Chapter Text
Monday arrived, and as expected, Kei was heading to school. The day before had been completely absorbed by training—and just as Kei had anticipated, it had been long.
Not necessarily tiring, though. Fatigue and soreness were sensations he didn’t feel often anymore, not since that fateful day. His body had changed too much.
All three heroes had gone into full instructor mode, each more enthusiastic than the last. What started as a simple lecture had quickly spiraled into an impromptu boot camp the moment they saw how fast Kei could grab the theory and put it into practice—he almost felt sorry for the poor dummies that were converted into dust during that training. Their excitement only fueled their intensity, and in turn, the expectations they placed on him.
And Kei, though composed on the outside, couldn’t shake the gnawing unease that came with those expectations. On the good side, it could be said that he was able to master Zio, Bufu and Zan in a day of practice—spartan practice.
Pixie was pretty chill, and Cait Sith—whom he was seriously considering asking if he could just call Cait or Sith to shorten his hero alias—was also fairly carefree in his approach.
Apsaras, on the other hand…
She was a different story.
Elegant, graceful, and composed at all times—but when it came to training, she had a perfectionist streak that could rival any drill sergeant. She didn’t raise her voice, didn’t bark orders. But her calm, unwavering gaze and quietly pointed corrections were somehow worse. She didn’t need to yell. One look was enough to make Kei straighten up and rethink his entire form. She almost reminded him to his mother, Kei though with a shiver.
By the end of the day, he had the three basic elemental techniques down: Zio, Bufu, and Zan. Mastery might’ve been a strong word, but he could summon and direct each with a precision that startled even himself. That might’ve been the part that unnerved him the most—how natural it felt. As if those elements had always been inside him, just waiting for a reason to emerge.
Still, when he’d finally returned to his dorm, his body was charged with lingering energy, not exhaustion. His mind, though, was buzzing with too many thoughts.
And now it was Monday again. Back to school. Back to pretending none of this was happening. No one else could see what was under the surface—the subtle shifts in his gaze, the way his senses reached just a little farther than they should, how his body responded before his brain even finished the command.
At least he wasn’t alone—but for someone who had been a loner not so long ago, that wasn’t always a good thing. Ichiro hadn’t shut up ever since they got back to the dorms yesterday, asking Kei everything about his training with the heroes—and of course, about the heroes themselves.
Kei would never understand Ichiro’s obsession with them, and the constant rambling was getting on his nerves. Now, walking to school with him and Yuzuru, Kei was doing his best not to glare the poor guy into silence—but the task was proving more and more difficult by the second. Honestly, he couldn’t wait to reach the school and ditch them at the entrance with some excuse like being the student on duty or whatever.
He was so glad they didn’t share the same classroom.
It might’ve sounded hypocritical, but he still needed his space. Just because he’d opened up a little around them didn’t mean he was suddenly a social butterfly. The bond forming between them—tentative as it was—didn’t erase the years he’d spent keeping people at arm’s length.
He wasn’t used to the noise, the questions, or the constant pressure to talk.
Ichiro, bless his overly enthusiastic soul, had been buzzing like a caffeine-charged wasp ever since they’d returned to the dorms. It hadn’t stopped. From “What’s Apsaras like in person?” to “Do you think Cait Sith would sign my collector card if I asked?” to “Wait, wait—did you actually cast Zio? Like, full-on lightning?” And Kei… Kei had done his best not to fry the hallway lights in response.
Even now, walking to school with Ichiro excitedly narrating half his monologue to Yuzuru (who at least had the decency to nod and occasionally redirect the conversation), Kei found himself grinding his teeth behind a polite nod.
Breathe. Just breathe.
The school gate loomed ahead like salvation.
Maybe if he was fast enough, he could slip inside with a mumbled “See you later” and disappear into the crowd. Maybe he could pretend, just for a few hours, that he was a normal student with normal problems. Maybe the buzz in his fingertips, the weight of expectation from heroes, the government, teachers and his parents alike, and the creeping sense that something was about to shift again could all be shoved to the back of his mind.
Maybe.
He gave the schoolyard a sweeping glance as they stepped through the gates, hands tucked in his pockets, expression unreadable.
Just another Monday.
Then why did it feel like something was wrong?
A heavy sense of dread coiled in his stomach—tight, persistent, and without a clear source. Something was off.
Kei shook his head, trying to push the feeling away.
“Everything alright, Amemura?” Yuzuru asked, his voice low but laced with concern. Ichiro looked over too, unusually quiet for once.
“Yeah… It’s nothing,” Kei replied, brushing it off with a shrug. But his tone wasn’t convincing, and both boys exchanged a glance. They didn’t press further, but their silence said enough.
