead, a majority of heroes didn’t even have the faintest idea on how to chase ghosts.

That’s why people like Nagai still existed in an age dominated by flashy, costumed heroes .

As for Interrogation of the traffickers, he had a detective in mind that could help. The guy generally liaised with heroes but was more than willing to lend his help to other departments as long as he had the time for it.

Guy’s a lot more generous than I am, that’s for sure.

Sliding his smartphone out of his jacket, Nagai scrolled through his contacts before finding then dialling the number he needed.

“I need to call in a favour, Tsukauchi,” said Nagai to the detective on the other line.

Chapter Text

The moment Katsuki first received the news from his parents that Deku had been involved in some kind of accident, his mind blanked. Somehow, he knew what happened.

No, no that nerd… he

They told him that they’d received news that Izuku had fallen from Aldera’s rooftop and was in extremely critical condition, unlikely to survive past a day.

He grasped at every straw, trying to rationalise what had happened.

His parents understood that he was greatly distressed by the sudden news. It wasn’t unreasonable considering that from their point of view, both Katsuki and Izuku were friends since the ripe age of three. It was natural to be distressed out of concern for a friend, they believed. But they didn’t know what exactly happened that caused such distress for Katsuki.

Deku jumped himself! I-I didn’t force him! Those were just words! He’d probably have jumped even if I didn’t say that!

There was no denying it.

He was the one who planted that seed of thought in the first place.

I did this.

Despair and regret permeated every fibre of his being.

Oh god. What have I done?

Why did I say that?

He was going to be responsible for someone’s death.

The police would find out that he was responsible. No way did Deku not leave some kind of message or note explaining what led to that point. 

The point of taking your own life.

And the highlight of the note would be Katsuki Bakugou.

Either way, his prospects of becoming a pro-hero, no, his future in general was effectively gone.

Katsuki didn’t know what he was supposed to do. In a way, he submitted to whatever fate that was about to befall him in the coming days.

A day after news of Izuku’s “accident” had reached him, he and his parents visited Auntie Inko at the hospital where Izuku was hospitalized at. Miraculously, Izuku was still alive.

That was the first and last time he’d visited Izuku at the hospital. He couldn’t bear the shame of visiting someone who he bullied to attempting suicide.

Katsuki didn’t have to attend school that day, since Aldera was closed for the police to investigate.

Entering Izuku’s hospital room, they were met by Inko, whose eyes were puffy and swollen from hours of crying her eyes out. Dark bags also rested under her eyes, indicating that she hadn’t slept at all in the past day.

“He’s… in a coma. The doctors… they don’t know when he’ll wake up. They say even if he does, he’ll… he’ll be a vegetable. Oh god… this is all my fault,” informed Inko before breaking into a fit of tears, overtaken by extreme sorrow.

While his parents comforted Auntie Inko, he could only lay his eyes on Izuku.

Izuku’s body laid on the blue hospital bed almost fully wrapped in a layer of bandages. Casts encased three of his four limbs, while his green hair was hidden under the wrappings of bandages. A ventilator was attached to his mouth, seemingly complimented by several other wires that were attached to the other parts of his body. Under said ventilator was a medical patch that covered the right corner of his mouth. 

Looking at Izuku’s broken form, it was understandable to assume that he wouldn’t survive for long, bearing in mind the fact that he was quirkless.

While visiting Auntie Inko, they’d received confirmation that Izuku had indeed attempted suicide. She informed them that the police had found evidence that pointed to Izuku attempting suicide, telling them about the discovery that Izuku had removed his shoes before falling and the discovery of the suicide note.

She’d also given a rough summary of how badly Izuku was injured, adding to Katsuki’s shame with each injury she listed.

Inko had relayed to them all this while bawling her eyes out in front of them, mixed in with hitched sobs of her blaming herself for what happened, followed by his parents providing reassurances that it wasn’t her fault and that it was nobody’s fault.

It was my fault.

Hearing her so distraught, Katsuki believed that he was done for. He braced himself for Auntie Inko to have a change in tone, to reveal and pour her rage and grief onto him, exposing his sins for all to hear.

But that didn’t happen.

He went home, as if he wasn’t complicit. There was no police waiting for him.

They’ll find out soon enough, it’s only a matter of time.

He waited over the span of a few days, but nothing happened . 

When nothing came to pass, he debated on turning himself in. At the end of it, he didn’t do it, guilty as he was.

Whether it was out of fear , shame , some twisted sense of pride.

Or because he really didn't care enough.

He didn’t know.

Returning to school after the police investigation was over, Katsuki discovered that Aldera’s reputation and status was unexpectedly none the worse for wear.

Since there was no concrete proof of what led Izuku’s suicide attempt, Aldera managed to hush up the entire incident.

Apparently, Izuku’s suicide note was worded vaguely enough to not implicate anyone’s involvement, instead containing more about his hopelessness and self-loathing.

As a result, it was easy enough for Aldera to claim in an official statement that Izuku was suffering from a pre-existing mental condition that had led to his attempt, and that Aldera bore no responsibility in the first place since no one could’ve predicted whatever that happened.

Some parents questioned why it was possible for a student to access the school’s roof, particularly after schooling hours. The school’s board responded by shifting blame onto the school’s janitor for carelessly leaving the door unlocked, causing the poor man to be swiftly fired.

Katsuki didn’t care or know whether that was true. The days after the incident had been a blur to him. It was a struggle to think straight or act normal. His body was functionally on autopilot, leading him to be far less lifeless than his usual brash and abrasive self. He didn’t even have the focus to train properly.

The change didn’t go unnoticed. His parents could tell that he was depressed from seeing his friend so horribly injured, from their perspective at least. Even someone like him would be shaken to the core. They assumed that he needed time to grieve and recover from the news. 

His lackeys and classmates too could tell that something was up. But they didn’t dare ask the “explosive” blonde why, out of fear of being on the same end of what Deku once received. At the end of the day, a bomb was still a bomb, even if it didn’t want to explode.

The school’s teachers were no better. Under the school board’s command, teachers were ordered to ensure that the news surrounding Izuku died down. Thus, they strayed from acknowledging  anything about Izuku beyond the official statement, including Katsuki’s change in attitude. Most of them were aware of Izuku and Katsuki’s “friendship”, if it could even be called that. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Katsuki’s current state was connected to Izuku’s suicide attempt.

Things continued in such a state, until Izuku returned to school unannounced.

There was no sign or warning to prepare Katsuki beforehand. Just seconds before class started for the day, Izuku waltzed right into the classroom like he wasn’t on death’s door less than three weeks before.

Katsuki was startled. It was like seeing a ghost who had returned to haunt him. He had no clue why, but his breath was suddenly rapid, accompanied by a numbness that spread throughout his body.

His classmates and teacher were equally startled. Everyone fell silent as Izuku stepped foot into the classroom.

Their teacher tried giving some welcoming words, but Izuku kept quiet, barely acknowledging anyone’s presence besides casting a deadpan expression as he made his way to his seat. 

As class began, Katsuki’s initial shock gradually lessened, replaced by questions instead.

How is it possible that he’s back? He shouldn’t be able to recover that damn fast.

If Auntie Inko wasn’t exaggerating about the severity of Izuku’s injuries, It was impossible for a quirkless person to recover from those kinds of injuries in such a short span of time, even with the power of a healing quirk like Recovery Girl’s. He wasn’t aware of anyone in Japan who had a healing quirk strong enough to do so.

Then he arrived at the only logical conclusion that he could think of.

He has a quirk. That’s the only way to explain how he recovered so fast.

It was the only explanation that made sense.

According to science, people with strong quirks tended to have bodies that adapted to house the power of said quirks, resulting in enhanced physicality and an increased efficiency of biological functions. It explained how some people with powerful quirks were more durable or able to withstand damage that would’ve killed people with weaker quirks and quirkless people, despite said quirks not being related to any physical traits in the first place.

That means he was hiding it from me .

Then those questions transformed into bubbling rage.

He’s looking down on me. He thinks I’m a joke. He’s acted weak all this time to play me as a fool!

Was that “attempt" an act too?

During a change in period when the subject teacher hadn’t arrived yet, Katsuki marched towards Izuku’s table, resolved to get answers.

Head unmoving, Izuku’s pupils momentarily shifted to see the person approaching him, glancing at Katsuki for a second before returning his gaze to his notebook, continuing to scribble in it.

“Oi Deku,”  Katsuki called out.

Izuku remained silent. 

 Growing annoyed, Katsuki persisted. “I’m talking to you, Deku. Stop writing in that shitty notebook.”

Again, there was no response.

“Answer me!!” he ordered, before reaching his hand to grab the notebook.

He expected to easily take the notebook away, letting the nerd panic and plead as he held the notebook.

Instead, without even looking at him, Izuku caught his wrist in a blur before it made contact with the notebook, startling Katsuki for the second time in the day.

Izuku’s grip was unnaturally strong. Katsuki tried to pull his hand away, but it didn’t budge an inch. It was like his arm was trapped under layers of steel and concrete, tightly encased around his wrist.

Shit, when was his grip this strong?!

Upon locking eyes with Izuku who’d finally turned to face him, Katsuki froze.

He didn’t notice before, but there was something wrong with Izuku.

On the surface, his facial appearance was nearly unchanged, with the exception of the cut shaped scar on the right corner of his mouth and his hair being very slightly longer.

However, the way he carried himself changed. There wasn’t a hint of the timid and meek Deku that Katsuki knew for more than ten years. It was replaced by an air of confidence and boldness.

What made Katsuki freeze however, was something far more ominous.

For as long as Katsuki knew Izuku, he could tell that there was always a passive aura of inoffensiveness and kindness that Izuku radiated, much to Katsuki’s displeasure and annoyance. Izuku’s personality made him more approachable and friendly to most people, but it was a sign of weakness, pathing the way for Izuku to be a constant victim of quirk-related prejudice. It was so significant that Katsuki often questioned whether It was an act, lending him even more reasons to bully the nerd.

 Now, there wasn’t a single sparkle or a trace of warmth behind that pair of viridian eyes.

There was only unadulterated and calculating disdain that filled those dim eyes. 

Worst of all, Izuku's facial expression was far too relaxed to match the intensity that Katsuki felt from him. It was like seeing a predator that was teasing its still-alive prey, ever-ready to sink its jaws into the neck of its food.

Never was there a day that he imagined feeling uneasy when looking into those green eyes

As the unease spread, Katsuki was almost sure that Izuku was going to shatter his wrist.

Instead, Izuku boredly rolled his eyes. “It wouldn’t hurt to wait, ya know?” he stated.

Snapping back to his senses, Katsuki opened his mouth to respond, before being interjected by Izuku. 

“I’d prefer if you didn’t cause a commotion on the first day that I’m back. Meet me behind school at three thirty and we’ll settle whatever problem you have with me. Also, don’t bring any of your lackeys along, it’s better to keep things private,” Izuku nonchalantly instructed, not wanting to deal with Katsuki’s nonsense while in class.

With that, Izuku released Katsuki’s wrist, half-expecting Katsuki to bother him again.

But Katsuki, stupefied from what happened, returned to his seat and obliged to Izuku’s request, more than inclined to not find out what would happen if he didn’t.

Just as Katsuki thought that Izuku wasn’t going to show up, he was jumpscared by the voice of Izuku from behind.

What the fu- how did he get behind me without making a sound?

“Kacchan,” Izuku greeted.

He wanted to say Bakugou, but his mouth slipped.

Force of habit, I guess.

“You’re late. You said three thirty, not three forty,” Katsuki pointed out.

After all he’s done, I can’t believe I’m still using that shitty nickname from when we were kids.

“Oh.” Izuku quickly checked the time on his smartphone.” I was making sure that no one else was around,” he explained, uncaring that he was late.

Putting his phone back into his pocket, Izuku asked, “So what did you want?” not wanting to beat around the bush.

“How the hell did you recover so fast?”

“You’ll find out eventually, but long story short, my body is special,” Izuku admitted.

If Dr Miyazaki kept to his word, there was a likelihood that his theory of rationalising a Heavenly Restriction with quirk science would end up as a subject for some research paper, bringing it to the attention of the media. Bakugou would find out then.

If he tried explaining about his Heavenly restriction to Bakugou now, there wasn’t a chance that Bakugou would buy his story.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Simply put, my body is special,” Izuku repeated.

“Bullshit, I visited you at the hospital, the day after you jumped. You were broken from head to toe. Your mom told me everything. Lucky my ass. No way could someone quirkless like you could fully recover in three weeks. You have a strong quirk, don’t you?”

“Well it was actually two weeks. I spent a week lazing around at home,” Izuku corrected.

“That’s not the fucking point.”

“Like I said, my body’s special”

“So that’s how it is huh? You hide a quirk from me? Try to kill yourself and act like nothing happened? Act like you’re better than me?” Katsuki accused.

Izuku was beginning to get annoyed by Katsuki’s stream of hybrid insult-questions.

“Tell me, was your mom in on it too?”

Now Izuku was really pissed.

But he wasn’t willing to draw first blood. He couldn’t be too quick to temper. If someone happened to be watching their little back and forth, he could claim self-defence if things escalated.

“What the hell are you going on about?” Izuku retorted, raising his voice in irritation.

“Don’t lie to me dammit!” Katsuki cursed, completely over his boiling point.

“If you wanna hide it so badly, I’ll make you show it!” Katsuki furiously exclaimed, before throwing his right hand in a punch, prepared to launch an explosion at Izuku.

He made the unfortunate mistake of acting before thinking. In his mind, he simply wanted to make Izuku stop pretending.

A right hook. How predictable.

Izuku effortlessly dodged the attack, allowing Katsuki to pass him slightly followed by grabbing Katsuki’s shoulder to turn him around before…

*WHAM!*

…slamming his fist under the right side of Katsuki’s ribs.

At first, Katsuki was taken aback by the blow.

Shit! He dodged and landed a punch before I could react?!

After a second that felt longer than it should have, pain flooded through Katsuki’s body without a hint of resistance.

Izuku let go of Katsuki’s shoulder, resulting in Katsuki instantaneously crumpling to the ground, clutching the right side of his abdomen in excruciating pain, followed by his body curling on its own. He tried getting back on his feet, but his knees buckled under the effects of shock. It was absolute agony, unlike any kind of pain he’d suffered before.

Adding on to the agony, it felt like the air was sucked out of his lungs.

“*Gasp* agh… ngahh… *gasp* grhhhh…,” he painfully groaned, briefly losing the ability of proper speech.

To some, a liver shot was a cheap tactic, but there was no denying that it was an easy way to incapacitate someone without causing too much injury.  

Maybe a chokehold would’ve been kinder, but at least Izuku didn’t have to bother with holding Katsuki in place.

Izuku stared at the pathetic sight of his “bully”, sneaking in a tiny grin that was just visible enough for Katsuki to catch a glimpse of.

Surprisingly effective move against amateurs.

“That should keep you still for a minute,” Izuku informed.

Approaching Katsuki’s writhing form, Izuku calmly and near sadistically assured, “Don’t worry. That won’t leave any lasting damage. Not unless I shattered a rib or two with that punch, I think. Not that I know or care.”

The blow certainly wasn’t hard enough to break one of Bakugou’s ribs. At most it would’ve left a dark bruise, but he couldn’t resist adding that last part just to see the panicked look on Bakugou’s face.

Katsuki continued gasping for air in disbelief, trying to process whatever the hell that just happened. 

“ *Gasp* Who are you… what the hell, *gasp* did you do to the real Deku?” Katsuki questioned between pained gasps for air.

For a second, Izuku was confused by Bakugou’s odd question.

Wait what? Does he think I’m an imposter? 

“What…oh,” Izuku realised, understanding what Bakugou meant.

He couldn’t exactly fault Bakugou for believing so, considering how much of his personality was warped by Toji’s essence.

Thinking that I’m a different person entirely is a stretch, but in a way, I’m no longer the same Izuku Midoriya that he knows.

The Heavenly Restriction could be explained away, but trying to explain what really happened to him was an act of sheer folly, as no one sane would ever believe the events that transpired while he was comatose.

Izuku crouched down, wanting to clear the air. “Nothing that bizarre, but I understand why you’d think that.”

“Because that’s all you see and think of me, isn’t it? A weak, scared, quirkless deku. A monkey even. I always knew it, even while I let myself be degraded day after day by you. But I didn’t want to admit or confront it. Because I wanted to admire you. Admire you for what I didn’t have. Talent, power, a quirk.”

He paused to let out a resentful laugh.

“That was until you gave me that idea to end it all. To gamble my quirkless life in hopes of a better one. It didn’t go like you’d expected, but I’d say it paid off for me.”

Katsuki could only listen as he tried to shift his focus from the pain in the right side of his abdomen, completely unsure what to make of Izuku’s monologue.

Sensing Bakugou’s confusion, Izuku rose from his crouching position and sighed. “Is it that hard to believe that I had a slight change in personality? Especially after what happened?

“I guess I have you to thank for that,” Izuku declared.

“Y-you -ngh won’t get away with doing that to me,” Katsuki managed to let out through the blinding pain, finally managing to get on his feet, albeit on shaky knees.

Izuku humorously smirked. “You’d tell the heroes that I hurt you? Surely they’ll believe how someone with a quirk as strong and great as yours was assaulted by a useless monkey like me.”

With a sudden burst of speed, he pulled Bakugou closer by the collar, further alarming the blonde. “And besides, I think this is hardly anything compared to what you’ve done to me over the years.”

The words hit Katsuki like a tidal wave, drowning him in suffocating guilt.

Deku’s right.

Releasing his grip, he sent the taller boy stumbling, despite the height difference.

“We’re done. I don’t care what you do next, but if you try anything with me again, I won’t be as kind as today,” Izuku warned before turning away, deciding that he’d wasted enough time.

“Wait,” Katsuki pleaded.

“I’m sorry.”

Turning around, Izuku bitterly chuckled at Katsuki’s attempt at an apology.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry? I’m sorry?! How dare you say that to me?! Is that all you have to say to me, after what you’ve done to me throughout all these years?!! I should gut you open alive like I did to Satoru Gojo for even daring to say that to my face!

He’s sorry. That doesn’t change anything, not at this point.

Fuck it, he wasn’t in the mood to deal with the blonde.

“A little too late for that, don’t you think?” he replied cynically before finally walking away from the scene.

He expected Bakugou to hurl more expletives at him, to demand him to come back or to even chase after him.

