Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Soaring through the sky, high above a bustling city, Katsuki grinned as explosion after explosion from his palms sent him rocketing through the air. Further ahead, Katsuki was able to easily spot his fleeing prey, a trio of villains, each wearing striped jumpsuits with domino masks on their face. Katsuki couldn’t really blame them for running away from him, knocking over passersby in their haste. After all, they were being pursued by the No. 1 Pro Hero in Japan; the Explosion Hero: Dynamight! Angling his hands, Katsuki entered into a spin, his body rotating and gaining speed as he rocketed down towards the fleeing villains.

“Howitser!” Katsuki roared, his palm spread out towards the villains. “Impact!”

The deafening explosion burst forth, sending the bad guys flying, eventually coming to a stop as they tumbled into the waiting arms of the police and other lower ranked Pros.

“Dynamight saved the day!” someone from the nearby crowd cheered.

“He’s the greatest!” another voice called out.

“Ha Ha Ha!” came the boisterous laugh of All Might, standing tall within the crowd. “My protege and successor is even greater than I imagined!”

“Dynamight! Dynamight! Dynamight!” the crowd cheered, and Katsuki simply basked in their praise. It was something that he allowed himself to do. After all, he was allowed to take such luxuries when he was the best. Looking around at his gathered fans, Katsuki saw his parents, both of them looking the proudest they’d ever been, cheering at the front of the crowd.

“Katsuki! Katsuki! Katsuki! Kat-”

“-suki. Katsuki, wake up!”

Groaning and rubbing his sleepy eyes with one hand, Katsuki was woken up by his father, a worried expression on his face as he shook Katsuki’s shoulder.

“Go away, Dad,” Katsuki grumbled. “I had an awesome dream that I was a better hero than All Might.”

“Katsuki, now isn’t the time,” his father insisted, pulling the sheets off of Katsuki’s body, exposing him to the cold morning air. “I need you to get up, get yourself dressed, and come downstairs as soon as possible.”

His father’s tense voice made Katsuki turn to look at him. 

“Dad?” he asked, and he’d fight anyone who said he sounded even remotely afraid. “What’s going on?”

His father paused at the doorway to Katsuki’s room, hesitating for a moment before turning back around, lowering himself onto his knees to look Katsuki in the eyes.

“Do you remember your childhood friend, Izuku? Midoriya Izuku, your Aunty Inko’s son?”

Katsuki nodded with eyebrows knitted in confusion. While he didn’t have strong memories of his former best friend, there were more than enough photos of the green-haired boy and his mother posing for the camera alongside Katsuki and his parents.

“And you remember how his father took him away to live with him in the United States after Aunty Inko was killed by a villain?”

Again, Katsuki nodded, though this time much more regretfully. Even though he had only been five at the time, he remembered the funeral that was held for his mother’s best friend, the woman he considered an aunt. He knew that there would have been sombre music, heartfelt words from Aunty Inko’s friends and colleagues, but he didn’t remember any of that. Instead, he remembered his mother, someone tough as nails, sobbing into his father’s shoulder. He remembered the pain and anger in her voice over Aunty Inko’s son not being able to say goodbye to his mother, and at Midoriya Hisashi for taking his son away.

Katsuki’s father swallowed, taking in a deep breath before he pressed on. “Well, your mother and I got a call just now. Izuku didn’t go to the United States. He never even left the country. Some bad people got to him, and they’ve been hurting him for the past five years.”

His father gave Katsuki a reassuring smile as he gently placed his hand on his son’s shoulder, but Katsuki was able to tell it was only for his benefit. “Some heroes found him and five other children, so we’re going to go and look after Izuku. He’ll be staying with us, since he doesn’t have anywhere to go. You’re mother and I will do everything we can to help him and make him feel at home, but he’ll need someone to be his friend. Can you do that for him?”

“I guess,” Katsuki grumbled. All his life, it had been just the three of them, but now someone else his age was going to be joining them? He wasn’t entirely sold on the idea. Whatever reservations Katsuki had were quickly stalled as his father wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a hug.

“I’m really proud of you, Katsuki,” he murmured quietly. “I know you can do this; to be the hero Izuku needs you to be right now.”

Katsuki stiffened at his father’s words. Ever since he discovered his quirk, everyone around him had said he had the makings of a Pro. And yet, despite the multitude of voices saying he could do it, they were nothing when compared to the quiet voice of encouragement from his father.

“Okay, enough stalling,” his father chuckled, pulling away from their embrace. “Get changed and hurry down stairs. We can sort breakfast when we get back.”

The moment Katsuki’s father closed the door behind him, Katsuki burst into action, the sluggishness of his recently awoken mind quickly dispelled. Rummaging through his dresser, Katsuki pulled out his favourite All Might hoodie; long and thick enough to keep him warm, while also proudly displaying his favourite hero. Content with his choice of clothes, Katsuki hurried downstairs, taking the stairs two at a time, just as his mother came out of the kitchen.

“Good, you’re all dressed,” she nodded, placing down the brush she had been using to wrestle down her spiky hair. “Come on, kiddo, your dad’s waiting in the car for us.”

“Is Izuku gonna be living with us?” Katsuki asked as his mother locked the front door, their family car giving off a low hum from the hydrogen engine powering the vehicle.

“You’re damn right he’s gonna be living with us,” his mother growled, her hands clenching at her sides. “I’m not letting Inko’s son fall back into those bastards’ hands.”

“Which bastards?”

His mother flinched at that, and Katsuki guessed she hadn’t meant to say as much as she did.

“You really shouldn’t swear as much as I do,” she gently admonished, lowering herself to one knee in front of him. “Don’t worry about it, sweety. They’re just some bad people who kidnapped your cousin. Fortunately, the heroes stopped them, and they won’t let something like this happen ever again.”

-]l[-

Katsuki must not have gotten enough sleep before his father had woken him up, because at some point in the drive he fell asleep, only to be woken up again when they arrived. As Katsuki stepped out of the parked car, his jaw dropped and eyes widened as he took in the sight of where they had arrived; U.A. Academy, where the best of the best Pro Heroes came from. All Might, the No. 1 Pro Hero in Japan and the World’s Symbol of Peace, Endeavor, Japan’s No. 2 Pro Hero who had broken record after record of villain captures, and Best Jeanist, Japan’s most popular Pro Hero, all attended this hero school. It was where Katsuki would go one day, he was sure of it, and now, he was actually standing in front of its gate.

As Katsuki followed after his parents, he noticed the presence of others nearby. While some were like Katsuki and his parents, obviously civilians, there were also heroes and police officers patrolling both the inside and outside of the academy.

“Ah, I see everyone has gathered!” a voice called out, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. Looking over, Katsuki saw a small white furred creature standing in front of U.A.’s gate, something akin to a cross between a mouse, a dog, and a bear. He was dressed sharply, wearing a white shirt with a black waistcoat and pants, orange shoes on his feet (or would it be paws?) and a tie around his neck. While Katsuki thought his fur looked very soft, not that he’d want to stroke it or anything, it wasn’t uniform across the creature’s whole body, due to the large scar over his right eye.

Standing protectively behind the smartly dressed chimeric creature were three individuals, Pros most likely, but Katsuki didn’t recognise them, so they weren’t within the top fifty in Japan.

The first was a man whose outfit made it clear he was a cowboy, or at least styled himself as one. On his head he wore a traditional cowboy hat with an ‘S’ emblazoned on a metal plating at the front, a tan gas mask covered his face, and a red cloak was worn over his black tank top. His cloak was swept behind his right arm, allowing Katsuki to see what looked like a modified revolver holstered on the Pro’s waist.

The second figure was a dishevelled looking man. His hair was long and unkempt, his black clothing baggy and unremarkable, and his posture was lax and slouched. And yet, despite that, Katsuki couldn’t help but feel nervous towards the man. Maybe it was his fierce gaze that swept across everyone who had gathered in front of the small creature, or how, despite slouching, the man seemed tense, like a snake ready to lash out.

Finally, the third individual standing watch over the white-furred creature was the lone woman of the group. Like the cowboy, her face was covered, though unlike the cowboy she wore a halfmask, covering her lower face. She wore a sleeveless hooded jacket, with the hood falling low over her face, ensuring only her eyes were able to be seen. But despite her unassuming, albeit mysterious outfit, Katsuki found her the most terrifying. Her purple eyes, when they locked with him, were cold and remorseless, and he let out a quiet sigh of relief when her eyes left him.

“Yes, with the Bakugos having just arrived, everyone who is meant to be here is present,” the small creature remarked, looking around. “Greetings, everyone. My name is Nezu, and I am the principal of U.A. Academy.”

‘This is the principal?’ Katsuki thought. ‘But he’s so small.’

“Where is my nephew?” Katsuki’s mother demanded. “You said that everything we knew about what happened to him was a lie, that some organisation here in Japan had been hurting him all that time, but he’s now safe with you. So where is he?”

A few of the other gathered adults and parents joined in, though none raised their voices, each keenly aware of the guards within the area.

“Straight to the point, I see,” Principal Nezu chuckled to himself. “Well, I certainly can’t blame you. Follow me, please. We’ve been housing them in one of our teacher’s lounges. We did offer to give them separate rooms, but the children preferred to stick together. Of course, it has the benefit of them all being together in one place. Makes it much easier to protect and keep an eye on them that way.”

Katsuki soon tuned out the ramblings of the chimeric principal, as it seemed that he really liked to hear the sound of his own voice. Instead, he looked around at the corridors that they passed through on their way. He was surprised by how much glass there was; each corridor was designed to allow those walking through to see out into the academy’s grassy grounds, the academy lit up by the moonlight.

“Here we are,” Principal Nezu declared, grabbing Katsuki’s attention. “Now remember, they have all been through a long, traumatic experience. While I’m sure many of you are anxious to be reunited with your children and loved ones, or are looking forward to meeting the child you’ll be adopting, I ask you all to be quiet and calm. No sudden movements or actions that could startle them. If you want some privacy, quite understandable, then simply ask and we can assign you a room.”

The principal waited a moment for any responses, but when no one spoke up, he gave the shaggy-looking man a nod, who walked up to the door, gently opening it. Katsuki filed in behind his parents, quickly looking around the room. Mats, blankets and pillows had been placed in a corner of the room, right next to the windows. A few stuffed animals lay about on the mattresses, but otherwise the room was fairly bare. However, what really caught Katsuki’s attention were the six children his age who were nervously huddled together; three boys and three girls. Three of them, two boys and a girl, had dark hair, with the boys having black hair while the girl had dark purple. The other two girls each had different hair colours, with one of them having bright orange hair, while the other had a head of greenish-yellow hair with pink spots. 

But the person that Katsuki focused on was the final boy in the room. He had green, curly hair, just as he remembered, but there were stark differences from what he remembered. The Izuku that Katsuki had known had messy hair that never seemed to be tamed; the boy in front of him had hair that had been cut short, leaving only a short fuzz behind. The Izuku that Katsuki had known was weak and skinny, not that that was unusual for a five-year-old; the boy in front of him was visibly muscular, as were the rest of the children. But most strikingly, the Izuku that Katsuki had known had eyes full of hope and wonder, even when Katsuki was a little rough with him. But the boy in front of him, his eyes were fearful yet firm, afraid of these strangers in front of him, but willing to fight.

A sentiment that all of the children seemed to share. Despite the large space within the room, none of the children seemed intent on coming any closer, each of them remaining in their small huddle, each tense as if expecting to have to spring into action. Almost all of the parents, Katsuki’s mother and father included, kept their distance, giving the tense children the chance to approach when they felt comfortable. However, two parents, a blond man and his purple haired partner, slowly stepped forth.

“Kyoka?” the man hesitantly said, lowering himself onto one knee, his wife standing beside him with her hand on his shoulder. “Do, do you remember us? We’re your parents, sweety.”

The other five children each turned their heads towards the purple-haired girl, who in turn flinched, her arms tucking into her body as she tried to make herself as small as possible.

“Um, I…” she trailed off, her eyes flicking across the room as her breathing accelerated. Her father tensed, moving to rise to his feet, but his wife held him down, a wordless message shared between the two. The father sighed, lowering himself fully onto the ground, while his wife, Kyoka’s mother, opened her mouth and sang. The song was in English, so Katsuki didn’t understand almost any of the words, but the soft, comforting tone caused the purple-haired girl to still, her eyes opening wide. Everyone else in the room focused on the singing mother, none willing to interrupt her music. Katsuki felt a hand gently caressing his head, causing him to look up at his parents, seeing his mother leaning against his father, her hand holding Katsuki close to her waist.

After a moment that seemed to stretch on, the purple-haired wife’s song ended, her and her husband holding their breath for their supposed daughter’s reaction. Said daughter looked at the couple with tears in her eyes before bursting into a sprint, clearing the room faster than Katsuki had expected, throwing herself at her parents.

“Mama, Papa!” she cried, clutching to her parents with sheer desperation, the newly reunited family closing in, her parents quickly crying alongside their daughter. The reunion of the separated daughter and her parents seemed to cut through the tension and uncertainty in the room, as Katsuki’s parents moved forward, focusing on Izuku.

“Izuku, do you remember us?” his mother asked with a gentle, caring tone. “We were your mother’s friends.”

“Aunty Mitsuki?” the green-haired boy hesitantly asked, his hands held together at his chest.

“Yes, that’s right,” Katsuki’s mother beamed before glancing at his father. “And do you remember my husband?”

“Uncle Katsaru?” the boy hesitantly guessed.

“Close,” Katsuki’s father chuckled. “It’s Masaru, but you were very close.”

“And you remember our son, right?” Katsuki’s mother asked, pulling Katsuki forward so he stood in front of his parents. Upon seeing him, Izuku’s eyes widened, breathing in sharply.

“K-Kacchan?”

Katsuki wanted to protest against that name since he wasn’t a kid anymore, but he had a feeling that he would be clipped over the head for saying that.

“Hey, Izuku,” was what he said instead.

Izuku’s eyes welled with tears, a trait that Katsuki noticed his childhood friend hadn’t lost, despite what he must have gone through. Izuku surged forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Katsuki. Katsuki flinched, but not due to the sudden contact, but by how strong Izuku felt. Back when Katsuki and Izuku had hung out together and were as thick as thieves, Katsuki had always been the stronger one, though it was fairly close. But now, Katsuki could feel the sheer power in Izuku’s embrace, a strength that Katsuki felt didn’t belong to a typical ten-year-old.

‘Maybe he discovered his quirk,’ Katsuki thought to himself. After all, Izuku had disappeared from Katsuki’s life just after Katsuki discovered his own awesome powers. But as Katsuki looked down at his still crying friend, who had fortunately remained shorter than Katsuki, his eyes widened as he saw shimmering, metallic lines running along the green-haired boy’s body, reflecting the light from the ceiling.

“Izuku!” Katsuki exclaimed, pulling himself out of the boy’s embrace to hold at arms length, “What happened to you?!”

Katsuki’s parents were the first to notice the outburst, each of them gasping when they both saw what Katsuki had. Katsuki’s mother gently pushed him aside, tracing the metal lines that ran along Izuku’s skin. They traced all the way from underneath his hair, down the sides of his face, down his neck, disappeared underneath his shirt, and came out at the end of his fingers. Katsuki’s mother reached down, slightly lifting up Izuku’s shirt to reveal more of the metal lines tracing down his abdomen.

Katsuki looked around the room at the different children, starting to notice a pattern. The dark-purple haired girl whose parents had spoken first had forearms that were entirely metal, yet moved as if they were flesh. One of the black-haired boys had the same changes, while the other had his shirt protruding slightly from the back, making Katsuki guess that his implants were on his back. The orange-haired girl had a similar appearance, though hers was more pronounced, with the fabric of her shirt rising in certain areas and slack in others. Finally, the girl with greenish-yellow hair had similar implants to Izuku, though hers were more numerous yet less visible.

“What happened to him?!” Katsuki’s mother exclaimed, her head snapping round towards Principal Nezu. “What happened to all of them?! Who did this?!”

“Not to worry, Mrs Bakugo, none of the children’s lives are in danger,” the Principal reassured. “Each of their bodies was able to safely accept the implants. What you see is merely the most prominent alterations that were made to them.”

“What alterations?” a dark-skinned woman asked, holding the black-haired boy with the metal arms close to her.

“Ah yes, I suppose you’d want to know what changes were made to the children,” Principal Nezu nodded, pulling a small remote out of one of his pockets, pressing it and causing a hologram to appear in the centre of the room. “The children were injected with nanomachines, each programmed to both general and specific instructions to create alterations within the children. The general instructions were removing and breaking down toxins and illnesses, reinforcing bone and muscle mass, augmenting thought speed, accelerating their natural healing speed, hormonal management, as well as the management of fat and muscle production. The more specific instructions would have to do with the implants that you are able to visibly see.”

The room was silent as the adults processed what was said.

“Who would do something like this?” Katsuki’s father asked. “Why would they do something like this?!”

“To answer your second question, to make soldiers,” Principal Nezu answered, before pausing and tilting his head. “No, that’s not true, now that I think about it. It would be more accurate to say that it was done to create weapons. As for who, this was the work of the Hero Public Safety Commission.”

Once again, the room was stunned silent.

“But, they’re meant to be the good guys,” Katsuki protested as the revelation clashed with everything he thought he had known about hero society.

“Indeed they are,” Principal Nezu answered with a surprising amount of amusement. “Unfortunately, I can’t blame the entirety of that wretched organisation. This was a very secret project, known only to those directly involved. I’m not at liberty to say much more on the matter, not with the deal I made to secure the safety of the six children before you, but I can inform you that they will be holding a press conference on the matter in Tokyo in a few hours.”

“Why would the Safety Commission want to experiment on six children?” a male asked, his hand resting on the orange-haired girl’s head.

“That’s where you’re wrong, partner,” the cowboy hero interjected. “You’re under the assumption that they wanted to turn six kids into weapons. The Hero Public Safety Commission wanted to turn three hundred kids into weapons. These tykes are the ones who survived all the way to the end.”

Katsuki heard his mother gasp as she pulled him in close, just as she did the same with Izuku.

“T-Three hundred?” Katsuki’s father gaped.

“Yep,” the shaggy hero muttered. “Their ‘Pilot Program’ had a 98% fail rate, and because no information could get out about it, you failed when you died, either from your body not accepting the nanomachines and the augmentations they created, died during training, or because the kids gave up the will to live.”

“Can we remove the implants?” the blond-haired father asked.

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Principal Nezu warned. “The children’s bodies have grown accustomed to the nanomachines that are found in every part of their biology. Unfortunately, while this has enhanced their capabilities and provided other abilities, it also had a result in weakening their immune system. Their bodies have grown used to not having to fight off any viral or bacterial infections, due to the nanomachines doing the job for them. Removing them from the children’s bodies could have unforeseen consequences.”

He walked over a small desk that sat in the corner of the room, picking up a set of pamphlets.

“These will contain the information about the children’s new dietary needs, as well as any information regarding their new capabilities. I have also included my personal contact details as well as the contact details of Inui Ryo, the Hunting Dog Hero: Hound Dog, who is U.A.’s guidance counsellor and therapist. Please feel free to make the most of these services we are willing to provide.”

“Why do all this?” one of the adults asked as she was handed a pamphlet. “I understand rescuing the children and making sure they go to homes where they’ll be cared for, but why go beyond the extra mile?”

Principal Nezu hesitated at that question, freezing in place before he turned to address the entire room. “I am first and foremost a principal of this learning establishment. But I am also a hero, one who uses his talents, abilities and resources to nurture, train and equip the next generation of heroes to the best of my abilities. However, I intimately know what it is like to be viewed as an object, rather than a person.”

The principal paused at that, his paw reaching up to trace along the scar where fur refused to grow from, leaving it a prominent mark on his face. 

“No one was there to help me when the nightmare ended, and I didn’t want that to happen to them. Each of you have been verified by my own sources as being suitable to look after the children. Mr and Mrs Bakugo, you were close friends with young Midoriya’s mother, while Mr and Mrs Jiro are young Jiro’s biological parents. As for the rest of you, Ms Sero, Mr Kendo, Mr and Mrs Hagakure, and Mr and Mrs Kirishima, each of you have been deemed suitable caregivers for the children, not only due to your clean records and stable financial state, but also due to your empathetic and caring nature.

“Rest assured, no expense has been spared for ensuring the children can have as stable a life as possible,” Principal Nezu continued. “I have made a deal with the new president of the Hero Public Safety Commission, with some of the details including that the information and identities of your children will never be revealed to the public. The only instance where their true nature will be exposed would be if they themselves wish to tell someone of their past and experiences.”

“New president?” Katsuki’s mother incredulously asked. “What happened to the old one? Has he decided to graciously step down from his position?!”

“While I’m sure you’d love nothing more than to exact your own form of punishment, Mrs Bakugo, I’m afraid you're a few days late,” Principal Nezu smirked. “After all, he was killed in the shootout that revealed this horrific act.”

Whispers and murmurs immediately broke out amongst the parents at the news.

“If we’ve gotten our pamphlets, can we go?” Katsuki’s father asked. “I’d prefer to make it to the Safety Commission’s conference on time.”

“Once you sign the nondisclosure form stating that you’ll never reveal the children’s true nature to the public, then certainly,” Principal Nezu said, placing the aforementioned document on the table with a generic blue pen next to it. “And for the sake of privacy and security, I’d advise that no numbers be shared between you all. It’s best that the children reenter society without any reminders of what they went through, even if those reminders are their fellow survivors.”

Katsuki’s parents nodded at that, both of them moving over to sign their names on the document, with Katsuki and Izuku following them as they left the room.

“Love, I’ll need you to drive us home,” Katsuki’s father said to his mother. “Taeru’s agency will be desperate for a scoop like this, so I’ll give him a call on the way home. Should give me the excuse to get in while also giving me the chance to chew out the Safety Commission. I’ll go pick him up when we get home.”

“Oh, maybe your brother will allow us to stay at his batch for a weekend in exchange,” Katsuki’s mother smiled. “It’s been a while since we went to Okinawa.”

“Kacchan?” Izuku asked, tugging on the sleeve of Katsuki’s hoodie. “Where are we going?”

“Where do you think, Izuku?” Katsuki huffed in exasperation. “We’re going home.”

“H-Home?”

Katsuki stopped where he was, looking at Izuku who had hope in his eyes.

“Yeah, home,” Katsuki repeated in a softer voice. “Come on, Mum said that we could have bacon and eggs for breakfast.”

-]l[-

Upon arriving home and his father quickly heading off to pick up Katsuki’s uncle, Katsuki’s mother headed off into the kitchen to start on breakfast, telling Katsuki to show Izuku around the house. Even though the Bakugo house was larger than average within Japan, being a two-story building with a backyard, there wasn’t much to show Izuku. He showed him the two bathrooms, one downstairs and the other upstairs, the kitchen, living room, backyard, and other generic rooms.

“And this is my bedroom,” Katsuki said, opening the door and walking in.

“Woah,” Izuku breathed, slowly turning around and taking in all of the posters of various Pro Heroes. “There’s so many. I don’t even know all of them.”

“Yeah, well, some of them became popular Pros when you were, um,” Katsuki trailed off, trying to decide how to word it.

“When I was in the Program, yeah,” Izuku nodded absentmindedly. “It’s okay, Kacchan, you can say it.”

Katsuki was silent for a moment, simply watching Izuku as he looked at the different Pros on display, before voicing a question that had been stuck in his head for hours now. “What happened there? Like, what did they do to you?”

Katsuki noticed Izuku flinch, his hands tightening into fists.

“I don’t remember all of it,” Izuku admitted. “I know that they performed their tests on us when we first joined, when we were five. I remember being strapped to a table, feeling my body being torn apart and put back together at the same time, but not much else. I know that it changed me, but I don’t remember what it was like. I can’t remember not having the strength or speed that I have, my body not being able to regenerate like it can or the abilities that I have.” 

“Abilities?” Katsuki interrupted as he asked his question. “Was that what the principal was talking about?”