Still, the uneasiness didn’t go away. It clung to him like static—tightening with every step toward the school building. His skin prickled, and for a moment, he was certain he’d bump into someone. The feeling reminded him too much of that one day. The day he’d first crossed paths with Sahori Itsukushima.
The pressure, the instinctive spike of his Magatsuhi, the sense that something dark was just around the corner…
But Sahori was nowhere to be seen.
And yet…
He paused just before stepping into the main building, eyes narrowing as he scanned the students moving past.
Something’s not right.
The feeling crawled beneath his skin like a whisper just out of earshot. He shook it off, or at least tried to, and walked the remaining steps to his classroom. As he slid into his seat, the usual chatter around him sounded distant—blurred, hollow.
Homeroom began, but his focus wasn’t there. His teacher’s voice washed over him like background noise, and Kei stared out the window, careful not to let his mind wander too far. He didn’t want to accidentally short-circuit the lights again with a stray thought.
Then, without fully understanding why, he decided to do something he hadn’t planned to.
—Aogami, are you there?
A beat of silence.
Then, the familiar, steady voice answered.
Yes, young man. Is everything alright? This is the first time you’ve contacted me since our joint examination.
Yeah—no. I mean… I don’t know? Ever since I got here this morning, something feels off. I’ve got a bad feeling…
There was a pause.
Thank you for the report. I’ll pass it on to my brother.
W-wait, it wasn’t a report. Just… just a bad feeling. And—wait. Brother? I thought you were the only model of the Nahobino Project left.
My apologies. You are correct. I was referring to Director Koshimizu.
That… that makes absolutely no sense.
I understand your confusion, young man. I assume you’ve noticed the uncanny resemblance between the director and myself.
That much was true. One was made of synthetic metal and the other of flesh, but they looked like water drops from the same source. The only real differences were Aogami’s otherworldly golden eyes and striking blue hair.
Yeah…
Well, my design was based on him. For that reason, he has expressed that he considers me family—and has asked that I refer to him as my brother.
Okay… that’s not weird at all, Kei thought dryly, hoping Aogami couldn’t sense—feel?—his sarcasm.
Now, returning to your rep—ah, excuse me—bad feeling, I still believe it should be reported to my brother. You should learn to trust your instincts more.
I mean, it could just be paranoia. I did just learn yesterday that a hero identity had already been dec—
Kei didn’t get to finish that thought.
A loud crash shattered the classroom’s normalcy.
Startled, he turned toward the door, now ripped from its hinges and thrown across the classroom. A man stood there, silhouetted in the debris.
What struck Kei wasn’t the force or brazenness of the act, but the man’s aura.
It felt wrong—eerily similar to Sahori’s, but darker… rougher. A side effect of strong negative emotion, maybe? Or was this just his usual aura?
What really caught Kei’s attention, though, was Tao’s face.
She recognized him.
The man had greasy black hair, opaque eyes, and a twisted smirk. And as if bursting into a prestigious private school wasn’t bold enough, he didn’t even bother hiding his identity.
He wanted to be recognized.
The man walked slowly into the room, ignoring the teacher cowering on the floor. He made his way to the front, then locked eyes with Tao.
“Tao-chan,” he rasped, his voice like nails on a chalkboard. The sound sent shivers through the classroom.
“Aren’t you supposed to be Sahori’s best friend? To be there for her—through the good and the bad?”
Before she could answer, his arm twisted and morphed—long, black, and serpentine.
A tentacle.
Any doubt Kei had about him having ingested lucidum evaporated. If that wasn’t a secondary trait, he didn’t know what was.
The man grabbed Tao with the inky appendage and lifted her off the floor. She struggled, but his grip was brutal.
“Then why did you abandon her to the mercy of those bullies?! You have any idea how much she’s suffered?! How I’vesuffered every weekend she came home with bruises and empty eyes?!”
Tao, though restrained, managed to choke out a response.
“I-I did try to help her, I-Itsukushima-san… I still am… but she brushes me off, acts like everything’s fine. She won’t let me in!”
Itsukushima… Kei’s mind clicked. He must be Sahori’s father.
“You didn’t try hard enough!” the man snarled. “You could’ve told the teachers—done something!”
This time, the teacher found her voice, trembling.
“Isonokami-san did try to warn us. But unless Itsukushima-san herself came to us, there was nothing we could officially do…”
“So you knew! And yet you let it get this bad?!”
He turned on the teacher, his other arm now morphing as well—two tentacles now, swaying like deadly whips.
Then, with a final look at Tao, he threw her.