But he only received silence.

As soon as he’d left the school’s compound, Izuku noticed something rather surprising, something that he never thought could happen after he merged with Toji’s soul.

“Hah, he… he actually made me…” he muttered to himself, nearly bursting into a mirthless laugh.

His eyes were wet.

He’d actually teared up at some point during his whole exchange with Bakugou.

Fuck. He’d let his resentment of that pomeranian overtake him for a moment. 

His pride.

He wasn’t supposed to care about such things anymore. Much less get so worked up and emotional over it.

He wasn’t the useless failure, the Deku from before.

He wasn’t weak anymore.

So why did he feel like this?

Perhaps he was still more emotionally scarred than he’d led himself to believe.

I don’t care anymore…  Useless  I don’t care at all… Quirkless I don’t care… Monkey  I don’t want to care… I don’t… 

He didn’t want to think too much about it. 

It was better that way.

Almost as if the writer some higher being had heard his plight, his burner phone abruptly rang as he neared his home.

Huh. He’d forgotten that he brought that to school.

Opening the phone’s cover, he could see that the caller was Kong.

Raising the phone to his ear, he was assailed by the voice of Kong chewing him out.

“Fushiguro you goddamn idiot,” she scolded, trying to sound stern and professional, but obviously brimming with anger.

“What’s with the sudden insult?” he sarcastically asked.

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO AMBUSH KITAMURA, NOT SLAUGHTER HIS WHOLE GANG!” she reprimanded, almost yelling.

Izuku defended himself. “What? I only killed him. His gang’s still alive”

“Well mostly alive,” he corrected.

Yeah I went a little overboard.

“That’s not the damn point. Your little stunt ended up on the news” 

“What.”

“Search up what happened at Kaihoko recently,” she suggested in a mildly unkind tone.

Holding the burner phone between his shoulder and ear, Izuku pulled out his smartphone. He loaded a search engine and did as Kong suggested, before beholding the results.

[ Traffickers found brutalised in an abandoned Kaihoko storehouse. Work of hero, vigilante or even villain? ]

[ Massacre in Kaihoko. 16 traffickers fatally injured and 1 dead. ]

[ 17 quirk traffickers, 1 deceased, 5 injured and 11 in critical condition discovered in Kaihoko storage facility. ]

There were several more articles from the local news websites, but they all vaguely had more or less the same headline in different words.

“You do realise how much attention this has attracted right?” Kong pointed out.

“I didn’t leave any traces. And it's not my fault that the client wasn’t specific enough,” he easily deflected.

“Still- look, *sigh* you’re a contract killer, not some bloodthirsty villain. I’d prefer if you didn’t get heroes and the police on your tail. Makes business difficult more than it needs to be for both me and you,” she explained.

Izuku could imagine her rubbing her nose bridge on the other side of the line as she told him that, making him smile after what happened with Bakugou.

“You’re acting like I’ll get caught,” he argued playfully.

As he said that, he swore that he heard her say something about “Kids these days,” under her breath.

“You’re lucky the client doesn’t care. If he did, my cut of the job would be gone.”

“So, I assume you no longer want me working with you?”

“Of course you’re still working with me. It’s not easy to find someone skilled enough to specifically kill one person while leaving the rest almost dead out of choice. I’d be more of an idiot than you if I decided to give up this fast on an investment.”

She further clarified, “Just try not to pull this stunt again for any future jobs, or at least keep things to a minimum. Understand?”

Obliging to Kong’s request, he agreed. “Fine, but no guarantees,” he half-heartedly promised.

For a second time, Izuku could hear another disappointed sigh.

“That’s all, I’ll update you if I have any jobs for you,” Kong concluded.

“Before we end, I need your help again.”

“What? Your katana broke?” she joked.

“Get me in contact with someone who sells guns and a weaponsmith, preferably someone specialising in anything bladed” he requested.

“I’ll pay for all their services, of course,” he swiftly added.

Izuku waited for a few seconds, before hearing the flick of a lighter from Kong’s side and receiving her response.

“Give me a few weeks. Maybe a month. Gun runners aren’t too hard to find but the weaponsmith will take me a while.”

“As long as you find one who knows his stuff, time isn’t an issue for me.”

Preparing to end the call, Kong concluded once more, “Again, I’ll update you on any jobs or get back to you once I’m done.”

Once the call was done, Izuku shoved the burner phone back into his pocket, before taking a look at his smartphone again.

[ Traffickers found brutalised in an abandoned Kaihoko storehouse. Work of hero, vigilante or even villain? ]

Work of hero, vigilante or villain? More like the work of someone who’s just doing a job.

Chapter Text

Entering his office, Nagai absentmindedly tossed the two documents onto his desk before settling into his charcoal-coloured office chair. As someone who held the rank of detective inspector, Nagai was privileged enough to have his own office, not needing to share a cramped space sectioned by cubicles like the rest of the Violent Crimes Unit’s detectives. 

When he first moved in, his office was decorated with sterile, institutional furniture that lacked any personal touch. Some of his colleagues encouraged him to transform the place into something that was more of his own. In a debatably ironic way, he did. Over time, the sterile space was spoiled by a mix of paperwork, notes and records, scattered around in thick stacks that created an “organised mess". Despite the mess, Nagai knew where to find what he needed, most of the time at least.

The first of the documents was a sheet of paper listing five detectives, including himself, that were assigned to the Kaihoko case task force. Among the four other detectives, he’d only worked with one of them before, that being Detective- no, Detective Sergeant Tsuruga.

He's a detective sergeant already? He'll be my right hand then. Wonder when he got promoted though.

Outside of interrogating suspects or interviewing witnesses, Tsuraga was a man of extremely few words, but said man excelled when it came to the more physical and practical aspects of being a detective, in part to his large physique and quiet demeanour that made him both intimidating and effective in most scenarios. He was the type of detective that everyone wanted when things got violent, possessing a quirk that was well suited for physical altercations. Despite his size, he moved with surprising agility too.

While his investigative skills were second to his physical abilities, Tsuraga made up for it with a tireless work ethic. Once the man set his mind to something, he was scarily persistent. Nagai appreciated that about him.

Nagai recognized the names of the remaining three detectives, but he wasn’t personally acquainted with them. He’d heard accounts of their exploits from other colleagues. Still, they were almost complete strangers to him.

Reaching for the second document , Nagai’s hands opened the paper dossier containing the compiled scene report. He filtered key information from each page of the report, his obsidian eyes scanning sentence after sentence. 

The officers and forensics team had done an acceptable job compiling everything they could find within the storage facility into roughly a dozen pages worth of information, much to Nagai’s convenience.

Reading or writing reports were seen by some colleagues as one of the most boring parts of working in force. Nagai understood their point of view, but personally he didn’t hold any strong opinions towards the task. It was nothing to about, as it was a basic step that was required to move things along.

There was one thing however, that currently cast a light shade of dissatisfaction onto him.

That being the recent decision made for his case.

Given the number of casualties involved in such a case, it was inevitable that the incident would become a headline for the local news networks.

In Nagai’s humble but “apathetic” (so his colleagues claimed) opinion, it was preferable to keep the entire incident hidden from the public or media, or at the very least have it kept under an embargo. Letting news of the incident spread would tell whatever person responsible that their deed was under the police’s radar, acting as a sign for said person to operate less brazenly or even go into hiding. 

Being less brazen potentially meant less evidence, and less evidence meant a tougher case to solve. A tougher case also meant more time he’d need to solve it.

Just great.

Despite Nagai’s reasoning, the higher ups and some HPSC representatives insisted on releasing the news. The public had to be aware for safety purposes they said, lest this unknown new villain cause another incident in a more public area.

He wasn’t entirely against the decision, but the problem was that no one even knew who or what they needed to watch out for, authorities included. 

Based on the reports, there wasn’t much to go off from the initial on-scene investigation. Almost everything regarding the incident still remained shadowed by unknowns.

Just as he dreaded, even the forensics team hit a wall. Any blood, fingerprints or hair they found and tested all belonged to the traffickers. The team did discover things that the police officers weren’t able to, but there was nothing crucial enough to make a breakthrough in the case.

Shit. They found nothing foreign. No residuals that could’ve come from the perpetrator.

As for Kitamura himself, a background check revealed that he was the heir to what was once one of the richest construction companies in Shinjuku. By the time Kitamura was born however, the company had crumbled from years of scandals and mismanagement, leaving Kitamura to grow up with virtually nothing but rags . 

As an adult, he mostly wandered around Shinjuku working all kinds of odd jobs. Consequently, he barely had any connections on record. It made tracing his prior activity next to impossible.

Kitamura’s phone wasn’t much help either. Going through the phone, it was revealed from text messages discussing their trafficking operation that Kitamura was the ringleader, and that his men were composed of local thugs he’d recently hired, rather than the entire group originating from Shinjuku.

Unfortunately, the phone was very new, containing very little data, having likely been bought just a week prior. Other than the context from the messages, the phone didn’t contain any significant information such as Kitamura’s other associates, enemies, the specifics about his plans or anything of the like to build off on.

Adding insult to injury, the number that Nagai found also led to a dead end. The phone was inactive, its last known active location being some train station in Jaku City. Local police were sent to investigate, but nothing turned up.

Then there was the matter of the perpetrator’s motivation.

It would’ve been easy enough to point fingers had everyone in that facility died. There were a few villains with cutting or slashing based quirks and the mindset to cause the carnage at the storage facility.

The fact that only one person died however, created more issues than Nagai would have liked. None of Nagai’s suspects were the type to spare anyone.

Kitamura’s death was unlikely to be a coincidence, considering that the lighter cuts on the rest of the traffickers in contrast to the deathblows received by Kitamura indicated a certain level of restraint.

It did lend some credence to his assassin hypothesis, even if there wasn’t much to support it in the first place.

What was the purpose behind only killing Kitamura though? Could we expect to see such an incident again, and how soon?

If he wanted to solve the case fast, he needed answers to those questions.

Killing one person, but to brutally maim the rest? Why?

The entire case didn’t fit into the typical outline for gang hits. Call it intuition or a gut feeling, but Nagai somehow knew that the perpetrator possessed an oddly twisted moral compass.

Mercy?

He would never admit it to anyone, but he’d probably do something similar to the traffickers if he had the chance. 

Nothing as brutal as the actual thing, of course.

As villainous as that sounded, he was still a morally sound person that believed in doing things the right way. It was just that some people deserved “more” than what the law was allowed to deliver.

Nagai leaned back in his chair, letting the details from the report settle into his head He rubbed his temples as frustration brewed within him.

Interrogation of those traffickers better provide some answers. Even better, a face for me to find.

Mulling over the reports for a few more minutes, Nagai came up with several explanations that were shakily feasible.

To send a message.

What kind of message? For what? From who and to who?

A personal grudge.

No doubt someone like him would be hated by many. If so, why weren’t the others killed along with him?

A vigilante.

Could be that some vigilante just stumbled into their base and got into a fight with them. Then again, if this ‘vigilante’ had no issue killing one person, why not kill the rest?

As he pondered, there were a few soft knocks to the door of his office, before it was gently swung open.

“Um… Detective Nagai?” a younger, more modest voice called out, followed by the sound of the door closing and light footsteps on the linoleum floor.

Eyes still fixated on the report, Nagai acknowledged the visitor in his office.

“Yes?” he replied in a dry tone.

“The autopsy is done, you can go talk to the pathologist now,” the visitor informed.

Raising his head, his eyes made contact with the visitor.

The visitor was a young man with a lean build, probably in his early twenties. He was rather handsome, with sharp features akin to a model. Further enhancing his appearance was his messy but silky white hair, along with shining lemon eyes that contained slit shaped pupils. His garb was composed of a black turtleneck and similarly coloured slacks, overlayed with a light grey jacket.

Looking past his facial appearance and clothing, what really stood out was the presence of fox ears that sat on top of his head. The ears were mostly white, tipped by a fading orange tone.

Contributing to the fox-based appearance was a bushy tail that too ended in faded orange.

Looks like some kid my girl would fawn over.

“Which pathologist? The department has five of them,” Nagai pointed out.

Realising his sudden mistake, a light blush spread over the fox-eared youth’s face as he hastily bowed and apologised. “Eh?! sorry! Sorry! It’s Miss Sanada. She’s in the autopsy room on the first floor.”

Yup, definitely someone my girl would fawn over. The kid looks like he’d fit in some stupid shoujo manga she would read.

“Kid, you should also introduce yourself,” Nagai bluntly suggested.

Flustering once more, the fox-eared youth bowed again and introduced himself. “Ah! S-sorry again. I’m Detective Yamikumo. I was assigned to the task force for the Kaihoko case”

“You seem awfully tense for a detective,” Nagai commented, placing the report back onto his desk.

“Sorr-”

“You don’t need to keep saying sorry”

“It’s just… It’s my first time meeting a top and renowned detective like you. I’m honoured. I truly admire the work you’ve done”

Mentally, Nagai raised an eyebrow.

Do people really think that highly of me? I thought I kept a low enough profile.

Attempting to ease the mood, Nagai half-heartedly softened his expression. “Just remember to be clear next time. I know a few people who’d make a lot of noise for such a mistake. Lucky for you, I don’t get paid to make a fuss over little things like that.”

After hearing Nagai say that, Yamikumo appeared less tense.

“So you’re the rookie I’ve been hearing about. I take it that you were recently promoted?” 

“Just last week actually, this is my first official case as a detective,” Yamikumo clarified.

“Nice to meet you. Heard that you’re pretty good at deduction. If I’m not wrong, you were key in solving the Shin Hiraoka incident and the Ura family case, even though you were just an officer at the time.”

Yamikumo rubbed the back of his neck, flattered by the praise. “It’s nothing to brag about really. I just did what I could to help.”

“It is impressive that you figured out that Ura lady’s motive with what little info we had at the time,” Nagai complimented, mildly informed about Yamikumo's achievements from  overhearing his colleagues' discussions.

 “Small talk aside,” Nagai stood up, “Since you’re already here, do me a favour and gather the other three detectives in the task force in the V-1 meeting room. I’ll be there once I have the autopsy results,” 

Yamikumo obediently nodded. “Alright.”

Nagai stepped into the autopsy room, a familiar sight to him considering how often he visited the place.

The room’s layout was mostly unchanged throughout his years as a VCU detective. To the left of the room was mainly a series of cupboards, filled with all sorts of tools and chemicals. On the right of the room were two autopsy tables, surrounded by steel mortuary chambers built into the walls. 

Above one of said tables lay a body covered in a white sheet, presumably Kitamura’s corpse. Next to said table sat Sanada, slouched on a stool and boredly sipping a mug of coffee.

She seems… a little too comfortable.

Pushing away his distaste at the idea of drinking any sort of beverage next to a corpse, Nagai made his way closer to where Sanada sat. She was a woman in her thirties or forties (Nagai wasn’t too sure), working as a forensic pathologist under the MCPD’s employ for roughly a decade. Her quirk was obvious to anyone who saw or met her, said quirk being hair that glowed in almost otherworldly fluorescent blue, akin to some species of exotic jellyfish. 

Other than her hair, Sanada’s facial appearance or physique didn’t stand out much, her features being attractive to some but nothing to gawk at.

The way she carried herself was far more laid back compared to the other four pathologists. Nonetheless, that didn’t diminish her worth. Nagai didn’t doubt her abilities. Per his experience, she was undeniably competent in her field of work.

“Sanada,” Nagai greeted.

“Nagai, Still looking as stern as ever.”

“A little late to be sipping on coffee.”

Sanada smirked, rising from her slouched position. “I expect a long night. I’m slated for four more autopsies today. The next body’s probably coming in soon.”

“I presume that the only murder victim is mine?”

“Yeah, the rest are accident victims.”

Having said that, Sanada placed her coffee mug onto a nearby metal desk before grabbing a hold of the white sheet that obscured the corpse

“Shall I?” she requested.

“Go ahead.”

Receiving Nagai’s consent, Sanada yanked the sheet away to reveal Kitamura’s disfigured corpse. The corpse was completely naked and cleaned of all the dried blood, allowing Nagai to more clearly see the darkened, dried mutilations that marred Kitamura’s figure.

“He died from a mix of asphyxiation and hypovolemic shock stemming from severe haemorrhaging. His respiratory tract was filled with blood, an outcome of his right lung being essentially destroyed. Coupled with the shock from how much blood he must’ve lost, he died within seconds after getting these injuries.”

“His injuries have consistent width and size. Most people who have quirks that can cut or slash aren’t skilled enough to create such clean cuts, so it’s probable that the killer used some kind of weapon. If I had to guess, probably a katana, based on corpses I’ve seen before.”

“My thoughts as well,” Nagai agreed.

“The two lacerations in a cross shape are nothing special. Anyone with a pair of eyes can figure out what happened there.”

“But…”

Pausing to point a gloved finger at the gap in Kitamura’s torso, she continued. “The gap between his neck and shoulder was a little trickier. Took me longer than usual to figure out how that was made. It’s barely noticeable from all the damage to his tissues, but there are signs of a puncture wound at the base of the gap.The flesh pattern also indicates an upward cut instead of a downward one. Can’t say for sure, but what could've happened was that the killer pierced him through the back, then forced their weapon upwards to cleave through the right of his thoracic region.”

“Why specifically the back?” Nagai queried.

“His muscle tissue surrounding whatever that remained of the initial puncture wound pushes outwards towards the front of his body. It’s a sign that the weapon was forced in from behind.”

“So he was impaled in the back and slashed at the front?”

“Pretty much.”

Whoever this perpetrator was, they had their fun.

“His injuries aren’t the only thing to take note of. A blood test found traces of Trigger in his bloodstream. The point of injection is that tiny red dot on his neck, a sign that he shot that stuff straight into his jugular vein. It’s also why his pupils are more dilated like crazy, 37 percent more than a usual corpse.”

“Interesting.”

That explains those strange glass and metal fragments the forensics team found. The syringe must’ve been crushed during the fight.

Just as luck would have it, his phone rang.

Answering the call, Nagai listened briefly to the caller before giving his reply. “Got it, on my way. Call Detective Tsukauchi. Tell him that I need him to be at the hospital for the interrogation.”

Ending the call, Nagai turned to Sanada. “I need to go. One of the traffickers is stable enough for interrogation. Anything else you need to tell me?”

“That’s all the major stuff, the finer details are in the papers,” Sanada clarified as she handed the file containing the autopsy report to Nagai, before discarding her old pair of latex gloves and slipping on a fresh pair to prepare for her next autopsy session. “Happy hunting, Nagai.”