“ Mhm ,” Izuku nodded. “When they injected us with the nanomachines, for those of us who survived, we were separated into one of six categories; Cloak, Wall, Pulse, Stim, Grapple, and Holo. They gave us different uniforms, to easily tell who had what abilities. Those who had Cloak were given red, Wall was given orange, Pulse was given yellow, Stim was given green, Grapple was given blue, and Holo was given indigo.”

“So it’s like a quirk,” Katsuki summarised. “Can you show me yours?”

Izuku walked backwards towards the doorway, stopping at it before walking slowly forwards. He was halfway across the room when he stopped, only for Katsuki to see an exact copy of him continuing across the room, even though Katsuki could clearly see one of the Izukus standing still.

“I’m a Holo,” the stationary Izuku explained, watching his copy walk into Katsuki’s bed before dissipating into motes of indigo light. “I’m able to make an illusion of myself that copies the actions I was doing when it’s made. If I’m running, my copy will run. If I’m walking, my copy will walk. It can’t hurt anyone, but it makes a really good distraction when you’re in a fight.”

“You’ve been in fights with other kids?” Katsuki asked in shock. Everything he remembered about Izuku before he went missing made him think that the green-haired boy would never try and pick a fight.

“Not with the other Pilots,” Izuku clarified. “Some did, but since they were mean, the other kids wouldn’t help them, and that often led to them dying. While there were other types of training they gave us, like simulations or weapon maintenance, they’d usually make us fight Spectres. As we got older, they stopped filling the magazines with rubber rounds, making it live-fire training. That’s when lots of the kids stopped making it back from training.”

“What are Spectres?” Katsuki asked, still trying to wrap his head around his friend having gone through what sounded like military training.

“Spectres, or BRD-01 Spectres, are robots manufactured by Hammond Robotics,” Izuku recited. “They have a mid-level artificial intelligence, are faster, stronger, and tougher than an ordinary human, but aren’t that intelligent. Their sensors are easily tricked, and they aren’t capable of complex problem solving.”

“So they made you fight killer robots?”

“I-I guess,” Izuku shrugged. “They weren’t hard to fight; because of our regeneration, if we got shot, we simply had to take cover and wait a few seconds for our body to repair itself. But, well, sometimes people get cocky, or unlucky, and our regeneration is only able to repair so much.”

Katsuki wanted to say something, anything, to try and make Izuku feel better. Katsuki wasn’t stupid, he knew that his dream of being a Pro Hero meant he’d be facing danger, of fighting villains who wanted to kill him. But Izuku had been through so much worse already, experimented on and forced into life-or-death situations from such a young age.

“Katsuki, Izuku!” Katsuki’s mother called out through the house. “Come down stairs! Breakfast’s ready!”

‘I’ll have to figure something out,’ Katsuki decided as he dragged Izuku downstairs. ‘If I can’t save someone my age, then there’s no way I can become a hero.’

-]l[-

After breakfast, Katsuki found himself sitting on the living room couch sandwiched between Izuku and his mother, the three of them focused on the broadcast that played on the TV.

“ Many of you will be wondering why we have called for this press conference, and some of you will be wondering where our organisation’s president is, ” a middle-aged woman with ash blonde hair spoke as she sat in the middle of the table, flanked on both sides by men in suits. “ It has fallen to me to relay tragic news; I am no longer the Vice President of the Hero Public Safety Commission. With the death of my predecessor, I am the new acting President. ”

Questions of all kinds burst forth from the gathered reporters and journalists in the conference room, however they were ignored by the new President who looked at the sheets of paper laid out in front of her.

“ The leadup to these events occurred six days ago, ” she began. “ Six days ago, there were reports of tectonic activity happening on a remote island off Japan’s southern coast. This was a lie that we fed to the media. In truth, it was the location of a battle between two titanic figures; All Might and an S-Class villain who we have labelled ‘All For One’. Their clash was so devastating that it could only be described as a natural disaster. While All For One was slain by the Symbol of Peace, All Might was grievously injured. Lady Nagant, a well respected Pro Hero as well as one of the Hero Public Safety Commission’s top agents, was nearby and was directed to investigate. It was her who discovered the aftermath of the battle, as well as discovering the injured All Might. While we can only speculate what precisely he told her, all evidence points towards the idea that during All Might’s titanic fight, he discovered evidence of a conspiracy within the Safety Commission, the information of which he seemingly passed on to Lady Nagant.

“Four days ago, Lady Nagant entered the head office of the Hero Public Safety Commission, taking the elevator to the President’s office. While there was no audio recording, security footage showed a conversation between the two that quickly became heated and animated, resulting in a standoff between the two. The then-president drew a handgun on Lady Nagant, who in response activated her Rifle quirk. While the President was killed on the spot, first responders were unable to stabilise Lady Nagant in time, as she was declared deceased on the scene. ”

Silence rang out across the gathered journalists, some of them staring in shock at what they had been told, while others furiously scribbled down notes and details.

“ While Lady Nagant may have paid the ultimate price in her confrontation of evil, her sacrifice wasn’t in vain. She helped to uncover a conspiracy, of which I am still struggling to comprehend how someone I was close to could have not only allowed to happen, but actively supported. The conspiracy that she uncovered was incredibly secretive and disconnected from the vast majority of the Safety Commission, with only four individuals having been linked to knowing and participating in it. This was known only as the ‘Pilot Program’. It saw three hundred children, all of them five-years-old at the program's inception, being subjected to extreme and intense experimentation and training in a desire to create an army of super soldiers. With the aid of Hammond Robotics providing robotic adversaries as well as their expertise in robotics and Wonyeon Defense providing the program with weapons and ammunition, the program lasted five years before it was discovered and immediately shut down. And while the experiments and trauma that these children were put through were horrifying to read about, what truly shocked me to the core was the end results, the vile fruit that the program created. ”

The Madam President paused at that, taking in a shaky breath as she read off her papers. “ The Pilot Program, initially beginning with three hundred test subjects, saw a fatality rate of 98%; when the program was shut down, only six children still lived. ”

“ Where are they? ” one reporter called out from the crowd, which quickly prompted a flurry of questions from the others.

“ They are-! ” the Madam President began, yelling to try and be heard over the clamour, only for a loud, overpowering voice to cut through the noise.

“ LISTEN UP! ” 

The attention of everyone in the room, the cameraman included, turned towards the side of the room where the HPSC members had entered from. Standing proudly, Katsuki and Izuku both gasped as they saw Present Mic standing proudly on the sides, the blond young adult Pro hero grinning at the attention he’d gathered.

“ Thank you, Present Mic, ” a familiar voice said, revealing itself to be Principal Nezu, calmly walking forth with Snipe and the shaggy man walking behind him. Some of the guards for the members of the Safety Commission moved to draw their weapons, however they were stalled by a quick gesture from the Madam President, who while she didn’t look shocked, certainly didn’t look pleased.

“ The children are under permanent name suppression, ” Principal Nezu explained as he was lifted onto the table that the other HPSC delegates were seated at, a miniature microphone in his paws. “ While I’m sure that everyone gathered here are model citizens and journalists, I’m sure we all know some people who would do anything for a front-page story, even if it violated the privacy of the children. ”

“ Principal Nezu! ” a reporter within the crowd called out, prompting the small teacher to point his free paw at the journalist. “ Hōkoku Zenchō from Fuun Media. What connection do you and U.A. have to this incident? ”

“ A very good question, ” Principal Nezu nodded. “ I am here because it was us at U.A. who were the ones to organise the raid on the facility where the Pilot Program was happening. While I never had the honour of calling Lady Nagant one of my former pupils, I was a trusted confidant of hers. It caused me much grief when I heard of her passing, as I had seen her only hours earlier, but I will remain steadfast in ensuring that her discovery was not in vain. ”

“ Precisely, ” the Madam President nodded. “ Principal Nezu has been instrumental in assisting us with our investigation. Without his peerless intellect, I doubt we would have made as much progress as we have. ”

“ Your compliment is greatly appreciated, ” Principal Nezu nodded before turning his attention back towards the crowd, pointing his paw forwards. “ Yes, you in the green shirt. ”

The man in question stood up, and even though his back was towards the camera, Katsuki instantly recognised him.

“That’s Dad!” he exclaimed, shaking his mother’s arm in excitement. “Dad’s on TV!”

“ Bakugo Masaru, representing Musutafu News, ” his father introduced with a serious tone. “ My question is towards the new president of the Hero Public Safety Commission. How is it that such a heinous violation of multiple human rights, towards children no less, could happen right underneath not only your nose, but also under the noses of the entire Hero Public Safety Commission, who are meant to manage who is and isn’t a hero?! ”

Katsuki had never heard his father so angry, not even when he overheard him criticising the fashion choices of celebrities and heroes. To be honest, it was kind of cool seeing his father so animated.

“ It was a very secretive project, very few individuals within the Safety Commission were even a part of it, ” the Madam President reasoned, looking over the crowd for another person to choose, but Katsuki’s father wasn’t having it.

“ I am a father! ” he yelled, drawing the attention back to him. “ I am a father and an uncle of two boys. Both of them are ten years old; the exact age that these children who were rescued would have been. So forgive me, Madam President, if I’m feeling emotionally involved, but I can’t help but wonder, ‘What if it was my son who was one of those children, or my nephew?’ My son wants to be a Pro Hero, but how can I as a loving, caring father encourage such a dream when the very people who will regulate him and his activities allowed such atrocities to occur! ”

“ You should watch your tone, young man, ” one of the HPSC executives warned, his grey eyebrows furrowing in anger.

“ They were children! ” Katsuki’s father rebuked, his voice quickly being supported by others within the crowd

“ They were only quirkless! ”

The entire conference room fell silent, only for a moment, before erupting into chaos, jeers and accusations being thrown towards the panel of Safety Commission members. The executive who had spoken clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes widening as they turned to look at the Madam President, whose glare promised punishment beyond words for what he had said.

“That bastard,” Katsuki’s mother swore. “Two hundred and ninety-four children dead and that’s his excuse? Disgusting.”

Katsuki merely watched, wide eyed and almost excited as he saw the pure fury on his father’s face, easily angrier than he’d ever seen his mother, and given his father was meant to be the calm one, made Katsuki realise his father was probably much better at controlling his anger.

‘So cool.’

However, while the crowd was in riot and the board of Hero Public Safety Commission executives were trying to salvage the situation, the shaggy Pro Hero who had accompanied Principal Nezu looked down at his phone, his eyes widening, before walking over to his boss, leaning down to whisper something in his ear. The chimeric teacher nodded once before turning towards Present Mic, nodding his head sideways towards the crowd.

“ ALRIGHT, EVERYONE! ” the Voice Hero yelled, once more causing the crowd to quieten. “ Thank you! Principal Nezu has some tragic news that he needs to share! ”

“ Thank you again, Present Mic, ” Principal Nezu said before turning towards the crowd with a sorrowful expression. “ Not only has this travesty been discovered which will surely shake the public’s trust in the Safety Commission, as well as the heroic death of Lady Nagant, but there is unfortunately more that has just been relaid to me. It is with great sadness that I must be the bearer of yet more bad news; All Might passed away from his injuries mere minutes ago. ”

A feather falling to the ground would have been audible in the silence, and the sound of a coin hitting the floor deafening. Then, from the limp grasp of some shocked reporter, a pen clattered onto the floor, and with it the room burst once more into chaos.

-]l[-

The following day, the entire press conference and all that had been revealed was the front story of not only all newspapers in Japan, but featured in all papers across the world. And at the forefront of it all, for everyone to see, was the news that brought sorrow to heroes and joy to villains.

All Might, No. 1 Pro Hero of Japan, the World’s Symbol of Peace, was dead.

Chapter Text

Days earlier…

Josei Shachō sighed, one hand rubbing her tired eyes while the other added her signature to yet another document amongst the uncountable amount she had already signed. And judging by the pile to her right, there was still an uncountable amount more to go.

‘How did it come to this?’ she thought to herself, though she was entirely aware of the events that led to her sitting in her former superior’s chair. Even though she tried to not let her eyes wander, they couldn’t help but straying over to a patch of the carpet darker than the rest. The carpet hadn’t even dried yet after her staffs’ attempts to wash the freshly split blood out of it.

To think, mere hours earlier she was the vice president of the Hero Public Safety Commission, only having to worry about managing heroes and the organisation’s reputation and image. All of the dirty, yet necessary details were able to be left to her boss. But she no longer had such luck. Tsutsumi Kaina, or Lady Nagant as the public knew her as, had finally snapped, just as she’d warned her boss would happen, taking the life of the former president before shutting down, not giving a gram of resistance when other Pro Heroes with close ties with the Safety Commission stormed the head office.

Shachō knew that Lady Nagant was a leak; she had somehow discovered the existence of the Pilot Program, and now had killed the president of Japan’s hero monitoring agency. And yet, despite that, Shachō was conflicted. Yes, Lady Nagant was a risk not only to the organisation but to Japan as a whole, since they were all so reliant on Pro Heroes and the image they had, and yes, she had deliberately taken a life she wasn’t meant to, but it was Shachō who discovered her incredible talent, who saw the potential in what she could do with her quirk. It was Shachō who turned a blind eye as the missions they started sending her on became more and more bloody, until killing her targets was all they had her do.

Put simply, Shachō Josei, the newest president of the Hero Public Safety Commission, couldn’t order the death of one woman simply because she felt guilty.

‘Maybe not all of my morality was lost after all,’ she mirthlessly joked in her head.

“Um, Ms Josei, ma’am?” called out the nervous voice of Hisho, her secretary. “Principal Nezu of U.A. High School is here to see you.”

‘Of all times,’ Shachō grumbled to herself. “Tell him I’m busy and schedule a meeting for another day. I’ve got enough on my hands as it is without having to entertain him.”

“T-That’s the issue, ma’am,” Hisho responded. “He isn’t asking.”

That answer caused Shachō to look up, her eyes quickly widening in shock as she saw what was happening at the entrance of her new office; Hisho standing in the doorway with a terrified expression on his face. While he was a naturally nervous man, Shachō couldn’t blame him this time, as Snipe, a U.A. affiliated underground Pro Hero, was pressing the barrel of his modified revolver against the back of his head.

“Move it,” the cowboy hero ordered, forcing the scared man further into her office. He was followed behind by the Erasure Hero: Eraser Head, another U.A. underground Pro Hero, as well as Principal Nezu himself.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Shachō demanded, moving out from behind her desk.

“Ma’am?” Hisho asked with a shaky voice. “Am, am I going to d-die?”

“No, of course not, Hisho,” she said reassuringly. “You’re not going to die here.”

“Don’t you know it’s poor manners to make false promises?” Nezu asked with no small amount of amusement. “He could do something foolish, or you could do something foolish, or someone could walk into your office, see what’s happening, and try and do something foolish. There are a vast multitude of ways for your secretary’s brain matter, what little there likely is, to join his former president.”

The chimeric hero glanced around, quickly focusing on the damp patch of carpet.

“What a shame,” he sighed. “I really had hoped to have the chance of looking at such a glorious sight.”

“What’s your angle, Nezu?” Shachō asked with a firm tone. “This is madness, even for you. No matter your views on the Safety Commission, none of that will justify these actions.”

“ Mm ?” Nezu hummed, tilting his head. “Not even if the Hero Public Safety Commission is responsible for the false imprisonment of Lady Nagant?”

Shachō’s heart froze as her mind raced to figure out her next move.

“So you heard about that,” she remarked, not bothering to make it a question. “Then you must surely be aware that while yes, what was asked of Lady Nagant was unseemly, it was for the good of our society, to maintain the balance and stability that we need.”

“By killing the innocent,” Nezu retorted.

“They were villains who were preparing to commit crimes.”

“So that justifies their murders?”

“Planning to commit a crime is still a crime.”

“Yes, and carries an arrest sentence,” Nezu challenged, “not having them gunned down in some back alley, the acts deliberately hidden from the public.”

“Surely you must see that it was warranted,” Shachō pleaded, choosing to try her luck with the two underground heroes. “You both operate away from the spotlight, in the dark corners of society that we’d all prefer to forget about. You both must have made some tough decisions, morally grey decisions, but made them anyway for the betterment of society.”

“Sure, if that was the worst you’d done, then maybe,” Eraser Head acknowledged. “Did Lady Nagant crack under the pressure? Sure. Did your former president deserve what happened to him? Nah.”

“So then you can understa-”

“He deserved way worse than what he got.”

Eraser Head's cutting remark caused Shachō's sentence to be cut off, shock and confusion colouring her face.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You really think Principal Nezu had us here because of Lady Nagant's cover-up?” Snipe chuckled, the barrel of his gun now pointed towards the roof. “Come on now, missy, that's not what we're really here for.”

“We are aware of the Pilot Project,” Nezu concluded, grinning mockingly up at Shachō.

Shachō’s thoughts ground to a halt, plans and ideas she had to defuse the situation suddenly crumbling into dust before her.

“As am I,” she claimed, not bothering to deny the project’s existence. “I was made aware of it only hours ago.”

But despite her hopes, her deception didn’t pay off. Nezu’s face, always carrying that smirking, amused look, like there was some joke that only he was in on, suddenly fell, replaced with an unamused, almost offended expression. Well, as offended as one could manage on a rodent’s face.

“Don’t ever insult my intelligence like that again, Madam President,” he almost growled. “Did you really expect me of all people to believe that you weren’t aware of what your organisation was doing, when you had access to the entire organisation, your authority unquestionable bar one? That was a poor attempt at a lie, and we both know it.”

‘To hell with it,’ Shachō resigned. Her back was against the wall, and she was well and truly trapped in a corner. How ironic. Trapped in a corner like a rat, all because of a rat.

“Fine, the truth then,” she sighed. “Did I know about the Pilot Project? Yes. Did I know what they were doing to those children? Yes. Did I know what missions my predecessor was sending Lady Nagant on? Yes.

“But let me ask you this, Nezu,” Shachō challenged, glaring down at the chimeric creature. “What could I have done to stop it all? He was obsessed with order, wanting to maintain it at all costs. He was willing to make any kind of sacrifice to maintain the status quo that our society so blissfully lives in. And it’s not as if people didn’t speak out about it, raising objections to what was being done. ‘We can’t do that, it’s against the laws that we enforce.’ ‘We can’t make deals with the yakuza, even if it secures us allies in the criminal underworld.’ To him, morality wasn’t even a factor. If he could save five children by killing four, he’d gun down those four without a second thought and go to sleep thinking he’d saved lives. He was even willing to sacrifice his own daughter. His daughter, Nezu! When she overheard some of the darker things we were forced to do for the betterment of society, she was heartbroken. But rather than make a futile attempt at convincing her to not tell the media, he ordered her death and staged it as a car accident. That was the man I worked for, Nezu, the man I had breathing down my neck, always on the lookout for supposed traitors and weak links. He’s killed people for less, so I had to.”

The room was silent in the face of her outburst, broken only by the panting of Shachō as she tried to catch her breath after finally getting that weight off of her.

“Why was the Pilot Program created?” Nezu asked, though it didn’t sound like an accusation or condemning, but mere curiosity.

“We wanted a contingency,” Shachō revealed before pausing, glancing at the two underground heroes. “How much do they know about the true nature of Japan’s hero society?”

“You mean about the existence of our self-proclaimed Demon Lord, All For One?” Nezu asked. “They know. It would be more surprising if they didn’t, given their service of wading through the filth of our country.”

“So you both know our hero system was a sham, correct? That it was one big game to a man with more power than our world has ever seen?” Shachō asked, receiving nods from both men. “Then you’ll know, or have guessed, about the balancing act we had to maintain. Give into his desires enough that he doesn’t grow bored with our society and throw a tantrum like the manchild he is, but keep a firm enough stance that we don’t become his puppets. Our entire society, the fixation on hero culture, were a result of this. We needed heroes and villains to fight each other to keep him entertained, even though we knew he’d sometimes involve himself, relishing in his acts of cruelty in the hidden areas of our country. 

“But it wasn’t sustainable. We knew that it couldn’t last forever. Maybe he’d get bored or word would get out, but something was going to break, and we knew what would happen next; Japan would fall, like a toy being smashed by a petulant child who wasn’t able to get his way anymore. We needed a solution, so we got creative. All For One, mad as he is, was a genius when it came to fighting against heroes and their quirks. Why wouldn’t he, when he’s one of the oldest humans alive, a genius when it comes to genetics and quirk function, and has more wealth than we can imagine. But that was our one advantage; he’s only fought against heroes, not soldiers.

“Our plan was simple: create an army of supersoldiers that he wouldn’t be expecting or prepared for. He’s used to the flashy quirks, the heroic actions. What we needed was pure efficiency, individuals who could take down legions of armed soldiers and robots by their lonesome. Soldiers who could fight a Titan, one on one, and win.”

“That’s impossible,” Eraser Head scoffed. “Titans are a force of their own. Only Pros on the level of All Might could safely take on someone controlling a Titan. Maybe lower level Pros in the twenties to forties could take on a lone Stryder-class Titan, if they surprised it, but an Atlas or Ogre? Forget it, you’d die after the first hit.”

“And that’s why we had to get creative,” Shachō nodded. “The world has seen the destructive potential of Titan warfare ever since the Mining Wars broke out in Europe; rebel cells, militia grounds and resistance movements fighting back against the International Mining Corporation, causing devastation wherever they clash. They’ve shown that, on average, quirks haven’t yet caught up to, let alone outpaced, technology.”

“So that was your aim,” Snipe realised. “You were planning to attack All For One with legions of Titans, hoping that would be enough to take him out.”

“Not just Titans,” Shachō disagreed. “We planned to make individuals who could fight alongside Titans as equals, both of them a powerful force on the battlefield. But we needed to keep it secret, so All For One wouldn’t find out. We had to start early, recruiting children to make sure the soldiers would be totally loyal to us, so there was no room for All For One to worm in his lies and deception turning us against one another. And we had to recruit children who wouldn’t be overly missed by the wider public; the supposed dregs of society.”

“The poor?” Eraser Head growled.

“We tried that, but it was disastrous,” Shachō admitted. “The procedure involved injecting the subjects with nanomachines, making them faster, stronger, tougher, and more reactive. Unfortunately, nanomachines and quirks don’t mix, resulting in total organ failure at best. No, we had to go with children who the procedure would work on; the quirkless.”

“Oh, I’m sure parents were simply lining up at your doors to hand over their children,” Eraser Head sarcastically remarked, only for Shachō to scoff.

“Oh, you’d be surprised. We obviously couldn’t tell anyone what was happening, but the majority of children who we enlisted-”

“Acquired,” Nezu corrected. “After all, they were treated as objects, not people, so the correct term would be acquired. You don’t enlist a hammer or a shovel, now do you?”

“The majority of the children in the program were in the foster system,” Shachō continued. “Not enough for the entire program, unfortunately. The heads of the program, my predecessor one of them, wanted three hundred children as part of the first generation. So, they took more, drastic measures.”

“You're the reason for the kidnappings,” Nezu stated, and it wasn’t a question or a guess. “The string of disappearances regarding quirkless children five years ago; that was you.”

“That was them,” Shachō stressed. “I had no part in the project. Yes, I knew about it, but I refused to have anything to do with it.”

“Oh, how valiant of you,” Nezu mocked. “Truly, you must be a paragon amongst paragons, the greatest example of a pure soul.”

“The knowledge has kept me up every night, my dreams filled with children calling out to me, asking me to save them. I pray each and every night to have a dreamless sleep, and I can only be grateful I never had children of my own; I don’t think I would have had the strength otherwise.”

Shachō’s shoulders sagged, all of the strength leaving her body as she leaned her body against the edge of her desk. “And now it’s all for nothing. All For One, the villain those horrid experiments were done to fight against, is dead, and the project has no further meaning.”

“What?” Snipe gasped, with Eraser Head’s mouth dropping in shock. “He’s dead? Who killed him?”

“All Might,” Nezu answered, and Shachō wasn’t surprised in the slightest the chimera knew it. “A few days ago, the news reported an earthquake off Japan’s coast, remember? That was the result of All Might and All For One’s clash.”

“The real question is,” Nezu continued, glancing up at Shachō, “now that the project has no further meaning, what will become of the children who survived?”