Straight at the back of the room.
Kei didn’t think. His body moved before his mind caught up.
He leapt, catching Tao midair, twisting so his back hit the wall first. The impact left a huge dent—but thankfully, the wall held. Barely.
Kei hoped she was okay. His own body absorbed most of the shock. He felt it—but not enough to hurt. Still, for the sake of secrecy, he slumped to the ground and pretended to be unconscious.
“Amemura-kun!” someone screamed.
“Oh? We’ve got a little hero in here,” the man said with sick amusement. “Too bad that hit might’ve broken a few bones—just like I’ll do with the kids who made my daughter suffer.”
Kei resisted the urge to sigh in relief. Good. No one had seen through him yet.
The room was chaos. Students panicked. Some whispered about getting help.
Then Kei whispered, just loud enough for Tao to hear.
“Isonokami-san.”
No response.
“Isonokami-san…”
Still nothing.
He clicked his tongue softly.
“Tao-san.”
That did it. She blinked and looked at him in shock.
“Did you jus—”
“Don’t draw attention,” he cut her off. “Act like you’re worried about me.”
“But I am worried.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine. I just can’t afford to stand up like nothing happened. That’d be… suspicious.”
Tao swallowed hard, trying to hold back tears. This whole thing was spiraling. If only she had tried harder—pushed more, told someone louder—maybe this wouldn’t have happened.
“I guess it’s time we all get moving,” the man said, tone light but chilling.
“T-to where?” asked one of the braver students.
“The gym, of course! Easier to keep you all together.”
Kei could hear his classmates gulp at the suggestion.
“You don’t have to do this!” Tao cried, regaining her voice.
“Oh, but I must, Tao-chan,” the man replied with terrifying cheer. “If I don’t avenge my daughter, who will?”
“Do you really think Sahori will thank you for this? That she’ll be happy about it?”
“Yes, she will. I’m saving her from this suffering! She’ll see I did it all for her.”
“That’s not true, and you know it, Itsuk—”
“Lahmu,” he snapped. “That’s the name I chose to protect her. Lahmu.”
He tightened the tentacle around the teacher’s neck.
“Now let’s get moving. Unless, of course, you want something to happen to your dear homeroom teacher.”
One by one, the students began to stand.
Some moved toward Kei, but Lahmu waved them off.
“Leave your friend. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”
For once, Kei was glad to be underestimated. It gave him the freedom to act without attracting any more attention.
Aogami, did you follow all that?
Yes, young man. I remained… let’s say, tuned in during the commotion. My brother would like to speak with you.
Kei was about to ask how—he didn’t have Koshimizu’s number, let alone a direct line to a government director. Not even one of those fancy communication devices like the one given to Ichiro.
But then, before the question could form properly, a different voice echoed in his mind. Calm. Commanding. Human.
Great. He was a telephone now.
“Amemura, this is Director Koshimizu.”
Kei blinked. His head didn’t hurt, and there was no echo. The voice was just… there. Embedded directly into his thoughts like Aogami’s, but with a sharper presence. Less warmth. More gravity.
I—uh—yes?
“Aogami has briefed me on the situation at your school. I have to say, I’m honestly surprised by your actions and decision-making. I’ll give you this—you’ve exceeded my expectations.”
Thanks? Kei replied uncertainly, not sure if that was a compliment or a warning. He really wasn’t trying to earn extra credit here.
“Heroes are en route to apprehend this ‘Lahmu’—” there was a faint scoff in Koshimizu’s tone, “but it seems he’s not alone. We received a corrupted signal from Atsuta’s location. From what little we could decode, my guess is that he recognized the situation as dangerous, attempted to warn us, but was intercepted. The message was unfinished and lacking clear content.”
Kei’s throat tightened.
“This alone raised our concern—Atsuta isn’t prone to panic. But thanks to your input, we now have a clearer picture of what’s unfolding at Jouin High.”
That much was true. Kei could hear multiple footsteps echoing down the hallways—heavy, purposeful. Lahmu hadn’t come here alone.
“Now, regarding you…” Koshimizu continued, voice steady. “This will be your first official mission.”
Kei’s breath caught. As a hero-in-training? he asked, trying to steady his thoughts.
There was a pause. A long, deliberate pause.
“As Nahobino.”
For a moment, it felt as if the ground beneath Kei gave way—and he was falling straight through it. His pulse thundered in his ears. He would know what that felt like. He’d already lived through it once.