Thanking Sanada and exiting the autopsy room, Nagai made one last call before making his way to the hospital.

“Tsuruga.”

“Yes?” A flat voice answered back.

“Tell everyone in the room that we’re heading to the Musutafu General Hospital. I’ll give further instruction on what we need to do once everyone’s there”

“Noted.”

With that out of the way, Nagai pocketed his phone. As he made his way out of the station, he could only wonder what kind of person would go to such lengths to kill Kitamura while sparing the rest of the traffickers.

Chapter Text

Passing by the packed waiting room, Nagai could hear the nightly news report that emanated from a wall mounted tv. The male newscaster’s voice gradually softened as he and Tsukauchi, along with Yamikumo tailing close behind neared their interrogee’s room further down the hallway.

“A gruesome sight was discovered last night in a storage facility located at the north of the Kaihoko district. A gang of 16 quirk traffickers were found severely injured with one deceased. Heroes and police are currently still investigating what exactly took place. The rate of hero patrols in the area and its surrounding regions has been reportedly tripled, as a precaution should a similar incident take place. In the meanti-”

“I didn’t expect that you’d have Yamikumo around for the interrogation. I assumed that you’d want him to interview the hospital’s staff about the status of the other traffickers, like the rest of your team,” Tsukauchi abruptly remarked, interrupting the newscaster.

“I just figured that young blood like him could benefit from the experience.”

Tsukauchi was pleasantly surprised. “Never thought of you as the mentor type.”

Arriving at the room’s door, the three detectives flashed their police badges and detective tags, before the officer who stood guard allowed them passage.

Inside the room, their interrogee was a skinny auburn haired man lying upright in a hospital bed. The man’s face was badly bruised in purple and red tones, more noticeably around his nose and temple. 

Standard procedure would require at least one of the man’s arms to be cuffed to the bed for security purposes. That wasn’t necessary however, as the man’s arms appeared to be severely injured, held in place by medical braces that inserted metal pins into his already bandaged arms.

The man turned his head to face his visitors, wondering who they were.

Attempting to maintain a guise of neutrality, Nagai introduced himself and his company. “Detective Inspector Nagai from the MCPD’s Violent Crimes Unit. Next to me is Detective Yamikumo from the VCU too and Detective Inspector Tsukauchi of the Hero Affairs Unit.”

“Why’s someone responsible for hero affairs here?”

“Detective Tsukauchi is here to determine the level of hero involvement required for this case,” he cleared up.

On paper, that was the reason for why Nagai had Tsukauchi come along. In actuality, he just wanted Tsukauchi around to solidify the interrogation results.

“And you,” Nagai said as he wagged a patronizing finger, “you’re Akio Akiyama, quirk, Resin Blast. Aged 32. Your official residence is registered at an apartment in Nakano City. You’ve been arrested before on two counts of assault, four counts of possession of illicit substances and so far, one count of-”

“-quirk trafficking”

“Did I get that all right?

“...”

“...Yes,” Akiyama reluctantly replied.

Nagai sneered. “Though I’m sure you’ve done more. Especially someone like you. The records are always cleaner than reality. If we weren’t in a hospital, you’d have to worry about me adding another bruise to that ugly face of yours.”

“I was desperate, alright. I needed the money. It was too good to refuse. I-I didn’t want this. I didn’t know that it would lead to this shit happening to me!” Akiyama cried out, glaring at his arms in distress.

“Scum like you deserve every bit of what happened and more. It’s a shame that your arms weren’t amputated,” Nagai taunted, shedding his professional demeanor.

Tsukauchi quickly intervened. “Introductions and unnecessary threats aside, we’re here to interrogate you regarding what happened in that storage facility at Kaihoko last night. 16 people including you survived, albeit with varying levels of injury. The only death was your boss, Kitamura.” 

Upon hearing the news, Akiyama didn’t seem taken aback by the news of his boss’s passing, his expression unchanged.

Then Akiyama snarled. “Why the hell should I bother telling you anything? I have every damn right to remain silent. Especially talking to cops like you all. I get nothing out of it. In fact I’d be digging my own grave!”

Before Tsukauchi could open his mouth to answer, Nagai responded instead.

“You have a few reasons I can list. Other than the fact that at least one of you will tell what happened either way, I’m sure that under normal circumstances, you’d want to find the person that butchered you and your friends like pigs.”

“However, based on your text history with Kitamura, I presume that you’ve barely known them for more than a week. So I think it's more accurate to say that you alone want to find whoever that did this-” Nagai lazily gestured at Akiyama’s broken form with one hand, “-to you.”

“Whoever that reduced you to this sorry state. You’d be lucky if you can even bend your fingers. If you didn’t have shame working as a quirk trafficker before, now I’m sure you’ll have shame living as a useless, pathetic cripple who won't even be able to care for himself for the rest of his life.”

“I’m also sure that you’re aware of how many years the crime of quirk trafficking carries. Combine that with our nation’s conviction rate that exceeds 99 percent and you have more than enough reason.”

Nagai briefly paused to let Akiyama's gears turn, while he grabbed a chair for a seat.

“Since you're the first person we talk to, we can be more ‘lenient’.  Cooperate, and we may be able to entertain the possibility of shaving a few years off your sentence. Naturally, that depends on what you say.”

“The choice is yours,” Nagai informed with a callous smile.

As Nagai finished his sentence, he could see a gleam of submission within Akiyama’s eyes.

There we go. Say the right truths, plant the right thoughts and they’ll crack one way or another .

“Fine, I’ll tell.”

Simultaneously, he could sense Tsukauchi gazing at him with a hint of disapproval, bothered by his method of persuasion.

Admittedly, it was an underhanded way of phrasing things to influence Akiyama to open up. Though as long as it didn’t cross a line, Nagai didn’t hold any reservations against playing fast and loose for the sake of his own convenience.

Once Tsukauchi had cleared the formalities and turned on the recorder, Akiyama told his account of events.

“You can begin, Mr Akiyama” Tsukauchi permitted.

“Kitamura approached me about two weeks ago and offered me the job. I was in a rough spot so I accepted. His down payment was more than enough.”

“A few days ago, he gathered everyone he hired at that storage facility to set things up. Planning, moving equipment, that kind of thing. We surveyed people with specific quirks that Kitamura wanted. Well, what his client wanted actually. Our ideal targets were mostly street whores, the homeless and runaway teenagers, people that wouldn’t garner too much attention if they went missing.”

“Sick fucks,” Nagai muttered under his breath.

“Yesterday evening, Kitamura said that he needed to meet a potential partner. So he went out alone, while he ordered us to continue on with preparations.”

Nagai fiercely demanded to know their identities. “Who is this client and partner?”

“No clue, he never told us who he was working with or for. Didn’t trust us enough. He just told us to follow his orders or we wouldn’t get paid in full.” 

“Then?”

“An hour after Kitamura left, we were attacked.”

“By who?”

Akiyama took several deep breaths to calm his nerves, preparing to narrate the traumatizing series of events he experienced.

“We didn’t know someone broke in until we heard screaming. It all happened so fast. Everyone rushed into the foyer to see what was going on. It came from one of the guys. He was screaming on the ground with huge gashes all over his body. 

“Once everyone was there, we heard a second scream from a guy I was more familiar with called Higashi. This time, everyone saw who did it. It-it was someone dressed in all black, holding a katana. They wore a black jacket with the hood up, black cap, black mask and black gloves. Black everything. The only part I could see was the upper area of the face.”

Nagai scowled.

Well there goes having a face to look for.

“So you could see their eyes?”

“Their eyes were green. Dark green.”

“Describe the attacker’s physical appearance.” Nagai requested.

“Lean, shorter than average I think? Looked like a guy. Yeah, it was a guy, unless it was a flat-chested girl or some shit like that.”

“Go on.”

“I can’t tell if it was a quirk or just skill, but while everyone was looking around trying to figure out what happened to the first guy, he snuck behind Higashi and stabbed him back in the back.”

“The first guy was a trap to lure us there, to get everyone in one place. As both of them were screaming their lungs out, the katana guy stared at us while we stared back. Beneath that mask, I swear he was grinning like crazy.”

“Some of the guys with mutant quirks or a weapon tried rushing him, while the rest of us prepared to use our quirks on him ”

“Then all hell broke loose,” Akiyama grimly stated.

“One by one, he cut down each of us. His quirk made him move faster than we could see. Even though we had the whole foyer lit up with lights and lamps, we couldn’t track where he went. We’d only see a black blur, followed by someone bleeding out.”

“The worst part was that he didn’t make any noise. After he was done with one or two people he’d disappear into the mess of junk and crates in the foyer. A few seconds later, he’d reappear at a completely different end of the foyer, spilling someone else’s blood.”

We couldn’t hear any footsteps, any creaking or any thuds that could’ve told us where he was coming from. The only thing we could hear were our yells and screams,” Akiyama described, visibly disturbed.

Nagai’s thin brows furrowed. “So you think that this person’s quirk has something to do with stealth, possibly sound suppression along with heavily enhanced speed?”

“Could be.”

Without warning, Tsukauchi interjected. 

“Are you trying to say that this person has two quirks?”

Akiyama’s eyes widened a little.  “I-I don’t know. Is that even possible?”

Concern washed over both Nagai and Tsukauchi for different reasons.

“Continue,” Nagai ordered.

“The only time we managed to do anything was when a guy whose quirk was having octopus tentacles as tails, Yoshida was his name I think, somehow caught both of the katana guy’s arms with his tentacles during the chaos. Someone with a knife and another with claws took the chance to rush him. I was standing nearby and held both my arms out, preparing to use my quirk on him.”

Halting for an unpleasant gulp, Akiyama carried on. “Before I could even see it, he sliced all eight of Yoshida's tails into chunks of meat. Yoshida and the other two guy’s bodies were covered in cuts. All three of them collapsed instantly.”

“That’s when I realised that all of this was entertainment to this monster. He slowed down to let himself get caught by Yoshida for fun. There wasn’t a moment where we could’ve harmed him.”

“I wanted to run, but before I could even put my arms down and before I even felt it, H-he sliced both my arms open, along with my left leg. Then he hit my face with a left hook, sending me flying into a wall.”

“The pain was too much for me to get up from. I saw him take his time with anyone left, before everyone was on the ground covered in blood.

“Then what happened?”

Akiyama laid on the concrete wall, pain overflowing from his arms and left leg. Sparing a quick glimpse at the limp arms on his sides led to his head recoiling in horror. 

His arms were a bloody mess, defiled by god knows how many cuts. There was too much blood to see where he’d been cut. The flesh on his arm wasn’t solid anymore, transformed into a mushily broken mass of bone and red.

The sight of his arms and the increasing pain drowned Akiyama in nausea, filling his oesophagus with bile. The taste of vomit lingered at the back of his throat, though he resisted the urge to throw up as hard as possible, aware that the blood loss would kill him sooner if his body lost any more fluid.

He closed his eyes, doing as much as he could to ignore the pain but to no avail.

“ *Snap* *Snap* You’re still conscious, aren’t you?” a voice called out without warning.

Without making a sound, the katana guy had made its way to where Akiyama laid, crouched down and snapping its fingers in an attempt to catch his attention.

Playing dead, Akiyama prayed as hard as he could to whatever god that was watching that the monster in black would leave him be and not finish him off.

Go away, go away. 

“How long ago did Kitamura leave for his meeting?” 

Akiyama remained unresponsive, holding his breath.

“I can tell that you’re still awake. C’mon, don’t pass out now,” the katana guy whined.

Alas, his prayers were unanswered.

“I don’t like repeating myself, so-”

Instantaneously, Akiyama felt the edge of a katana in contact with his neck, still wet with the blood of his fellows. Crimson drops flowed down to the base of his neck, soaking the collar of his shirt.

“Again, tell me how long ago did Kitamura leave for his meeting, or I’ll cut your head clean off right here and now,” the monster threatened, sounding mildly annoyed.

Akiyama’s mind went into full-blown panic.

OH GOD OH GOD.

Opening his eyes, Akiyama confessed. “H-he left about an hour ago! I don’t know where he went, I swear I don't! I really don’t!

“How long until he comes back?”

“I-I-I don’t know! He didn’t tell us anything!”

“Are you lying to me?”

“I’m not! I’m not! Please! Please! I don’t wanna die! Please!” Akiyama hysterically begged as he felt the edge cutting into his skin.

The monster’s emerald eyes squinted, seemingly in anger. Akiyama in turn fearfully shut his eyes again, bracing for the katana to cleave through his neck.

Out of Akiyama’s expectations, the monster stood up, leaving him be. Akiyama swore the monster muttered something that sounded like, “Looks like I’m too early”, before walking away from where he laid.

At the end of Akiyama’s recollection, his voice was quivering, the memory still fresh like dew.

“What did this katana guy sound like?”

“H-his voice? It sounded deep, but it was weird. Like someone trying to sound like another person.

Interesting.

Nagai’s eyes narrowed. “What else happened?”

“Seconds after he was done talking to me, I saw someone limping for the exit. The katana guy noticed too. That poor bastard ended up on the ground with a katana through his shoulder.”

“They said something to each other, before the katana guy walked out of my view. I didn’t see him again.”

“What about Kitamura?”

“After what felt like hours but probably minutes, I saw him walk into the foyer. I don’t remember anything else. I think I passed out from the blood loss.”

“Is that all you remember?” 

Akiyama took a long blink before giving his answer. “Yes, that’s all I can think of.”

Nagai stared intently at Akiyama for a few seconds, before proceeding to his final few questions. “Tell me, other than that partner and client, did Kitamura mention anyone that stood out? Any superiors, associates, friends, rivals, enemies or anything of the like?”

Kitamura grimaced before responding. “No. Like I said, he kept everything to himself.”

Nagai was unsatisfied with that answer. “Think hard and tell me again.”

Akiyama thought hard for a few minutes, before responding once more.

“Well… now that I think about it, a couple days ago I overheard Kitamura having a conversation with someone. I’m not sure who it was since it was over the phone but Kitamura mentioned something about how ‘this better be worth it’ and ‘he’d make sure that things were ready’. It was none of my business, so I didn’t bother staying to listen.”

Nagai leaned back in his chair, digesting the new information. 

Could it be that number from Jaku?

“Anything else?”

Their conversation paused again for a minute or so of silence, before Akiyama uttered his final answer.

“That’s really all I can remember”

“We’re done, get well soon,” Nagai stonily concluded without an ounce of emotion. 

Once Tsukauchi had turned off the recorder, Nagai rose from his seat and left the room without sparing any more attention to Akiyama, followed closely by Tsukauchi and Yamikumo behind.

Closing the door, Tsukauchi gave Nagai a stern look. “That was rather out of line. Tell me, did you mean every word you said just now?

A near imperceptible frown formed on Nagai's lips. “That’s irrelevant to our investigation. I do what I need to do for results.”

For a moment, a layer of unease permeated the air between the two.

Shrugging his shoulders, Nagai pushed Tsukauchi’s grievances aside. “Back to the reason why I brought you here. Was he lying about anything?” 

“No, everything he said was true, or at least he believes it is.”

Nagai let out a groan of annoyance, placing a hand to the side of his head. “Akiyama didn’t reveal enough. But we need to work with what we have. 

“You haven’t interrogated the other traffickers yet,” Tsukauchi reminded.

“If that’s all Akiyama knows about and he wasn’t lying, I don’t expect that his ‘friends’ will know any more than him.”

Nagai turned to face Yamikumo. “Yamikumo, what do you think?”

“Me?”

Taken off guard, Yamikumo pointed at himself, unsure whether he was being asked for his opinion. His fox ears twitched nervously, betraying his hesitation. 

“Yes, you. What are your thoughts about Akiyama’s testimony?.”

“Well… the description of this katana guy, especially the speed and stealth, matches up with the lack of evidence found. If what he's saying is true, this katana guy... he's deadly”

Nagai crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “Someone with a quirk like that, moving at that kind of speed while suppressing sound, coupled with that level of skill with a katana is more than deadly.”

This is an assassin’s work, and a professional one it seems.

His suspicions practically spawned the second he finished reading the scene report. The testimony all but confirmed it.

Tsukauchi added, “It’s possible that he did what he did with the use of some high-end support gear. That would explain some aspects of his quirk”

“Possible,” Nagai accepted. “Still, leaving behind no evidence implies a high level of skill.

There was a brief silence as the three detectives deliberated.

Yamikumo finally broke it. “What do we do next?”

“We figure out who this ‘partner’ and ‘client’ are,” Nagai decided, refocusing his thoughts. “Kitamura’s dead, but all of this is interconnected. There’s a network behind him, no chance someone like him did this alone. Those resources came from somewhere.”

“I agree. Based on what Akiyama was talking about, I think there's something bigger going on than just quirk trafficking,” said Yamikumo.

“As for that assassin…” Nagai contemplated, moving a hand to his mouth

Yamikumo tilted his head slightly. “What about tracking him through the quirk registry? We have a rough profile, dark green eyes, below average height, speed and stealth enhancements, maybe we can narrow down some suspects.”

“It's doable,” Tsukauchi approved, but his voice was doubtful. “However, you’ll be limited to criminal records. If this guy is smart enough not to leave any evidence behind, it’s not unlikely that he has his quirk registered as something else or he doesn’t have a criminal record. Someone like him would know to do so to avoid leaving any trace.”

“Then we file a request to access the civilian registry too.” Yamikumo suggested. “Of course, that’s just what I think,” he hastily added.

“You can, but I’m not sure if it’ll be approved. Officially, this case hasn’t progressed to an extent that requires accessing the civilian registry,” Tsukauchi explained.

Subtly, Nagai rolled his eyes. “Red tape, what a waste of time.”

“Speaking of waste, Yamikumo, find the others and ask if any of the traffickers are stable enough for interrogation. It’d be a waste if we only came here to interrogate one person,” Nagai ordered.

Nodding, Yamikumo set off to find the other three detectives, leaving Nagai and Tsukauchi be.

Once the young detective was out of earshot, Nagai turned to Tsukauchi. “Again, thanks for the help.”

Tsukauchi smirked. “Don’t get too comfortable Nagai. You have your cases and I have mine. Also you own me now.”

Nagai smirked in return. “Of course.”

Things were quiet for about a minute. Then out of the blue, Tsukauchi asked, “What do you think of him?”