That was the million yen question, wasn’t it. Shachō wasn’t sure just how much of the project Nezu was aware of, but she was certain he knew more than he was letting on.

“You come into my office, uninvited, with a gun pointed at my secretary’s head,” she remarked. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you already have a plan in mind.”

“How right you are,” Nezu grinned. “The project needs to be shut down and discontinued, on that we both can agree. The children will need to be rehomed and cared for so as to not fall on old habits, and their identities will need to be suppressed.”

“Agreed,” Shachō nodded, pleasantly surprised by how accommodating Nezu was.

“Oh, and I want the Safety Commission to make a public statement that they created a supersoldier project that resulted in the deaths of hundreds of children.”

Snipe’s gun immediately went from aiming at the roof to directly at Shachō’s forehead, steady in his grip. Eraser Head’s hair began to float as his eyes glowed red, and deep within her Shachō could feel her quirk being suppressed.

“You didn’t tell us about that, boss,” Eraser Head muttered, his capture scarf floating and ready to strike.

“Oh, my mistake, I simply forgot,” Nezu casually shrugged, a blatant lie that everyone in the room knew. “Just like how our Madam President of the Hero Public Safety Commission, an organisation that controls a sizable amount of the news stations, would conveniently forget to inform the public about this whole debacle.”

“You know, Nezu, you aren’t that good at negotiation,” Shachō said, trying desperately to present a calm facade. It wasn’t the first time she’d had a gun pointed at her head, but for it to happen on her territory? That was a first, and it unnerved her.

Nezu owlishly blinked at her, and if Shachō didn’t know exactly what D.N.A. made up his body, she’d have thought he was part owl also. But it quickly passed as Nezu snickered, then chuckled, then laughed, before his head was thrown back, cackling and howling in mad delight.

“Oh, my dear Josei Shachō,” he grinned wickedly. “Whatever gave you the impression that this was a negotiation?”

His body concealed underneath his immaculate suit pulsed and rippled, bulges of flesh straining against the fabric. His body swelled, growing from knee height to waist height, and then from waist height to shoulder height, then head height, and he kept growing, until he towered waist and torso above everyone in the room. His suit, strangely enough, was still there, having stretched and expanded to fit his new bulk. Nezu’s body, once small and cute, was now vast, imposing, incredibly muscular, and entirely terrifying. His once straight backed body was now hunched, looming over her. His body was like that of a bear standing on its hind legs, only without any semblance of unbalance. His paws still retained their bear-like nature, only now they looked much less friendly, each filled with enough power to separate a man’s torso from his legs, and that wasn’t factoring in the wicked claws that poked out from the fur. His tail, once thin and narrow, was longer and bushy, resembling that of a wolf, swaying slightly behind him, and his legs were like those of a wolf. But his face was the most terrifying of all. It was a blend of rodent, canine, and ursine, with a rat’s beady black eyes filled with malice, his scar stretching over his right eye, the ears of a wolf, twitching in the air, and the snout of a bear, his lips pulled back in a snarl.

“Don’t forget what you made me, human,” the creature snarled, three voices, each with different tones, speaking as one. “You wished to make a monster? Here I am. But for all your foolishness as slightly intelligent, hairless apes, you are right on one thing; I’m terrible at negotiations. And why wouldn’t I? One can’t expect to be good at something if they don’t practice it.”

The Neinku, a chimeric blend of three separate animals born with quirks, ripped apart and stitched back together into one being, loomed closer, its snout, which was easily large enough to fit Shachō’s head and shoulders, hovering in front of her.

“After all,” it snarled, “it is beneath me to negotiate. I only ever make demands.”

Shachō took in a shuddering breath, knowing that a poor choice of words could make them her last. “What are your demands, and what is the threat?”

The creature chuckled, leaning back as it began to shrink, the muscles vanishing within the suit as Neinku took on Nezu, his rat form.

“Aside from what was already mentioned, my demands are four fold; first, the children are to be given to families of my choice. I won’t take the chance of you being stupid enough to gain my ire by giving them to families on your payroll. Second, I have heard rumours of experimental Titan frames with sentient AI, not unlike those Vanguard titans found within the Militia Army. Not surprising, given that Dr Vinson was responsible for the creation of them. I want those Titans handed over to me, under a contract that they will be given to the children when they turn fifteen. Who will receive who can be negotiated later. Third, to reiterate, the Hero Public Safety Commission needs to publicly declare that this project existed. I don’t care who you throw under the bus, the former president, his lackeys, whatever corporations you employed, so long as it's made public. Fourth and finally, I want a conversation with Ms Tsutsumi, face to face, and if she is receptive to my offer, for her to be declared dead, given an honourable death, and provided with a clean slate. No need for a fake I.D., since your organisation already did that for me; Tsutsumi Kaina doesn’t exist in the Japanese registry after all.”

Shachō’s mind raced as she processed the chimera’s demands. Most of them were more than reasonable, and while publicly acknowledging the project rather than sweeping it under the rug was going to be a PR Storm, it was doable. However, Nezu’s final demand was more worrying.

“Why Lady Nagant?” she asked. 

“I have a feeling we have a lot in common,” Nezu cryptically answered. “And besides, I’m always looking for interesting staff at my academy.”

“They’re high demands, Nezu,” Shachō freely admitted.

“And I have damning evidence,” the chimera smirked, tossing forth a holographic disk onto the floor. Its projector lit up, filling the air between them with diagrams, files, images, videos, and documents. All of them filled with damning evidence of the many, many shady deals the Safety Commission had been forced to make over the years.

“Now, I shouldn’t have to explain what will happen if my demands aren’t met,” Nezu remarked. “What I have on this disk is more than enough evidence to bring your entire organisation down. Now, as much as I’d love to see it happen, I wouldn’t emerge from it unscathed; I’d be damaged in your organisation’s death throes, and while I and my academy would survive, I’d prefer to avoid that.”

“And I’m correct in assuming there are multiple copies in the country?”

“As well as outside of the country,” Nezu smirked. “I’m glad you catch on quickly, more so than your predecessor ever did.”

Shachō took a deep breath, considering the benefits and consequences of accepting the deal. It didn’t take very long for her mind to make its decision.

“Lady Nagant has unofficially been moved to Tartarus,” she explained. “It’s been kept very hush-hush, with only a few of the higher ups aware of it. Since she isn’t officially registered there, it shouldn’t be an issue to get her transferred out. However, any conversation with her will be monitored, and there’s a time limit. You’ll have to convince her quickly.”

“So we have a deal,” Nezu nodded, turning around and leaving with his bodyguards, not that he needed them. “You help me out, and I’ll help you by not bringing your organisation crashing down around you.”

“Threats only work so many times before they lose their power, Nezu,” Shachō reminded the leaving chimera. “Don’t expect a stunt like this to work again.”

“Not to worry, my dear,” Nezu’s retreating voice said. “I only needed it to work once.”

-]l[-

Tsustumi Kaina was tired. Anyone else in her position would likely be angry, or sad, or confused, or hurt, but not her. No, she simply wanted to lie down, close her eyes, sleep, and never wake up. 

Where had it all gone wrong? 

No, that wasn’t the right question. When had it all lost its deception? 

When they told her to not leave any witnesses? 

When she was told to frame someone for something they didn’t do? 

Or maybe it was when the reasoning, no, the excuses changed. 

‘Do it because it’s the right thing to do.’ 

‘Do it because they’re dangerous.’ 

‘Do it because they’re villains.’ 

‘Do it for the world.’ 

‘Do it for our society.’ 

‘Do it for our company.’ 

‘Do it for me.’

Once, she believed in the cause. It was exciting, being chosen by Japan’s hero management organisation, a branch of the government with unparalleled independence. It was exciting to be able to use her quirk, to be told she was going to be a hero. 

What a joke. 

They didn’t want a hero, they wanted a weapon. They didn’t care about Tsutsumi Kaina, how she loved wearing pretty dresses and cute toys, to wear her hair in the cutest styles. They didn’t care that she would get frustrated when her hair wasn’t able to be tamed, sticking out at odd angles. They only cared about Rifle, her quirk. That’s all they viewed her as anyway; a rifle, one to point at their enemies to maintain the fragile facade that Japan lived in. They loved to boast about their low crime rate of only 6%, heap praise and glory on the popular Pros, the Top Tens, the heroes in the spotlight. No one cared to think about where villains would disappear to, or why they didn’t try more drastic measures. People truly were content to keep walking, blind to the world, so long as they got to live their little fantasy uninterrupted.

She had known for months now, maybe a year, that she needed to get out. But quitting was impossible; she’d killed too many former H.P.S.C employees to make that mistake. Faking her death had seemed the best option at the time. But then she had gotten the call, told to investigate the source of some earthquake. It didn’t matter that she had been given leave, if the President wanted his rifle to investigate, then it should investigate. After all, rifles aren’t meant to complain.

What she discovered looked like Hell on Earth. Weird, fleshy tendrils lay scattered across the ground, many of them severed along their length, bleeding unnatural purple blood. No trees or grass remained in the ground, though some trees had survived the event, resting on their sides. And at the centre of it all, collapsed next to a crater filled with blood, was All Might.

To Kaina, All Might was different from the rest. He didn’t become a hero in Japan, but in the United States. While crime was higher there, it was a more genuine, transparent society. Bad things happened, heroes lost, but that’s okay, because it’s only over when you give up.

One of the many reasons she had considered travelling there when she faked her death. 

All Might was also genuine. Having lived a life looking through her scope, sculpted from her own flesh, Kaina understood people. It was her job after all, to know when someone was going to run, to know when was the right time to take their life. 

So she could say with full confidence that All Might was unaware of the true state of society. He knew more than most, that went without saying. But even though he knew more than the weak civilians, dependent on heroes due to their own social chains, or the Pro Heroes who looked up to the chart toppers, All Might was unaware of the true darkness within society. He was more than aware of the villainous darkness, the various factions of gangs, criminals and villains that called Japan home, but he wasn’t aware of the more insidious darkness, the one that sat next to you, smiled at you, despite the blood that coated their hands. After all, the Safety Commission had caused more suffering, committed more crimes and broke more laws than many groups of villains could ever dream of.

So for Kaina, the sight of a bloody, collapsed All Might was more than distressing. Society called him the Symbol of Peace, a testament to how great of a hero he was to be recognised globally as the greatest. But to Kaina, All Might was her Symbol of Hope. Thanks to him, she knew there was genuine goodness still left, one that didn’t care about the fame or glory, but simply that people were safe, and doing everything in his power to keep it that way.

She had rushed over to him, sending out an urgent call for medical assistance on the Safety Commission’s priority frequency as she did, doing her best to stabilise the No. 1 Hero. While All Might’s injuries from afar seemed bad, they were much worse up close. His suit was tattered, cuts and lacerations covered his body, but worst of all was the gaping wound on the left side of his torso. While she feared the worst, a shuddering gasp from All Might showed her that life hadn’t yet left the Symbol of Peace.

“Y-You’re Lady Nagant,” he said, forcing the words out of his mouth before coughing up blood. “I need you to do something for me.”

“It can wait!” she had frantically said. “You need a doctor! Please, All Might! You can’t die now!”

“No, child, listen!” All Might ordered, his stern voice cutting through to her. “What you see around you is the aftermath of my fight with the villain All For One.”

“The demon lord of Japan’s criminal underworld?” Kaina gasped.

“The very same,” All Might nodded with a grimace. “He is dead, and good riddance, though he got in a few good licks.”

All Might chuckled at his own words, though his laugh quickly turned into a blood-filled cough.

“Listen to me, Lady Nagant. Before he died, All For One told me something. He told me how he had discovered a secret project that aimed to turn children into supersoldiers, where they performed experiments on them and subjected them to dangerous, lethal training, all in an effort to make an army to kill him. A secret project funded and directed by the Safety Commission’s President.”

Kaina’s breath hitched as she processed All Might’s words. A more naive Tsutsumi Kaina would have tried to protest against it, to deny that something like that would be done by the Safety Commission. But Lady Nagant was more jaded, and knew that it was exactly something that would be done, all in the name of the greater good.

“Only you can find where they are,” All Might continued. “You have the connections and the position to investigate it without raising any attention. Those children are relying on you.”

“You don’t think he was lying?” Kaina had asked, voicing a pragmatic part of mind. “All For One is a known manipulator.”

“I know it’s the truth for one simple reason; my heart would break if it were true, and he knows it.”

And he was right. After the paramedics arrived, accompanied by Recovery Girl, Kaina had begun her investigation, and for the first time in a while, was grateful for the access her position within the company granted her. It took her two days of digging through records and files before she found the smoking gun; reports, files, suggestions and all manner of documentation detailing the experiments being performed on the children. Not only that, but also the location of the primary testing facility, located deep underground.

‘Do it for the children,’ she repeated to herself as she downloaded everything she could. ‘For once in your useless life, do something for the betterment of people, not this fake society.’

She knew that she couldn’t keep the information on her. She wasn’t worried about it being discovered, but rather her not being able to tell anyone else. No one within the organisation was trustworthy, and so she turned to the one person she could count on to hate her employers more than anyone else alive; Nezu, the Principal of U.A. Academy, and a very open and public critic of the Safety Commission. 

No surprises there. After all, it was the Safety Commission who created the immortal chimera generations ago in the early days of quirks.

She sent a brief message accompanying the attachments. “The Safety Commission is doing something I didn’t know about. I can’t do this anymore. Do with the information what you wish. I’m quitting, one way or another.”

After ensuring that the message had been received, Kaina walked calmly and confidently to the President’s office. It was routine for her to receive her orders in person, so no one thought to stop her. They performed their routine weapon checks on her, as was standard for anyone, but it was only as she opened the door that Kaina reflected on how useless of a procedure it was for her. She’d never carried a gun in her life. And why would she? Her very own right arm was a rifle.

“I’m done,” she declared once the door was closed behind her. “All of the missions, the lies, the killing; I’m done with it all. I quit.”

The President was silent, tilting his head as he turned to face her, as if examining an interesting insect.

“I must admit, Lady Nagant, this does come as quite a surprise,” he said in a calm tone. “For years, you’ve worked faithfully for me, for this organisation. Not once have you complained, or disobeyed orders, or even failed an assignment. I’m not trying to flatter you when I say that you’re the Safety Commission’s best agent. None have stopped as many tragedies before they even began as you. None have eliminated as many corrupt, unseemly heroes as you, maintaining the pristine image that the public needs. So forgive me for being curious, but why do you want to quit now?”

“Pilot Program,” she simply answered, feeling a small sensation of vindication at the President’s widening eyes.

“Is that meant to mean something?” he bluffed. Someone inexperienced might have bought it; Lady Nagant was anything but inexperienced.

“You enlisted three hundred children into your experiments, flooded their bodies with nanomachines, causing their arms, their back, or even their very skin to be replaced with machinery. You’ve been pitting them against Spectres provided by Hammond Robotics, having them run simulations of Titan piloting, training them in gunmanship with weapons provided by Wonyeon Defence, hand to hand combat, and knife fighting. And all of this started when they were five years old, for the express purpose of defeating a villain slain only days ago.”

The room was silent as Kaina finished. She could almost see the cogs turning in the President’s head, plotting and planning, trying to make everything fit together for his benefit.

“I didn’t expect you to find out,” he admitted. “We did consider bringing you on to instruct the subjects on matters of sharpshooting, but decided against it. However, you are unfortunately correct. With All For One having been slain, the project, and the children by extension, no longer have any use.”

“What will happen to them?”

“What happens to every tool when it’s no longer needed,” he shrugged. “Discarded or put away for later use.”

Kaina’s hand twitched at that callous statement. He didn’t see them as children, but subjects, tools, weapons for his never-ending war to maintain the illusion. In her mind, images of young fans appeared before her, beaming up at her with wide eyes, unaware of the blood on her hands; pure and unaware of how cruel the world really was.

“I can’t let you do that,” she declared, a spark of anger entering her heart. “I won’t let you toss them to the side simply because they no longer suit you.”

“Lady Nagant, we-”

“Tsutsumi!” she yelled, repressed emotions surging forth from where they were buried long ago. “Tsutsumi Kaina! That’s my name, not Lady Nagant! I’m a person, with hopes and fears, not a weapon for you to point at anyone who goes against your vision for our society! I’m meant to be a hero, yet I don’t save lives, I take them! You never gave me that chance! You never gave me any chance to make my own decisions!”

The President was silent for a moment, looking at her with a condescending stare like she was a door that didn’t close properly, or a pair of scissors that didn’t cut cleanly; he looked at her like a malfunctioning tool, rather than a human at the end of her wits and sanity.

“And I suppose if I don’t give into your demands that you’ll go public with this?” he sighed, as if this was a laborious conversation he had to endure. “Who’s word will they believe, yours or mine?”

“They don’t have to believe my words,” Kaina challenged. “They just have to read the files and watch the footage I downloaded.”

At that, the President’s eyes truly widened in shock, and for the first time, Kaina saw fear in those eyes.

“Do you remember what I said to you when you finished training, when you became our agent?” he asked, pulling open a drawer from behind his desk, reaching into it. “This isn’t a job you can simply walk away from.”

He raised his hand, revealing it to be holding a handgun, a Hammond P2011 based on the model. He gasped, however, when he realised that Kaina had activated her quirk, her right arm having transformed into a biological rifle, the barrel pointed directly at him.

“I always did admire your confidence, sir,” she said with a resigned smile before firing, the bullet made from her hair punching through him instantly, causing the glass behind him to shatter and blood spraying across the carpet around him. He staggered, looking down at his fatal wound in disbelief, before collapsing to the ground, dead.

Her final mission finished, Kaina knelt on the carpet, not having to wait long before Pro Heroes and Safety Commission guards burst into the room. Words were exchanged, yells traded, and all the while Kaina was silent and unresponsive. She was swiftly restrained, though she offered no resistance, moved through the building via private passageways. She was loaded into a nondescript van, closed in with no windows or means of seeing the outside word. She didn’t care though; she knew where they were taking her, even if it was only going to be for a short while. After all, villains as dangerous as her were placed in Tartarus, kept away from the civilised world.

And here she sat. A bed, a toilet, a metal brace around her right arm, and all the white walls a girl could want. She didn’t think she’d be here long. She just hoped they’d have the decency of telling her when she was going to be executed. But so far, she hadn’t heard anything, so decided to settle in to what was hopefully going to be a short-

“Oi, Nagant,” a guard said with a gruff voice at the door to her cell. “Face the wall; you try anything, and you’ll regret it.”

‘Didn’t expect my execution to be so soon,’ Kaina thought to herself, ignoring the chains that were placed on that connected her wrists together, her ankles together, and the two chains together, forcing her to walk in a shuffling motion, otherwise she’d trip over and fall. She knew she was a dead woman walking, but she’d prefer to die with her head up, even if it wasn’t held high.

However, what she didn’t expect was to be forced into a seat facing a glass window, nor the small mammalian person on the other side.

“Principal Nezu?” she asked, shock filling her voice and mind. “What’s going on? Why are you here?”

“You are aware that prisoners, even in a place like Tartorus, are allowed to have visitors, correct?” Nezu amusedly asked. “Even if you’ve only been here for a few hours, you are still entitled to that right.”

A thousand questions within Kaina’s mind begged to be asked, but only one stood out amongst the rest. “Did you get my message? The evidence I sent you?”

“I did,” Nezu nodded. “I suspected something was happening with the Safety Commission, but I never would have guessed it was as large, nor would I have been able to prove it so easily. You have my thanks, Tsutsumi Kaina. Six children will be able to live normal lives thanks to your bravery.”

Kaina felt she didn’t deserve any praise. It was a pyrrhic victory at best, and no one could convince her otherwise.

“Why are you here, sir?” Kaina asked, voicing the question that had been circling inside.

“I met with the new president of the Safety Commission earlier today,” Nezu informed. “We had a, let’s say, productive conversation. We came to an agreement for what to do regarding this situation, and one of the demands was to allow this conversation, as well as what might follow.”

“And what did she demand in return?” Kaina asked. “She was always insistent on give-and-take.”

“I agreed not to bring your former employers crashing down,” Nezu grinned, a statement that brought a genuine smile on Kaina’s face.

“A shame.”

“Yes, but we all have to make sacrifices to get what we want,” Nezu sagely nodded. “Now, for the matter at hand. I didn’t come here merely to congratulate you on your bravery before leaving you to rot for the rest of your life. I came here for one particular purpose: to offer you a job.”

Kaina blinked in surprise at that. “You are aware that I killed my former employer hours ago, right?”

“Oh, I’m fully aware,” Nezu responded cheerfully. “And I’m sure you’re aware that you couldn’t kill me if you wanted, or even if I wanted to.”

Kaina simply hummed in agreement.

“I won’t beat around the bush; I want to hire you as my bodyguard,” Nezu declared. “Over time, if you agree to it, we could even give you a position as a teacher at my school.”

“Why a bodyguard?” Kaina asked. “You don’t need one, and there are other teachers at your school who could play that role.”

“Appearances must be kept, Ms Tsutsumi,” Nezu said. “And my staff are busy teaching their classes. But besides that, I want you in my employ for another reason: you are aware of the true nature of our society, the fragility of it.”

Kaina paused to think, glancing up at the cameras that stared down at her. “Is it alright to talk about this when we’re being monitored?”

“They’ll remain silent,” Nezu shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the strangest conversation to happen down here, and even if it was, they can’t talk about it. Each employee of Tartarus signs an agreement of non-disclosure; whatever happens down here, all information and knowledge of it stays down here. I’m not concerned about them.”

“Why me?” Kaina asked. “I mean, why me specifically?”

“Aside from it being a reward for your good deed?” Nezu asked, to which Kaina answered with a nod. “Simply put, Ms Tsutsumi, when you live as long as I have, and have the intellect that I have, you start to see patterns. I can already predict someone’s movement and behaviour, that’s a trivial matter, but predicting the future as a whole is another, more pressing matter. It doesn’t happen often, but my mind does begin to see the dots; not all of them, but enough to get a rough idea of the picture.”

“And what do you see?”

“War.”

Kaina blinked again, taken aback not only by his blunt, short wording, but also his changed expression. What had once carried a jovial tone now bore seriousness and certainty. 

“Our society is cracking at the seams, and a large crack is about to form,” he cryptically answered. “This facade that exists in Japan will break, sooner rather than later, and war will once again grace Japan’s shores. Japan has seen devastation, especially in the early days of quirks, there isn’t any question on that, but this will be organised. Armies will form, something that Japan hasn’t had in well over a century, and I predict two forces clashing. No longer heroes and villains, but two armies, with heroes and villains on opposite sides, and yet they are only part of the army, rather than the whole. I want to be prepared, and I’d prefer you in my hand rather than my enemy’s.”

“And who is your enemy?” Kaina asked.

Nezu was silent, his beady eyes staring into her soul. “Before All Might passed out, he said something strange to Recovery Girl, a close confidant of mine. ‘All For One was taken away by his servants.’”

Kaina was confused, the significance of the Principal’s words there on the tip of her tongue, just out of reach. Then it all connected. All For One’s body wasn’t recovered. His death wasn’t verified. And the Hero Public Safety Commission wasn’t aware that he might still live.

Her eyes met Nezu’s, a mutual understanding passing between them. If the Safety Commission discovered that All For One might still be alive, then there was the chance that they’d start the Pilot Program all over again.

“Okay,” Kaina nodded, “I’ll do it. I’ll accept your job offer as your bodyguard.”

“Excellent,” Nezu grinned, the smile quickly spreading across his snout. “Then our conversation is over, Ms Tsutsumi. As per my previously made agreement, Lady Nagant will be declared dead in a few days, having been shot in the lungs when she confronted the President of the Safety Commission about a heinous experiment he was performing. While emergency responders tried their best, you died before you could even leave the building. You shall die a martyred hero, mourned by all who knew you, allowing Lady Nagant to die, freeing you from that name. Of course, Tsutsumi Kaina has always been in the Japanese registry, and recently entered the employment of U.A. and its principal.”

“Thank you for this offer, sir,” Kaina bowed deeply in her chair, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. “I won’t let you down.”