A-as a hero?! he stammered, trying and failing to keep the edge of panic from creeping into his voice. I haven’t even trained with Aogami yet! I—I’ve barely—
“I understand your concerns,” Koshimizu interrupted, tone calm but unyielding. “But your actions today, combined with the report submitted yesterday by Pixie, Apsaras, and Cait Sith regarding your combat initiative and discipline, show me you’re level-headed enough to handle this.”
That doesn’t mean I’m ready, Kei wanted to argue—but the words where never ‘transferred’—if that was the correct term.
There was no arguing with a voice like that. Not when it came from someone who spoke in declarations, not opinions.
“This isn’t about flashy powers or perfect training, Amemura. You kept your composure under pressure. You protected civilians—protected Isonokami—without revealing yourself. That alone puts you ahead of many with twice your experience.”
But I’m just— Kei gritted his teeth. No, he wasn’t just a high schooler anymore. He knew it. They all knew it. There was no turning back now.
…Understood, he finally said.
There was a pause before Koshimizu spoke again.
“For now, head to the main entrance. Aogami is en route, alongside the senior heroes. You’re to meet him and merge. From there, you’ll work with the others to establish a plan for handling the situation.”
Kei didn’t reply at first, letting the weight of those instructions settle. He was still vaguely wondering how Aogami had relayed this whole ‘call’ if he wasn’t even nearby. Mental relay? Signal boost through Magatsuhi? Kei had no idea.
But before the moment could pass, he spoke—something had been gnawing at him since the moment Lahmu had burst into the classroom.
Sir, he began, unusually formal. The kind of polite tone he used when trying to appease demanding adults. The reason Lahmu acted is because—even though it was known his daughter was being harassed—no one did anything. If someone had stepped in earlier, I think this might’ve been avoided entirely.
This time, the silence came from Koshimizu.
“Are you saying you agree with his actions?” the man asked evenly.
Nothing like that, Kei answered quickly. I just… I think he was driven to extremes because he felt cornered. Powerless. If action had been taken earlier—by the school, by anyone—this wouldn’t have escalated so far.
More silence.
Then, Koshimizu spoke again—measured, calm, but with the faintest edge.
“Tell me, Amemura. Before this incident—did the man in question attempt to contact the school? Did he file a complaint? Speak to a teacher? Demand accountability?”
Kei thought back. Judging by Lahmu’s words when he stormed the classroom, it didn’t seem like he had. There’d been no mention of reaching out before resorting to violence.
It… doesn’t seem to be the case, Kei admitted.
“So,” Koshimizu continued, “you believe it’s reasonable to take such a drastic, violent method—without even attempting more logical channels first? Do you think his actions are justified?”
Kei felt a knot tighten in his stomach.
They’re not… but—
“But there you have it.” Koshimizu cut him off, voice brisk now. “This isn’t the time for philosophical debates. We don’t have that luxury.”
His tone left no room for argument.
“I suggest you start heading to the school gate.”
And just like that, the connection was gone—cleanly severed, leaving Kei in the silent, emptied classroom, the hum of the lights overhead now strangely loud.
He sat there for a heartbeat longer, staring at the front of the room as if expecting it to somehow offer clarity.
It didn’t.
He stood up.
If many villains were created like that… Kei though, If someone—anyone—had acted before things escalated, maybe they wouldn’t have turned to that path in the first place.
Heroes aren’t a prevention tool. They’re damage control. Just as I thought, they’re just different flavors of the same mess…
But, just as Koshimizu said, Kei couldn’t stand still.
Whether he wanted it or not, he was a hero now. A dog on a government-issued leash, and he had orders to follow.
If there was a silver lining, it was that his classroom—3-A—was on the second floor, just a short flight of stairs away from the entrance.
Still, the footsteps echoing in the hallway made it impossible to move undetected.
He crept toward the window, trying to gauge the height by eye. Two floors wasn’t that much, right? He’d probably survive the fall. Probably. But then came the landing—
Would he land on his feet? Would it be loud? Would opening the window be too noisy?
What even counted as too loud right now?
Before he could decide, a new problem approached—one he couldn’t ignore.
The footsteps grew clearer. Purposeful. Not the random shuffle of a patrol. Someone was coming straight toward him.
Then a siluette could be seen in the entrance—where after Lahmu’s stunt there was a lacking door.
A tall, heavily built man stepped into the room. He had grayish-green hair, a short matching beard, and a crimson mask pulled over his eyes—likely more for style than for any real anonymity.
Even if Kei had never seen him in person before, he knew instantly who this was.
Shiisa.
A mercenary villain, known from Bethel’s files. A freelancer who lent his strength to whoever paid the highest.
Great, Kei thought dryly, this day just keeps getting better.
“Oh! So you’re the kid I was sent to retrieve,” Shiisa said with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m surprised you’re already back on your feet after that hit. And walking around like nothing hurts? Impressive.”