“Yamikumo?

“Yeah.”

“He’s observant, sharp. But he’s still young, inexperienced and needs to work on his self-esteem,

“This case is going to be tough for someone new.”

Nagai’s tone shifted. “We don’t have time to coddle anyone. The kid himself knows it too. There’s something more going on and we know too little. We’re looking at a chance of yesterday's bloodbath repeating somewhere else or an active trafficking ring. Time is of the essence. Finding that assassin or Kitamura’s associates places us one step ahead of everyone else.”

“Still, I trust that the kid’s competent enough to keep up despite his nerves, he’s got the potential,” said Nagai, his expression softening.

Inari Yamikumo stepped into his sedan, settling his well-groomed tail into a comfortable position before starting his car’s engine. After the interrogation session, Detective Nagai had predictably ordered everyone to regroup at the station to further discuss their findings.

It was a surprise to him that Detective Nagai had offered him the chance to participate in the interrogation session as an observer. Inari expected that he would have needed to ask for a chance to participate in the interrogation, followed by a high likelihood of denial from Nagai.

The old man was far more lenient and open than Inari had expected, though that was probably in part influenced by Inari putting on the act of a shy and flustered rookie.

Exiting the hospital’s compound onto the main road, Inari searched for a contact labelled as “Uncle” on his car’s touchscreen, before dialing it through the car’s wireless call system.

Things felt a lot easier for Inari after his promotion. Being a detective meant that he wasn’t restricted to dressing in a boring blue uniform. More importantly, it meant that he was rid of that damn body camera, no longer needing to wear it on his person. It was tedious, since with that bodycam around, he could only call his “uncle” once he was off-duty.

Inari waited for a bit, before his call was picked up.

“Inari?” answered a masculine voice on the other end of the line. The voice was gruff and aged, belonging to someone who was at least 20 years Inari’s senior.

“So far, the police are in the dark. Seems like Kitamura didn’t tell his gang anything about what happened recently,” 

“Hmph. If he told them the truth, I imagine that they’d flee away with their tails between their legs, leaving him to thrash out in the open.”  

“But I did find something of note. Apparently about an hour before he was killed, Kitamura left the facility and met with someone, a partner of sorts. I believe-”

“Hah. That ‘partner’ he met with was one of my men masquerading as an information broker,” the voice revealed.

Inari was surprised by the revelation.

“What? Why would you have someone do so?” Inari questioned, genuine intrigue filling his voice.

“It was a way to ensure that he would stay in one place. To give him a false sense of security. I’ve despised that degenerate for as long as I’ve known him. Such a chance to deal with him cannot be wasted.”

“If you hated him so much, why kill him now?”

“Him being part of that lot of traitors presented a suitable opportunity to ensure his death. If I’d ended him while everyone was still united, I’d face all kinds of repercussions,” the voice calmly justified.

“Only Kitamura’s death ended up on the news. I heard that even that staff-wielding twink with an electricity quirk we hired managed to keep his mess under wraps, even though he massacred an entire apartment's worth of people,” Inari mentioned in slight disbelief.

“Heck, I also heard that the blind man thought of hiring a clean-up crew. Whoever that killed Kitamura sure did a sloppy job.” 

The voice groaned. “Such is the price of hiring independents. Their quality varies significantly. Despite that, most of them are worth their value. Even that sloppy one appears to possess a powerful quirk.”

“Then I suppose you know who was hired to kill Kitamura?” Inari asked, interested about the identity of the individual that put an end to Kitamura’s detestable existence.

“That independent was hired through a mediator. As much as I wanted Kitamura dead, he didn’t warrant too much of my attention. It wasn’t necessary to personally hire any specific independent for the task. I have more important matters to spend my time on.”

Inari wanted to point out that his “uncle” cared enough to get someone to pose as an ally for Kitamura, but he decided against it.

“On a positive note, with how many channels and proxies we use to hire independents, it’s impossible that anything gets traced back to us at all,” Inari noted, lightly chuckling in the process.

“Still though, I’m shocked that you don’t sound too unhappy. I presumed that you’d refuse to pay for such subpar work like that.”

“At first I too, like the rest, were in more crass terms… pissed as fuck. The plan was to discreetly deal with Kitamura, then send some men to either eliminate, or assimilate whatever that was left of his group. Kitamura’s original group was executed when he fled from Shinjuku, so it should have been simple enough to coerce the insignificants that he had hired into working under us.”

The voice let out a deep exhale. “Truthfully, having the police and heroes involved this early poses a great risk. Despite that, Naoto sees the value in this turn of events. He believes that we may be able to use their involvement to our advantage.”

“How so?”

“We use the police and heroes to create another form of pressure for the traitors. Another thorn by their side if you will. How exactly? Time will tell. We need to see how this whole debacle plays out before we decide on the next step.”

Concern filled Inari. “Is that a risk we’re willing to take? There’s a chance too that we expose ourselves. Expose everything that’s been going on. By all means, we can’t underestimate pro heroes or the police.”

Inari heard a pause on the other end of the line, a slight rustle as the man shifted, likely thinking of how to respond. The sound of raindrops softly tapped against his windscreen as it began to drizzle, filling the momentary silence.

“I am not saying we should. I have my doubts too, considering how conceited Naoto can be at times” the voice agreed. “But frankly, he’s not wrong. As long as we tread with caution, we can utilise them to our benefit. We have infiltrators like you within the police force to ease that process.”

“If you say so,” Inari reluctantly accepted. So far he’d remained mostly passive, observing and collecting information relating to police operations. Attempting to influence an investigation would bring an entirely new set of variables. 

Inari didn’t doubt his skills in manipulation and cunning (of course he wouldn’t, he’s a heteromorph that resembled a fox), but variables were variables and Inari wasn’t keen to take uncalculated risks.

“You’ve worked under them for long enough without inciting even a hint of suspicion. You have nothing to fear.” the voice assured, recognizing Inari’s concern.

“But.” the voice quickly shifted into a tone of reserved concern far deeper than that of Inari’s. “Will Nagai be a hindrance?”

The drizzle transformed into a downpour, drumming against his car’s windows. “True to his reputation, Nagai’s willing to use less… savoury methods to get what he needs. To what degree I have no clue. Not to worry though, risky as it is, I should be able to influence the flow of the investigation. And if Nagai gets too close, well…”

“… as much as I hate to say it, I’ll take care of him”

Inari could imagine his “uncle” clasping his hands together in satisfaction, followed with a smirk.

“Excellent,” his “uncle” praised. “Besides Naoto’s perspective regarding the matter, he also says that we’ve sent a message to the traitors”

“A message?” 

“To paraphrase him, ‘Let them see it, let the news be plastered for all of them to see. It is a herald of our might. Our formal sign of first blood. We have indulged these fuckers for too long. It’s time we start killing off these fools. Even if they have allied themselves with that fossil, we are more than capable of wiping them out.”

“Quite the statement I daresay,” the voice remarked.

“Hey. What did you expect from someone of his background?” Inari joked.

Unexpectedly, his “uncle” let out a brief laugh, before returning to business. “Enough chit chat. For now, you just keep playing your part. There is nothing that necessitates your direct action…yet.

“Remember, you let us know immediately should any developments occur.’” the voice emphasised, more serious than before.

Inari's hand tightened on the wheel. “Of course, I’ll keep you updated.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving Inari alone with the noise from torrents of rain that seemed to grow heavier and heavier by the second.

Inari glanced at the car's clock. It would be time to slip back into character.

Pulling into the police station’s parking lot, Inar leaned into his seat, gazing at his reflection in the rearview mirror. The dark and storm of the night shadowed most of his face, but his yellow irises shone brightly, dimly illuminating his face and making his slitted pupils more sharp and piercing than usual.

You’re a detective Inari, you earned it, even if your loyalties lie elsewhere.

Sure, the shy, easily flustered and hesitant detective was an act, but that didn’t mean Inari was always confident in himself. The pressure and consequences that came from a single misstep constantly lingered in the back of his mind, chipping away at his sense of worth.

Maybe that’s why I play this role so well.

He wasn’t just playing the role of a rookie detective though, he was a pawn in a much grander, finer game. One that he didn’t know the full extent of. The first wave of hits were a harbinger of things to come. 

Shutting his eyes and suppressing a tensioned huff, Inari opened a black umbrella, stepping out of the car and making his way into the station, blending into the routine buzz of officers, detectives, and staff. Inside, Inari nodded at familiar faces offering polite greetings as he made his way to the V-1 meeting room.

As he entered, he spotted Detective Tsuraga seated alone at one end of the conference table. Inari bowed and smiled faintly at Tsuraga, the same shy, flustered act he’d perfected. Tsuraga simply nodded in return. Taking a seat opposite of Tsuraga, Inari waited as everyone else arrived minutes later. 

As Nagai began the meeting. Yamikumo could only think about how everything would unfold.

Chapter Text

40, 41, 42, 43, 44…

*Beep* *Beep*

Izuku placed the two ton barbell onto the rack, producing a loud metallic thud. He sat up from the bench, turning to grab his burner phone from the ground.

It had been almost three months since he’d fallen into a coma that changed his life for better or worse. After experiencing a lifetime as a certain despicable man who was unbound and twisted by fate, Izuku awoke as a mix of his former self combined with an individual he would’ve once considered a monster.

In a way, it was a second chance for both him and the man. Some things would inevitably change and others would remain the same.

To point out the obvious, apart from his adoption of Toji’s aspects, his dynamic with Kac- no, Katsuki had undeniably flipped since that day.

From anyone else’s point of view, it seemed that Katsuki lost interest in Izuku, opting instead to ignore his quirkless peer that was once subject to his abuse day after day. Of course, no one in class dared to question it. 

Truthfully, it wasn’t disinterest that had filled Katsuki, but rather terror.

Absolute terror.

From the tiniest shift in Katsuki’s face and eyes, to the fluctuations of his soul, Izuku could tell that the blond lived in a constant state of terror and dread as long as he was around.

Regardless of whether Katsuki’s feelings stemmed from a fear of Izuku exposing his misdeeds or of Izuku taking his life, Izuku didn’t mind the change.

To an extent, there was some sick satisfaction to be felt from the whole situation. After all, it didn’t hurt to enjoy the little things.

Without even checking who the caller was, Izuku tapped the answer button, bringing the phone to his right ear.

“I’m in the middle of a workout. What is it?” 

Kong’s familiar voice could be heard. “Good news Fushiguro. I have a job for you. Something urgent though.

“How urgent?”

“You need to get it done by tonight, or else this job is going to someone else.”

“How much then?” Izuku asked once again as his lips made contact with a bottle of water.

“Four million,” Kong revealed.

“Mmhrk!! *cough* *cough*”  

Shockingly, Izuku found himself caught off guard by Kong’s answer, considering that he nearly choked on his water. His abruptly loud coughs turned the heads of a few other gym goers around him. Fortunately, they spared a second’s glance at most at Izuku before returning their focus to their workouts.

That’s way more than the last one.

Since his hit on Kazuhiko, he’d only done one other job that paid less handsomely, simply put.

To sum it up, said job involved helping a client kill her brother.

On the surface, the job sounded rather villainous. With context though, Izuku found the client’s justification fairly reasonable. 

The situation revolved around the client’s brother, who was a career criminal that constantly got arrested for petty crimes. To add even more flavor to her brother, the piece of shit had apparently sexually assaulted the client several times before too.

For some reason, possibly out of some misguided hope and sympathy, their parents always bailed him out much to her anger. One day after getting bailed, he’d somehow stolen and fled with almost all of their parents’ assets, likely to pay off some unspecified debts. Bank savings, retirement funds and the like were all gone. Their father was so distraught when he found out that he suffered a fatal heart attack on the spot. It was so severe that their father was rendered brain dead from oxygen deprivation during the attack.

Stricken with unimaginable grief and anger, the client decided that it would be too kind for her to let the authorities deal with him, instead choosing to send him to hell.

She posted on a forum looking for anyone who would kill her brother. Her offered pay amounted to roughly thirty-five hundred thousand yen, which according to quote Kong were, “lower than the standard rates”.

Nonetheless, the job piqued Kong’s interest enough that she accepted it. In turn, she approached Izuku to offer him the task, to which he accepted.

And how did Izuku know all of that?

Well according to Kong, she wanted to explain her situation to the person that’d get their hands dirty. Over a phone call arranged by Kong, the client told her tale to Izuku, her voice teetering between depression and vengeful rage with every word she spoke.

After that, he had little reason to suspect that he was being sent to kill someone innocent. Based on what Izuku heard, she sounded sincere enough.

Once everything was settled, the client sent her brother’s last known address to Kong. Within a day of sending his address, she received photos of her brother dead, made obvious by the fine slit decorating his neck.

Learning from his previous mess, Izuku paid mind to be more… restrained when it came to that job. He even properly disposed of the body, with permission from the client of course.

Whether her decision brought her peace, it wasn’t Izuku’s business to find out. What mattered was that he got paid.

Lengthy context aside, if Toji was the one around, he wouldn’t have bothered with taking jobs with such measly pay.

In his current state though, Izuku didn’t have too much of a choice.

Beggars can’t be choosers.

For Izuku to access more equipment or weaponry that could match the arsenal of cursed tools that Toji used to have, he needed to squeeze every drop of cash from any source he could.

Speaking of weaponry…

Hearing Izuku’s reaction, Kong attempted to stifle a laugh. “You sound surprised, Fushiguro”

“Course I am, that’s more than ten times the amount from the last job. Before we continue though, what about my requests?

Izuku could hear the quiet shifting of clothes over the line, likely caused by Kong leaning on or taking a seat. “I almost forgot to mention that. I found a contact that should fit your price range. He claims to offer a decent variety of guns along with the right ammo, ranging from some pre-quirk era classics to whatever fancy toys the Americans are coming up with these days.”

“With a little fee, I can arrange for a “session” anytime you’d like,” Kong casually informed.

“Eh?” Izuku sarcastically implored, “Why the fee?”

“Consider it a transaction fee.”

“...”

“What? You expect me to do work for free? Everything is transactional, Fushiguro,” she defended, feigning offence.

“...”

Izuku almost smiled with amused exasperation.

Some things never change.

“Fine. How much?”

“I haven’t decided yet”

Izuku attempted to give a witty remark, before Kong moved on. “As for the weaponsmith, I found someone that will hopefully satisfy your level of skill. Yes, there will be a fee for that too.”

This time, Izuku couldn't help but roll his eyes at the blatant reminder.

“Now, on to the matter at hand. This time, you’ll be doing a rescue mission.”

“Huh.”

Again, Izuku was caught off guard. He couldn’t recall if Toji had experience doing anything of the sort before.

“I didn’t know you helped save people,” Izuku commented. 

“I meditate on a wide range of services. It’s not a rare thing among middlemen.”

“Shouldn’t heroes be the ones doing the rescuing? I don't think assassins are exactly the best people to do that.”

“There are some people that our clients want to keep from falling into police hands. The person that you need to rescue is one of them, a doctor by the name of Manato. He’s been kidnapped by the client’s enemies. For now, he’s being held captive at a Yakuza safehouse disguised as an office building. The place is located around the more rundown parts of downtown Musutafu.”

“You should also know that the client for this job is the same one from the Kitamura job,” Kong mentioned, likely an attempt to remind Izuku of what he did on his first job.

“Never would I have expected you to get another gig from that client after what I did.”

“Things were urgent for them, whoever answered first got the job. In any case, you're not my only agent. There’s plenty of other people from nearby cities that would gladly take the job. You just happen to be the only competent one with a strong quirk I’ve seen in Musutafu so far.”

“So don't mess this up. I’m giving you another opportunity for a big job. Get the doctor out before tonight. If you don’t, he’ll be tortured to death by the next morning. And if he’s dead, we don’t get paid.”

“The client wants you to get rid of everyone in that safehouse too. So feel free to let loose,” she added.

“Do I need to worry about the mess?”

“The client will have someone clean up after the job is done. No need to worry about that.”

“Do I get a bonus for doing so?”

“As far as I know, sadly no. However a bonus is not entirely non-negotiable. I’ve already sent you your full instructions, so get going,” Kong ordered.

Without another word, the line went dead on the other side, leaving Izuku to read through whatever that Kong sent.

Slumping onto the bench, Izuku checked the time.

It’s almost evening, guess I’ll have to end this workout session early. Time to prepare.

As Izuku was getting ready to leave the gym, he had another thought pop into his mind.

Right, I need to think of an excuse to leave at night. What should I tell mom?

Manato Fujimori was not having a good time. 

In fact, this was probably going to be the worst and last day of his life.

“Now doctor, I’m going to ask you again, cooperate, pledge your services and you'll save yourself a lot of pain," a calm voice offered.

Currently, he was in a grimy room, strapped to a plastic chair. His hands and feet were bound respectively to the chair’s handles and legs with zip ties.

Surrounding him were his captors, consisting of seven men, six of whom that  dressed in a mix of collared shirts and suits. Only one of them was properly dressed, while the other five were dressed more sloppily in comparison. 

There was one captor that stood out, who was not dressed in anything at all as his entire body was harmlessly engulfed in flames. A living torch.

Leading the captors and the one who offered to spare him, was a plain looking man who reminded Manato of a Japanese suburban dad he’d usually see in TV dramas.

What they were asking him to do, it was insane.

Madness.

He’d done all kinds of things that he shouldn’t have done as a doctor, given his position as  someone who pledged to save lives. But even he had his ethical limits.

He’d die before he’d break and involve himself in a plan like that.

Mustering the courage, Manato took a deep breath. “For the last time, no.”

“Then you’ll have to bear the consequences,” the leader concluded.

Motioning his colleagues, the leader was handed a briefcase, which opened to reveal a set of “tools”.

From the briefcase, the leader picked up a large pair of curved scissors. “Since you’ll need your hands and I’m so kind, we’ll start with your pinky finger.”

Before Manato could even respond, the upper half of his left pinky was gone, replaced by a bloody stump of muscle. He could see a rough tip of bone before it was smothered by the thick, red blood that gushed out of the stump.

Raw unfiltered agony tore through Manato. He could only helplessly struggle and scream in torment against his restraints while his captors boredly watched.

Once Manato’s screams were reduced to tearful whimpers, the leader readied his scissors to snip off the next half.

Though he was experiencing hell, he refused to give his captors the satisfaction of breaking his will.

Before the scissors could fully sever Manato’s pinky finger, there were loud noises that caught everyone’s attention.