“I’m sure you won’t, Ms Tsutsumi, I’m sure you won’t,” Nezu grinned as he hopped down from his chair. “Enjoy your sleep tonight; it will be your last night here.”

Kaina was silent as the guards returned to her, dragging her back to her cell. And yet, as she settled down on her bed, the only place of comfort in her cell, she couldn’t help but look at her room in a different light. After all, she wasn’t going to be here for long, merely passing through. And as she closed her eyes, her mental fatigue catching up to her, she slept with a smile on her face, satisfied as the chains that were Lady Nagant broke, setting Tsutsumi Kaina free.

Okay, I hope you all enjoyed that first chapter and enjoyed the second one, we’re in for a rollercoaster, ladies and gents. 

Really appreciated the support that was shown for the first chapter, honestly blew me away. 

I hope you all enjoy what I’ve written so far, with the changes to canon that have occurred and the lore drops that I’ve scattered about. Always keen to hear praise and feedback, and even questions, so if you have any, don’t be shy to ask.

As a quick note, the weapons and Titans mentioned were all from Titanfall 1. That’s because this does take a few years before the start of the main story, so the Hammond P2011 is standard, compared to the Hammond P2016 in a few years. However, Ogres, Stryders and Atlas Titans will remain standard, though the reason for which will be revealed as the story progresses. 

Any reader of my other stories knows I like to address comments from both FanFiciton and Ao3 in one place, so lets get to it.

Lukeslosthand: Buddy, thank you so much for pointing that out, I wouldn’t have realised if you hadn’t (damn system). Not to worry, this isn’t a one shot, far from it, I have extensive plans for many more chapters to come. Hope you enjoy the ride.

SoggySoviet: Glad you enjoyed my work, and hopefully the many changes that will happen along the way.

Kilo8: Yep, I’ve made a few creative liberties when it came to blending these two universes together, some of which have been hinted at this chapter, while others you’ll have to wait and see. 

CroixAura: I agree, Titanfall is simply a bloodpumping ride from start to finish, so pissed that we’ll probably never see a third instalment. Funny you should mention Scorch, since the reveal of the Titans is in release order of their Prime variants; Ion and Scorch, Northstar and Legion, then Tone and Ronin. Subsequently, that will be the order in which the Pilots and their Titans will be revealed. Ion and Izuku will be attending U.A. alongside Scorch and his Pilot, but who will it be? And how will the other survivors of the Pilot Program make their appearance? You’ll just have to wait and see. I am interested to see who people think will be paired with which Titan though.

Okay, and that’s all from me. Next chapter’s title is, “ Gangs & Family. ” We’re seeing another timeskip, this time to the start of Izuku and Katsuki’s final year of middle school.

See you next time…

- Jevm

Chapter Text

As blinding lights illuminated the room and a blaring siren sounded over the speakers, Obake 2-13-8’s eyes snapped open, his body moving before he could even think. His thin sheets were thrown off his body as he rolled out of bed, quickly standing by his bed, snapping to attention before the alarm ended.

“ All Holo-class Pilots, at attention, ” a synthesised voice ordered. 2-13-8 knew, both from his own experience and witnessing it happening to others, about the electric shocks that his bracelets would administer if he weren’t standing at attention.

The room was silent for a moment before the artificial voice returned. “ Doors to the mess hall will be unlocked in ten minutes. Prepare for the day. ”

He allowed himself to relax slightly, glancing around the room, feeling loneliness welling in his heart. The room, a barracks that contained twenty-five bunks, enough for fifty Pilots, was empty. Obake 3-12-21-16’s bed was empty, stripped of her blankets or mattress. Of all of the beds in the barracks, 2-13-8’s bed was the only one with any form of comfort. He was now the last of the Obake, the Holo-class pilots, since 3-12-21-16 died yesterday, caught off guard by a Spectre and catching an unlucky shot to the head. Even for them, no Pilot could survive that kind of injury, not with the caliber she was shot with.

Grabbing his basic toiletries from a small bag at the end of his bed, 2-13-8 made his way to the communal bathroom. What was designed to accommodate fifty children now felt desolate and empty, the only noise being the sounds of running water or bristles cleaning plaque from his teeth. 

He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, taking in his tired green eyes and cut short green hair. No scars marked his freckled face thanks to the nanomachines that filled his body, but he wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or not. He was tired. For five years he’d trained, and he still had five more to go. He didn’t think he’d be able to last that long, not when everyone else like him was dead, and when so many of the other Pilots were gone. Most had died in training, which had long since become brutal and unforgiving, but some had simply broken, either going mad and having to be put down, or simply lying in their bed, not responding to the orders to stand at attention, not moving when their body coursed with electricity, even as their body cooked and organs ruptured, their nanomachines disrupted from the voltage. 2-13-8 wasn’t at that stage yet, he still had some embers of life burning within him, but he could feel them fading. He probably only had a year left before something within him broke.

Spitting out the toothpaste in his mouth, 2-13-8 stowed away his toiletries before stripping his bed clothes, replacing it with the armour that he had been forced to wear every day since they started livefire training. Like all of the Obake, his armour was coloured a shade of indigo, with armour plating over his vitals and parts of his limbs, enough to keep them protected yet light enough to remain agile. Various pouches were lined along his waist and chest, designed to hold spare magazines for whatever weapons he was provided. A sheath was placed on his shoulder where a basic combat knife would be stored, and a holster on his left thigh for a sidearm. None of these had weapons in them, obviously. The supervisors and people who ran the facility weren’t willing to risk attempts on their life, so they were only provided weapons on site.

Most importantly with the armour, however, was the jump pack strapped to Obake’s waist. This device wasn’t an original product of the Pilot Program, but was first seen by the 6-4 mercenary company in Europe, or so their history lessons said. And while the mercenaries were skilled with it, the augmentations that 2-13-8 and his fellow Pilots had been subjected to meant that they were faster and more skilled, despite being a fraction of their age.

Having cleaned and dressed himself, 2-13-8 found himself with plenty of time to spare. When he wasn’t the last of the Obake, he’d have a lot less free time before he was allowed out to have his first meal. With many more of his kin, that meant that they had to take turns in the bathroom, rotating their duties. Spare time would often see 2-13-8 talking with his fellow Obakes, debating on what were the best techniques for a hypothetical combat scenario, what guns they’d taken a liking to recently, or even what they’d dreamed about. Anything except what kind of life they’d had before it had all been ripped away.

But now 2-13-8 was all alone. He was sure he wasn’t the last of the Pilots, he’d seen a few of the remaining ones over the past few days, but he was now the last of the Obake; when he died, there would be no more Holo-class Pilots.

A buzzing sound caught his attention as the magnetic locks that sealed the door shut unlocked, hydraulic pistons swinging the door open, leading into the mess hall. He marched out, his helmet tucked underneath his arm, not willing to leave it behind. Shigeki 44-13-42-30-2, a Stim-class Pilot, had made the mistake of leaving his helmet behind when he had gone out for breakfast; the doors locked behind them once everyone had left, so he had to perform his livefire training without a helmet. He’d miraculously survived, but he’d lost his left eye to shrapnel, and a few months later, he was ambushed from his blind side, and hadn’t noticed it in time to survive.

But as 2-13-8 looked around the mess hall, he couldn’t help but sharply inhale as he saw how desolate it was. Including himself, there were only six Pilots, one of each ‘clan’. Where he wore the indigo of Obake, the Holo-class Pilots, there were also two black-haired boys, a black-haired girl, a girl with orange hair as well as a girl with greeny-yellow hair with pink streaks. For 2-13-8’s fellow boys, one wore the orange of Kabe, the A-Wall-class Pilots, while the other wore the blue of Hikkakeru, the Grapple-class Pilots. The black-haired girl wore the yellow of Myaku, the Pulse Blade-class Pilots, the ginger wore the green of Shigeki, the Stim-class Pilots, while the girl with the green hair wore the red of Manto, the Cloak-class Pilots.

Six children. That was all that remained. Each of them the last of their clan.

2-13-8 moved over to the counter, serving himself a portion of the morning’s porridge. It wasn’t tasty, and it didn’t feel nice, but it gave him energy that he’d need. 

Since there were an abundance of seats available, he simply sat down at an empty table, his helmet placed next to his tray as he ate.

As he did so, his eyes couldn’t help but wander, watching as the Kabe got up from his seat, carrying his tray. He walked over to the Hikkakeru, the two quietly conversing before the orange-clad boy placed his tray down at the table. While it wasn’t unheard of for Pilots from different clans to sit and eat together, usually because they’d been paired up multiple times, 2-13-8 did find it strange as the Kabe merely placed down his tray before walking away, his helmet tucked underneath his arm. 2-13-8 watched him make the rounds, speaking to the female Pilots individually, each of them getting up from their seat to join the rapidly growing group. Finally, the Kabe walked over to 2-13-8’s table.

“Hey,” he grinned, showing a row of sharp teeth, an oddity amongst the population of quirkless children turned soldiers. “Um, I thought, since we’re the last ones left, wouldn’t it be nicer if we all sat together? I mean, we’re all probably gonna be paired together, right?”

“Sure,” 2-13-8 nodded, holding his tray with one hand while carrying his helmet with the other. “What’s your name?”

“Kabe.”

“No, I mean your designation.”

“I don’t use it,” Kabe frowned. “I’m the last of the Kabe, so there’s no point in me using my number. I’d rather have a name than a number anyway, you know? Makes me feel less like a robot.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense,” 2-13-8, no, Obake admitted. “Then you can call me Obake.”

“Will do,” Kabe grinned as the pair arrived at the gathered Pilots, each taking a seat.

“Hi there,” the other black-haired boy greeted, waving his metal arm, a prominent feature of the Hikkakeru and Myaku clans. “You can call me Hikkakeru. I guess Kabe talked to you about that?”

“Mhm,” Obake hummed, his mouth filled with porridge.

“Oh, are we going by our clan names?” the Manto asked, looking up from her meal, light from above reflecting off the faint lines that ran along her body, lines that Okabe had seen on himself in the mirror. Out of all six clans, Okabe and Manko had abilities that resulted in similar implants, just the same Hikkakeru and Myaku or Kabe and Shigeki.

“Makes sense,” the Myaku quietly said, her spoon pushing around her meal on her tray. “No point in using our numbers.”

“Then you can all call me Shigeki,” Shigeki stated, her leg bouncing from the excess energy that ran through her body. 

Breakfast continued in this manner, and Obake couldn’t help but enjoy it. For a moment, no matter how brief, he didn’t have to think about what he’d face soon, or how he’d pull through. He simply enjoyed talking to people like him.

This joy, however, couldn’t last forever. The blaring of an alarm signalled an end to breakfast and the beginning of the day. Obake and his fellow Pilots found themselves in an auditorium that had served as their briefing room. They were the only ones present, as after an attempted riot that went poorly, none of the adults who controlled their lives ever showed themselves unless absolutely necessary.

“ Greetings, Pilots, ” a faceless voice said, the screen in front of them lighting up. “ You have my congratulations for being the most successful individuals within the Pilot program. Each of you are top scorers in marksmanship, combat training, as well as Titan piloting. ”

On the screen, the layout of their testing chamber appeared, but it was accurate to call it an arena. Metal crates were scattered about, creating corridors and cover, with ramps and stray wires providing access onto higher ground.

“ The six of you will be required to infiltrate enemy territory, ” their instructor continued. “ You will have ten minutes to make it to their command centre and hack into their mainframe, shutting off the Spectre forces that will try to stop you. Your loadouts have been selected. Good luck. ”

‘Not good,’ Obake thought to himself. ‘If we aren’t able to select our own gear, then we won’t have a balanced team.’

Their gear, it turns out, was as barebones as it possibly could be. A R-101C Carbine for their primary, an Archer Heavy Rocket for their anti-Titan gear, a Hammond P2011 for their sidearm, and frag grenades for explosives. Obake and his fellow Pilots grabbed spare magazines and ordinance for their rockets, their gear quickly gaining weight as pouches and slots were filled up.

“Good thing they increased our strength,” Shigeki chuckled, trying to find a place where the rocket launcher could rest on her back without pressing against the vials of stimulants that jutted from her skin.

“If they’ve given us AT weaponry, we’ll probably have to look out for that,” Obake strategised, slipping his helmet on and watching as the interface lit up. “We’ll need to be aware of any killboxes we can lure them into, somewhere where we can rain down ordnance on them while taking cover ourselves.”

“I can provide cover,” Kabe grinned, reaching onto his back and pulling out a small round disk. “And give us a boost.”

“Good idea,” Manto eagerly nodded. “If I’m provided a distraction, I can sneak around them and hit them from behind.”

“Then there’s only one thing to decide,” Myaku voiced, her metal arms crossed in front of her. “Who’s taking charge?”

No one said anything, since it was an important decision. The role of squad leader wasn’t something light that anyone could take, but a role that meant you were in charge of the plan, of deciding when to pull back and when to advance.

“I haven’t been squad leader before, so not me,” Hikkakeru admitted, one of his metal arms rubbing his shoulder. “I don’t think I could handle the pressure.”

Myaku, Manto, Shigeki all agreed with the statement, leaving the position up between Obake and Kabe.

“Do you want it?” Obake asked, perfectly content to follow someone’s command.

“Nah, you lead us,” Kabe grinned with a shark-tooth smile. “I mean, I’ve been squad leader before, but I’m much more at home following. I’ll make sure to cover you with my walls, so lead us into victory, leader.”

The other Pilots all gave their approval of the decision, and Obake couldn’t think of a reason to deny them.

“Alright,” he nodded, laying out a basic plan. “There are too many variables and unknowns for us to split up, so we stay together. Kabe, you’ll take point; you can throw down some cover for us to shoot back. Myaku and Hikkakeru, you’ll scout ahead; Myaku, you’ll scout ahead with your pulse blades, while Hikkakeru, you can use your grapple to get to a higher position, maybe see something we can’t. Manto and Shigeki, you’ll stay with us; invisibility doesn’t last long enough for efficient scouting if we don’t know where they are, so it’s best if you stay with the group.”

Not much needed to be said; their leader had given them roles and orders, so all that was left to do was final checks over their equipment, make sure all of their weapons were loaded (a surprisingly common mistake), link their spare magazines to their ammo counters, link their comms together and ready their minds.

Lights within the chamber turned red and began to pulse, signalling the start of the test.

‘Three, two, one,’ Obake counted down in his head, his muscles tensed and ready to move, bursting off the ground the moment the door lifted. The other five Pilots were right beside them, Kabe pulling ahead to take point while Hikkakeru’s arm shot out, leaping high into the air with a burst of flames from his jump pack before a thick metal wire shot out of his arm, propelling him up and away. The rest of them made a dash for a nearby building, and before Kabe could go through the door, Obake gave a quick, “Wait”. The Pilots, trusting their leader, pressed themselves on either side of the door, watching as Obake backed up a few metres before bursting into a sprint. He stopped himself before actually heading through the doorframe, but his hologram continued, running through the open doorway and down the building before bursting into motes of indigo light as bullets riddled its holographic form.

“They’re further down,” Myaku guessed, “round the corner.”

“Copy,” Kabe nodded, and with a nod from Shigeki, the two moved through the doorway, covering each other's backs as they moved.

“Doorway’s clear,” Shigeki relayed, and if it wasn’t for their helmets transmitting their voice to each other, Obake doubted he’d have heard her. As it was, however, he, Manto and Myaku followed soon after, lining up along the wall at the junction where Obake’s hologram was shot.

“They’re round here, right?” Kabe whispered, and Myaku responded with a small nod.

“Flushing out,” Kabe muttered, causing everyone’s rifles to snap up, ready and waiting. Kabe pulled the pin and rolled it around the corner. If his goal was to kill the Spectres with the grenade, he’d have let the explosive cook for a moment, but instead, its purpose was to force the enemy into movement. Three Spectres rolled out of the way, the grenade exploding behind them, straight into the corridor and into the sights of four rifles. With a quick pull of the trigger, Obake felt the jolt of the rifle firing a burst of rounds jolt through his shoulder, a familiar feeling, as well as the small satisfaction of all three Spectres dropping to the ground, sparking energy as they died.

Kabe leaned his head slightly around the corner before relaxing, moving around with his rifle raised. “All clear.”

The group of five continued down the hallway, checking rooms as they went, often with the help of Manto whenever her cooldown on her cybernetics had ended. However, aside from the three Spectres before, the building was empty. It was further down the hallway when they encountered their first window, Myaku gesturing for them to stop.

“Hold on,” she said, sliding to a stop next to a window nearby. Obake, Kabe, Manto and Shigeki all slowed down, either crouching beneath the window or pressed up against it, ensuring none of them were easily visible through it. Myaku flexed her hand, a kunai-shaped blade sliding out of her arm and into her open hand. Leaning into the window, she flicked her wrist, the blade shooting out in a straight line before embedding itself on a nearby container. Through his helmet, Obake was able to see the ripples of sound as the pulse blade scanned the nearby area, the glowing images of Spectre androids appearing in his helmet.

“I know they’re robots, but they could try and be creative,” Shigeki huffed, her knee bouncing as she leaned against the wall. “Hey, Hikkakeru, do you see anything up there?”

“Not much,” came his reluctant answer. “There’s two ways we can go; straight through the courtyard that the building leads out to, or onto the roofs. There are issues with both options, though. The courtyard is teeming with Spectres; they must be agitated since you took out three of them. However, there’s plenty of cover for us to make our way through. The rooftops will be faster, however it's open, and the Spectres should be able to get up there quickly.”

“Any sign of a Titan?” Obake asked.

“Negative. No Titan spotted so far.”

Obake mulled over his options for a second, but even that brief time was enough.

“How long is the rooftop path?”

“Longer,” Hikkakeru sighed. “It winds about, and from what I can see, most of the gaps are too large for us to jump across. We’d have to wall run some parts, but that will simply put a target on our backs.”

“We’ll go through then,” Obake decided. “Hikkakeru, do you know where we are?”

“Yeah, I saw Myaku’s pulse blade,” came the reply, and soon after Hikkakeru swung through the open window, landing in a crouch as his grapple line retracted itself into his arm.

“How many Spectres are we looking at?” Obake asked as they ran through the hallway.

“No more than forty,” was his answer. “They’ve all got R-101Cs, no other weapons, and Arc Grenades from what I saw.”

“This doesn’t make sense, boss,” Kabe muttered. “Why are they so poorly equipped? Don’t they want to make it a challenge?”

“Maybe they wanted the test over early?” Manto suggested. “Maybe it’s someone’s birthday and they want to finish early?”

“Not ours, that’s for sure,” Shigeki pointed out. “I haven't had mine yet, sure, but it’s not for a few weeks.”

“It’s only a trap if we don’t know about it, so stay alert for anything,” Obake said, ending the conversation. “Stay low and find cover. Kabe, when I give you the signal, throw down an A-Wall and start firing. It should draw their attention to you and give us a chance to lay down fire without taking any ourselves.”

“Right,” Kabe nodded.

Manto moved ahead, her body quickly disappearing as the cybernetics in her skin projected her surroundings, making her almost invisible to a trained human eye and completely undetectable to a machine.

“Clear,” she whispered over the comms. “Stay quiet and low, there are crates near the entrance we can use.”

“Alright, move,” Obake ordered, moving in a crouch as he moved as quickly as he could while staying quiet, his fellow Pilots doing the same. When they cleared the doorway, entering into the open courtyard with shipping containers stacked on top of each other to create walls and opportunities, the Pilots spread out, each taking up a spot behind one of the crates. Obake looked over to where Kabe crouched, gesturing an O.K. sign to the A-Wall-class Pilot. Kabe returned the gesture, grabbing an A-Wall projector disk off his back where his cybernetics made them, before tossing it onto the ground in front of the crate. Immediately, an orange wall of light sprung up, quickly followed by Kabe bursting up out of her cover, immediately firing bursts of ammunition. As each bullet passed through the orange barrier, their acceleration increased, propelled faster by the particle wall. Immediately, all of the Spectres in the area snapped their attention around, moving to cover to try and avoid being hit. Kabe’s surprise attack worked well, however, as already many Spectres lay destroyed on the ground, the amplified bullets shredding through their bodies. As for the Spectres who had managed to get to cover and return fire, they found that while bullets could pass through one side of the A-Wall, they shattered against the side that faced them. And though the A-Wall would only be active for a limited time, Obake wasn’t going to let that be a factor.

“Move move move!” he ordered, snapping up from cover to lay down fire, sending bursts of ammunition into Spectres whose cover protected them from Kabe, but not from Obake. This was a scene that repeated elsewhere, with the other Pilots catching the Spectre forces unaware, hitting them from angles the machines thought were safe. Their attention split, the Spectres began to falter, firing wherever they found targets. While they were quickly wiped out, they managed to get in a few hits of their own.

“Shigeki is hit!” Manto called out, causing everyone to converge on their location. They arrived to see Shigeki being tended to by Manto and Hikkakeru, though she was trying to ward them off.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, pulling her hand away from her shoulder where she’d been hit. “It was only one bullet that hit me, honest.”

Obake watched as one of the vials of green liquid on her shoulder slammed down, injecting their contents into Shigeki. She sighed, moving her arm up and down to stress test her shoulder, nodding once it was fine.

“We Shigeki have the best regeneration, you know,” she proudly said. “See, I’m already better! Now, let’s end this, yeah?”

Whatever Obake or anyone could have said in response was cut off by a blaring siren, as well as words that sent chills down their spines.

“ Prepare for Titanfall! ”

Immediately, all guns snapped up, fanning out as they looked for the most dangerous opponent they had faced, an enemy that had taken the lives of many of their brothers and sisters.

The grinding of metal above drew their attention, seeing a segment in the wall open up.

“They’re dropping from above!” Obake warned. “Get to high ground, use the crates to get higher! Move!”

They all burst into motion, Hikkakeru’s arm snapping out and firing out his grapple line, the metal wire quickly retracting and pulling him onto the top of the cargo containers. Obake and the others raced ahead, quickly finding a stack of containers that were close enough together that they could wall run between them. Leading the way, Obake’s jump pack roared to life, firing towards the wall as he ran along it, giving his footing purchase and propelling him forwards faster than he could run. He leapt off the side of the container, angling himself to the other side as another burst from the jump pack allowed him to jump in the air, allowing him to move higher and higher as he leapt between the two walls. He quickly landed on the roof of the containers, moving to the side to allow his fellow Pilots to land without ending up in a tangle of limbs.

It was as Manto safely landed on the top of the containers, being the last one up, that the containers beneath them trembled as six Stryder-class Titans landed.

“What the hell?!” Shigeki exclaimed as they all stood in shock at what they saw. “Six?! Six Titans?! Are they trying to kill us?!” 

The answer appeared to be yes as each Stryder Titan raised their weapons, each carrying a 40mm Cannon, the barrels aimed right at them.

“Scatter!” Obake yelled, each Pilot diving out the way right as six 40mm rounds slammed into where they were standing. Metal shredded from the explosive force of the rounds pelted Obake, leaving cuts where they sliced by or embedded themselves into his body. He wasn’t worried about them, since he knew his nanobots would seal up any wounds in seconds and consume the metal that remained in his body, but he was worried about how they were meant to overcome this impossible task.

‘Maybe Shigeki was right,’ an insidious voice whispered in his mind. ‘Maybe we aren’t meant to beat them. Maybe this is our execution.’

‘Shut up,’ he growled in his mind, eyes darting about trying to find a solution. It was found on the corpse of the Spectre units.

“The Spectres have Arc Grenades!” he yelled to the others, his voice transmitted over their comms. “Use them to disrupt the Titan’s shields, then hit them with AT rounds! We can do this!”

He slid over the lip of the ledge, plummeting down to the ground, wincing as a 40mm round slammed into the container he’d been standing seconds earlier. His jump pack flared to life just as he reached the ground, slowing his momentum enough to land without injuries. He sprinted towards a downed Spectre, but seeing one of the Stryders drawing a bead on him, his cybernetics flared to life as he changed targets, his hologram heading to his original target while he went to another nearby. As expected, the Stryder fired at his fake, the round sending concrete pellets flying, giving Obake enough time to grab a handful of the electrifying grenades.