Kei didn’t respond. His eyes stayed locked on the man, calculating.
Shiisa chuckled, tapping his knuckles against the doorframe. “What, speechless? Or are you trying to size me up?”
He tilted his head, amused. “I get it. You kids think you’re tougher than you are.”
His voice dropped into something more serious—more dangerous.
“Now listen, kid. You’ve got two options. Either you come with me the easy way…” He cracked his knuckles with a grin that showed just a hint of fang. “Or I mess you up worse than you already are and drag you back to your little friends. Don’t worry—I won’t kill you. Probably.”
Kei still said nothing. He was busy trying to recall everything he’d learned about Shiisa from his Bethel lectures—his abilities, his fighting style, his weaknesses—anything that could help. At the same time, he weighed his options: how to fight, how to flee, how to stall. But his silence only seemed to grate on the man in front of him.
“Kiddo, are you even listening to me?” Shiisa’s tone sharpened, irritation rising. At least he hadn’t attacked outright—yet. “In all honesty, I don’t like your eyes.”
That caught Kei off guard. “…My eyes?”
“Yeah. Some might say they look effeminate, but there’s something in them…” He paused for a moment. “They remind me of someone I fought once. And it’s pissing me off.”
…My eyes remind him of someone he once fought?
“So, I’ve made my decision,” the man continued. “I’ll just knock you out again and drag you to the gym like a lifeless doll.”
But oddly enough, he didn’t adopt a fighting stance.
Well—not that odd. No villain or hero would expect a regular high school student to fight back, let alone be able to. He was being underestimated, and Kei could see why. He vaguely remembered something Hayataro had said about situations like this—something about taking advantage of the enemy’s misconceptions.
But what did that actually mean in practice? Should he fight back now? Hit where it hurts? Go for the gut?
By the readings, Kei was stronger than most standard heroes. He could probably land a hit that would stagger Shiisa, maybe even knock him out. But if he failed—if he didn’t take him down in one strike—he’d just make things worse. And raise a lot of questions he couldn’t legally or safely answer.
While Kei was still caught in that mental spiral, Shiisa stepped closer.
“What, you scared? Paralyzed?” Shiisa laughed, then placed a hand on Kei’s shoulder.
The sensation was eerily familiar. A strange déjà vu flooded Kei’s mind.
And then it hit him—Cait Sith’s training, how he’d tested Kei’s elemental resistance… and Shiisa’s element was electricity.
Shiisa grinned. “Wait… why aren’t you passing out? That should’ve been enough current to knock you unconscious—I was even being gentle!”
“Shit” The word slipped from Kei’s mouth before he could stop it.
Panic shot through him—and he acted on instinct. Kei grabbed Shiisa’s wrist and drove his knee straight into the man’s abdomen with everything he had.
The form was shockingly clean—almost too clean, considering he’d only been practicing for a month.
As for the effect…
Well, maybe he’d overdone it a bit.
Shiisa went flying, crashing through the chalkboard on the opposite wall and tumbling down the stairs to the first floor with a loud thud.
…Okay. Knocked out. That’s something.
Now Kei had two problems. First, Shiisa would almost definitely come after him for this—unless he was lucky and the concussion wiped the whole thing from his memory. And second, that hit had definitely been loud enough to attract unwanted attention.
So once again, Kei did the first thing that came to his mind:
The window.
Without wasting a second—or thinking too hard about the landing—Kei rushed to the nearest window, slid it open, and jumped.
Earlier, he’d measured the height by eye. Three, maybe four meters—doable even for a normal person, if they landed right. With Kei’s current physical capabilities, it shouldn’t be a problem.
His Gakuran flared behind him as he dropped.
The wind hit his face, cold and sharp.
Then—impact.
Kei landed on both feet, bending his knees to absorb the shock. A jolt ran up his legs, but nothing broke, nothing sprained. Just a harsh reminder that his body was not what it used to be, but gravity still did its job.
He straightened up, heart pounding in his chest.
No time to stay still.
He broke into a sprint, dashing at full speed toward the school gates where he was supposed to meet the heroes sent to handle this situation—and, much to his dismay, Aogami.
Without slowing down, he jumped clean over the closed school gate—an action that would’ve been completely impossible for him a month ago, but he chose not to dwell on it.
Once off school grounds, he skidded to a stop and leaned his back against the school’s outer wall. A shaky breath escaped him as he slid down, his legs finally catching up to the adrenaline draining from his system.
“Everything alright, kitten?”