There was mainly muffled yelling, followed by things being knocked over, smashing noises and what sounded like things being sliced apart to Manato. No one could see what was going on, as the steel door was locked.

Then there was silence. 

Absolute silence like nothing even happened.

The leader’s calmness was quickly replaced by a hybrid of unease and annoyance. His brows creasing, he pointed and ordered his men, “You three, go check what the hell’s going on out there.”

The three men nodded in unison, unlocking the door and leaving the room. About ten seconds after they left however, there were more chaotic noises before it was silent again.

Without any prior warning, the steel door was breached open, causing its latch lock to be obliterated. Chunks of metal bounced and plinked on the concrete floor, landing near Manato’s feet.

Standing at the doorway was a figure dressed in all black. The figure was on the shorter side, their body visibly fit on the leaner side. The figure’s hair was a messy mop of black, their eyes containing unnaturally black pupils. A gaiter mask concealed the lower half of the figure’s face, leaving their full appearance up to imagination. Through a more focused look, Manato could see that the figure wore a black windbreaker paired with a pair of equally dark pants and high boots. A portion of the windbreaker’s sleeves were tucked beneath grey-plated tactical gloves that extended halfway up the figure’s forearms.

What alarmed everyone however, was that in one hand, the figure held a katana dripping with fresh blood. Their other hand, while empty, was stained with moist blood too.

The leader and his remaining men readied themselves against the abrupt intruder. Before they could even take a step forward however, their bodies were assaulted with a barrage of slashes. 

Manato watched in awe and horror as they were slain in seconds, all blitzed by the intruder. 

All except one.

The human torch was still alive. Not because the intruder was careless, but because the intruder was curious.

“That’s an interesting quirk. What’s it called?” the masculine sounding intruder nonchalantly asked, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Coming to his senses, the human torch rushed for Manato. Using his left hand, the human torch grabbed Manato’s neck and slammed him to the ground. He outstretched his other arm that glowed dangerously bright, and angled it at Manato’s head.

Without a doubt, it was a desperate attempt to hold Manato hostage.

“STEP ANY CLOSER AND I’LL BURN HIM ALIVE!!” the human torch threatened, trying to sound intimidating but obviously consumed by fear.

Without hesitation, the intruder dropped his katana and raised both arms, seemingly in surrender. 

“Look, I’d love to have fun with you but…”

In a flash, a knife was embedded into the human torch’s forehead, killing him instantly. The force from the blade sent his body flying a few inches, before it skidded on the ground.

Picking up his katana, the intruder flicked his weapon free of blood before sheathing it. Untroubled, he strolled towards the still-ignited body and plucked the tanto knife from the human torch's forehead. Using the same knife, he freed Manato from the chair.

“W-who… who are you?” Manato questioned, still in shock from whatever that happened seconds ago.

“Doesn’t matter. I was sent to get you out of here. Can you walk?”

Steadying his breath, Manato shakily picked himself up from the ground. “Other than my pinky finger and the scorch marks on my neck, I think I’m good,”

The intruder tossed a bandage at Manato’s direction, who barely caught it with his uninjured hand.

“Time to go,” the intruder commanded, stepping out of the room in the process. 

Manato followed suit while bandaging his pinky finger. Making their way through the building, Manato found that the place was strewn with bodies, courtesy of the intruder of course. Most of the corpses were violently riddled with slashes, though there were a few bodies that seemed to be victims of death from blunt force. Horrifically, there was one body that was missing the upper part of its head, its entire skull obliterated from crushing or a powerful blow. Behind what remained of the head was a wall splattered with a mix of crusted blood and slimy cranial matter. Twistedly, it resembled some piece of abstract art.

That explains the glove.

As a practicing doctor who occasionally dealt with the underground, Manato was used to seeing all sorts of bodily injury and harm, but even he was unsettled by the level of gore displayed.

In total, Manato counted about 25 or so bodies before approaching the building’s exit. There were potentially more, considering that the intruder probably had to clear the entire building to reach Manato.

He tried his best not to shudder.

T-this person, he’s a monster.

As Izuku and Manato stepped out of the office building, they found that it was already late into the night. Manato remembered that it was about twilight when someone pulled a bag over his head and yanked him into a vehicle while on his way back from work.

Fortunately for them, the surrounding streets appeared to be mostly empty, leaving no one to question Manato and Izuku’s less than ordinary appearance.

Without a word, Manato grabbed Izuku’s arm.

“Wait, where are we going?” Manato queried, no longer in a blur and thinking straight.

Izuku replied, “I’m bringing you to whoever sent me to rescue you in the first place.”

“How can I trust you?”

“You’ve seen what I can do. If I wanted to torture or kill you. I’d have done it already. Simple as that,” Izuku explained with a tone neutral enough that Manato couldn’t tell whether he was receiving a thinly veiled threat. 

Without any other options, Manato relented.

“Fine, but we need to stop by my house. It’s not too far from here. I recognize the area.” Manato requested.

Immediately, Izuku retorted with suppressed annoyance. “What? Why?”

You’re putting yourself at more risk of harm doing that. Whatever group that kidnapped you could be waiting for you there.” 

“I know, I know. It’s just… I have important things there. Data that can’t fall into their hands. If they find it-”

“I was paid to rescue you, not to escort you around wherever you want,” Izuku stressed, his annoyance growing.

“I’ll give you extra payment if you help me with this,” Manato unflinchingly offered, his voice firm.

“How much?”

“Two million yen.”

“...”

“Four million.”

Without half a thought formed within his mind, Izuku accepted the offer. An opportunity to double his earnings was nothing to ponder about. “Deal.”

“But, I have one condition.” Izuku reached for his pocket, pulling out a set of car keys and planting them into Manato’s good hand. “You drive,” Izuku demanded.

“Why? Can’t you see how badly my hand is injured?!” Manato questioned, mildly offended by Izuku’s suggestion.

“First, it’s faster that way, since you know the way. Second…”

“...I’m underage.” Izuku revealed.

“I don’t want my efforts to go up in smoke just because some police officer sees me driving,” he justified.

Unsurprisingly, Manato was dumbfounded by the revelation.

He blinked rapidly, his voice cracking as he spoke, “W-what? You’re underage?! You're joking aren’t you?!”

Izuku shrugged, his tone faintly amused. “Does it matter? You’re still alive.”

“Really, how old are you? You tore through an entire Yakuza safehouse like a storm of death! What kind of goddamn kid knows how to kill like that?!”

“If it’ll shut your mouth up, I’m sixteen. My height should be proof enough.”

“Six—sixteen?!” Manato’s voice rose as his face contorted in further disbelief. “You’re a kid! A literal kid! And you’re out here… doing this?! Who even hires- no, who lets a teenager do this kind of work?! 

Sighing, Izuku deadpanned in a sterner tone, “Quiet down or you’ll attract attention. Look, we don’t have time to debate the ethics of my life choices. You said you wanted to stop at your house for your precious documents, so we leave now, or I’ll knock you out then drag your body to where it needs to be.”

Manato’s shoulders slumped. This was insane. He was being rescued by this random teenager who had an obscene amount of blood on his hands, probably more than some villains had over their lifetime. Yet, there was no denying that the kid knew what he was doing.

Manato groaned, looking at his injured hand. “My hand is still in excruciating pain and you want me to-”

“It won’t be that hard.” Izuku interrupted. His voice carried an air of finality. “I’ve seen people with worse do more.”

Izuku recalled that Toji had once hunted an elite sorcerer from the Kamo clan during his younger years. The sorcerer did give quite a lot of trouble to a more inexperienced Toji.

Not as much as Satoru Gojo of course, nothing could rival that snow-haired demon.

The Kamo sorcerer was persistent, for the lack of a better word. Remarkably, with every cut, with every appendage severed by Toji, the man somehow found ways to utilize his injuries to his benefit, using his Blood Manipulation cursed technique in ways that Toji didn’t even think were possible.

At the end of the day though, it wasn’t enough to best the Sorcerer Killer.

“Trust me. Or don’t. Either way, we move now.”

Manato opened his mouth to argue again, but his will faltered when he noticed the sharp glint in Izuku’s eyes.  “Alright, if we crash, it’s on you. But, if you’re underage, that means you don’t have a car. Then where did you even get those car keys from?

Izuku smirked underneath his mask. “I swiped it up from one of the bodies inside. It should belong to one of the cars parked around here.”

Manato pressed the key’s unlock button, causing a nearby car to sound off in the distance.

The car turned out to be a luxurious sports car, coloured a sleek graphite gray and shining under dim streetlights. Based on the car’s more classic and refined appearance, Manato figured that the car was probably a Mercedes or BMW model that had been released a few years back.

Izuku’s smile widened into a full grin, “We’re in luck”

Despite driving a sports car, Manato didn’t dare drive too fast or recklessly. The sharp pain in his finger was sapping at his focus. Every turn of the car seemed to worsen, but he had no other choice but to grit his teeth and bear with it.

Some time after hitting the road, Manato noticed that Izuku had pulled down his mask, revealing his boyish face that was far more innocent than what Manato expected. It felt surreal, seeing that the kid was the same person who cut through grown men like nothing. The same person who reduced someone’s skull to chunks of flesh on a wall.

Yet the quiet intensity radiating from Izuku was unsettling. Every move, every glance, spoke of someone who'd seen far, far too much violence, someone who was well beyond his years in every sense.

Perhaps the scar on his mouth served as an ironic reminder of his true nature.

Even stranger, there was this familiarity. Manato couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen this kid somewhere before. But under the weight of exhaustion and the night’s events, the memory evaded his grasp.

Out of curiosity, Manato couldn’t help but ask Izuku why he pulled down his mask. 

Other than for curiosity’s sake, Manato also supposed that some small talk would distract him from the pain and help ease the mood.

“So that the other cars don’t think something weird is going on. People might think that I’m robbing, holding you hostage or some other nonsense."

“Besides, I don’t like wearing masks. They feel stuffy.”

“Then why wear them in the first place?” Manato pressed.

“I have a life outside all of this. I don’t intend on exposing myself,” Izuku explained.

Manato glanced sideways at Izuku, still processing everything he’d just learned. This bloodstained teenager, an assassin, had a “life outside of this”? What kind of life? School? Friends? A family who thought he was just some normal kid?

“Then why do any of this? You should be focusing on school, a normal life. Not whatever this is.” Manato argued.

Izuku turned his gaze to the side, looking out of the window at the dimly lit streets of Musutafu. His youthful face, softened by the neon lights, almost appeared serene.

“The thrill of it. It’s…”  He stopped short, biting his tongue and catching himself from saying too much.

It’s the only thing Toji knew, what I know now. It’s what’s taken over me, what I’ve become.

“You’re insane,” Manato muttered, gripping the wheel tighter. His eyes darted to the faint scar that crossed Izuku’s mouth. “You’re telling me you do all this, risk your life, kill people, for the thrill?”

“Not exactly. But when you're good at something, why not enjoy it?  I do keep rules. No senseless killing.” He paused, then added with a smile, “Well, most of the time.”

Sensing that Manato was still horrified, Izuku chuckled in a way that felt too mature for someone his age. “It’s not as if I go out of my way to take meaningless jobs. The people I deal with usually deserve it. Criminals like the ones who had you? The world won’t miss them.”

“You’re awfully open about all this,” 

“You didn’t break when you were tortured, I assume that keeping a little secret should be easy enough. But,” Izuku’s smile vanished. “If your mouth slips, I’ll make sure that you regret it.”

Manato gulped. He didn’t doubt that the kid would go through with whatever he planned.

The rest of the drive was silent. Not long later, they arrived at Manato’s house without incident. The house was a modest two-story, tucked into a quiet neighborhood. It didn’t stand out, blending with the other similarly designed houses in the vicinity. Izuku scanned the area as they parked, hand resting on the hilt of his katana.

Manato stepped out of the car, followed closely behind by Izuku, who had already pulled his mask back up.

Manato fumbled with the doorknob, realizing that his keys were lost at the Yakuza safehouse. Without a word, Izuku took a step forward and swiftly kicked the door. The frame splintered as the lock shattered, the noise echoing into the dimly lit house.

Entering the house, Izuku unexpectedly heard what sounded like animal noises emanating from deep within the house. Curious, he followed Manato into what appeared to be a sprawling office.

Izuku was pleasantly awed as he took in the office. Lining the walls were tens of glass enclosures and cages that housed all kinds of animals, ranging from local to exotic creatures.

What was special however, was that the animals all seemed to possess some kind of quirk. Among Manato’s collection included animals like a rabbit that appeared to have shiny metal scales, a lizard that phased in and out of existence every few seconds, and a four-legged eagle that was without doubt a literal gryphon from mythology.

“You’re a veterinarian?” Izuku asked, genuine interest filling in his voice.

“I’m a geneticist,” Manato corrected as he sorted through heaps of documents on his desk. “And a general practitioner. Collecting animals with quirks and researching them, it's a hobby of mine. I find it fascinating to study how genetics correlate with quirks, how they affect an organism's physiology, human and non-human included. 

Izuku consciously resisted the urge to share his thoughts out loud. If he wasn’t on the job, he would’ve enthusiastically taken notes on the animals, along with peppering the doctor with questions. He stepped closer to the enclosures, his guarded demeanor slipping as he studied the creatures with visible interest. 

Seeing Izuku look at the animals with near visible excitement reminded Manato there really was a teenager within. He found the moment oddly wholesome.

While sifting through the files, a certain file caught Manato’s eye. The file was a medical report, something a colleague of his had handed him months ago. 

Taking a closer look at the file's cover, his eyes widened.

This-this, it can’t be.

He turned to Izuku in sheer shock.

“Y-you’re Izuku Midoriya, aren’t you?” he stammered out.

Chapter Text

This-this, it can’t be.

He turned to Izuku in sheer shock.

“Y-you’re Izuku Midoriya, aren’t you?” he stammered out.

In an instant, Manato felt Izuku’s hand against his throat.

Shit. 

“Gahk!!” Manato cried as his back was smashed into the ground. The ceramic tiles beneath him splintered like glass, producing a deafening crack that seemed to agitate some of the animals within his office. The overwhelming display of force also made Manato question if any of his bones were broken by the impact.

He clawed against Izuku’s hand to no effect. The boy’s hold was cast like iron around his neck, virtually unmovable and unbreakable.

There was no escape.

In a single motion, Izuku drew his tanto knife and flipped it into a reverse grip, descending it upon Manato’s head.

Manato could barely brace himself for the inevitable, but to his shock, he found the blade halting just short of an inch away from his left eye. It left him trembling with each breath.

If he even twitched the wrong way, there was no doubt that the blade would go straight through his brain.

“How the hell do you know that? You have five seconds,” Izuku threateningly questioned, his voice transforming into a murderous growl.

Before, Manato thought that outside of the killing and violent tendencies, the boy was rather approachable, as bizarre as it sounded.

Now, that boy had vanished, replaced by the same manifestation of death that had ravaged through the safehouse without a shred of restraint or mercy.

It was almost like something else had possessed the boy.

He’d transformed into a different person.

A demon unleashed.

He was going to die here, all because he didn’t think before he spoke.

Fuck! Why didn't I keep my mouth shut?!

Izuku’s voice rose to a roar, consumed by a certain mania. “Tell me! It was Kong wasn't it?!”

It was the only answer that made sense to Izuku in his frenzied state. Kong was the only other person he’d interacted with while working as an assassin, the only other person who’d seen his real face in this bloody line of work. 

She betrayed me.

Even though he used an alias, she’d somehow found out his true identity. It wasn’t out of the question that she or one of her associates had a quirk that unveiled his true identity. For money? For information? The reason didn’t matter.

That bitch is dead! I’ll rip her apart!

Manato struggled to respond as he fought for every breath. Somehow, he managed to choke out, “N-no, Duh- Dr Mi- Mi-yazaki-i.”

“What?”

Izuku was completely taken aback by Manato’s answer, his grip on Manato’s neck slackening slightly.

The doctor who oversaw me at the hospital?

“ *Gasp* Dr Miyazaki, he’s how I know who you are.” Manato repeated in desperation, fighting with each breath.

"Long time no see, Dr Miyazaki.” Manato greeted, his face lighting up with joy.

“Please, how many times have I told you , calling me Miyazaki is enough, especially outside of work.” Dr Miyazaki declined, a kind smile on his face.

Manato smiled in return. “It’s only right that I address a senior colleague correctly, especially a good friend of my father’s”

Dr Miyazaki let out a warm laugh, before taking a seat across Manato.

“So, what did you call me to lunch to talk about?” Manato questioned as he sipped some lemonade from a chilled glass.

“You’re an outstanding geneticist, especially for someone of your age, so I thought that I’d get some insight from you regarding a certain matter,” Dr Miyazaki revealed.

“ ‘Outstanding’ sounds a bit much,” Manato humbly replied.

“No need to act so humble, Manato.”

“Anyhow, It’s about the curious case of one of my recent patients, a boy,” Dr Miyazaki revealed as he handed a file containing a certain patient’s records. On the cover was a picture of a lightly freckled boy with fluffy green hair and equally green eyes. 

Looks like a normal kid, nothing to write home about.

As Manato read through the file, Dr Watanabe proceeded to give an account about Izuku Midoriya, a boy who experienced a fatal accident the left him in a close to vegetative state. The boy was deemed a lost case, until unusually, his body began to heal and repair itself at an unnaturally increased rate, as if he possessed a hidden regeneration quirk. At the end, his body had undergone, to paraphrase Dr Miyazaki, “some kind of metamorphosis”, blessing the boy with improved physicality and biology that was comparable to some people with mutant type quirks.

Intriguingly, all of this happened within the span of barely a week. 

Most intriguing though, was that the boy was quirkless.

The boy was quirkless.

Once Dr Miyazaki finished his dialogue, Manato was ready to provide his insight.

Sighing, he began. “You must be mistaken, Dr Miyazaki,” Manato informed, trying to sound as gentle as he could.

“You already said it yourself, the boy was born with a double jointed toe. It’s scientifically impossible for him to possess any kind of quirk.”

It goes against all science we know.

“But his readings…”

“He could’ve been under the effect of someone else’s quirk before the accident. Transformed by some sort of enhancement or healing quirk. It’s a thousand times more likely that something like that happened. Point is, the kid achieving this kind of recovery without the help of a quirk of any kind”

“It's not possible,” Manato emphasized.