“Obake, I’ve got sights on the Stryder closest to you!” Myaku called out.

“Copy!” Obake yelled back, pulling the pin and tossing it over his shoulder towards the Titan that had fired at him. The grenade bounced twice along the ground before exploding, the disruptor field jolting the Titan, only for it to lurch as a rocket slammed into its side, engulfing it in a ball of flames. This was quickly followed by a second explosion as Obake fired his own rocket, not having time to get a lock, instead dumb-firing the missile, grinning with satisfaction as the thin Titan collapsed, smaller explosions bursting forth as it died.

“Hey ugly!” Kabe yelled, Obake watching as he threw down cover before lobbing an arc grenade that stripped another Titan’s shields, quickly followed by two more rockets slamming into it simultaneously.

“Good thing these are A.I. controlled,” Manto muttered, dashing along the tops of the container walls before turning invisible, leaping down onto the top of a Stryder. “Else they might’ve been able to stop this!”

The Titan she’d chosen was covered in scorchmarks and damage, indicative that it’d already been hit by an Archer Rocket. Its panels had been damaged, allowing Manto to jam an Arc Grenade into it, pulling the pin as she leapt off. The Titan moved to fire at her, but before it could pull the trigger it spasmed as the grenade went off, frying its already damaged chassis, causing it to lock up and fall to the ground. 

“Three more to go!” Shigeki cheered, sprinting across the open area at speeds only a Shigeki could manage, the Stim-class Pilots stimulants enhancing her speed and movement. Unfortunately, she wasn’t fast enough to avoid detection.

A 40mm round slammed into the ground nearby, and though it didn’t hit her, it flung her to the side, her body slamming hard against a nearby crate.

“Shigeki!” Obake yelled, dashing towards her while a hologram of his ran beside him. But no matter how hard he pumped his arms and legs, he could see he wouldn’t make it, the cannon already aimed at her prone form.

She should have died, taking a hit that even the regeneration of a Shigeki empowered by their injected stimulants couldn’t overcome. However, in quick succession, three things happened.

First, all movement from the Stryder Titans ceased. They froze, as if every joint in their mechanical frame seized up.

Second, they powered down, bending over as if ready for embarkment, though their hatches didn’t open.

Third, the lights suddenly shut off.

Obake didn’t stop moving, even though he slowed down, feeling his way through the dark until his hands felt Shigeki’s body.

“I found Shigeki!” Obake called out, feeling for her helmet before pulling it off, a hand pressing against her neck to feel for a pulse, one that he was relieved to find was still strong. “Her pulse is strong, probably just hit her head. Everyone else, sound off.”

“Here,” Kabe called out.

“I’m okay,” Hikkakeru said.

“Same,” Manto responded.

“I’ll be fine,” Myaku said. “Just regenerating.”

“Okay, then we should-”

SMASH

Obake was cut off as a wall of the arena burst outwards, sending both metal and concrete as well as light spilling out into the testing grounds. From this hole in the wall stepped for different individuals, not a single unifying feature amongst them. Even though some wore armour, others had gadgets, while others still wore bodysuits, Obake knew who they were without a shadow of a doubt; Pro Heroes. As they poured out, the recognisable appearances of police officers, each armed in black riot gear, followed after, taking up the rear.

“Obake, what do we do?” Myaku asked, her voice quivering in uncertainty.

“Converge!” he decided, moving so as to cover Shigeki with his body. “Converge on my location, Shigeki is still down!”

Obake watched as the Pros flinched or tensed as the other Pilots leapt down, dashing over to Obake, the five of them quickly raising their weapons, protecting the still recovering Shigeki with their bodies.

“These guys are Pros, right?” Kabe asked. “Heroes?”

“But why are they here?” Hikkakeru voiced. “Why would they attack the Safety Commission?”

“I don’t know,” Obake admitted. “Just, don’t fire unless they attack first. We’re Pilots, sure, but we’re outnumbered, and I don’t think we’d survive an all out firefight.”

The five Pilots stood firm, their rifles pointed outwards at the heroes and police who had stopped, grouped together a short distance from them. Obake saw a few concerned looks and shared whispers amongst them, but he didn’t understand it. Why would they look sad? The Safety Commission took them in when no one wanted them, or when they had nowhere to go.

This standoff lasted until one of the Pro Heroes, an old man wearing a large, bulky suit of armour that Obake thought would be hard to move in, stepped forward, uncaring of the rifles now aimed at him.

“I am the Equipped Hero: Yoroi Musha,” he introduced, his mouth hidden behind a very bushy beard. “You are safe now. These experiments are over.”

“Why?” Manto asked in an almost pleading voice. “We, we fought to the end! We didn’t give up, just like we were told to! So why did we fail?!”

Her response seemed to surprise the old Pro, but it wasn’t long before he lowered himself to one knee, looking keenly at them.

“You are under the assumption that what the Hero Public Safety Commission was doing was the right thing?” he asked, with Obake and all the other conscious Pilots nodding.

“Then you have been told a lie,” Yoroi Musha sighed. “What they did to you children was beyond illegal and immoral.”

“But, where do we go?” Myaku asked.

“Yeah, no one wants us,” Kabe joined in. “We were all given up, or had no one else to look after us.”

“For some of you, this may unfortunately be true,” another Pro voiced, dressed in white, streamline armour. His helmet was removed, held under his arm, revealing a young man with dark blue hair and a caring face. “But for the rest of you, this was a lie you were told. Most of your parents did love you, or there were other relatives who could care for you. But that didn’t stop certain members of the Safety Commission from stealing you and experimenting on you.”

The young Pro got down onto one knee, a warm smile on his face as he extended his arm, holding his hand out to them. “But you don’t need to be afraid anymore. This nightmare is over. Why? Because we are here.”

Chapter Text

Years later…

Katsuki was bored. The third year of middle school had begun, but it was already feeling like a drag. Adults would say that middle school was to figure out what you wanted to do in life, but all Katsuki had learnt so far was that most people were weak, cowardly people, and there were very few he could rely on, namely his parents, his cousin Izuku, and their two friends who had been collectively kicked out of their previous middle school.

And besides, Katsuki already knew what he was going to be for years now, before he’d even started middle school. His academic grades were the best in the school, his physical grades were the second best, and he was already able to pass the 79% threshold for the U.A. mock exams ten months before the Entrance Exam was held.

Though, if there was one thing he’d give his new middle school, Aldera Junior High, credit for, it was the freedom given to them to run wild. Aldera Junior High was unlike most middle schools in Japan. Due to the principal and many staff members being former yakuza who’d given up on the life of crime, Aldera had a culture that encouraged the formation of school gangs as well as gang membership. Rules were fairly lax, and teachers wouldn’t give you too much trouble if you used your quirk responsibly, but the few that did exist were hard and fast. 

Quirks, while allowed due to Aldera being private property, were never, under any circumstances, allowed to be used to harm students or staff, even in the gang warfare that occurred all over the school. Doing so was grounds for immediate expulsion, and since Aldera had a fairly grey reputation, very few schools would be willing to accept someone who had managed to get themselves expelled from Aldera.

There were also safe zones. Every day, fights would break out between rival gangs, either because of some slight against their reputation or fighting over territory. However, bathrooms, the cafeteria, staff rooms, the nurse’s office, the gymnasium, pools and classrooms were all exempt from any fights, and were considered a refuge. Of course, the hallways were free game, though teachers were quick to break up any fights that blocked the passageways. 

Club rooms were the usual territory that was fought over, with the victorious gang able to decorate it as they saw fit. Of course, there were more gangs than available territory, encouraging the continual fights that were common in the courtyards and fields.

Most of the gangs were fairly large, with elaborate power structures, dozens of members, and bands or symbols to identify who belonged to which gang. Some even went as far as to give themselves epithets and titles if they were strong enough. Many of the gangs were also old, with the leadership being passed on when the third-years graduated, allowing the gangs to maintain their power.

Katsuki’s gang didn’t bother with any of that. They didn’t have a name, or a symbol, or uniform, or any power structure. All four of them, on paper at least, were equal, deciding what they did by popular vote. They shared tasks and chores, such as drawing lots for who’d run and get snacks at lunch, and if one of them was attacked, they all responded viciously. That was a lesson the gangs of the school had learnt when the four of them first arrived partway through last year, carving a piece of the school for themselves, regardless of the numbers against them. And now, almost everyone knew them by sight alone, and those who didn’t certainly knew them by name.

Bakugo ‘Mad Dog’ Katsuki.

Tesaki ‘Wild Man’ Nagai.

Hashiga ‘Ravenous’ Kemuri.

And most feared of all, Midoriya ‘Shadow Clone’ Izuku.

‘Course, while classrooms were considered neutral ground, that didn’t mean that students were prohibited from seating together before homeroom began, which was why Hashiga and Izuku sat at Katsuki’s desk, and he found himself having his ear talked off by an incredibly excited Hashiga.

“I’m telling you, Bakugo, this vigilante’s unlike anyone else!” he exclaimed, his teeth bared in a grin, growing as he became more and more excited. “No one knows what his quirk is since it’s so varied! He’s able to create smoke and whips, he’s able to fly, and he’s super strong! He just shows up outta nowhere, beats up some villains, then disappears before the heroes arrive! He’s amazing!”

Hashiga Kemuri was one of Katsuki’s oldest friends, having known him since elementary school. His black hair was styled upwards with product, something he was vocally glad the school allowed, and his teeth were always bared whenever he smiled, thanks to his Sharp Tooth quirk.

“He’s just some upstart guy who lucked out on being a hero, and now he’s doing it illegally,” Katsuki dismissed with a wave of his hand. “He’s just like the rest.”

“But the rest don’t tussle with Endeavor.”

That tidbit of information immediately caught Katsuki’s attention. If Hashiga wasn’t bullshitting, then this new vigilante had to be something impressive to fight with the No. 1 Pro Hero of Japan.

“No way he fought Endeavor,” Katsuki scoffed, deciding to be reserved in his opinion. “Well, no way he fought and escaped.”

“It’s true, it happened this morning!” Hashiga grinned, showing the front page of the news on his phone. “Some A-Rank villain was causing trouble, and this vigilante shows up to fight him! Then Endeavor shows up, and he starts fighting both of them because Endeavor’s got a stick up his ass, and then the villain lost and the vigilante got away after producing a massive cloud of purple smoke!”

“It’s true, Kacchan,” Izuku spoke up, his calm voice becoming slightly animated from the discussion of quirks. “No one knows his identity, since he uses his quirk to hide his face and body. People think he’s some guy inspired by All Might since his catchphrase to villains is, ‘Be afraid, because I am here.’”

“And others think he’s some demon or angel of vengeance,” Hashiga added, “since he looks really spooky, appears out of nowhere and disappears without a trace!”

“Well, if Izuku says it's true I’ll believe him,” Katsuki grunted reluctantly. “But I doubt he’s some angel or whatever.”

“Dude, I get Izuku’s your cousin, but come on, man, I’ve known you for longer!” Hashiga playfully teased.

“Technically I’ve known him longer, since preschool,” Izuku corrected.

The excitable mood around the table quickly lessened at that sombre reminder.

“Dude, I didn’t want to bring that up,” Hashiga winced. “I mean, yeah, you and Bakugo knew each other before, but then, well…”

“You don’t need to dance around it,” Izuku huffed, his lips pressed flat as he scrolled on his phone. “It’s been years since then. I’d like to imagine my therapy sessions actually work.”

While it would suck for their table to be stuck in an awkward silence where no one really knew what to say to get past it, the tension was thankfully broken by Tesaki languidly walking over, waving at them while a stranger walked beside him. Tesaki was the exact opposite to Hashiga in terms of hairstyle, as while Hashiga gelled his black hair up, Tesaki let his blond hair hang down, reaching to his chin. And while Hashiga was eager and energetic, Tesaki always had a lazy air about him, though he was more than capable of acting when the situation called for it.

“Yo, what’s up, guys?” he lazily grinned, his fingers stretching out thanks to the Digit Extension quirk. “Why the long faces?”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Hashiga shrugged, moving the conversation towards the stranger. “Who’s the new guy?”

“My cousin,” Tesaki answered. “His folks moved here a few weeks ago, so he’s joining our school; he’s in 3-B next door.”

“Hey,” the dark-haired boy greeted, his hair swept to the side. “Tesaki Surudoi. I’ve heard a lot about you from my cousin.”

“Then you know how this school operates, right?” Katsuki challenged, his chin trusted out. “Aldera operates on a gang system; if you aren’t in a gang, no one’s got’ya back.”

“And I need to give you guys a reason to let me into your gang, right?” Tesaki’s cousin asked before holding up his hand. When he clenched it into a fist, spikes sprouted out, covering his hand. “My quirk’s called Hand Spikes. Pretty obvious what it does.”

Katsuki, Hashiga and Izuku all exchanged glances before nodding amongst themselves.

“We’ll see how you handle yourself this week, then we’ll see about making it permanent,” Hashiga grinned, extending his hand. “But until then, welcome to the crew.”

The rest of the time before homeroom quickly passed, and once their teacher arrived, class began.

Their teacher was a hardass, and since it was Katsuki’s first day of his last year at middle school, he hadn’t bothered to learn the man’s name yet. His hair was balding, the centre of his scalp holding its ground while its sides fell back against the onslaught of boldness. His choice of clothing was fairly typical of a teacher who didn’t really care, being a jacket worn over a sweater which itself was worn over a button shirt.

“You guys are all third-years now!” their teacher angrily shouted, swiping a page off a stack of papers on his desk. “It’s time to start thinking seriously about your futures!”

‘If anyone hasn’t thought of that already, then they’re really an extra,’ Katsuki scoffed to himself, leaning back in his chair with his feet kicked up on the desk.

“I would hand out these future career forms, but,” their teacher continued, tensing and shaking with anger as he hunched over his desk, only for his anger to suddenly dissipate, quickly replaced with cheer as he threw the forms into the air. “I assume you all want to be heroes!”

The class cheered, everyone expressing their quirks, and all the while Katsuki rolled his eyes. He’d known what he and his cousin would be in for with their new homeroom teacher, given his Bipolar quirk, but it was still irritating.

“Yes, you all have wonderful quirks,” the teacher smiled before his quirk kicked in again, quickly making him mad. “Now quiet down, ya hear?!”

“Sir! Don’t lump me or Izuku in with these losers!” Katsuki called out, his voice cutting through the class’ noise. “As if they have anything on us.”

“Get over yourself, man!” one of his classmates called out, his rocky fist shaking at Katsuki.

“Shut up!” Katsuki laughed in the face of their anger. “Extras should act like extras!”

“Ah, that’s right,” the teacher mused, “you and Midoriya must be aiming for U.A. High School.”

That revelation stunned the naysayers in the class. 

“That national school?! The cutoff score this year was 79%, right?”

“I heard they barely accept anyone!”

“I heard they only allow thirty students into the hero course per year through their public tests! Fifteen per class, two students from the recommended track, and three international students!”

“Ah, the stupid chattering of extras!” Katsuki grinned in defiance, leaping onto his desk to stand head and shoulders above everyone. “I aced the mock exam, and Izuku was only two points behind me! No one in this school can challenge us in a fight either, so you stage hands stay out of our way! We’re the only ones here with the stuff for U.A.!”

He turned on his table, his wide, feral grin focused on Izuku, his cousin and brother in all things. “We’ll be the greatest heroes in the world, greater than Endeavor, and even greater than All Might! No one will come even close to us!”

And though Izuku didn’t respond back or add his own declaration, the smile he wore and the fire Katsuki could see burning in his eyes was more than enough; no one was going to stop them from achieving their dreams. They could worry about jostling for who’d have the No. 1 position when they got there; all that mattered was that they were gunning for the top.

-]l[-

Classes passed by in their usual monotonous slog. Katsuki was the top scorer in the class and one of the highest graded students in the school, so everything they taught was stuff he’d already learnt. But as some guy once said, with great power comes great responsibility, even if you don’t want it, which often saw Katsuki helping Hashiga and Tesaki where they struggled. He didn’t mind, to be honest, especially since it was people he actually gave a damn about enough to remember their names. They’d always been a constant in his life, especially when Izuku was taken away and Tsubasa Akairo had to move thanks to his grandad’s job. They were also smart enough to know their place. Neither of them had flashy quirks, but they weren’t under some disillusion that simply because they were friends with him meant he’d help them become heroes. If someone was going to challenge Katsuki’s spot as the No. 1 Pro Hero of Japan, and ideally the greatest Pro Hero in the world, then they had to have the skills, smarts and strength to back it up, and so far, Izuku was the only person who fit that criteria.

And besides, Katsuki’s friends had their own ambitions in life. Hashiga had dreams of becoming a chef and opening his own restaurant, and maybe being a place where high-rank Pros would frequent. Katsuki thought that it was fitting with his friend’s Sharp Teeth quirk giving his jaw the ability to grow. Tesaki had dreams of being a musician, his extendable fingers thanks to his Digit Extension quirk incredibly suited for playing the piano, allowing him to perform musical pieces impossible for a regular human.

And Katsuki respected those dreams, truly, but he didn’t hide the fact that he and Izuku had a special bond, something he simply didn’t have with his other friends. Call it the fact that they were cousins, or that they were practically inseparable, or that they both had dreamed of becoming Pros since they were little, it didn’t matter; the two of them always did things together, and Katsuki viewed it as his personal responsibility to help Izuku with the struggles only his family knew about. And it was precisely these struggles that made Katsuki twitchy right now.

“Where the hell is he?” he growled, small explosions popping in his palms. “He should be back by now.”

“Oh come on, Bakugo, he probably got distracted by some fight that got reported on the news,” Hashiga laughed. “You know him best, so you know how much of a hero fan he is.”

Katsuki couldn’t really disagree with his argument, so he resigned himself to growling under his breath and relaxing in their club room. They only had one, since they weren’t dumbasses; gangs that took over multiple available territories might have the numbers to fill it, but they also put a target on their backs for gang alliances.

“Look, man, I’ll go find him,” Tesaki Nagai sighed, rising up from his beanbag. “I know he’s strong enough to carry it all, but I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

“Whatever, just be quick,” Katsuki scoffed. “At this rate lunch’ll be over before we’ve eaten.”

“Hey, so, where has, uh, Midoriya, right?” Tesaki’s cousin hesitantly asked from his seat on a couch. “Where’s he gone?”

“He pulled the short straw on who’s running to grab snacks for us,” Hashiga explained, knowing that Katsuki wouldn’t bother. “We do it every day, so we’ve all done it a bunch of times last year. There’s a whole list of what snack and drink each person wants, and Tesaki gave us what he thought you’d want, so Midoriya’ll have something for you as well.”

But as the three of them sat around in the club room that served as their territory, Midoriya didn’t come back. But when Tesaki burst through the door, bent over and panting, desperately trying to catch his breath, Katsuki knew something was wrong.

“Shit, Tesaki?” Hashiga exclaimed, rushing over to support his friend. “What’s wrong?! Where’s Midoriya?!”

“Uneru,” Tesaki wheezed. “Uneru, some of Red Mountain, cornering Midoriya, near pool shed.”

“Fuck,” Katsuki swore, shooting up from his seat as he raced out the door. “Come on, we don’t have much time!”

He didn’t bother to look back, solely focused on getting to Izuku as quickly as possible. And based on the three pairs of pounding footsteps behind him, he wasn’t the only one.

“Do you think Midoriya can hold out long enough for us to arrive?!” Tesaki’s cousin asked.

“That’s not what we’re worried about!” Hashiga replied. “We’re trying to get there before Midoriya kills them!”

And that was truly the sum of the issue. Katsuki wasn’t worried for his cousin’s safety, but for the idiots who thought numbers would give them an advantage. Izuku was easily the strongest student in the school when it came to raw strength, even amongst those who had quirks. But what really worried Katsuki was Uneru and his fellow gang members doing something to make Izuku view them as a threat. His cousin had made great progress with his rehabilitation, but Katsuki feared what would happen if Izuku was forced to relapse, to revert back into the weapon that he was forced to be.

“I’m taking a shortcut!” Katsuki yelled behind him. “Take the stairs and catch up!”

“You got it, Bakugo!” Hashiga called back, the pounding footsteps fading away as the three of them turned down a flight of stairs that Katsuki raced passed. Up ahead, the corridor came to an end with a windowed wall, and gathered around it were a group of girls chatting together.

“Open the window!” Katsuki yelled, immediately grabbing their attention.

“What did you-?!” one of the girls indignantly replied, only for Katsuki’s roar to drown her out.

“Open the fucking window!”

“R-Right!” a more timid girl squeaked, grabbing the handle of the sliding window and pulling, giving Katsuki just enough room to leap through the gap, out into the air above the pool. And just as he hoped, right below him were a dozen members of the Red Mountain gang, cautiously surrounding a student with familiar green hair who stood at the wall.

“Die!” Katsuki roared, explosions bursting from his palms to slow his momentum, enough for the student he landed on to simply be knocked out cold.

“Oh shit, it’s Bakugo!” one gang member exclaimed, a ripple of anxiety, fear, and anger spreading across his enemies.

Katsuki, however, didn’t give them a second thought, his eyes flicking over to Izuku. “You alright?”

“Sorry I’m late,” Izuku sheepishly grinned, completely at ease as if he weren’t surrounded on three sides. “I got your favourite though, chili chips.”

“Damn it, Midoriya, don’t ignore me!” Uneru called out in a screechy voice. Katsuki’s eyes focused on him, his mood immediately spoiling. Uneru Yowaito was a second year student, a fairly high-ranking member of the Red Mountain gang, one of the oldest and most established gangs in the school, and a total coward. He won his battles through manipulation and overwhelming force, always leading from the back. He was despised by many in the school, even by many within his gang, but he maintained his position close to the top since his brother was the current head. He was, in all ways, the opposite of Katsuki.

“Come on, he’s right there! If the two of us work together, we both could become the leaders of our gang! What’s better than that?!”

“He keeps saying that,” Izuku noted, still not bothering to look at the coward. “I’ve told him I’m not interested but he keeps bugging me about it.”

“Listen to me when I’m speaking to you!”

“Wow, he really can’t take over Red Mountain by himself?” Katsuki asked, almost surprised by just how pathetic Uneru was acting. “He’s trying to get you to do it for him?”

“Don’t ignore me!”

“Pretty much,” Izuku sighed. “I’ll be honest though, he’s kinda annoying.”

“THAT DOES IT!” Uneru screeched in anger. “GET THEM!”

With what could have only been his quirk at use, all of the students who had joined Uneru surged forth, their spirits suddenly bolstered.

“Don’t kill them!” was all Katsuki said to his brother before the first student arrived. His attack was sloppy, a wide, predictable, and easily avoidable right hook. Katsuki merely leaned back to avoid the blow to his jaw before lashing out with his foot, kicking the student square in the chest, sending him flying backwards, being unintentionally caught by his fellows.

To his side, Izuku ran back towards the wall of the main building, running up it two steps before leaping off, his knee lashing out and catching a student on the jaw, instantly dropping him.

Two more students rushed Katsuki, one of them quickly taken out by a fist to the jaw, but while he was distracted the second latched onto his arm, trying to pin him. Lashing out, Katsuki could both feel and hear the crunch of the student’s nose breaking beneath his elbow.

Three students rushed Izuku, trying to overwhelm him with numbers. Izuku simply responded by lashing out with an uppercut against the front-most student, sending him off his feet and into the air from the sheer strength of the blow. But rather than letting him fall to the ground, Izuku grabbed the airborne student by the leg, using it to swing him into his fellow gang members, taking all three of them out of the fight.

Two students rushed Katsuki from either side. The first he answered with a punch to the face, breaking another nose, before lashing out with a kick against the student behind him. Unfortunately, the girl was too quick, wrapping her arms around his leg and holding him in place, smirking all the while. The smirk was quickly wiped off her face when Katsuki leapt into the air, lashing out with his other leg, catching her in the jaw, before landing on his hands. The shockwaves sent through his arms were familiar, and its familiarity only irritated him. He’d be able to take all twelve of them on by himself if he was allowed to use his quirk, but not even Aldera’s lax quirk supervision allowed it.