The voice startled him. Kei’s eyes snapped open—only to find Cait Sith, Pixie, Apsaras, and the Jack Bros all looking down at him with varying degrees of concern.
“Oh! It’s Strong Boi!” exclaimed Jack Frost, his voice bright with mischief as he struck a confident pose in his bold, winter-themed superhero outfit.
He wore a sleek, form-fitting harlequin suit in shimmering white and royal blue. Draped over his shoulders was a sharp-cut, blue jester-style mantle, its jagged edges swaying with every motion. His boots were tall and theatrical—mid-calf, royal blue, and gleaming under the morning light.
But the most eye-catching part was his oversized jester cap, snug around his head and sprouting two jagged, lightning-bolt-shaped horns that curved upward like frozen antlers. It was ridiculous. It was dramatic. And somehow—it worked, especially with the self-assured smirk plastered on his face.
He looked like a circus performer, a court jester, and a Saturday morning cartoon superhero all rolled into one—and yet, every inch of him radiated strength and chaotic confidence.
“Strong Boi!” echoed Pyro Jack gleefully. Like his brother, he was decked out in his own flashy superhero getup—but while Jack Frost looked like a walking snowstorm in tights, Pyro Jack’s vibe was pure Halloween mischief.
He wore a long, dramatic dark-blue cloak that billowed behind him with every bouncing step, clasped at the front with oversized pom-poms like some kind of haunted jester. A tall, floppy wizard’s hat—matching the same deep shade of midnight—slouched over his head, its brim low and shadowy. Kei had seen him wear a pumpkin head on occasion too… for some reason. Weird.
Kei could feel the start of a headache coming on.
After all, the Jack Bros were well-known pranksters… and somehow, that only added to their popularity.
“Pyro, Frost, stand back. Give Kei-kun a bit of space to breathe,” Apsaras said coolly, casting a firm look at the twins.
“Oh! So his name’s Kei!” Pyro said.
“It’s nice to finally put a name to the face,” Frost added.
Then, in perfect unison, the two grinned and said,
“But I’m still calling him Strong Boi.”
Kei groaned. The twins chuckled.
“May I interrupt?” came Aogami’s voice. “The current situation appears to be quite serious.”
“Oh! Mister Cyborg!” the twins sang in sync again.
“For the last time,” Aogami corrected them sounding almost tired, “I’m a proto-fiend, not a cyborg.”
From what Kei could tell, most of the other heroes present still didn’t seem to know what to make of Aogami—whether to be impressed, alarmed, or just confused.“What do you know about the situation so far?” Kei asked, addressing everyone.
“No need to fret, young man,” Aogami replied. “I debriefed them during our approach.”
The others nodded in confirmation.
“Now, if you would, update us on the immediate situation.”
Kei nodded. “As you know, all my classmates—and probably the teachers too—were relocated to the gym.”
Another round of nods.
“I…” Kei hesitated for a second. “I might have caused a bit of a commotion trying to get here. So I think there’s a good chance some of the henchmen are loitering around the second-floor staircase.”
“Oh! Oh! Question! Question!” Frost burst out, practically bouncing in place. “Are the guys you hang around with in Bethel here too??”
Pyro chimed in, “You know! The blondie, the one with the glasses, and the pretty girl!”
Before Kei could say anything, Aogami cut in smoothly.
“That would be correct.” Without missing a beat, he projected a holographic image of the trio midair, complete with names and brief stats. “Yuzuru Atsuta, Ichiro Dazai, and Tao Isonokami.”
“Oh! I’ve seen them around,” Pixie noted, wings fluttering as she peered at the projection. “Pretty sure I’ve run into Tao-chan more than once in the medical wing or handling admin stuff.”
“Correct,” Aogami said, voice neutral. “After being taken in by Abdiel, she began assisting at Bethel. A portion of her brain is awakened—she can manipulate light to a degree and possesses healing capabilities.”
The color drained from the heroes’ faces.
“You mean Abdiel’s adoptive daughter is caught up in this whole mess?!” Cait Sith’s voice pitched up in panic. “If someone lays a finger on her, we’re done for! I don’t want to be on the wrong end of her spear,” he added, visibly trembling.
“A little late for that…” Kei muttered.
Everyone froze.
But Kei quickly held up a hand. “Don’t worry. She’s fine. At least, she was the last time I saw her. Stuff happened, but—I acted before I even realized what I was doing. I managed to stop her from getting hurt.”
The group let out a collective sigh of relief.
“I’ve also seen the glasses one around,” Apsaras added calmly. “He’s efficient. Helped me a few times with field support and errands.”