“And don’t go on about the Heavenly Restriction nonsense he proposed. Don’t tell me you’re seriously considering what he’s said. He’s a teenager and you’re a doctor. You should know the difference.”

Realizing that he might’ve spoken a bit too out of line, Manato composed himself. “I’m not saying that you’re a fool or anything like that. I know that you’ve been trying to find a breakthrough that’ll put your name in the textbooks, but this isn’t it.”

Visibly, Dr Miyazaki was disappointed.

Feeling bad, Manato forced a smile. “Let’s not think too much about that. After all, this is the perfect time to catch up.

Dr Miyazaki sighed, before his expression shifted into one of unwilling resignation. 

“Perhaps you’re right. So, any new pets?”

“I-I swear I forgot all about it, until I saw the file.”

Once Manato was done telling his side of the story, Izuku let go, leaving Manato to curl on the ground, weakly nursing the newly formed bruises on his neck.

“The file… it indicated nothing about… this. You sounded like a normal kid who got in a horrible accident”

“I was,” Izuku coldly deflected.

Manato’s mind spiraled into a whirlwind of questions. “Then… what is all of this? Were those records faked? What’s actually going on?

“I don’t need to answer any of that to you,” Izuku replied, sounding even colder with a hint of a threat.

“What about your hair and eyes, they were green, not pure black. What happened to them?” Manato asked, trying to grasp Izuku’s situation.

Izuku laughed at Manato’s question. “It's nothing as important as you think. Just hair dye and contact lenses”

Manato blinked. He was an idiot for asking that. “So-”

“Shouldn’t you be focusing on gathering your documents? You-” Izuku nudged in exasperation, before he was interrupted by a distinctly strange noise from within the office.

“Blergh.”

Both Izuku and Manato turned their heads to the source of the noise. The noise originated from a python within one of the enclosures. The python had purple and green scales that mixed together in a beautifully mesmerizing fashion. It was moderate in size for its species, possessing a girth that was comparable to Izuku’s muscular but lean forearms.

The noise was produced by the python, as it regurgitated what looked to be bags containing some kind of white powder.

Izuku couldn’t believe it.

The only other time he felt this surge of emotion was when he met Kong.

This-this.

It can’t be

Making his way closer to the python’s enclosure, Izuku gazed intently at the bicoloured serpent with a nostalgic smile hidden beneath his mask, showing even through his eyes.

Seeing Izuku’s interest towards the python, Manato began telling Izuku about the reptile.

“That’s a snake that I got after I saved a smuggler’s life. He has a quirk that allows him to store non-organic matter in some kind of pocket dimension. Sort of like a bottomless pit. Occasionally, he’ll throw up some weird stuff, like those bags of drugs I think.”

Izuku’s smile turned into a wide grin. Without thinking, he blurted out, “How much for the snake?” 

Unintentionally, his voice lost its cold edge.

Manato was visibly confused. “What?”

Realising that his excitement slipped straight through his facade of indifference, Izuku faked a cough in a blatant attempt to mask it.

“ *Cough* Yeah, how much for the snake?” Izuku reiterated in a far more neutral tone.

Manato looked at Izuku, still confused.

Shaking his head, Manato informed, “He’s not for sale.”

“Please,” Izuku pleaded, his expression softening. The demon faded, replaced by the boy who’d chatted with him in the car. “You won’t have to pay me extra, the snake will be payment enough.”

“In fact, I’ll forfeit the money from my initial contract to you if you just let me have him,” Izuku hastily added, just in case his initial offer wouldn’t suffice.

Witnessing Izuku's almost childlike desperation was unreal considering that the boy almost ran a blade through his skull. Yet Manato couldn’t say no. Mainly out of fear of what Izuku would do to him, and partially because he could feel that Izuku did genuinely like the snake.

For the second time in the same night, Manato relented to Izuku’s request. “Fine, you can have him. And no need to forfeit your initial contract. I’m not that poor. Just make sure to take good care of him.”

Unlocking the glass cage, Izuku reached out the snake, who while at first seemed apprehensive of the perceived stranger, gradually crawled onto his arm and curled around his chest, resting its head upon his shoulder.

“You look a lot cuter than the curse Toji had, that's for sure,” he commented, recalling the inventory curse that had accompanied Toji through years of work.

He locked eyes with the snake. “I can tell we’re gonna like each other.”

Softly, he added, “Like in another life.”

Once Manato had finished collecting whatever he needed, the assassin and doctor set off in their sports car once more.

Their destination was a hotel on the other side of Musutafu. According to Kong, the place was owned by the job’s client. It doubled as both an actual hotel and a hub for underground activity.

Based on a rumour he heard, Manato claimed that the hotel’s owners paid monthly bribes to the city council to “close an eye” for certain activities within a designated radius of the hotel. Thus, the number of hero patrols assigned to the area were lesser compared to most of the city, complimented by a reduced police presence.

Nearing the hotel, Izuku eye’d the streets and found nothing suspicious around. No sign of ambushes. No strange individuals. 

Nothing.

Manato breathed a sigh of relief at the calm.

“Make a left,” Izuku instructed, following his phone’s gps.

Making a left brought their car two blocks closer from arriving at the hotel.

As their car approached an intersection, Izuku’s enhanced vision allowed him to catch something that was moving in front of their car.

It was a spear. 

A spear that was sailing straight for Manato’s head.

“Move!” Izuku forced Manato’s head to the side, causing the spear to pierce the windshield and impale the car’s driver seat, rather than Manato’s head.

Before Manato could slam on the brakes however, a jeep appeared from the left, ramming into their car as it barely passed the intersection.

The Mercedes flipped, tumbling violently for a few seconds. Miraculously, the car landed upright, though its engine sputtered weakly before shutting down.

By then, the civilians in the vicinity had begun to flee, believing that a villain attack was happening.

Without warning, there was a loud thud on the roof of the car, followed by a gloved hand reaching for the spear lodged in the car’s windshield.

Predicting that the assassin’s next move, Izuku yanked Manato to his side, narrowly saving the doctor from a flurry of stabs piercing the roof from above.

Talk about ruining a perfectly nice car.

Kicking the door open, Izuku shoved Manato out of the car. As Manato stumbled out the car however, the assassin leapt down with his spear, raised to skewer Manato.

Swiftly, Izuku followed-up with blinding speed, dashing to Manato’s front and unsheathing his Katana to parry the spear wielding assassin’s thrust. The unexpected parry forced the spearman back.

The spear-wielding assassin was plated in metal armour that resembled a samurai outfit, with a modern twist. A silvery grey mask that was decorated with serpentine motifs engulfed the spearman’s head, ensuring that his expression couldn’t be read for his opponent’s advantage.

Wielding a Yari spear that gleamed in the moonlight, the spearman twirled his spear almost in respect, before renewing his assault against Izuku with a series of rapid thrusts.  

Manato could only look as Izuku and the spearman traded fiercely, each collision of their blades producing sparks. To Izuku’s excitement, the spearman was no ordinary thug, keeping up with his speed and ferocity, deflecting his slashes in turn.

With a feint however, Izuku managed to catch the spearman off guard, launching a low hook aimed at the chest. Barely, the spearman braced for the blow with the shaft of his spear, but was sent skidding across the asphalt.

Despite the armour, the spearman struggled to recover as he rose to his feet, the impact visibly jarring him.

If that punch had landed, the spearman was certain that his ribcage would have been shattered.

To Izuku’s surprise as well, the spearman’s spear didn’t break.

He’s a step up from anyone I’ve fought so far. Someone who actually knows how to really fight.

Izuku grinned.

This’ll be fun.

Instead of continuing though, the spearman lept away in the direction of the jeep.

Taking the opportunity, Izuku ordered Manato, “Stay behind the car and take care of him,” simultaneously letting his snake slither into Manato’s grasp.

Manato hesitated, “It’s just two blocks away I should-”

“They’ll have someone else waiting for you. I’m bringing you there myself.”

Nodding with Izuku’s snake in his arms, Manato fled to the back of the car, leaving Izuku to confront whoever else that was after Manato’s head.

Izuku stepped closer to the jeep, bearing witness to the four figures that were making their way to him.

Leading the group was a spectacled man with brown hair, who was outfitted in a tactical jacket plated in key areas. His face was half-shrouded by a silvery-gray mask shaped like the feral maw of a tiger, complete with gleaming fangs. What was to be taken note off however, was the ruggedly designed silvery grey gauntlet that encased the man’s right arm. Izuku’s senses told him that the man’s quirk was somehow concentrated around said arm.

Flanking the leader on the left of was a figure whose head was adorned with an geometrically intricate dragon mask, also silver-gray that reflected a muted light with its angular edges. Izuku assumed that said figure was a woman, noting the luscious red hair that trailed behind her mask and her more curvaceous body. A sharp contrast to her hair was the tactical black armor that hugged her lean and athletic frame. The lady’s quirk appeared to be a large, obsidian-scaled tail that swayed rhythmically behind her with each step, its tip affixed with a scythe-like attachment of some sort. 

To the right was a man riding what appeared to be a black… stallion?

It wasn’t a real horse. Undoubtedly, it was a rather unique manifestation of the rider’s quirk. The translucent steed was almost spectral, shimmering faintly in the night like an illusion and moving with an unsettling silence. Its rider’s mask vaguely resembled a knight’s helmet. Slung across his back was a sleek compound bow, its limbs polished to a deadly sheen. The quiver strapped to his thigh brimmed with arrows tipped in a substance that shined in the dark.

Of course, there was the spearman alongside them as well.

It wasn’t too far-fetched to think that all of the assassins were as equally skilled or better than the spearman. Their poise and preparation spoke of professional killers who were industry veterans.

Their tiger masked leader stepped forward, his voice distorted by a modulator to sound beast-like. “We just want the doctor, hand him over. We'll pay you whatever that you were owned.”

Izuku’s face scrunched into one of offense. He’d never betray a client that easily. Toji probably would. 

Well, maybe?

“Funny to say that, after your friend there tried to kill him,” Izuku retorted, pointing at the katana at the spearman who shifted slightly and gripped his spear at the gesture.

The leader exhaled. “I’ll take that as a no?”

“No,” Izuku insisted calmly.

Without hesitation, the leader motioned to his team, “Well then, you all know what to do.”

Chapter Text

As the words left the Leader’s mouth, his subordinates sprang like clockwork to begin their attack.

To respond in kind, Izuku propelled himself forward in a blur of speed that cracked the pavement beneath him.

Without hesitation, the Dragon Lady sprinted at Izuku in return, her movements fluid and agile. When she was close enough, she dropped to the ground, using her momentum to swing her tail in a vicious horizontal arc aimed at Izuku’s torso.

Unfazed, Izuku intercepted the blow. The clash rang out as the sheer force behind her attack pushed Izuku back an inch.The blow was more powerful than Izuku expected.

“What’s wrong? Too much for you to handle?” Her voice was youthful, sharp, and brimming with arrogance. Even behind her mask, Izuku could picture a feral grin.

Izuku straightened, his grip steady. “No. It’s weaker than I expected. Guess that fancy tail of yours is all for show.”

Before Izuku could properly counter, he sensed that the air near him had distorted, indicating a volley of arrows rushing towards his head. He strafed to dodge the arrows, simultaneously turned to deliver a reactive, unrestrained backhand aimed at the Dragon Lady’s face, who surged forward to capitalize on the moment.

Caught off guard, the Dragon Lady barely managed to block the blow with her tail, though the impact sent her skidding across the pavement. She rolled for a few feet, before stabilizing herself with metallic claws that sparked as they scratched the ground.

Izuku didn’t know it, but beneath her mask, the Dragon lady’s eyes went wide.

T-this force?! 

Gritting her teeth with unease, the dragon lady’s confidence in defeating her opponent faltered, before she grinned again, remembering her odds.

He can’t win against four of us!

While the Dragon Lady recovered, Izuku spared a glance at the arrows embedded into the walls and ground, directing his focus towards the horseman who fired them.

Those arrows… they’re faster than they should be. They’re boosted by his quirk. 

A nuisance.

Izuku increased his pace towards the horseman, before breaking into a full blown sprint with intent to kill. Witnessing Izuku’s advance, the horseman began galloping away, turning back to fire a series of arrows that Izuku weaved through with ease.

Closing in, he propelled himself in a forward arc, intending to deliver a crushing blow with his fist. However, a flash of movement from the left forced Izuku to twist. He narrowly avoided a punch that was directed at his skull, the force of it disturbing his hair.

Mid-air, Izuku’s pupils intently shifted to the origin of the punch, finding that it belonged to Tiger-masked leader.

He landed unharmed with a roll, turning to properly face the leader who was adjusting his stance for a renewed assault.

The Leader glared fiercely at Izuku.“Not so fast,” he warned.

“Is that why you’re the tiger, cause you have four eyes?” Izuku mocked, referencing the Leader’s glasses.

Without another word, the Leader charged, launching a barrage of punches at Izuku, all at vital points, aimed to incapacitate. Without fail, Izuku deflected every single attack. 

The leader didn’t disappoint either. Every swing of Izuku’s katana was met by the leader’s gauntlet, each parry releasing distinct metallic clangs. Izuku aimed to destroy the gauntlet, but it was easier said than done. Its owner was skilled enough to angle the gauntlet in a way that absorbed most of the force it would receive, ensuring virtually zero damage from Izuku’s slashes.

Despite the leader’s astounding feat of keeping up with him, Izuku could tell that his current opponent hadn’t used his quirk yet.

Parallel to the leader, Izuku wasn’t going all in either. He wasn’t too keen on going all out. It wasn’t like he would struggle to kill them, it’d just take more time. Though like gambling, showing one’s best hand as an opening was never a wise move. 

In addition, it would be nicer to keep any collateral damage to a minimum.

If his base strength is this solid, his quirk should be strong enough to pose a threat to me.

With a quick scan of his surroundings mid-brawl with the leader, Izuku assessed the situation to determine his next move. 

To his left, the Dragon Lady began charging towards him again, fully recovered with her tail coiling for another strike.

A glint of light also told him that the horseman was somewhere in the distance, raising his bow to fire another round of arrows.

The Spearman however, was nowhere to be seen.

Which means…

Of course…

Izuku’s instincts flared. He feinted with an empty hand to deliver an unannounced palm strike just as the leader was parrying one of his slashes, a low blow rushing towards the gut. The leader blocked the blow without issue, but the change took him aback.

In the blink of an eye, Izuku disengaged and turned away from the leader, dashing towards the wrecked car.

The Tiger Leader and the Dragon Lady followed suit, accompanied by distortions in the air stemming from the rush of arrows. Izuku dodged the arrows with each step, his senses directing each move.

“MANATO! MOVE!” he yelled out. 

Manato ran from the wreck, snake in hand, stumbling to get as far away as he could. He barely saw a blur sailing through the air, aimed to tear through his chest.

Izuku flung his Katana at the blinding projectile. His blade spun like a fan before colliding with the head of the spear mid-flight. A sharp metallic thang rang into the air, before both weapons landed on the ground, far from where the battle.

Both the leader and the dragon lady surged forward to capitalize on Izuku’s lack of a weapon. A new set of arrows followed their advance.

Without even looking back, Izuku raised a foot.

Both his pursuers barely caught on to his next move. 

In a manner that was far too calm for someone who was in the middle of a fight, Izuku stomped into the asphalt.

The ground shattered, splitting into large chunks that spread in a circle with a radius of several meters. The road deformed violently, slabs rising from the ground with a burst of force that sent even smaller pieces of rock flying. The incoming arrows blew off course from the sheer wind force generated.

Izuku snapped his gaze toward his attackers, assessing the aftermath of his move. The move had done its job, disrupting their advance just enough. His hand itched to reach for his katana, but it had landed too far, flung with more force than he intended in the heat of the moment. Going after it would leave Manato vulnerable.

Both enemies had come to a halt. The Dragon Lady stood firm, arms crossed defensively with her tail coiled in front like a shield, bracing against the impact, while her superior was crouched slightly down with his gauntleted palm on the ground, seeming to steel himself against the force.

The scaled assassin’s questions grew more at the sight of her adversary’s power.

Who the hell is this guy?! How’d he stay under our radar for so long?

Her boss’s thoughts were far less hectic.

Perfect…

He activated an earpiece within his mask. “Buy me some time,” he commanded

“Of course.”

“Got it!”

 “...Hmmph.” 

The Dragon Lady and the Spearman descended upon Izuku in unison, while the Horseman had disappeared from sight, very likely positioning himself in a new vantage point. Izuku stood at the center, prepared to weather himself against the incoming maelstrom of assaults. 

The Dragon Lady lunged first, her tail whipping through the air like a serpent’s strike. Izuku sidestepped, the tail missing him by inches and gouging a deep furrow into the ground. With sleight of hand, a tanto knife appeared in Izuku’s hand, speeding towards the Dragon Lady’s abdomen.

Hopefully she doesn’t have scales underneath.

The blade struck a gap between her armour plates, piercing skin and travelling all the way through her naked flesh.

She shrieked, staggering from the sudden burst of pain. “Aahh!!”

Izuku ripped the blade free, a spray of crimson splattering onto the asphalt. Traces of blood fecked the unmasked parts of his face. He prepared to deliver a rush of stabs, not too dissimilar to what Toji had done to Satoru Gojo.

The knife struck again, but before it could fully sink into her flesh for a second time, she managed to catch Izuku’s wrist with both clawed hands, halting the blade halfway into the wound.

She desperately held on to it. “Ng-gaahh… You…,” she muttered, shock and fury overflowing from her voice.

Unsympathetic, Izuku reeled his arm and lobbed a haymaker at her armoured head with his free hand. The impact cracked a portion of her helmet.

She flew from the resulting force, tumbling across the pavement without even trying to balance herself, her instincts dulled by pain and concussion.

Before Izuku could continue further, the Spearman thrust his weapon forward from Izuku’s right, the tip gleaming with lethal intent. Izuku twisted his body, the spear barely grazing his side as he pivoted on his heel. With a fluid motion, he stomped down on the spear’s head, using the Spearman’s momentum against him.

The sudden stop jerked the Spearman forward, throwing him off-balance for a brief second. Izuku yanked the weapon forward and delivered a swift frontal kick, sending the assassin flying backwards.

Mikiri counter, always works against these idiots.

From what he remembered during Toji's time in the Kukuru unit, It was a technique that originated from the Sengoku era, at least that’s what Toji was told. All they knew for sure was that the technique was simple but deadly.