By the time he got back to his feet, the remaining two gang members who had charged them had been taken down, the last one finished by Izuku sweeping his legs out from underneath him before landing a blow to the face that sent him crashing down on his back.

Groaning bodies surrounded them, none of them critically hurt, with the only one still standing being Uneru, trembling in either fear or rage; Katsuki reckoned it was a mix of both.

“S-Stay back!” he screeched, his hands held out in front of him in a rather pathetic guard. “D-Don’t you know who my brother is?!” 

“Sure, and I don’t care,” Katsuki dismissed, turning to face a nearby doorway as Hashiga and both Tesaki’s burst forth. Tesaki Nagai was by far the most tired out of all of them, but Katsuki gave him a pass since he’d raced back and forth.

“Damn, guys, you didn’t leave any for us?” Hashiga grinned, glancing around at the unconscious or downed students.

“Be faster next time,” Katsuki growled, already at his wits end as he stomped towards the door, his hands jammed in his pockets. “Come on, let’s head back. We’ve already wasted enough of lunch with this loser.”

“Loser?” Uneru said with an unhinged whisper. “Me? A loser? You dare turn your back on me? Me?!”

“Listen, you extra, just shut the-” Katsuki began, turning to glare at the sniveling coward, only for his heart to stop. Uneru was right in front of him, a manic light in his eyes as a knife, hidden on his body and now held in his hands, was aimed to pierce through Katsuki’s chest. 

Time seemed to slow to a crawl for Katsuki. His hands began to rise, but they were angled away and too far to protect himself.

Fortunately for Katsuki, he wasn’t the only one who had noticed Uneru’s actions.

Izuku slammed into Uneru, grasping his wrist and viciously twisting it, forcing the knife to drop loudly onto the concrete. His leg lashed out, kicking the back of Uneru’s leg and forcing him onto the ground, his arm pinned behind his back as Izuku pressed his knee into the coward’s spine.

“Let me go!” Uneru raged, thrashing impotently against Izuku’s iron grip. “Let me go you-argh!”

Uneru’s rant was quickly cut off as Izuku forced his arm further up his back, putting it under extreme pressure. Izuku didn’t say a word, his face blank yet his eyes blazed, filled with anger and hate.

This was exactly what Katsuki feared would happen.

“Izuku, enough,” Katsuki gently said, placing a firm hand on his cousin’s shoulder.

“He tried to stab you, Kacchan” Izuku blankly replied, twisting Uneru’s arm further, eliciting another cry of pain.

“I know, but getting back at him isn’t worth the trouble,” Katsuki argued, glaring down at the frantic and panicked face of the coward. “We’re trying to get into U.A., remember? So we don’t want a bad record, right?”

Izuku didn’t say a word, nor did he move a muscle. He was simply still, Uneru’s arm held exactly where it was. Slowly, Izuku released his grip, getting up from his position, and without a word, walked away.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Uneru scoffed, rising off the ground onto his hands and knees. “Know your place, Mi-”

Uneru’s taunt was quickly cut off as Katsuki’s foot connected with the side of Uneru’s head, causing him to drop to the floor unconscious.

“That’s for trying to stab me,” Katsuki spat before turning on his heel, growling to himself as he walked away, joining his friends with a hunched posture and hands in his pockets. They’d wasted enough time as it was, so anyone else who got in his way was asking for it; school and government laws be damned, he was going to blow the next extra who ticked him off into a thousand tiny pieces.

-]l[-

The remainder of the school day passed without incident, and soon enough Katsuki found himself walking home alongside Tesaki Nagai, Hashiga, and Izuku. Izuku had insisted that he quickly pop into a sports shop, not exactly being subtle that it was to do with Katsuki’s upcoming birthday, so the three of them loitered outside the store, passing the time. 

‘What should I get Izuku?’ Katsuki idly thought to himself. ‘I know his birthday isn’t until July, but no harm in planning. A new journal? Probably, his current one is getting pretty full. Can’t get him a gun, and there’s no point in getting him a fake. Maybe a Titan figurine? I think I saw one, but where? Maybe a ticket to Snipe’s next performance?’

The acrid smell of cigarette smoke quickly drew Katsuki out of his thoughts, emanating from the freshly lit end stuck in Hashiga’s mouth.

“Oi! What’d I tell you about smoking?!” Katsuki growled, snatching both the freshly lit cigarette as well as the unlit one that sat in Tesaki’s mouth. “My record’s spotty enough, damn it! If you’re gonna smoke, do it at school where the teachers don’t care and away from Izuku. You know how his body reacts to nicotine!”

Rather than sheepishly apologise like he expected them to, Hashiga and Tesaki both looked at him with wide, fearful eyes, their skin white as snow.

“The hell?!” Katsuki growled. “Don’t tell me you’re both scared because I growled at you?! Have a spine, damn it!”

Hashiga tried to respond, but all that seemed to come out of his mouth were grunts and sounds, as if he could only form the first part of each word. His arm slowly raised up, and Katsuki realised that they weren’t afraid of him; they were afraid of what was behind him. He whirled around, coming face to face with what looked like a sentient mass of green sludge. Before he could even fire off a single explosion, the mass consumed him, his body no longer his control and it was absorbed into the slimy, cold mass. Without his input, his quirk activated, a large explosion, empowered by the fear and adrenaline coursing through him, ripped apart a nearby wall, sending stone fragments shooting out like bullets.

“No! Stop!” Katsuki roared, only for the opening of his mouth to give the villain and opening for the foul tasting sludge that made up its body to invade inside, leaving him with barely enough oxygen to stay conscious.

The villain moved away, thankfully ignoring Hashiga and Tesaki who had taken cover from the hail of concrete bullets, and taking Katsuki along with it, his quirk somehow hijacked by the villain.

‘Izuku!’ Katsuki yelled in his mind. ‘Damn it, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but save me!’

-]l[-

A bell attached to the door chimed as Izuku walked into the store. All around him were various sports equipment, from balls and bats to mitts and mats. A veritable treasure trove of athletic gear, yet Izuku ignored all of it, heading straight for the counter. The desk was empty, with only the till, a few loose papers, and a bell placed in the centre. Pressing on it, a crisp ding rang out through the store, causing the clerk’s head to pop up from a display.

“Be there in a second,” he called out, finishing what he was doing before walking over, politely nodding to Izuku. “How can I help?”

“Hello, can you see if you have certain gear here?” Izuku asked. “And if not, can you order it in?”

“That depends on what you’re looking for,” the clerk explained.

“My cousin’s birthday is in a few weeks, so I was hoping to get him some rock climbing gear. Where would that be in the store?”

“Ah, damn,” the clerk grimaced. “If you’re wanting a full kit, I sold a few critical pieces on Friday. I’ve got helmets, gloves, all that stuff, but not the harness. We’ll be getting them back in, order’s already been placed, but I can get an order for you set up so it’s put aside when it comes in. That way you don’t have to worry about someone else scooping it up before you.”

“Yes please, Izuku nodded.

After deciding what specific gear he wanted to purchase (and being grateful he researched the different gear beforehand), Izuku was about to complete the transaction when the deafening sound of an explosion came from outside.

“What was that?!” the clerk exclaimed in shock. “A villain?!”

But the source of the explosion was the furthest thing on Izuku’s mind, because the explosion came from right outside the store; right where Kacchan and the others were.

Izuku burst into a sprint, ignoring the warnings of the shop clerk as he slammed the door open, frantically looking around. A nearby wall was in ruins, reduced to rubble with scorch marks lining the edge of what remained. Hashiga and Tesaki crouched nearby, small cuts on their skin and bruises beginning to form, but they seemed more shaken than hurt. But no matter where Izuku looked, Kacchan wasn’t there.

“Where’s Kacchan?!” Izuku all but yelled to Hashiga and Tesaki, shaking them by the shoulder to grab their attention.

“Th-The villain,” Hashiga stammered. “The villain absorbed him or something. He could hijack Bakugo’s quirk; that’s what destroyed the wall. He went that way, towards the shopping district.”

Izuku moved in a blitz of speed, sprinting down the streets fast enough to keep up with a slow-moving car, the adrenaline fueling his body and the nanomachines that infested every inch it repairing torn muscles and removing lactic acid the moment they formed. And for once, Izuku was glad he hadn’t taken his beta blockers; he needed all of the adrenaline he could get.

Following the villain’s path wasn’t difficult, as he’d clearly made liberal use of Kacchan’s quirk, as walls, cars, bins and shop fronts all bore the brunt of the attacks. At a nearby arcade plaza, a large crowd of civilians had already gathered, crowding around a cordon created by a group of local Pro Heroes, yet none of them moved.

Another explosion burst out, causing some of the spectators to let out cries of panic and worry, but many watching had their phones out, recording the incident.

“Excuse me, pardon me,” Izuku said, pushing his way through. Even though he was shorter than many nearby, his strength was unmatched, allowing him to force his way through the crowd. But once he reached the edge of the crowd, held back by a cordon of police officers and the Pro Heroes who were standing back, Izuku caught sight of the villain.

Its body was made of sludge, a dark-green, mud like substance being all that could be seen. It wore no clothes, nor did it seem to need any, since the only vaguely human-like features it had was its general shape, its cruel, mocking eyes, full of mirth and glee at the carnage it was able to cause unchecked, and its wide, crooked grin. And there, in the centre of what could only be its face, was Kacchan. Parts of his uniform were visible where there was no sludge covering his body, thrashing about and fighting for control. The villain’s mouth had replaced Kacchan’s, stretching out across his face. But when their eyes met, Izuku was able to see more than the anger at his quirk being used like a villain’s, the rage of this villain taking control of his body. Izuku could see in Kacchan’s eyes an emotion he’d never truly seen before; Kacchan was scared.

Izuku didn’t think about what he did next. In that instant, his body, already more reactive than almost any human on Earth, moved without his conscious thought, slipping past the barrier of police officers and Pros whose attentions were focused towards the villain, and not at the civilians at their back.

His arms were pumping and his breaths deep and hard as he sprinted towards the chaos, completely tuning out the cries from the Pros for him to stop.

“You’re dead,” the villain chuckled, but Izuku didn’t pay him any attention. Slipping his bag off his back while he ran, Izuku hurled it at the villain, dragging its attention away from him and towards the impromptu projectile. And in that moment when it wasn’t looking at him, Izuku’s implants, the silvery lines that ran along his body, flared with a purple light, and an exact copy of himself ran alongside him.

“What the?!” the villain exclaimed, taken aback by the two students rushing him. He lashed out with an explosion but it was towards the hologram, the attack phasing through the copy, giving Izuku the chance he needed to get in close.

While he had thrown his bag as a distraction, he’d held onto one item in particular; his hero notebook. And pulling his arm back, Izuku threw the notebook, the object sailing through the air before smacking dead centre in the villain’s eye.

“Ow, my eye!” the villain yelled, both eyes reflexively shutting in pain. The villain’s arms flailed around, explosions bursting forth in erratic patterns, but his blindness allowed Izuku to get in close, standing right before Kacchan. He reached out, grasping the villain’s mouth with both hands before ripping it away, freeing his cousin’s airway.

“Izuku!” he exclaimed, gasping and coughing for air. “He’s stolen my quirk somehow!”

“Then it’s a good thing I’ve fought against it so much,” Izuku remarked, digging in his heels as he grabbed Kacchan’s arm, pulling with all his might to drag him out of the sludge.

“What are you doing?!” the villain cried, his undamaged eye opening and staring down at him. “I ain’t giving up this flesh suit, ya hear?!”

Izuku tensed all of his muscles, heaving with all of his might as he fought against the grip of the villain holding his friend, his cousin, his brother. With a wet squelch, one of Kacchan’s arms was ripped free, which he quickly turned on the villain, an explosion blooming forth, engulfing the villain’s head.

“Gah!” he screamed, once again being blinded. “You damn brat! Don’t get in my way!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Izuku saw a fist of sludge swinging towards him, but he didn’t stop his efforts. Even if he was hit, he was confident that it wouldn’t be enough to kill him, the damage able to be repaired in seconds. And if taking the blow was what was needed to free Kacchan, he’d gladly take it.

The blow, however, didn’t land, because just as the sludge fist was able to slam into Izuku, black tendrils with a teal outline wrapped around it, cutting through the sludge and causing it to fall helplessly to the ground.

“Ah! My arm!” the villain shrieked, his distraction from the pain just the opportunity Izuku needed to pull out Kacchan the rest of the way. He tried to stand only for his legs to give out, quickly being caught by Izuku who wrapped his arm around his chest, helping him stand. The two turned back to the villain, watching in disgust as the severed sludge arm squirmed its way back over to the main body, the arm quickly regrowing.

“Alright, who wants to mess with-” the villain began, yelling indignantly before his voice cut off, the words dying in his throat. Izuku and Kacchan followed his line of sight, turning their heads to see their savior.

What they saw was a demon. 

The being was a male, hovering in the air and staring down at them. Purple smoke poured from his body, obscuring his form and making it seem as if he were freshly summoned from Hell. But what parts of him that could be seen were covered in black markings, each obsidian line edged in teal, much like the tendrils that had saved them. More of these tendrils extended out from the man’s arms, like chains that had once bound him now used for his own purposes. More of the whip-like strands jutted out of his back, curved and trailing to the ground like an angel’s wings stripped of its feathers and grace. His hands did not end in fingers, but rather black claws, while the only part of his face not obscured by smoke was his mouth, stretched wide in a horrifying, grinning maw.

‘Smoke, flight, and black whips,’ Izuku thought to himself. ‘The vigilante.’

“Be afraid, villain,” the floating vigilante declared in an ominous voice. “Why? Because I am here.”

The Sludge Villain was terrified, his semi-liquid body trembling and rippling in fear. The standoff stretched out for a moment before the tension snapped, the villain letting out a shriek of terror as he turned and fled, causing the demonic vigilante to burst forth in the air, a clawed fist slamming into the villain’s back, blowing his sludge body apart.

Izuku was stunned by how quickly the villain was defeated, and given Kacchan’s hanging jaw he was as well. They both reflexively flinched as the vigilante turned to face them, staring at them for a moment before turning his gaze towards the Pro heroes behind them.

“This boy was in danger, and none of you moved to help him,” the vigilante growled, his maw, once a snarling grin, now twisted into one of disappointment and anger. “A hero's job is to save people, even at the risk of their own life. Yet when I look around this country, I see how far it has fallen since it lost its light four years ago.”

The gathered crowd murmured, many reporters hanging on to every word spoken by the vigilante, hoping for their next big story.

“But maybe this rot has always existed,” the vigilante mused to himself. “Maybe All Might’s power cast a shadow that blinded me to the truth; you became dependent on him. These days, there are very few true heroes in this land. You have become complacent, expecting someone with a quirk perfectly suited to a situation to arrive and do the job for you, rather than risking life and limb to save people. None of you deserve the title of hero; you are merely actors playing pretend.”

“And what about you, huh?!” Death Arms yelled, the muscular Pro Hero stomping forwards. “If we’re actors, what are you, other than a vigilante without a license?! One hero for all of us?!”

The vigilante was silent, before the most unexpected thing occurred; he laughed. It started as a chuckle, then a small laughter, before bursting in a hysterical, maddening laugh.

“Yes, exactly!” he laughed, his maw twisting once more into a grin. “That is exactly who I am! I am One For All; one being for all to be inspired by! Just as All Might inspired this generation, I shall do the same! A new generation, one where children aspire to be true heroes, rather than professional heroes! Where ‘Hero’ is a title, an honour given to someone who does great deeds to save people, rather than merely a job!”

“You’re mad!” Slugger, a baseball hero, cried out from where he stood, still keeping the crowds back.

“It is this country that is mad!” One For All retorted. “Japan sticks its head in the sand, hoping for the ills of the world to pass it by. While the rest of the world adapts and changes to our superhuman society, you insist that everything is the same as it was over a century ago. You shackle the people, punish the many for the actions of the few! You’d rather isolate Japan, refuse entry to sporting events rather than embrace the outside world’s acceptance of quirks in everyday life! Quirks are seen as one of the most important aspects of a person, yet they are only allowed to be used with a license, forcing civilians to either break the law or deny themselves a chance to test their limits! A system that perpetuates the helplessness of the public, people who’d rather stand back and watch, waiting for heroes to arrive, rather than stepping in where they can!”

One For All looked back down at Izuku and Kacchan, his expression softening.

“That was a very brave thing you did, young man. You saw a boy in danger and rushed to help, embodying the true essence of a hero. And you,” he said, focusing on Kacchan, “you never gave up. When you saw a chance to fight back against the villain, you took it. There is great potential in you, both of you. I can’t wait to see more of it.”

More smoke began to pour from his skin, leaving only his mouth exposed.

“The villain will need to be contained,” he informed the Pros and police. “Some plastic bags should do the trick.”

The smoke continued to pour and build until nothing about him could be seen, and when a particularly strong gust of wind blew the smoke away, no sign of One For All could be seen.

-]l[-

Months passed since that fateful day. While both of them had been admonished by the police and Pro heroes for their actions, the presence of the media covering not only the incident but also the words of the vigilante meant they only got a slap on the wrist. Spring came and went, and with the arrival of summer inevitably brought July.

The Bakugo household became a flurry of action as July 15th came closer day by day, with presents being bought and plans being made. After all, it was Izuku’s fifteenth birthday, meaning he and Katsuki were now old enough to apply for the U.A. Entrance Exam.

While Izuku and Katsuki had made plans with their friends for their own birthday celebration, today was meant to be a quiet, personal one, with only Katsuki and his parents there with Izuku; the larger family celebration with the extended relatives of the Bakugo family would happen on a later date.

It was because of this quiet, personal celebration that when the doorbell rang, it was a surprise to everyone.

“Izuku, did’ya invite any of your friends over?” Katsuki’s mother asked as his father went to answer the door.

“No, that’s on the weekend,” Izuku said, furrowing his eyebrows. “You didn’t order anything did you, Kacchan?” 

“Not me,” Katsuki shook his head. “I had myself organised weeks in advance, unlike someone last year.”

“Jeez, make one mistake with shipping and ya kids’ll hold it over you forever,” his mother grumbled. “When’d you get such a mouth, ya brat?!”

“When’d you not learn to factor in shipping times, you hag?!”

“Izuku! Someone’s at the door that you should greet!” Katsuki’s father called out, quickly ending the spat between Katsuki and his mother.

The guest, in turned out, was Principal Nezu, the sentient rodent standing in the doorway, his everpresent female bodyguard standing behind him.

“Greetings,” he cheerfully said. “My congratulations to you, young Midoriya, on turning fifteen.”

“Thank you, sir,” Izuku lightly bowed. “But, um, why are you here?”

“To give you your present, of course!” the Principal beamed.

“Really?!” Izuku exclaimed, looking around. “So where is it?!”

“Not here, I’m afraid,” Principal Nezu chuckled. “It’s a bit too big for that. But I am here to take you to it. Your family is more than welcome to join us as well; I’d even prefer if everyone was there to see.”

Izuku didn’t even have to ask Katsuki’s parents, his mother already locking up the door behind them while his father moved to unlock the family car.

“Do you need a lift, Principal Nezu, or will we follow you?” he asked.

“Just follow my dear associate, Mr Bakugo,” Nezu instructed, nodding his snout towards the mysterious hooded woman. “I’ll travel with her.”

And that is what they did. The drive took them to a nearby industrial area close to U.A., the warehouses abandoned at this time of night. The car pulled up in front of one of these abandoned warehouses, following after the hero school principal and his bodyguard as he led them inside. And even though where they were was a typical scene for a horror film, Katsuki had full faith in the rodent. He was the one who had helped to rescue Izuku, to care for him and ensure that he was able to live a normal life. It was one of the reasons why they were both deadset on going to U.A. over any other hero school.

“Midoriya Izuku, for your fifteenth birthday, I give you this,” Principal Nezu stated as he flipped on a switch. Overhead lights flicked on in stages, moving further down the tall, open warehouse until it illuminated a metal object at the end. It was tall, painted with a blue colour scheme, and as they drew closer Katsuki realised what it was; a Titan, powered down and crouched.

“Activation code, November Echo Zulu Uniform Dash Five Five Two,” Principal Nezu recited.

The Titan jolted, long dormant systems flickering to life. Its mechanical body began to move, rising up from its crouch as its legs straightened, standing at over eight metres in height. Its chassis was unlike any that Katsuki had seen before; it was too bulky to be a Stryder, too thin to be an Ogre, and the wrong shape to be an Atlas. And it couldn’t be a Vanguard, since it looked brand new.

Though it vaguely resembled a human body, it didn’t have a head, instead having a hexagonal hood at the top of its torso, within which rested a blue, spherical optic, its shutters opening and closing before focusing on the group in front of it.

“Greetings, Commander Nezu,” the Titan spoke, its voice distinctly feminine.

“Good evening, Ion,” the Principal nodded. “I promised you four years ago that I would bring you a Pilot to bond with, a promise I made to all six of you. If he is willing, you will have a Pilot tonight.”

Katsuki didn’t need to guess who the Pilot would be, his head turning towards Izuku.

“It’s your decision, sweety,” his mother said, resting a hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “We’ll support you no matter what.”

“I’ll do it, this is what I was trained for,” Izuku declared after only a second of thought, turning to grin at Katsuki. “I think I’ll be the first mecha hero in Japan.”

“Damn right,” he grinned back, watching proudly as Izuku stepped forward, standing before the blue Titan.

“Linking authorisation code, 38-India Oscar November,” Principal Nezu authorised.

“Authorisation verified,” the Titan responded, crouching down to one knee as her singular eye flashed blue. “Establishing neuralink.”

The light washed over Izuku, and Katsuki idly noticed his cousin’s implants flashing in time with the pulse, a rhythmic lightshow across his skin. The pairing sequence lasted for a moment before it ended, the light fading.

“Greetings, Pilot Midoriya Izuku. I am Ion, your newly established Titan companion. It is a pleasure to meet you,” Ion greeted. Her chest, if you could call the centre of her torso that, opened up, revealing a cockpit seat inside. “Would you like to embark?”

Izuku turned back to look at Katsuki’s parents, a wide, excited look in his eyes as he silently asked for permission.

“Hey, don’t look at us, kiddo,” Katsuki’s mother proudly grinned. “She’s your Titan.”

Izuku’s smile somehow widened, turning back to the Titan and walking forward, not making any more to resist as the machine gently picked him up, placing him inside the cockpit. The hatch closed, removing him from sight, but as the Titan, no, as Ion stood tall, Katsuki could easily imagine the sheer joy and excitement on his best friend’s face.

Chapter Text

The acrid smell of disinfectant slowly dragged Yagi Toshinori back into the waking world. He opened his bleary eyes only to wince, hissing in pain as the overhead lights seared his sensitive retinas. The rhythmic beeps of a heart monitor nearby confirmed his suspicions that he was in a hospital, and by extension, the fight that he'd had wasn't a strange dream.

'I've avenged you, Master,' he thought, grim satisfaction at the thought of killing All For One. 'And to all who've lost their lives at that monster's hands, you can now rest easy.'

Deciding to see the true extent of the damage the titanic fight had dealt to him, All Might strained his neck, looking down at his chest. It was entirely covered in bandages, with tubes and pipes sticking into the upper left side of his chest. His arms were no different, with both of his knuckles covered in wrappings as well as sections of his forearms, and what weren't covered had tubes injecting what was likely drugs or nutrients into his body.

'Ah, that's right,' Toshinori calmly thought. 'He distracted me by mocking Master's efforts. Well, it's a trade I'd gladly make again; my stomach for his head.'

He vaguely recognised that there were other people in the room, but his bleary eyes weren't able to recognise any faces, and his ears felt as if he had cotton blocking all sound.

Either because of the exhaustion that he was still suffering from or the drugs being pumped into him from the IV drip attached to his arm, Toshinori slipped back into unconsciousness, and when he woke up he was greeted to the sight of Mirai seated next to his hospital bed.