Aogami nodded. “Yuzuru Atsuta was recruited by Tsukuyomi after his parents’ deaths. Alongside Isonokami-san, he’s one of Bethel’s longest-standing interns—he’s been with us since he was very young.”
The heroes paled again.
“Kitten!” Cait Sith nearly shouted. “What kind of school do you go to?! Abdiel’s adoptive daughter and Tsukuyomi’s protégé?! If anything happensto them, we’re dead meat! DEAD MEAT!”
Kei gave him an exasperated look.
“Okay, first of all, Isonokami-san told me that, more than anything, Abdiel kind of treats her like a saint—she still doesn’t fully understand what Abdiels even means by that after all these years.”
“Still!”
Kei ignored him. “Atsuta joined Bethel because he wanted to stay close to his sister and protect her. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe.”
“But sti—”
“And lastly,” Kei cut him off, “Dazai might not have a big-name backer, but he’s probably the biggest hero fanboy in existence. He’s sincere, determined, and will throw himself into danger if it means helping people.”
He leveled a sharp look at them.
“So instead of worrying just about your necks—maybe focus on everyone’s safety.”
The group fell silent.
Even Jack Frost and Pyro Jack looked properly humbled.
“Wow, Kei-kun! That’s some serious leader material you’ve got there,” Pixie teased, effectively making Kei turn red.
“T-that’s not true—and not the point right now,” Kei replied, trying to keep a straight face.
“I actually agree with Pixie on this one,” Apsaras added. “I think you should lead this mission.”
“Me?” Kei blinked, clearly surprised.
“I mean, yeah,” Cait Sith chimed in. “You know the layout of the school, and the people in there are ones you actually care about.”
“Well, I do know the infrastructure,” Kei admitted, “but aside from the ones we mentioned earlier, I don’t really interact with most students. And I only started hanging out with those three after the incident. Plus… I don’t have any experience being a leader—let alone a hero.”
“Geez, Kei-kun, you really are a loner, huh?” Pixie said with a grin.
Kei simply shrugged. He didn’t really mind.
“What do you mean by ‘incident’? Is that the reason awaked the totality of your brain even though you’re a minor?” Apsaras asked, her tone shifting to concern.
Kei tensed. He had assumed that those responsible for training him knew what had happened. Hayataro definitely did. But apparently, it wasn’t common knowledge among the other heroes.
Almost reflexively, he glanced at Aogami.
“It’s something related to Robocop here?” Frost asked, clearly intrigued.
Kei let out a quiet sigh.
Aogami… is it alright to tell them?
There’s no problem with it, young man, Aogami’s voice echoed firmly in his mind.
In fact, I’d recommend it, given our current situation. If speaking about it causes you distress, I can do it for you.
Kei shook his head. “No… I can handle it.”
“So it is related to the proto-fiend here present?” Cait Sith asked.
“Yeah. It’s the whole reason I was… well, basically forced to join Bethel.”
“Forced?” the group—minus Aogami—repeated in surprise.
“We don’t have time for the full story,” Kei said, “but in a nutshell… I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I fell into an abandoned lab and somehow ended up merging with him.” He nodded toward Aogami.
“You merged with a robot?” Pyro asked, eyes gleaming with excitement.
“Yeah…” Kei sighed. “We still don’t know how it was even possible. It wasn’t even part of his original code. And to top it all off, the fusion had the same effect on me as if I’d ingested Lucidus…”
“In other words,” Apsaras continued, “you’re now bound to Bethel to avoid being automatically considered a criminal for awakening your brain’s full capacity—on top of your… unique circumstances.”
“That would be correct,” Kei affirmed.
“Cool!” the twins exclaimed in unison, earning a tired look from Kei. He could hear Pixie quietly whisper, “It’s not fair for someone so young…”
“That doesn’t matter right now,” Kei said, straightening up. “We should focus on our course of action.”
“See! I told you! Totally leader material,” Pixie beamed back to her usual mood.
Kei ignored her and spoke up. “So, the hostages are all being kept in the gym. But then there’s the matter of the henchmen…”
He paused, frowning in thought. “How many are there? Where exactly are they stationed? Are they patrolling or assigned to fixed positions? How many are inside the gym? Are they prepared for a hero assault? There are too many variables.
“At first, I thought we could storm the gym from different entry points and take it back quickly—but if it’s heavily guarded from the inside, any sudden move could endanger the hostages. On the other hand, if most of their reinforcements are positioned outside, we risk walking into an ambush before we even get near the gym.”
A moment of silence followed.
“…Are you sure this is your first time doing something like this?” Apsaras asked, genuinely impressed. “You’re thinking way more tactically than I expected.”