As he tossed the spear aside, the Dragon Lady had recovered, closing the distance in a flash. Her steel lined claws cut through the air in a savage flurry of strikes. She fought like a wounded animal would. Erratic, wild, but no less dangerous.

Izuku parried with his tanto knife, slashing and stabbing. At the same time, his senses tracked the hiss of arrows from the mounted assassin slicing through the air. He dodged any arrows that got too close, all while defending against the Dragon Lady.

Although injured and fighting erratically, the Dragoness was still skilled enough to deflect Izuku’s attacks. The sound of her claws scraping against his knife echoed sharply, accompanied by the noise of arrowheads planting themselves in the ground.

Then she lashed out, a sudden burst of ferocity. Her tail whipped in a wide horizontal arc, a blur of motion with crushing force. Izuku raised his blade to block the powerful strike.

Unfortunately, his tanto shattered on contact. Fragments of steel scattered like shrapnel.

“Crap,” Izuku hissed under his breath.

Left with no choice, Izuku backstepped further than he would’ve liked to dodge the hit. 

With some distance between them, the jaw of Dragon Lady’s mask unhinged, a faint glow emanating from within her mouth.

A torrent of roaring flame stretching several meters surged through the air, forcing Izuku to roll to avoid the searing fire. The heat licked at his skin, but he sprinted to outpace the trail of fire, eyes never leaving his opponents.

The Spearman recovered quickly, his movements now more calculated. The moment the Dragon Lady’s flamethrower sputtered out, he reappeared, thrusting his spear in a blur of motion as he advanced. Izuku dodged the first thrust, then the second, but the third grazed his hair. The Spearman smirked beneath his mask, confident in the range advantage. But Izuku wasn’t done. As the Spearman prepared another strike, Izuku feinted to the left, then darted forward. He grabbed the spear mid-thrust with an iron grip and yanked it downward, using the leverage to deliver a spinning elbow strike to the Spearman’s jaw. 

Before the blow connected, Izuku sensed movement behind him. He rolled to the side, dodging a vertical strike from the Dragon Lady’s tail that would’ve dismantled his shoulder had it landed. Mid-roll, Izuku pivoted with his arms to deliver a high kick at the Spearman, forcing the Spearman to leap away.

Izuku barely regained his footing when the Dragon’s Lady’s bladed tail whipped toward his skull. He dropped into a crouch, the blade slicing air where his head had been. But she was relentless. 

As he rose, her clawed hand lashed out, aiming to tear through his throat. Izuku threw up his forearm to block, the attack forcing him to take a step back. 

Pivoting low, he swept a kick at her legs. She vaulted effortlessly over it with a backflip, but Izuku was already surging forward. His hand snapped out, seizing her tail mid-swing. He spun, hurling her entire body into the nearest building as she yelled. The wall exploded inward in a storm of shattered concrete and billowing dust.  

Before the debris settled, the Spearman struck. With a grunt, he hurled his spear skyward and vanished in a flash. 

A small arc of raw electrical energy, tinted orange, travelled to the weapon. The Spearman rematerialized out of energy, plunging down towards Izuku like a thunderbolt. 

Izuku threw himself sideways, the spearhead gouging and cratering the earth where he’d stood. The Spearman landed in a coiled crouch, pulling his weapon free. The spear became a blur, its shaft whirling in defense as he circled, eyes sharp. Then, the Spearman hurled the spear again. Izuku dodged, but the spearman teleported again, and again with each toss of the spear, striking from a new angle each time.

Though Izuku didn’t have much issue evading the spear’s thrusts, landing a counterattack became near impossible. The spearman zapped away nearly instantly. If he caught the spear itself, it dissolved into searing energy and snapped back to the Spearman’s grip.

Even more annoying were the arrows that were still coming.  

Izuku’s mind churned, dissecting the patterns.  

Teleportation tethered to the spear. He’s “snaking” around the place. The spear's like an anchor. It’s bound to him as well somehow.

He’s rewriting his position with each throw. But there’s a lag… a delay with each teleport.

A curious smile almost crept onto Izuku’s face.

Looks like everyone’s cards are on the table now, 

Except…

From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the Tiger Leader. The man appeared to be observing his subordinates, but was actually scanning the area.

His gauntleted arm glowed faintly as he reeled it back. 

Being able to see the shape of the soul gave him a rough idea of where a body’s energy was directed at.

Izuku’s instincts screamed at him.

He followed the Leader’s line of sight and saw Manato with his snake, trying to sneak away to another block. 

The realization hit him like a thunderclap.

“MANATO, DOWN!” Izuku shouted, but it was too late.

The Leader’s arm shot forward, and the air itself seemed to fracture. A concentrated wave of force erupted from his gauntlet, a devastating beam of energy that tore through the ground like a tidal wave. Izuku moved in a blur, his body a streak of motion as he pushed Manato to the ground. The force of the blast missed the doctor by inches, but it struck Izuku head-on, lifting him off his feet and propelling him. 

The wave slammed into a moderately sized building behind where Izuku and Manato were. A large spiderweb crack spread across the entirety of the derelict building’s surface. Instantly after that, it was Izuku’s turn to collide with the building. He smashed through the outer wall, going through two or three more walls before he was on the ground.

The structure groaned under the second impact, cracks spiderwebbing even more across its surface. 

Izuku coughed, his vision swimming as he pushed himself to his feet. His body ached, but he forced himself to focus. He dashed out just as the building collapsed, sending a cloud of dust billowing into the air. He hoped no one had been inside, but there was no time to dwell on it. 

The Leader’s quirk was now clear. The man could absorb energy like a capacitor, before discharging it as a devastating blow.

A dangerous quirk, especially in the hands of someone so skilled.

As the dust settled, Izuku’s eyes locked onto the Leader, who stood poised for another attack. The Dragon Lady emerged from the rubble of the other building, her tail flicking menacingly, while the Spearman readied his weapon. The three assassins closed in, clearly upping the ante.

Izuku took a deep breath, steadying himself.

Chapter Text

Izuku filtered through the area, scanning for any sign of Manato as the dust settled fully. He mostly scanned the ground,  knowing that he tackled Manato down to avoid the Leader’s shockwave.

To his concern, there was no trace of Manato within sight. A trace of unease gripped Izuku as he inferred that Manato had been captured or killed. 

Without wasting a second, he locked his gaze onto the silhouettes of the three approaching figures, analyzing their movements.

Fortunately, none of them appeared to have a captive. 

The Spearman held his spear in hand. With a clearer look, Izuku found that the spearhead was clean. It was slightly worn from damage but free of any dark stains, indicating that the weapon hadn’t been thrust through any flesh yet.

Factoring in the Horseman, it was possible that Manato had been snatched away by that airborne pest. Though based on the Horseman’s role throughout the skirmish so far, that wasn’t too likely. The archer stuck to providing surveillance and ranged support, not direct action.

That only left one possibility that Izuku could conceive of, that being the possibility of Manato picking himself up and fleeing while the dust cloud was thick enough to mask his escape.

A soft exhale of relief exited Izuku.

More slippery than I thought.

Izuku tensed, ready to bolt at any glimpse of of Manato, until the Leader’s voice cut through the air.

“I didn’t have to do that,” the Leader announced, gesturing to the collapsed building. “If you just gave up and let us take care of the doctor there’d be less trouble for all of us involved.”

Izuku stepped forward, forcing down the urge to scoff as his boot crunched on asphalt.

Didn’t have to do that? What a hypocrite. What part of leveling a building was necessary?

The Leader kept talking, studying Izuku with interest like a bug in a jar. “You’re not some nobody, you’re very good, too good.”

The tiger-themed assassin adjusted his aviator rim glasses (which were shockingly still on) with a finger and crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. “So why waste your blood and sweat, to protect him, when it’s clearly better to give him up?”

“I stick to my word,” Izuku spat, slightly offended by the suggestion.

“We were supposed to take him alive, though with you around, it seems that killing the two of you would be faster at this rate.”

Izuku raised an eyebrow. “Won’t your boss mind?”

“Our orders were clear. ‘Don’t let the Doctor fall into the wrong hands.’ That’s what our client instructed. Alive was preferred, but no mention of it being a requirement.”

“So please, I’m asking for the last time.  Hand him over.”

“...”

“No.” Izuku’s answer was firm and final.

Uncrossing his arms, the Leader began to walk forward, ready to continue. “We've already wasted too much time.”

“Time to speed things up,” he declared.

The declaration was a starting gun, its shot ringing out in the night. Without pause, the three killers moved in unison, surging towards Izuku in a pack. The fourth flew above, ready to fire.

Izuku was ready, he had no reason not to be.

He thought he was, until he stumbled.

A foot tipped slightly as he took a step forward, forcing him to wobble to the right.

It was just half a second, barely noticeable, but his balance was off.

The shockwave from that blast… 

Though his hearing felt mostly fine, Izuku began to feel sharp pricks inside his ears, like someone was weakly stabbing with a toothpick. 

Fuck.

If he had to guess, there was some inner damage to his ear that was disrupting his sense of equilibrium as well. The pause in combat had lowered his adrenaline levels for a bit, made obvious by the pain he was starting to feel.

His enhanced senses, more specifically his hearing, didn’t exactly do him any favours against that attack.

Just my luck.

The pain wasn’t severe enough to hamper his fighting ability in any significant way, but it wasn’t too comfortable to deal with either, mildly straining his focus.

Whatever the case was, his healing factor would take care of the damage. Toji had endured far worse before, meaning that Izuku had no right to complain. 

Besides, as soon as he got back to fighting, the adrenaline would flow again and drown the pain out.

Izuku focused, analyzing his assailants' opening moves.

The spear came first. Without even turning his head, Izuku swung his arm out, his wrist batting the spear’s head with a flick. The weapon spun away, thrown off-course.

Before Izuku heard the sound of steel hitting tar, the Leader crashed into Izuku’s guard, delivering a rush of blows.

With blinding speed, Izuku met him blow for blow. He processed every move, mainly countering a variety of punches that blended with an assortment of kicks. His body danced between the quirk-accelerated arrows that came from above too.

The arrows were nothing to him, but…

Up, down, middle…

Every punch or kick from the Leader was  swifter and more powerful than before. It felt like the Leader was starting to put real effort into the fight. 

When Izuku had defended one area, The Leader would switch seamlessly to targeting another part of the body, 

Then, seconds into their exchange, Izuku detected a familiar movement behind him.

The spearman thrust forward with his weapon, aiming to impale from behind.

Izuku spun his torso while keeping his head straight, not taking his eyes off the Leader to deflect any incoming blows with a free hand. Within the same motion, he swung an elbow backwards with a sudden burst of speed. 

The elbow slammed into the spearhead as it thrusted forward, forcing the Spearman’s attack off. Simultaneously, Izuku parried a brutal three-punch combination from the Leader. Head, body, head, each strike perfectly timed to exploit Izuku’s perceived vulnerability.

Without a pause in movement, Izuku extended his arm, grabbing the Spearman’s head and yanking him aside with a throw. In the same movement, he swept a foot at the Leader’s knee, forcing the frontal assaulter to backstep.

In Izuku’s humble opinion, he thought that the throw was subpar,  but at least it sent the snake bastard crashing into the side of a building, collapsing a portion of its walls.

Unhindered by unnecessary distractions, Izuku continued to respond with equal ferocity, though they were evenly matched. It would be a different story If Izuku had a weapon in hand, but in a pure hand to hand scenario, none of the two could land a decisive hit.

That was until the Leader made a mistake. It wasn’t exactly a mistake, but against a fighter like Izuku, it might have well been a rookie mistake.

He rocketed a charged punch towards Izuku’s head, attempting to land a critical hit. In doing so, he’d overextended a tiny bit, leaving him open for barely a moment.

That was all Izuku needed.

In a split-second maneuver, Izuku leaned fast, avoiding the outstretched limb. Using the momentum, he spun into a roundhouse kick with his left foot, the movement fluid and precise.

The Leader raised his other arm to block- but Izuku was already a step ahead. His foot hooked around the blocking wrist, leveraging the tension in the arm from blocking to force his opponent down.

The Leader hit the ground hard like a sack of meat, landing flat on his back. The whiplash forced his head to impact the ground, stunning him briefly.

Izuku’s right foot shot up, but before he could continue, changes in the air informed him of the spear threatening to skewer his head.

Without bothering to look, Izuku swerved his head. The spear screamed past where his head had been. It wasn’t a perfect dodge though; he hadn’t fully regained his balance yet. 

The spear’s edge peeled the side of his head, just above his mask.

A shallow cut.

The spear struck a wall, horizontally impaling itself on it like a pole. With ease, he deduced that the Spearman hadn’t fully recovered to join in, considering that he didn’t see any flashes of light streak past him, nor detect any sign of movement from behind.

Before he even felt any drops of crimson flowing, Izuku’s foot hammered down towards the Leader’s chest like a pile driver, far more powerful than his previous stomp. A move like that was intended to obliterate anything beneath it.

The Leader’s eyes widened. Though caught off guard by the change in position, he shot his arms out and caught the stomp with both hands, grabbing onto the sole of Izuku’s boot as it descended in a blur. A boom resonated as palm and foot violently made contact.

SHIT!!

Despite catching the stomp, the resultant force sunk him an inch into the ground, the asphalt beneath him cratering from the force.

He held onto the foot, his hands lowering slowly as the foot pressed down like a hydraulic press, inching toward the kill. Though he was actively using his quirk to absorb the force, the monster standing over him was still applying enough force to crush him into paste.

He locked eyes with the person standing over him. Behind those unnaturally black eyes was a cold and composed being who wouldn’t stop until they were all dead.

Now the real fight had begun.

A heavy weight shifted from behind, easily detected by Izuku. Instinctively, he brought his right arm up, forming a V shape with his shoulder, elbow and fist as corners to block. His arm caught the Dragon Lady’s tail, who’d swung her tail downwards in a diagonal motion. His block held the tail in place, stopping it dead. 

Unfazed, she retracted her tail and spun; reaching out for his throat with her claws while winding her tail for another strike. Izuku extended his other hand to parry her attacks. 

In doing so, he had to turn his body completely, lifting his foot off and freeing the Leader in the process. 

An unfavourable but necessary trade-off.

Her mistake was worse though. Her body followed his motion, leaving her centre wide open.

In a swift move, Izuku caught her tail as it descended, coiling his right arm around it. He yanked her closer, curling his left arm as well. He heard what sounded like a yelp from her, before his elbow came down like a sledgehammer against concrete, smashing the space between her collarbone and shoulder. Much to his surprise, he didn’t feel any of her bones being crushed.

She did recoil in pain though; a blow like that would stun almost anyone if it didn’t kill them seconds later from pure shock . 

Apparently she was sturdy enough to survive it.

His right arm let her tail go, winding into a low fist before ramming a devastating uppercut into her chin. The impact rang like a shotgun blast as Izuku’s fist collided with metal, shooting her head upwards in an explosive fashion. The helmet protected her jaw from the direct impact, but the force that got through hit hard, evident by the sickening crunch Izuku heard from within her helmet. He imagined blood spraying into the corner of her mask, the product of a shattered tooth or more, or even better for him, a broken jaw.

Before she could recover and bring herself forward, Izuku delivered a sharp kick tilted upwards, aimed at the puncture wound he’d previously inflicted. The tip of his boot met with damaged flesh before it sent the Dragon Lady soaring high into the air.

Izuku presumed that she was incapacitated, before being proven wrong when he spotted her chrome jaw unhinging mid-air with a murderous light shining within it. 

A fireball the size of a basketball erupted from her maw, streaking towards him as a hypersonic missile, speeding several times faster than a bullet.

Izuku moved reactively. He blurred, reappearing just out of reach. but he underestimated the following explosion. Its radius was bigger than he expected, about a dozen meters in diameter.

Fortunately, he’d moved away enough that the flames merely licked at him momentarily, almost burning his clothes but not quite.

Simultaneously, the Dragon Lady used the blowback from the fireball to flip herself, propelling herself to a balanced landing.

She landed nearby, her body crouched on all fours while her tail slithered behind like lizard’s would

She didn’t seem too bothered by her injuries.

Looks like the adrenaline in her system is pumping at its max now.

A low growl that sounded more beastly than human came from her. Her mask tilted slightly, following her head as she'd turned to get a better look at her from injury. She clenched her bleeding stomach, staining her palm and claws red, before smashing an open fist down, cracking the ground with renewed wrath.

From her quadrupedal position, she burst forward like a runner at the starting line, advancing with raw fury.

Izuku noted the increased aggression.

She’s going into some sort of berserk state.

The Leader had recovered too, making his way to Izuku for a joint pincer attack with the Dragon Lady.

Izuku adjusted his stance.

The two of them closed in. The Leader led first with a crushing right cross from his armored arm, aimed straight for Izuku’s head. 

He raised his forearm, absorbing the impact, but the shock sent a tremor through his bones. 

Concern flickered across Izuku’s thoughts.

His punches are getting stronger. And faster. 

He’d dragged the fight out for too long. 

He’d fed the leader too much.

Before he could counter, the Dragon Lady’s tail came sweeping low. Izuku hopped over it, but mid-air, the Leader's shin was already rocketing towards his gut. He twisted to avoid while repositioning himself a few steps back.

The Dragon Lady followed up by raking her claws towards his face  intending to tear through it. He ducked, the sharp tips whistling past his ear. Seizing the opportunity, he slammed forward like a train, pinning her to the ground with him on top.

As he prepared for his next move, his peripheral vision informed him that the Leader’s foot was arcing towards his skull, barely an inch away from contact .

Izuku forced his head to the side, letting the boot’s sole skim over a sliver of skin before rolling to the side. 

It was an onslaught of fists, claws, and tail weaving a deadly net around him. He parried, dodged, blocked and threw devastating punches and kicks of his own, but the whirlwind of coordinated violence was unyielding.

The Leader pressed forward like a machine, attacking methodically against every potential weak spot. His fists blurred like pistons, each blow from the metallic fist especially destructive, dedicated to pummeling his opponent into a bloody pulp. 

In contrast, the Dragon Lady’s attacks darted in and out with a predator’s brutal lithe, blended with a wild frenzy, her claws seeking any gap. Her tail was still the main threat of course, unpredictably moving high and low like the living weapon it was.

Against it all, Izuku fought like a cornered tiger. He deflected a hammering right from the Leader off his braced forearm, the impact vibrating up to his shoulder with increased intensity, only to backstep instantly, letting the Dragon Lady’s clawed lunge slice through the air where his throat had been just a microsecond before. 