"Mirai," he wheezed, his voice slightly muffled from the oxygen mask strapped to his mouth. But despite this, his sidekick's head snapped up, his usually stern expression lightening slightly.

"All Might," the man smiled. "I'm glad to see you awake again. How are you feeling?"

"Sore," Toshinori groaned, wincing as he tried to move his arms. "Feels like I've been trampled by an Ogre Titan."

"I guess you would know what that's like," Mirai mused. "After all, there was that incident in Lithuania."

"Ha ha," Toshinori chuckled. "You always were the best when it came to All Might trivia."

The conversation continued smoothly, mentor and mentee reminiscing about All Might's past incidents and rescues, only stopping when Toshinori's eyes began to feel like lead, falling back into unconsciousness. When he woke again, Mirai was gone, replaced by the white fur and gleaming eyes of Principal Nezu, his former teacher.

"Nezu, sir," Toshinori nodded, or as well of a nod as he could manage while laying down.

"I'm glad to see you awake, All Might," the chimeric teacher cheerfully greeted. "You had us worried for a little bit, but I'm glad to see you waking up, even if it is only intermittently."

"Please, sir, call me by my name," Toshinori insisted. "After all, there are almost no secrets between the two of us."

"Very well, Yagi," Nezu nodded, hopping over onto Toshinori's bed, deliberately being careful to avoid any painful areas underneath his sheets. "I suppose you'll want to know how long you've been in the hospital recovering for, correct?"

"Yes, sir, I have been curious about that," Toshinori admitted. "I think I've only woken up three times now."

"Four, technically, but you weren't cognitively conscious," Nezu remarked. "More akin to sleep talking than anything. You were calling out for your Master, if I recall correctly."

All Might didn't say a word, simply nodding in acknowledgement as a different question burned in his heart.

"When I was fighting All For One, he told me something," he began. "That the Safety Commission had stolen quirkless children and put them in a super soldier program. I told Lady Nagant, but, well, did she…"

"Lady Nagant found them," Nezu nodded. "She sent me the information minutes before she went to confront the Safety Commission's former president."

"Former president?" Toshinori parroted. "So he was arrested then?"

"Lady Nagant killed him," Nezu casually answered. "He tried to pull a gun on her so she shot him, destroying his left lung as well as his heart. He died almost instantly."

"Killed him?!" Toshinori exclaimed. "But he should have been arrested! Lady Nagant has never had a history of violence!"

"That you knew of," Nezu calmly corrected. "Lady Nagant was the Safety Commission's hired gun, forced to kill villains or corrupt heroes before they could destroy Japan's public image. While I might not have agreed with killing the former president of the Safety Commission so soon, since there was much information we could have extracted from him, Lady Nagant has been mentally suffering for many years now. I suppose finding out that the organisation you work for has not only been lying to the public, but performing acts worse than villains was just the thing to send her over the edge."

"She had so much potential," Toshinori silently grieved. "And now she'll rot in Tartarus for the rest of her days."

"Don't be so certain, All Might," Principal Nezu chuckled. "Officially, Lady Nagant was tragically killed by the Safety Commission's former president, though she killed him in turn. Everyone will remember her as a brilliant hero who gave her life to expose the hidden corruption within the upper echelons of the government."

"What do you mean 'officially'?"

"Well, the original plan was for her to quietly be imprisoned in Tartarus, with no record of her existence; a ghost in the system. I merely had to, persuade, the former vice president, now acting president, to release Lady Nagant into my custody. Of course, under a different name."

Toshinori's mind was reeling, all of the new, horrible information almost being too much for him to handle.

"And, the children?" he hesitantly asked, almost afraid of what the answer would be. "All For One said that hundreds of children had been taken. How many could be saved?"

"Three hundred children of five years old were enlisted in the Pilot Program, as it was called," Nezu solemnly explained. "Over the five years the program was active, they had a 98% casualty rate; the rescue team was only able to save six children."

Toshinori felt his heart shatter, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe, and not just because he'd lost most of his left lung. His eyes burned as tears streaked down his face, and with each sob his ruined chest ached painfully. The full force of his failure seemed to instantly fall upon his injured body, and he wasn't sure he could bear it.

"How fascinating," Nezu quietly remarked, looking intently at Toshinori's face. "I should be finding your pain immensely amusing; to see you in such grief should provide me with a sick satisfaction. And yet, I feel nothing but compassion and empathy."

Nezu looked down at his paws, his small, furry digits clenching tight.

"But I suppose one never stops being my student, no matter how old they get," he mused. "Once a student of U.A., always a student of U.A."

"I failed them," Toshinori sobbed, his voice filled with shaky breaths. "If only I'd killed All For One sooner, then they'd-"

"Have done nothing differently," Nezu stated, cutting Toshinori off. "This was an inevitability, Yagi. It may have taken on a different form, but it would have been the same regardless. The Safety Commission would have found another threat they needed soldiers for; maybe even to combat you should they deem it necessary."

"How'd it come to this?" Toshinori quietly asked.

"Because you are strong."

Toshinori glanced over at his former principal with a confused, lost expression. "This happened because I was strong, not in spite of it?"

"Precisely," Nezu nodded. "The Safety Commission isn't a separate entity from Japan and its government, but rather a reflection of it. Now, who is the original and who is the reflection is a separate debate entirely, but the fact of the matter is that the Hero Public Safety Commission, and by extension the nation of Japan, are terrified of what will happen when you are no longer there to save them, retirement or not, it doesn't matter. They have spent over thirty years under your protection, so many don't know what it was like, and those who do remember it with fear or dread. Well, except for the villains and criminals, but let's ignore them for now. Humans abhor change and danger outside of their control, it's why your species has spent so much time and energy to rule over nature, rather than live amongst it. It's not a decision I disagree with, I enjoy cushions and modern amenities too much for the wilderness, but the point stands. You no longer being a hero is something Japan doesn't want to imagine, but rather than finding a solution, training the next All Might, the vast majority are content to stick their heads in the sand, blindly ignoring the fact that you recently turned fifty. While there are a few standouts who do strive to surpass you, most are content to view you as a god amongst men, to be impossible to match your ability. You have, in an unintentional manner, made Japan weak, both physically and mentally."

"But, I save people," Toshinori protested. "How can my good deeds have been detrimental to Japan?"

"It is because of your good deeds, ironically enough," Nezu lightly chuckled. "While the rest of the world is in a semi-controlled state of chaos, Japan sits in the eye of a hurricane, unaware that the storm is moving, while they stand still. Your strength deters international criminals and intimidates the domestic villains, keeping Japan's crime rate one of the lowest in the world. Your international presence and renown protects Japan from conflict, causing the military to atrophy, having little purpose beyond ceremony nowadays. The air force is disbanded, the navy consists solely of the coast guard, and the armour divisions of the army are sorely depleted and very much out of date. All this because Japan expects you to save them when they are in danger. You have conditioned them, because of your selfless nature, to be weak. That is what they fear."

Toshinori sagged into his bed, his body going limp, his arm slowly and painfully rising up to rub his red, tired eyes. "Then what do I do?"

The hospital room fell into silence. For a while the only noise was the beeping of machines, but Nezu's voice cut through the noise.

"All Might has to die."

Toshinori's eyes widened at the old creature's words, only to realise that Nezu wasn't looking at him, but rather at the chimera's own lap.

"If you were to retire, publicly or not, you would be hounded for the rest of your life. People might say that they'd respect your decision, but they'd always expect you to turn up when the going gets tough to bail them out. The only reason they'd accept All Might leaving their lives permanently would be his death. We'd want to minimise the inevitable panic, so divulging some details of your recent fight would be required, as well as stating that you died from your injuries even though you defeated the villain. If anything, that might make you a martyr not only for Japan, but also the world, emboldening a new generation of heroes to take up your mantle."

"But without my hero work, what would I do?" Toshinori asked. "All my life I've dedicated myself to being a Pro Hero, growing stronger to one day defeat All For One and avenge my master. But if I were to fake my own death, what would be left for me?"

"Maybe if All Might dies, Yagi Toshinori can discover that," Nezu calmly answered. "You could travel, see the world, try new foods. I know you have no interest in romance so I won't bother suggesting it, but surely there are people you wish to spend more time with, time you never had before thanks to your duties as the Symbol of Peace."

'That's a thought,' Toshinori thought to himself. 'There are actually a few people I'd like to see more of.'

"But a secret like this has to remain a secret," Nezu continued. "I understand having to tell the truth to a few people, myself and Recovery Girl being obvious examples, but I insist that it be no more than a dozen. The less who know, the better."

"I…I need to think about it," Toshinori confessed. "My head's in a jumble right now, and I need to be sure about my decision."

"A wise decision," Nezu agreed, pulling a small button out of his pocket, placing it on Toshinori's bedside table. "If you decide to go through with it, press this button. It will send out an alert saying that you've passed on. No one knows where you are save for myself, Recovery Girl, Gran Torino and Sir Nighteye, so only we know the truth so far."

"Thank you, Principal Nezu," Toshinori smiled underneath his oxygen mask. "I will consider it."

"While I don't wish to hurry you, I'd prefer if you made a decision within the next two days," Nezu explained as he hopped down from his chair. "The new president of the Safety Commission will be holding a press conference detailing the actions of her predecessor, so it would be an ideal moment to reveal your status to the public."

"I'll, um, keep it in mind," Toshinori nodded.

"Oh, and Yagi?" Nezu called out just as he was about to leave the room. "Don't go falling asleep just yet. Gran Torino is planning to visit you after me, and I don't think he'd be too keen to see his student asleep when he arrives."

Toshinori's paleing face elicited a cackle of laughter from the chimera, completely ignoring the brand new pit of dread that opened in his heart.

-]l[-

In the end, Toshinori made up his mind. Thanks to the advice of his mentor, his sidekick, and Recovery Girl, Toshinori steeled his heart; with the push of an unassuming button, All Might was declared to have passed away, dying from his injuries. The news was broadcasted live, the information spreading like wildfire across not only Japan, but the world at large. Memorials and tributes sprang up across the world, and all the while Toshinori watched from his hospital bed, slowly recovering. The damage he'd sustained in his fight was extensive; his stomach was all but gone, his left lung was severely damaged, his spleen was completely destroyed, his left ribs all broken, and much more that simply went over his head when Recovery Girl tried to explain it to him.

Despite the injuries and the pain, he still felt the desire to help people, to rush out when there was a catastrophe happening. If it weren't for the stern words of his mentor, Gran Torino, all but ordering him to stay in his hospital bed, he'd have undone the repairs Recovery Girl was slowly performing. Some parts of him were gone forever, such as his spleen, but others were slowly being mended; Recovery Girl expected him to be able to eat soft, easy to digest foods in a few months, but for now, he was on a liquid diet.

Of course, with the lack of things to do other than staying put and recovering, Toshinori had plenty of time on his hands, time he spent researching. The full details of the Pilot Program had been told to him by Nezu at his own request, despite how sick it made him feel. When he'd spoken to Gran Torino, his mentor had said similar things to what he'd received from the chimeric principal.

"The issue is that you were too good of a hero," Gran Torino had gruffly answered. "People saw you not as a person, but an icon, an idol; less of a hero, and more of a force of nature."

And when his sidekick Mirai came once more to visit Toshinori, he explained to him why he'd been so insistent that All Might be laid to rest.

"I used my quirk on you," Mirai confessed, his head hung low with shame. "It was when you were unfocused yet awake. I couldn't bear the thought of you dying, but it was so touch and go in those first few days that I simply had to know. What I saw was both comforting, yet also worrying.

"You die, Toshinori," Mirai explained. "In six or seven years, you will die an unspeakably gruesome death at the hands of a villain. I know none of my futures have ever been wrong, but please, Toshinori, let this end. Maybe this way you can avoid that future!"

"And what would you have me do?" Toshinori asked. "You've always been the strategist between the two of us."

"Please, pass on your quirk," Mirai pleaded. "Take on an apprentice, help guide them to become the world's next Symbol of Peace. Nezu has already told me that he could help scout out some of his students, help you find a worthy successor. It's the best option."

It was tempting. Oh it was tempting. The chance to be free from his burdens, free from the responsibility of One For All, a quirk with over a century of baggage. But no matter how attractive the idea, he knew he couldn't.

"I can't, Mirai," Toshinori sighed, sagging into his pillow that his back rested upon. "The world doesn't need a Symbol of Peace, I see that now. It was a mistake to allow the world to become so dependent on me."

"How could your heroism be a mistake?!" Mirai exclaimed. "All Might was the greatest hero in the world!"

"And despite his greatness, he couldn't save those hundreds of children!" Toshinori raged, only to break out into a fit of bloody coughing. "The world doesn't need a hero they place on a pedestal. If they do, then they'll do those atrocities all over again, just in a different country. No, I won't take on an apprentice. All For One died by my hands, and One For All will die with me. Just as I leave no children, so too shall I leave no heirs."

He knew that Mirai wasn't happy with his decision, but Toshinori could tell that he accepted it all the same.

And aside from talking to the few people who knew about his faked death, Toshinori spent the rest of the time he wasn't asleep investigating online. While he'd certainly done so in the past, he'd never been online without his rose tinted glasses, assuming that everything was like the stories his mother had read to him before she was killed, where everyone was either a hero or a villain. It was as he was investigating that he realised how grey everything was.

The first startling discovery had been when he properly read the laws that governed heroes. After all, if the Safety Commission would do something so vile in the name of peace, then there was no telling what else they'd slip past him. So when he read that heroes were only allowed to attack people misusing their quirks, it caused Toshinori to stop and think. He'd never had to be in that situation, but some digging online showed multiple instances where heroes were reprimanded for attacking a thug who was threatening a civilian with a weapon. To an altruist like Toshinori, it only made sense to step in and save them.

He'd also never put much thought into all of the paper work that heroes had to do. He knew it happened, but he usually had someone else at his agency fill it in for him, since he was always going from incident to accident to incident. But that he had plenty of time to actually think about the implications of it all, it made the very nature of being a Pro Hero much less altruistic and more corporate and managed.

But the most startling had been the public's response to Endeavor being the de facto No. 1 Pro Hero in Japan. While many were excited, Toshinori couldn't help but wince every time someone compared the Flame Hero to him, as if he had set an impossible standard.

Of course, not all of his time was reading the news or surfing the internet. A funeral would be held for All Might, with a closed casket of course, but Nezu had not only found himself organising the event, but had also convinced people that Yagi Toshinori, All Might's assistant, should read out his will. All Might didn't have a will, since Toshinori hadn't written one down! So a lot of time was spent deciding what to write, with help from Nighteye of course, his sidekick's impeccable eye for detail a Godsend.

But with the writing of his will came a conversation he inevitably had to have with a man he considered his oldest friend.

"Is this the…" David Shield trailed off as he poked his head into Toshinori's room, his eyes going wide as his face paled. "What happened to you?"

"Please, come in, David," Toshinori smiled, his face having been finally freed from his oxygen mask after the first few weeks of his recovery.

"All Might, who did this?" David asked, only to be interrupted as Toshinori held up his hand.

"Please, David, we're friends," Toshinori insisted. "All Might is dead, the world knows that, and it's true; my time as a Pro Hero has ended."

"B-But the world still needs you!" David insisted. "Is it your injuries?! I'll make replacements for you, or design a support gear to help you! Anything!"

"David!" Toshinori exclaimed, reaching out a hand to rest on his friend's shoulder. "It isn't my injuries that have done this; it's what I now know."

David was silent, and Toshinori took that as an opportunity to slowly guide David down into a chair next to his bed.

"Believe me, if I truly needed to, I could return as All Might; I'd almost certainly reopen my wounds and Recovery Girl would be beyond furious, but my injuries aren't stopping me."

"Then what?" David asked. "You said you wanted to become the world's Symbol of Peace. When did that dream die?"

"Who said it has?" Toshinori grinned, a true, genuine grin, not the one he put on for the cameras. "I plan to be a hero, David, but on my own terms, not as All Might. Not after what was done in his name."

David looked at him with a befuddled expression, so Toshinori told him everything; the experiments, the trials, and the sheer death done simply because an organisation that managed heroes in Japan couldn't stand the idea of All Might not being there.

"They were children, David," Toshinori quietly said. "Children. Quirkless children. When I heard from Principal Nezu what they did, who they did it to, my first thought was, 'What if they did that to Melissa?' What if they did that to me?"

"What are you talking about, All Might?" David asked. "You aren't quirkless."

Toshinori flinched, realising too late what he'd blurted out. Even after all these years of calling David Shield his friend and partner, the designer of his Young Age costume, Toshinori had never told him the truth about his quirk and its origins, afraid that All For One would hurt him to get to Toshinori, or hurt Melissa. But with the Demon King dead by his own hands, Toshinori decided to take a chance.

"My quirk isn't my own," Toshinori explained. "Truth be told, I was born quirkless, like Melissa. It was only when I met my mentor, Shimura Nana, that she chose me as her successor and passed on her quirk, One For All, to me, just the same as her quirk was passed to her, and so on and so forth. I am the eighth wielder of this power, and have been given the great privilege of its tremendous might, but I know well the feeling of helplessness, because I was born like that."

"I'm sorry for not telling you, David," Toshinori apologised, bowing his head low. "Please forgive me."

"No, please, Toshinori, you have nothing to be sorry for," David insisted, raising Toshinori's head. "I, I might not agree with your decision, but I can understand it, and more importantly, I can respect that it's yours to make."

"How is Melissa doing?" Toshinori asked after a moment of silence. "I imagine it's been hard for her."

"I think the shock hasn't settled yet," David admitted. "She's always known her Uncle All Might as this powerful, unstoppable figure."

"Well, maybe she'd like to hear stories about her Uncle All Might from her Uncle Toshinori."

David tilted his head in confusion. "What are you suggesting?"

"I need to take a leave of absence from Japan, David," Toshinori confessed. "I need to clear my head once I'm recovered, to figure out what to do with my life. The villain who gave me these injuries, the same one who killed my mentor, and the man who passed One For All onto her, and all the other bearers of my quirk, is dead. All Might is dead, so now Yagi Toshinori needs to find out what he wants to do. So, if it isn't a hassle, would there be a spare room at your place?"

"Of course, Toshinori," David smiled. "I'm sure Melissa would love that as well. I know she knows that All Might died after winning against a villain, but she'll love to hear more stories."

"I'm glad to hear it," Toshinori chuckled. "And while you're here, maybe you can help me out."

"I'll do all I can. What do you need?"

"I'm writing up All Might's will," Toshinori answered, placing his laptop onto his lap. "So, one question I have for you is this: what do you want All Might to leave you, and what do you think Melissa would want to receive from her Uncle All Might?"

Chapter Text

Toshinori hated going to funerals; whether it was for fellow colleagues in the hero industry or for people who he had managed to make a genuine connection with, he never found it enjoyable. Maybe that was the point of it, but Toshinori had never been religious, and wasn’t sold on the idea of a life after this one. And in the end, it didn’t matter if heaven or reincarnation was real; those he cared about weren’t there anymore, and that hurt.

So he found it odd to be somewhat looking forward to his own funeral. Was that a worrying sign?

“Toshinori? Are you alright?” Mirai said next to him, gently placing his hand on his mentor’s shoulder.

“I’m fine, Mirai,” Toshinori nodded, though he made no move to remove his former sidekick’s hand. “Just contemplating on how surreal this is.”

“I know what you mean,” Mirai nodded, looking ahead towards the stream of invited guests, many of them Pros, their sidekicks, their partners or their family, who arrived at the funeral. “I never imagined there would come a day when All Might would leave us.”

They both knew what the other truly meant, but speaking in code was of the utmost necessity when they weren’t alone in a secured room. They had already managed to get the lid on All Might’s death; if it came off, however, they would never get it back on.

“Is your speech all prepared?” Principal Nezu asked, walking up to the group, his mysterious hooded bodyguard standing vigilant behind him as always. “And you do have All Might’s last will, correct?”

“Right here, sir,” Toshinori nodded, patting his pocket. “I’ll be reading out my tribute before the will.”

“Very good,” Nezu nodded, standing vigil alongside Toshinori and Mirai. “This is a funeral for the ages. I do believe there hasn’t been one with such significance since the funeral of Queen Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom. All Might was just as popular as she was, and they both were a unifying banner; the Last Queen of England for the Commonwealth nations, and All Might for the lawful peoples of the world.”

“Mm,” Toshinori hummed, his eyes scanning the inflow of attendees before his eyes settled on two figures in particular. “Oh, if you’ll excuse me, there is someone I must meet.”

Carefully moving through the tide of attendees, Toshinori emerged into the foyer, coming across a smartly dressed David crouched down next to his daughter, Melissa Shield. Both wore black clothing, as is tradition for a funeral, with David in a three-piece suit and Melissa in a simple dress that suited the twelve-year-old girl.

“David,” Toshinori smiled warmly, causing his friend to look up. The scientist rose to his feet, wearing a similar but more subdued smile, the two friends embracing. “Glad you could make it.”

“Nothing would stop me from attending,” David sincerely stated when he pulled back. “Is everything sorted?”

“Indeed. All Might’s will is verified, my speech, no matter how short, is written, and the ceremony has everything planned.”

“Daddy?” a small, quiet voice asked in English, coming from Melissa as she tugged on her father’s sleeve. “Who’s this man?”

“This is Yagi Toshinori,” David introduced him to his daughter. “He’s an old friend of mine and Uncle Might.”

“Hello, Mr Toshinori,” Melissa quietly said, only the left-half of her face poking out from behind her father.

“Mr Yagi,” her father corrected. “Remember, sweety? In Japan, they place their family name first.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Melissa,” Toshinori smiled, crouching down so he could see her eye to eye. “All Might told me a lot about you.”

“How did you know Uncle Might?” she asked with all the uncertainty of a child meeting someone new for the first time.

“I was his secretary-manager,” Toshinori explained. “I helped All Might run his hero agency so he could help people all over Japan and the world.”

“Oh,” Melissa nodded, looking down at her shoes. The three of them stood there in silence for a moment, surrounded by the quiet noise of arriving attendees, only for Melissa to speak up with a question. “Why did Uncle Might die? He was the strongest, right?”

Toshinori sucked in a breath through his teeth, grimacing as he tried to delicately lie to the girl he thought of as a niece. 

“All Might was the strongest,” he started, “but the villain he was fighting was the strongest villain. He was a cruel man, someone who didn’t care who got hurt so long as he got his way. If he was allowed to run about free, then a lot of children just like you could’ve gotten hurt. But All Might knew that even if he might die, saving those children would be worth the cost. He died to save you, Melissa, to save me, to save your father, to save a lot of people.”

Melissa’s lower lip trembled as she sniffled. “I miss him.”

Toshinori wanted to comfort her, pull her into a hug and tell her it was okay, to tell her that her Uncle Might was still alive. But Yagi Toshinori was a stranger to her, so he settled for resting his hand on her shoulder, nodding in understanding.

“I’ll miss him too. A lot of people will,” he murmured, and it wasn’t a lie. Toshinori knew he’d miss the role of All Might, of seeing peoples’ faces lighting up with hope and joy when they saw him. He’d sacrifice the funding, the ad placements, the marketing campaigns, all of it in a heartbeat if it meant he could swoop in and save the day once again. He’d felt that desire so many times over the past few months since he’d faked his death, but every time he did so the faces of the children who had survived those horrific trials flashed through his mind. And so the desire was settled, for now at least. He was under no assumption that he’d remain out of the hero scene, but that desire to help people stayed quiet, waiting for its moment.

“Come on, we should go say goodbye to Uncle Might before the service starts, okay?” David quietly said to his daughter, gently taking hold of her hand.

Melissa silently nodded, dutifully following her father as they made their way to the closed casket. Inside was a replica of Toshinori’s muscle form, so as to not alert the pallbearers at the end of the funeral. It was a closed casket funeral of course, the public reason being that the injuries that All Might had died from were too gruesome, with his injuries being replicated on the dummy. Mirai’s eye for detail with everything All Might related had truly come in handy, now more than ever.