Kei blinked, caught off guard. “I just… I’d hate for there to be any collateral damage because I overlooked something. I know it’s probably unrealistic to think everyone will come out unscathed… but at the very least, I want to prevent any deaths.”
The room fell silent.
A kid his age shouldn’t have to think that way—yet none of the veteran heroes could find it in themselves to disagree.
“I can help with that,” Aogami said suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention.
“I’m capable of scanning the building’s structure and accessing the internal security network. With that, I should be able to pinpoint the location of every hostile presence within the school.”
He paused then, as though weighing his next words.
“…If we merge, I believe you’ll be able to see it too, young man. You’ll have direct access to the data through me—faster, clearer.”
Kei understood the hesitation now. Aogami had expected him to refuse. That offer was a vulnerable one.
But Kei met his eyes, steady and resolute, then gave a firm nod.
Something softened in Aogami’s expression—relief, maybe even gratitude.
Kei extended his hand. Aogami took it without hesitation.
In an instant, a pulse of blue light surged outward, engulfing them both—and when it faded, the two were one again.
The heroes stared.
A low whistle broke the stunned silence.
“…That’s something…” Cait Sith muttered.
Kei’s eyes glowed faintly as data streamed into his mind in a flood of crystal-clear awareness.
He could see it—heat signatures, movement trails, blind spots, locked and unlocked doors… even the layout of each hallway in perfect detail.
“I’ve got it,” he said calmly. “Here’s the situation.”
He pointed mentally, eyes scanning nothing and everything.
“There are fifteen henchmen in total. Five are stationed around the gym—three inside with Lahmu, two patrolling the hallway outside. Most of them are low level recognized villains, with some exceptions like Shiisa.”
A murmur of unease rippled through the presents.
“Another six are scattered across the second and third floors—most likely sweeping classrooms. They’re not moving fast, which means they’re either looking for something… or someone.”
“That’s probably you,” Apsaras muttered.
“Four more are near the main stairwell and entrance—they’ve set up some kind of barrier, maybe to keep heroes out or block reinforcements. That area’s heavily watched.”
He closed his eyes briefly, aligning a mental map. He had no idea how could he do that, but it felt instinctual.
“The gym is surrounded, but not completely sealed. There’s a weakness in the northwest wall—an old maintenance door that was never properly updated on the school blueprints. It’s only guarded by one guy, and he’s not paying attention.”
“Sounds like a perfect infiltration point,” Pixie said, hovering closer.
Kei nodded. “I propose we divide into two groups. One goes through the maintenance door and disables the internal gym guards as quickly and quietly as possible. The other causes a distraction at the main stairwell—draw their attention, maybe pull some guards away from the gym.”
“And which group are you leading?” Cait Sith asked.
Kei paused.
“…The infiltration group. I can navigate the school’s layout better than anyone, and if something goes wrong, I want to be the one closest to the hostages.”
This time, the silence wasn’t awkward. It was respectful. No one questioned his resolve.
“Pyro, Frost,” Kei said, drawing the twins’ attention. “You’re on distraction duty.”
He met their eyes, and, for once, allowed a smirk to break through his usual expression. “Go wild.”
The twins lit up.
“We love you, Strong Boi!” one of them cheered.
“You’re officially on our good side!” said the other. “Don’t worry—you’re off our prank list!”
Kei wasn’t sure how to feel about that… but he supposed it was an honor. Sort of.
“For infiltration,” Kei continued, “Pixie’s coming. Her wings let her move almost silently.”
He turned to Cait Sith and Apsaras. “Between you two, who’s better for stealth?”
Without a doubt Cait Sith raised his hand “If discretion is what you want kitten, I might me the best option”
Apsaras gave a small nod. “He’s right. His feline traits make him ideal for recon. I’ll join the twins on distraction detail.”
The twins pouted slightly but didn’t argue. They both knew having someone level-headed with them would prevent… accidental explosions.
“Alright,” Apsaras said, clapping her hands once. “Let’s move.”
“Wait—just one last thing,” Kei interrupted, his tone shifting slightly. “Call me Nahobino. It’s the hero name Bethel assigned me.”
“Assigned you?” Pixie asked, surprised. “You didn’t choose it?”
Kei shook his head. “No. It’s the name of the project Aogami was originally part of before it was shut down. They… just went with it.”
No one spoke for a beat. Then Cait Sith gave a short nod.
“Well, Nahobino,” he said, voice serious for once, “lead the way.”
“We’re counting on you, Nahobino!” Pixie added with a thumbs-up.
Kei’s eyes briefly scanned the group—hero seniors, each with unique powers, trusting him to lead. He took a quiet breath.
“Mission start.”