He used the momentum of the step to drive a low jab towards her side, aiming for the previous wound. She anticipated it, brushing the blow off with the blade of her tail.

Immediately after, Izuku sensed a wave of heat that was coming at him. 

He threw himself down, sliding to avoid the stream of fire that shot out like a feathered, raw laser beam.

How many ways can a person breathe fire??!

The Leader didn't give an inch, unleashing a barrage of fists, each strike timed to exploit the opening left by Izuku dodging the fire.

As Izuku got up, he slipped the first punch by a hair's breadth, the wind ruffling his hair. Then he blocked a vicious body shot that made him grit his teeth. He tilted his head sharply, just enough for another punch to graze past his temple, feeling the pressure wave of the near miss.

Before he could even strike back, the Dragon Lady’s tail stabbed low like a spear point towards his knee, aiming to sever his foot. He yanked his leg back just in time, the metal tip scraping sparks off the asphalt inches from where his foot was. He tried to create space, but the Leader was already there, a crushing kick aimed at his thigh. 

Izuku met it with his own shin, the impact sending more tremors up his leg. A sickening thud reverberated as bone met bone, neither fighter giving ground. 

Izuku’s Heavenly Restricted senses processed the torrent of information; the angle of attack, the increasing speed, the escalation.

Finding an opening against the seamless, two-pronged assault was difficult. Their synergy was brutally effective, one covering the other's openings flawlessly.

A heavy downward smash from the Leader forced Izuku back a step, right into the path of swipe from the Dragon Lady's claws aimed at his eyes. He brought both forearms up instinctively in a cross-block, the razor-sharp claws screeching against his gauntlets but failing to draw blood.

He was holding them off, containing the storm. He couldn't land anything solid and they couldn't finish him off.

And did he mention the occasional arrows that he had to dodge? Of course he didn’t, they were mere annoyances that served to irritate him rather than challenge him.

Holding out wasn’t enough, not at all.

Manato was still out there, and the leader was growing stronger with each passing second, with each attack endured. Izuku had a feeling that within the next minute or two, he’d start to struggle against the Leader. From the increasingly intense shape of the Leader’s soul, Izuku figured that the leader’s energy was surging exponentially.

Amidst the chaos, Izuku caught a glimpse of the collapsed wall, where he’d thrown the spearman earlier. Connecting the dots, he looked at where the spear was,  almost paying for his lapse of attention when an uppercut from the Leader almost landed on his chin. 

It’s gone.

The spear’s gone, and the Spearman wasn’t joining in, which meant-

Manato.

Trapped between the immediate threat of the duo and the lethal intent aimed at Manato, Izuku made a gamble. 

He needed to create an opening to escape required, even at personal risk. He couldn’t break free conventionally in time.

As the Leader unleashed another charged, steel punch aimed at Izuku’s chest, Izuku slightly shifted his guard, faking an opening. He braced his chest while loosening his legs, allowing the blow to connect solidly with his sternum. Pain exploded through him, a white-hot agony that threatened to black out his vision, but the force achieved its purpose, launching him violently backwards- away from the immediate pincer.

He hit the ground, rolling with the force and colliding with a parked truck nearby, creating an irreparable dent between the truck’s hood and door before landing on the road.

As fast as he could, he exploded back to his feet, ignoring the screaming protest from his ribs and ignoring whatever the Leader was ordering.

He ran until he found a narrow enough alleyway and twisted into it. Without hesitating, he kicked off one side, then the other, launching upwards n a wall-to-wall sprint. Each jump was like rebounding bullets. Once he was close enough, he snagged the rooftop edge, pulling himself up onto the roof. 

He ran. Air rushed past as he bounded from building to building. Below, streetlights pulsed and people went about their nights as Izuku view swept the area for Manato.

It wasn’t a respite from the main fight though.

An arrow sliced the air beside his cheek, another shattering on the concrete by his foot. Then three more. He ducked and twisted mid-sprint, avoiding each one. The Horseman was level with him now.

Izuku zigzagged, dashing low, rolling over ducts, leaping vents. He dove through a billboard frame just as another arrow zipped past. Sparks exploded when a shot pinged off a metal pipe behind him.

If that wasn’t troublesome enough, the Dragon Lady was pursuing him from behind, having scaled her own route through clawing her way up. He was ahead, but she was firing fireballs at him. They erupted towards Izuku, forcing him to drop to a slide. The fireballs detonated overhead as they exploded against a balcony, sending shockwaves and debris in every direction.

Unshaken, Izuku recovered from the slide and kept running. 

Then he spotted Manato, but the Spearman wasn’t within his line of sight.

The doctor was frantically running, eliciting the stares of passersby, which were fortunately few, given how late it was into the night. 

He leapt down onto the pavement

No time.

He slammed into the street in a crouch, attracting the attention of anyone nearby. The pavement beneath his feet shattered. 

Passersby screamed. Some ran. Some froze.

He didn’t have time to care about how exposed he was now. What mattered was that he needed to get Manato out.

A glint of movement from the right. The spear…

It was already mid-air.

He sprinted towards Manato, shoving him sideways just as the spear arrived. But the lingering imbalance struck again. Combined with the haste of his movement, it made the save imperfect. Instead of a clean miss, the spearhead tore brutally through Manato’s left shoulder, eliciting a choked cry of agony as it gouged deep into flesh and muscle.

In the background, the passersby around screamed as they witnessed the scene, fleeing the area. 

The Spearman instinctively teleported, flashing into existence to kill, but Izuku was already reacting. 

Enraged, he unleashed a brutal overhand swipe, smashing the back of his hand at the Spearman, who’d just managed to yank his spear out to finish the job with a second stab. The swipe sent the Spearman skipping across the road like a stone.

With a precious second bought, Izuku turned his attention to the grievously wounded but still breathing doctor, who was shakily clutching his wound.

To his absolute relief, his snake didn’t appear to be injured. It remained calmly coiled around Manato, tongue flicking like it was assessing the chaos.

He scooped up Manato like a damsel and ran, slinging the maimed doctor over his left shoulder. Around Manato’s neck was the snake, looking as calm as a snake could be in a situation like this. The serpent looked around and stuck its tongue out like everything was fine, like it was still within its enclosure.

If only life were that simple.

He had to reach the hotel or deal with the assassins, fast. With Manato in shock from having his shoulder impaled, the doctor likely wouldn’t be lucid enough for another minute or two to give proper directions to Izuku, assuming he didn’t bleed out first.

He couldn’t run around with Manato for long either, being carried in such a hectic situation could possibly raise the doctor's heartbeat and subsequently his blood flow, causing him to bleed out faster.

Additionally, every minute wasted was a risk with the authorities approaching. With some simple arithmetics and time estimates, Izuku figured that more than enough time had passed that they would show up. The rumours that Manato heard about the city being paid to close an eye seemed to be based in some fact. 

Anywhere else, the block would’ve been swarmed with police and heroes by now.

Just as Izuku turned down an intersection, something caught his eye.

Hanging out of his snake’s mouth was a black handle, coated in a thin layer of saliva. The handle was short, intended to be held by one hand only.

Not wasting a moment, Izuku yanked the handle out of his snake’s mouth, pulling down as he expected a blade to appear in his hands

What he received was far better, and more exciting.

It was a pistol, in brutal but fine condition, coloured matte black with a gray handle. Its barrel stretched nearly 10 inches, front to back. Even in his fifteen-year-old hands, hands that had already crushed bone and torn through flesh, the firearm was comically oversized. Its barrel alone was about three-fourths of his forearm, with a grip that Izuku’s that just barely fit in his palm. The thing was a hell of a weapon, that was for sure.

It was a Desert Eagle.

An old world pistol still renowned for its power, even after the rise of quirks. Toji and Izuku had both seen their fair share of movies to know what the thing was capable of, or at least the Hollywood version of it.

Toji himself had wanted to get one, but Japan’s firearm laws were naturally airtight. Virtually every self-respecting smuggler or black market dealer had no interest in selling or obtaining one. Criminals who needed a gun wanted something easily hidden, and the Desert Eagle stood out like a giant in a crowd of ants. 

Not subtle at all. 

Aside from concealability, the gun was too powerful for its own good, possessing recoil that could dislocate the average person’s wrist. 

For Izuku’s current predicament, none of those two issues were issues at all. He didn't need stealth now, and with his raw strength he’d feel a tingle when at most firing the Desert Eagle. 

Now, he was going to test the handcannon in Toji’s steed.

Still running, Izuku performed a one handed press check, locking two fingers on the slide,  palm firmly against the base of the barrel. He tilted his arm upwards slightly, bringing it closer to his face and pulled the slide down with his pair of fingers, confirming the chambered round.

It was .50 AE, the most powerful bullet type that the Desert Eagle used as far as Izuku knew from Toji’s wikipedia like knowledge of weapons, assuming that there weren’t any new types of ammo invented for Deagles in the world of quirks. 

With a longer look, Izuku confirmed the bullet type to be hard-nosed.

To be concise, the two most “general” common ammunition types for pistols could be sorted into two types, soft-nose and hard-nose. 

Soft-nose rounds expanded on impact, dumping all their energy into a target. Fired from something like a gun this powerful, the round could theoretically pop a person’s head like a watermelon, assuming that they didn’t have any protective quirks.

Hard-nose rounds were made to penetrate. Bone, flesh, armor—it didn’t matter. One shot wouldn’t just drop a person; it would kill the second or even third guy standing behind too.

Either one was fine for Izuku, he just needed something to kill.

He contemplated on how he’d use his newfound weapon to his advantage, before spotting a potential boon.

There was a clothing store up ahead facing the main road. It took about two shoplots worth of space, its wide display windows clear under streetlights. There were mannequins on elevated platforms, garbed in premium clothing like high-end suits and fancy dresses. A few late-night pedestrians milled nearby the shop, but they would scatter as soon as they saw the chaos.

 Izuku hoped that he was making the right choice

As he closed in on the shop, Izuku bashed into the display window with his empty shoulder, shards exploding around him. Hurriedly, he entered the store  with a one armed vault, carrying Manato and the snake along. 

Inside, he ducked low, passing through aisles of clothes and still mannequins, the air heavy with dust and diffused aroma that almost threatened to assault his smell.

He rushed to a corner of the store and set Manato down. Crouching down, he locked eyes with Manato.

“Stay quiet and patch yourself up,” he instructed in a hushed tone,  his black eyes conveying a sense of certainty. “I’m going to deal with them for good. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Manato weakly nodded in response. The snake blinked lazily, its tongue flicking out like it didn’t care.

He stood up, looking around in the shop, lined with racks of clothing and mannequins, before spotting another boon.

Even better.

Seconds later, the four assassins had surrounded the shop. One in the air and three on the ground.

The broken glass made their prey’s final destination obvious.

The Leader raised his arm, readying a blast that would collapse the store. But before he could, something launched out from the shattered window.

Without thinking, the Dragon Lady spun, lashing her tail out to slice the incoming projectile.

*HISSSSHHH!*

A burst of smoke erupted from the fire extinguisher, releasing a small but dense smokescreen that obscured the entrance.

The leader, who could still see the Dragon Lady since she stood closest to her, turned to her and yelled, his composure mistakenly slipping.

“You idiot! He’s using it for cover!” he scolded, aware of the advantage they’d just provided to their target.

As soon as the words left the Leader’s mouth, a figure burst out of the fog towards the right, appearing as a silhouette that was carrying someone on their shoulder.

The spearman lobbed his spear, aiming for the body that was carried. 

The spear nailed Manato again, this time more successfully as the doctor slipped out of Izuku’s grasp, pinning the man to a nearby wall.

Blood sprayed.

The Spearman teleported instantly to confirm the kill…

…only to find that his spear had impaled a cloth mannequin that had been torn open and stuffed with blood soaked rags.

All of them heard the soft but unmistakable click of a trigger.

From the smoke, a projectile streaked out, along with a thunderclap, or more appropriately the blast of a cannon.

The first bullet slammed into the Spearman’s helmet, striking dead center on the forehead. The bullet ricocheted off his steel mask and dented the once smooth surface. His head whipped to the back, forced to arc by the bullet's impact. 

Underneath his mask, Izuku’s mouth curled into a cruel grin.

He took a step forward.

More reinforced than I thought. But it doesn’t matter that his armour was strong enough to withstand a piercing shot of this caliber.

Before the Spearman could even bring his head forward to process the attack, a second bullet punched into his chest. His equally reinforced chestpiece absorbed most of the impact, though the force that went through still ripped the air out of his lungs, leaving him desperate for breath.

Izuku readjusted his aim, lifting his arm by a few degrees in the single digits.

Nothing can save him now.

He took another step forward.

The Spearman stumbled back a step or two, regaining his composure while his head came forward to balance himself, then the third bullet made contact.

The killshot.

By the time he saw it, it was too late. The bullet tore through the thin flesh of his neck, protected only by a layer of synthetic fabric that did nothing to stop the projectile. Blood erupted in a misty spray as the round punched clean through, a ragged exit wound splitting open the other side. For an instant, he stood frozen, his body registering the damage.

Then the pressure hit.

Blood poured in a thick, pulsing stream, spilling over his fingers as he clutched the gaping hole, instinctively trying to hold himself together. 

A wet, sickening gurgle escaped his mouth as blood pooled in his throat, crawling up his mouth. His knees buckled, slumping over like a puppet that had its strings cut. He crashed down hard,  face-first into the ground. Blood continued to flow like water from a loose faucet, barely stifled by the clutched palm.

Izuku didn’t bother to see if death had claimed the Spearman.

He was already shifting his aim to the next target.

The Horseman was first to witness this sight, his aerial position giving him a wide view of the scene beyond the smokescreen. Out of rage, fear or something else entirely, he yanked back the drawstring, prepared to continue his rain of arrows onto Izuku.

Izuku was quicker, far quicker.

He aimed, and squeezed the trigger again, and again.

Booms rang out and bullets sliced through the air. The first few bullets barely missed the Horseman, who attempted to reposition under fire.

Ideal or not, it was a futile effort. Within seconds of being fired upon, a bullet hit.

The round ripped through his exposed right shoulder. Like the Spearman’s neck,  It wasn’t protected with any sort of armour, since any armour would have hindered his ability to draw a bow, or so the archer believed.

That belief backfired gruesomely.

A burst of crimson gore exploded from the impact, blowing a chunk of flesh and muscle clean off in a neat hole. Had the bullet been a soft-nosed, his shoulder would’ve been hanging by a slither of thin meat or completely gone.

The bullet continued to fly, probably for a dozen or so more meters before its energy dissipated, forcing the chunk of metal to land someplace unremarkable.

For the first time throughout the skirmish, the Horseman made a noise. 

A scream. 

A raw, agonized yell tore from his throat as his bow slipped from his grasp, tumbling down to the streets below. His mount bucked mid-air, struggling to stay aloft. Izuku figured that he struggled to maintain his quirk amidst the explosion of pain, failure to do so meant certain death at the height he was at.

The man was a sitting duck.

Izuku lined up the next shot-

Movement.

Izuku yanked his arm left, keeping it rigid as he squeezed the trigger. But too late- the Leader was faster. He seized Izuku’s wrist and forced the muzzle skyward just as the round fired, wasting a precious bullet in a blinding flash.

Izuku swung his free hand at the Leader’s face, but it was effortless.

He pushed against the grip.

It didn’t move.

He’s stronger than me now.

Before he could react, the Leader stomped down on Izuku’s knee, shattering his balance.

In the next instant, the Leader’s hand wrapped around his throat.

The world turned sideways as the Leader slammed Izuku into the ground hard. The asphalt cracked beneath the impact, a crater forming under Izuku’s back.

The gloved fingers clenched Izuku’s throat, while the steel fist hovered, containing an absurd amount of power that snowballed from all the absorbed attacks, ready to fall like a hammer on Izuku’s skull.

Izuku wasn’t sure if he’d survive it.

“Let’s see how you like it,” the Leader exclaimed, his eyes betraying a smile behind the mask that bore a tiger’s maw.

Thinking fast, Izuku jammed the Desert Eagle upward right between the Leader’s eyes and fired.

The Leader snapped his head aside. The muzzle flash roared past, close enough to singe his mask. But it was enough.

His grip faltered.

Izuku exploded upward, his leg driving into the Leader’s gut like a battering ram. Air burst from the Leader’s lungs as he staggered back. 

Izuku rolled, scrambling to his feet, gun pointing up.

*Click*

Empty.

His jaw clenched. He almost hurled the gun. Then-

“No! no! no!” a pained cry came out of nowhere. 

Both the Leader and Izuku paused to turn towards the noise.

Izuku recognized the voice.

The Dragon Lady?

The smokescreen had cleared up, revealing that the Dragon Lady was rushing over to the Spearman’s body, who to Izuku’s surprise, was still clinging on to life, or at least his soul was. It was faint, but still there.

She ripped her mask off, revealing a startling contrast to the beast Izuku witnessed in battle. 

What the-

She was a young girl, maybe a year or two older or even as young as Izuku himself. Her skin was pale and smooth, almost porcelain-like, streaked now with grime and blood but still undeniably delicate. Her eyes, wide and glistening with raw emotion, were a striking shade of amber-gold slitted at the pupils, revealing her draconic nature if her tail didn’t give it away already.

Otherwise, her eyes were too expressive to belong to a killer.

Her features were soft, bordering on gentle. A small, sharp face, and full lips currently trembling in shock and grief. 

If anything, she looked more like a schoolgirl. Maybe a rebellious and naive one, but definitely not a member of an elite hit squad.

She crouched beside the almost dead Spearman, her tail curling behind protectively like a wounded predator’s.

“Ren! Ren! Please- please stay with me!” she pleaded desperately, audibly breaking into a sob.

Izuku wondered what her backstory was, and what the hell that led her to this point.

Then another surprise hit Izuku like a sledgehammer to the face.

Atop a building, Izuku spotted him. 

A dark silhouette stood at the edge of the rooftop, half-shrouded by the moonlight.

The figure was dressed in black, contrasted with a white scarf fluttering in the night breeze.

Long black hair. Glinting goggles. A presence that could cut glass.

His hair was standing on end, indicating 

Eraserhead.

Police sirens echoed in the distance too. From the noise, there weren’t just a few cruisers incoming. There were at least a dozen.

Looks like the cavalry’s here.