Toshinori slowly joined the snaking line of attendees who queued to pay their last respects and say their final goodbyes to All Might. While his thoughts may have been slightly different, Toshinori was no different to the rest who remained in the dark; he truly was saying goodbye to All Might, to his persona, his position as the world’s Symbol of Peace and Japan’s No. 1 Pro Hero.

‘Farewell, O Symbol of Peace,’ he thought to himself as he gently patted the casket, bowing his head in respect. ‘May your passing inspire the next generation.’

Principal Nezu had been generous enough to give Toshinori a seat in the front row, alongside Mirai, Gran Torino, Recovery Girl, Principal Nezu who sat by himself, his bodyguard having disappeared somewhere, as well as the Shields.

Mirai had volunteered to be the funeral celebrant, a position that Toshinori gave him his blessing for. He knew that his former sidekick would be able to keep himself from being too emotional, despite how much of a fanboy he was, as well as having a meticulous eye for detail.

The service began with a tribute video of All Might’s legacy, starting with his first public appearance as All Might, his famous battle against the infamous Los Angeles villains, Big Red and Little Blue. Many more scenes followed after, showing his rescues through his bronze age, silver age, and his golden age. News reports of Japan’s dropping crime rate, as well as an international Symbol of Peace were shown throughout, with news coverage showing the layman’s perspective of the legendary hero during his fights. Mirai had even incorporated scenes, articles and news reports of All Might’s more recent records, such as his 72 hour patrol record as well as his fight against nearly one hundred villains in a single battle in Osaka. It was an incredibly thoughtful and well put together tribute, obvious that Mirai had spent a lot of effort making it. 

When the tribute was finished and most of the gathered attendees had misty eyes, the floor was opened to those who had offered and been accepted to give their tributes. While many who had been accepted to attend wanted to give their final public goodbyes to All Might, only some could be accepted.

“The world knows me as Star and Stripe, the No. 1 Pro Hero in the United States of America,” the blonde American hero began, standing at the podium. “But before I earned that title, before I became the strongest woman in the world, I was simply Cathleen Bate, the daughter of Paul and Lucy Bate, and the older sister of Suzy Bate; a normal girl from a normal American family raised in Los Angeles, California. Many heroes are able to trace their origins to rushing into danger, moving towards the action whilst everyone else ran away, putting their own life on the line to protect someone else. But for me, it was that act of heroism that saved MY life, and inspired me to save people in turn. Two bank robbers were trying to make their getaway and in their desperation my family’s car was struck. I thought I was going to die, but just as I had prayed to God to at least spare my little sister, a young hero, a student from overseas, stepped in and saved us. All Might was that hero.”

Quiet words of agreement could be heard throughout the building, many who attended having been in a similar situation.

“I'll never forget the sight of those two hair tufts!” Star and Stripe passionately continued, tears trickling from her eyes. “He was my role model from that day forward!! I joined the military when I grew older, eventually being granted the title of a military hero, operating in service to the U.S. government. As a show of my own even greater dedication to peace, I went for eight tufts! I had hoped that one day I would be able to meet my hero, my master, and show him all I have accomplished thanks to his actions that day. I dreamed of being able to tell him that he doesn’t have to worry about maintaining his spot as the hero of peace, that we, the next generation of heroes, can help lighten his burden! But now I’ll never get that chance.”

She looked to the ceiling, blinking furiously as she took in deep, shaky breaths, taking a moment to centre herself. “I have no doubt that All Might is watching over us from Heaven. Such a compassionate, caring soul has not graced this world since the Son of God gave his life, and just like Jesus, All Might was taken from us far too soon. So it falls to us, all of us, to carry on his legacy, to bear the torch of hope that he carried. It is up to everyone, Pros and Sidekicks of all nations, even to common civilians, to ensure All Might’s sacrifice was not in vain, that his legacy will carry on long after he did.”

Toshinori joined the round of quiet applause that rang out through the building. He had no doubt that if this were a different setting, a more public, open memorial, then the applause would have been more raucous, but for a funeral, its subdued nature fit it just fine.

‘To think that young girl would become such a powerful hero,’ Toshinori smiled to himself, remembering the excited smile of that brown-haired spectacled girl that he had taken a photo with.

“My name is Torino Sorahiko. Back in my heyday, I was a Pro Hero called Gran Torino,” the elderly former Pro began, standing on a box so his short frame could see over the podium. “And while I wager only Yoroi Musha is close to my age and Mr Principal surpassing it, my age gave me an honour very few have; I was All Might’s teacher, in both an academic as well as a spiritual sense.”

The words caused a stir in the crowd, the very few journalists who Nezu allowed to attend intently focused on his words.

“People remember All Might as an unstoppable force, a god amongst men, a Titan made of flesh and blood rather than steel and oil. But I remember differently. I remember a young boy with a dream; a world where everyone could smile and be happy, one that needed a Symbol of Peace to inspire this new age of harmony. This brat, scrawny and weak, said he would be that symbol. He said these words to a dear friend of mine, the Pro Hero Aspire, who asked me to help mentor the boy. For three years, I served as his homeroom teacher at U.A., a school that still stands strong under the same principal when All Might was a student, Principal Nezu. I could tell you about his abysmal grades, his stubborn nature, his inability to focus on the bigger picture when there was someone nearby who needed saving, but I won’t. All Might was brave, determined, selfless, and driven. He never gave up, no matter how many times I may have gone too far with his training. I only wish Aspire, All Might’s master, was here to see just how far that scrawny boy would go. But, even though I have been left behind in this world, I can rest easy in the knowledge that All For One, the very villain who killed Aspire, a woman who was like a mother to All Might and a sister to myself, was slain by All Might. Rest well, my student, my nephew. You have avenged her death, even if it came at the cost of your own, and all those slain by that monster.”

“I am Nezu, the one who could be a dog or a mouse or a bear, but more importantly, I'm a principal,” the chimeric hero said, his usually eager catchphrase much more appropriately muted. “As my hero name of Mr Principal indicates, I have spent my entire career as a Pro Hero teaching and nurturing all of the students who attended my school. I remember each and every one of them, some more fondly than others. Some failed to become Pros and remained Sidekicks for the rest of their days, some cracked under the pressure and hung up their capes, whilst a fortunately small few were corrupted, becoming the very thing they were taught to fight against. All Might was nothing like these less than stellar students. In his first year, he won his grade’s sports festival. He did the same in his second year, and his third. All Might was a prodigy, his generation’s Endeavor. To say his impact on both Japan and the wider world cannot be understated; the rate of crime in Japan has dropped to an all-time low because of his presence, with crime across the world dropping across the board. He has helped save countless lives from accidents and incidents, gained worldwide praise and adoration, and revitalised the next generation of heroes, successfully ushering in our Era of Peace. All Might was, without a doubt, the most impactful student to walk through my school’s halls, and though I had hoped it would not happen so soon, he has more than earned his place in U.A.’s Grove of Martyrs, where just like every other former U.A. student who died in the line of duty, he will have a tree dedicated to him, tended to so that his memory and legacy never truly fades.”

A few others came forward, each giving heartfelt eulogies of All Might and his legacy. David spoke about how All Might’s first heroic act in the United States wasn’t the popular L.A. Battle as it came to be known, but instead rescuing a group of scientists from an explosion, David amongst them. Tsuragamae Kenji, the Chief of Police in Japan, spoke about the countless members of the police force who All Might had saved, giving not only his thanks, but the thanks of every police officer in Japan. But after a handful more goodbyes and thanks, it was Toshinori’s turn.

“I look out at everyone gathered here today, and I recognise almost everyone here. But I’d wager the majority of you won’t recognise me,” Toshinori began, looking out over the crowd. “My name is Yagi Toshinori, and I was All Might’s secretary-assistant.”

A few whispered conversations broke out amongst the crowd, but Toshinori saw the nods of recognition from his former employees, even if they only recognised him as their colleague, rather than their boss.

“I’ll keep my eulogy brief. All Might was the strongest hero to walk this Earth, that is an indisputable fact. But All Might was more than a Pro Hero. He loved watching movies of all kinds, but since he couldn’t simply stroll up to a theater near Might Tower without getting swarmed, he often watched them in his private theater. He also loved the cedars of Yakushima, having many photos of them inside Might Tower. But he was also a secretive man. He followed the old laws of heroes where one's true identity must be hidden. Obviously a man his size can’t simply put on a pair of glasses and change his posture to hide, so he settled with hiding his name, his identity. As far as I’m aware, only Gran Torino, his former mentor, Sir Nighteye, his former sidekick, and Principal Nezu, his former principal, are likely aware of his true name. But it was that anonymity that I believe was his greatest strength. Other heroes wear their names like a mask, where they are the Pro on the job and an ordinary person at home. But this means they have people who can be used against them, threatened or kidnapped by criminals and villains. All Might didn’t have that. His anonymity was his greatest strength, because All Might was his secret identity. He was simply our Symbol of Peace, and he will be greatly missed.”

A polite round of applause rang out, but when it died down Toshinori remained standing at the podium.

“And now it falls to me to read out All Might’s parting words and his will,” Toshinori said, opening a file he had brought up with him. “This will was written by All Might’s own hand, with later additions that were dictated in his final hours, and was verified by Mr Principal and Gran Torino, neither of whom are listed as the beneficiaries. Everyone who is listed in this will is also in attendance, as was All Might’s wish.”

Toshinori cleared his throat, making a conscious effort to not accidentally slip into his All Might voice. “‘I am here, being read out by my secretary! If this will is being read, then it can only mean I have fallen in my battle against All For One, the monster who killed my master, my master’s master, my master’s master’s master, and many more before them. I also know that if this is being read then it means I won! After all, if I had lost the fight then there wouldn’t be anyone to read my will! Now listen up, everyone, because I’m sure my secretary is the one who’s been asked to read out my will!’

“‘To my dear employees of Might Tower and the All Might Hero Agency,’” Toshinori began, his eyes drifting to his former employees/coworkers. “‘It saddens me greatly that I won’t be able to attend anymore of our yearly agency meals! You are the first people I thought of when writing my will. I wouldn’t have been able to be nearly as effective of a Symbol of Peace without all of your hard work. A Pro Hero couldn’t ask for a more thoughtful, caring staff, and you haven’t been forgotten. Though I may no longer be in this world, you won’t need to race for a job just yet. Effective immediately upon the reading of this will, all staff members will be paid out in full what they would have earned up until the end of the financial year. And yes, Toshinori, this means you too. I’m well aware of how hard you work, so much so that you’re often the first to arrive and last to leave. Word does travel around the office, after all, so you’ve earned your break.’”

A few good-natured chuckles could be heard from the workers of his agency.

“‘To Sasaki Mirai’” Toshinori continued, his eyes moving to his partner. “‘Though the world will think Sir Nighteye is an independent Pro Hero now, rather than the sidekick of All Might, I never felt that was the case. Following a trend that happened with David Shield during my time in the United States, you were not my Sidekick, but instead my partner, the brains to my brawn. Your analytical ability and Foresight quirk were indispensable on many an occasion, and so this what I leave to you; Might Tower.’”

Toshinori watched with hidden amusement as Mirai’s eyes shot wide open, accompanied by a few gasps and whispers in the building.

“‘As much as I know you’ll disagree, Might Tower is just a building, no matter who used to live in it. And as the one and only partner I took while in Japan, I leave it to you. Use it as the office for your new Hero Agency, turn it into a museum, demolish it, I don’t care. I leave the decision up to you. Additionally, I also leave my exclusive All Might merchandise to you. Yes, the one of a kind items that only I possessed, now belong to you. And since I know you so well, please don’t hoard them in your house. You’ll fill it up with almost no room to move, so I ask you to display at least some of it.’”

Mirai’s eyes were filled with tears, nodding his head to Toshinori. An outsider might assume Sir Nighteye was simply nodding to his mentor’s words, but for the two of them, they knew Toshinori was speaking directly to him.

“‘To David Shield,’” Toshinori said, his eyes now moving to his first sidekick. “‘Just like with Sir Nighteye, you were more to me than the Sidekick who fought alongside me when I was studying in the U.S.A. Since the world was so cruel as to snatch away all the family I have, you were part of the family I made; just as Aspire was my mother and Gran Torino was my stubborn uncle, you were my brother. I have never met anyone as intelligent as you; after all, you’re the only one in the world who can make a costume as stubborn as I am! So do not mourn my death, but celebrate my legacy! When you and Toshinori drink together, remember all the good times. In my office there lies a safe behind my portrait; I have never told anyone the code to it, but I know you will know it. Inside you will find two gifts, both of them wrapped; the red one is for you, and the yellow one is for Melissa. I’m sorry I don’t have the opportunity to give them to you, but please don’t let my death taint your feelings for them.”

Melissa was now quietly crying, her father wrapping one arm around her shoulder, holding her tight against his side.

“‘As for my wealth, all of it bar what will be used to pay out my former employees is to be donated to a list of predetermined charities. I have no need for this money, nor do I have any children, lovers, or family members to give it to. As such, my wish is for the wealth I gained as the Symbol of Peace to be given to the less fortunate, to those who require aid. Hopefully, this way I can continue to save people even after my death.’”

Gentle mutters of support and approval could be heard from many who were gathered, approving of the hero’s generosity.

“And now, there are a few personal messages All Might wished to be read out,” Toshinori began, changing the pages from the formal will to a more informal collection of statements. “‘To Gran Torino: Thank you for your constant guidance through my years. Without the rigorous training you put me through, hard as it was, I would never have become the Symbol of Peace that the world needed. Thank you, teacher.’”

The gruff, elderly former hero nodded, his and Toshinori’s eyes meeting, a silent understanding of the hidden message clear to both of them.

“‘To Best Jeanist: Thank you for the jeans you sent me for my everyday wear. You truly have a discerning eye; they always were a perfect fit.’”

The dashing denim-themed hero nodded, his gaze fixed on the ground as he brushed away a tear.

“‘To Mr Principal: Thank you for the guidance you have given me, even when I was no longer a student at your school. Your dedication to the children of your institution is admirable; please, watch over them and keep them safe.’”

Principal Nezu’s gaze was slightly confused before understanding spread across it, the chimeric hero nodding, showing his understanding of the double message.

These short messages continued on; Snatch, Present Mic, Yoroi Musha, Gang Orca, Ryukyu, Hound Dog, and many others. But finally, Toshinori arrived at the final and longest message he had written.

“And finally, ‘To Endeavor: I write this in my dying moments. The doctors and my close confidants don’t like to talk about it, but I can feel my strength waning. I likely only have a few days left on this Earth. But it is in the face of my mortality that I have reflected upon my life and found it lonely. I have had no romantic partners, yet I find my loneliness to be from a lack of those I could consider an equal. They say it’s lonely at the top, and I have found that to be accurate. No hero in Japan tried to reach my level, attempted to climb the mountain to stand beside me. I find that everyone viewed my position as the No. 1 Pro Hero in Japan to be a fact of the universe, a fundamental truth that could never be anything else,’” Toshinori said, watching as the flame hero tensed, his arms crossing his chest as he sat with his three children. “‘All but you.’”

Endeavor frowned in confusion, his gaze that had remained entirely fixed on the ground throughout the reading of Toshinori’s will and ‘All Might’s’ last words now focused on Toshinori.

“‘You were the only one who constantly strove to improve himself, to try to be the best that you could possibly be. Though there are many from our alma mater, you were the only one to truly embody our motto of ‘Plus Ultra’. As such, I am able to rest easy knowing that Japan is in the hands of my one and only rival; you.’”

Gasps rang out instantly across the room, guests turning to whisper to one another, the press frantically writing down the last words of All Might.

“‘I’m sorry I never realised it before,’” Toshinori continued, watching Endeavor’s conflicted expression. “‘And I regret not being able to see the heights that you’ll one day reach. Every person has a limit, and though I may have reached mine, I know you still have a ways to go. So from one No. 1 to another, here is my advice: cherish the time you have with your family. I know how hard the death of your son impacted you; as someone who has lost all of his biological family and some of those I consider family, I understand and sympathise with your loss. But our job is a dangerous profession, as my soon-to-be fate can tell you. So though you will become Japan’s new No. 1, do not neglect your family, because one day, you might not come home, and you will regret all of the chances you missed to tell them you love them. A hero with everything to lose is a powerful being indeed, as he will go beyond his limits to protect them; your family is your strength, a source of hope and determination to win, just so you can see them again. If you can do this, then I know you will become a hero like no other.’”

But as Toshinori filed away the final words he wanted to give those he’d spoken to, he couldn’t help but notice the conflicted expression on Endeavor’s face.

‘Maybe his eldest’s death affected him more than I thought,’ Toshinori mused as he returned to his seat, watching Mirai take his place at the podium, continuing the funeral.

-]l[-

Four years later…

At the edge of Takoba Municipal Beach Park, an old, beat up white truck with a flatbed rolled into a parking spot. With a small shudder its engine turned off, the driver door swinging open as Toshinori stepped out, taking in a deep breath before gagging, waving his hand in front of his face.

“Man, what a smell,” he muttered, looking sadly at the piles of trash that littered the sands of the beach. What had once been a beautiful vista was ruined by illegal dumping, turning the beach into an illegal dump. From the cursory research he’d done, the issue began when ocean currents had caused some rubbish to wash up on the beach. Nothing had been done by the local city council, and soon enough people began dumping their trash here instead of taking it to the official city dump where a fine had to be paid. 

“Well, nothing’ll get done unless I start,” Toshinori muttered to himself, rolling up his sleeves and moving towards the nearest pile. Back and forth he hauled broken bicycles, dishwashers, charcoal stoves and other now-useless appliances into the back of his truck. Once the flatbed was full and everything tied down, it was off to the dump, putting the trash where it belonged. Back and forth he went, the afternoon light quickly turning dark as streetlights flicked on, but still Toshinori kept working.

“It’s hard to imagine how I wouldn’t be able to do this five years ago,” Toshinori spoke aloud, but his answer didn’t come from anyone nearby, but rather from a voice inside his head.

“It’s only to be expected,” came the voice of Shimura Nana, his mentor, mother-figure, and the seventh wielder of One For All. “The way you used One For All was detrimental; you allowed your real body to become weak and frail, puffing it up with the quirk.”

“Don’t lecture the kid, Nana,” came the boisterous voice of Banjo Daigoro, the fifth user. “He was doing fine in the first few years of using his quirk! He just lacked proper training!”

“There was never a manual for our power, Daigoro,” chided Shinomori Hikage, the fourth user. “And you were the one who decided to fight All For One instead of fleeing to continue building our strength, if I remember correctly.”

“And he was right to do so,” Kudo Toshitsugo, the second user, growled. “I fought him, Bruce fought him, Daigoro fought him, En fought, Nana fought him, and Toshinori fought him. You were the only one of us to die on his back. Even Yoichi died standing, and he was the weakest of us all!”

“We can’t afford to fight amongst ourselves,” the founder Yoichi stated, calming the argument. “After all, if it weren’t for Hikage using his time as the wielder of this quirk to improve it, then Toshinori might not have been able to avenge our deaths.”

Though he couldn’t see them while he was awake, Toshinori could vividly picture Toshitsugo and Bruce, the more brutal vestiges within the quirk, grumbling and frowning.

“You have made incredible progress, Toshinori,” Tayutai En, the sixth wielder, quietly said. “Though your body will never fully recover, I’d wager that you’re stronger now than when you used All For One incorrectly.”

“Amplify your existing muscles rather than inflating them,” Hikage lectured. “Even though it takes longer, the lasting results speak for themselves.”

“I know, I know,” Toshinori muttered quietly. Even though he was sure there weren’t any people nearby, it wouldn’t do for word to get out that U.A.’s newest teacher was talking to himself.

That stray thought made his mind turn to why he was in Shizuoka in the first place. After spending years living with the Shield family, both in the United States as well as when they immigrated to I-Island, Toshinori received a job offer from Principal Nezu to teach at U.A. To say it was a surprise was an understatement, despite the fact that Toshinori and Nezu had exchanged frequent messages and phone calls. U.A. had one of their Heroics teachers retire recently, and Nezu thought Toshinori was a perfect fit for the job. While the unspoken real reason was because of Toshinori’s past as All Might, the official reason was that Yagi Toshinori had a long history in the area of heroics, with his close connection to All Might as his manager making him someone who knew what steps a hero was to take in a given situation. And so, one convincing conversation with David, a warm goodbye from Melissa, and one plane ticket later, Toshinori found himself teaching a class on Hero Basic Training to the first years of U.A.’s Hero Course.

Of course, even though Toshinori had hung up his cape and position as All Might, that hadn’t stopped him from stopping crime wherever he saw it. Sure, it was considered vigilantism, but given the organisation that made those rules was the Safety Commission, Toshinori didn’t rightly care what they thought. It would be nice if Endeavor wasn’t still such a stickler for the rules though. And then there was that declaration he made a few days ago with those heroes who had stood back, but that was an issue he’d handle later.

Toshinori shook his head, scattering the idle thoughts before returning his focus to the task of slowly, piece by piece, cleaning up the beach, and getting in an effective workout at the same time. This cycle happened day after day once his classes had ended for weeks, until one day in May something new happened.

“Quick, duck to your right!” En warned, the sixth user’s quirk, Danger Sense, flaring. Instinctively, Toshinori’s head ducked to the right, just as a can sailed past him. It wasn’t even close enough to hit him, but the can hit a propped up fridge, ricocheting off it and flying through where Toshinori’s face had been.

“Hey, old man!” a girl called out, causing Toshinori to look behind him. He immediately saw the speaker, a girl in her mid teens with pink dreadlocks, wearing a black tanktop with workshop overalls tied around her waist, and her fists placed on her hips. “Buzz off! Stop stealing my stuff!”

“Your stuff?” Toshinori parroted, his confusion causing his mind to buffer. “What are you on about?”

“You know exactly what I mean!” the teenage girl protested, stomping over and glaring up at him, since he towered over her by a good 60cm (1’11⅝”). “Every evening you come here and take away my precious resources! How am I meant to make my babies without all this free scrap?!”

“Wait wait wait,” Toshinori interrupted, giving the salmon-haired girl an inquisitive look. “You’re an inventor?”

“Yep!” she chirped, her mood instantly changing. “Name’s Hatsume Mei, and one day Hatsume Industries is gonna be the greatest support item company in all of Japan, nay, the world!”

“The world, huh?” Toshinori muttered, more to himself than anything. “Guess David has some young competition.”

“You know Mr Shield?!” young Hatsume squealed, immediately getting in Toshinori’s personal space. “How do you know Mr Shield?! Can you introduce me to him?! What’s he like?! What tools does he have?! Is it true that I-Island has an air defence system?!”

“Woah now, calm yourself young Hatsume,” Toshinori chuckled, gently pushing her back. “David’s an old friend of mine, we go back a long while.”

“Really? But you’re so old.”

Toshinori felt a stab in his heart at the brutal yet nonchalant answer. If his lungs hadn’t healed to the point that they had after his long break from heroics and action, a break only recently ended, then he was sure he’d be coughing up blood right now.

“I’m not that old!” Toshinori protested. “I’m only in my fifties!”

“Yeah, that’s old,” Hatsume nodded to herself. “You’re an old man depriving a poor, helpless engineer of her chance to practice for the U.A. Entrance Exam!”

“U.A., huh?” Toshinori mused. “Well, do you have any inventions you’ve made so far?”

“Only a few,” was Hatsume’s response, dragging out a bag that contained more than just a few inventions. “First we have baby number twelve, he’s meant to provide a safe landing for someone falling, no matter the height. He’s mostly an old airbag I found, but I also needed to add some blah blah blah science blah blah blah inventions blah blah blah filaments.”

Toshinori wasn’t the greatest academic student, he knew that. His skills were in his fists, not his brain. But he didn’t think he’d already be completely and utterly lost with the first invention! He didn’t even understand what most of the words she was saying meant, and he was at least forty years older than her!

“Okay, okay,” Toshinori interrupted, holding his hands out for her to stop. “I didn’t understand almost any of that, but they do seem impressive. You made these all from scrap you found?”

“Yeah, but when I get into U.A., I’ll have access to all the best materials and tools in the country!”

“Yep, that sounds like the Support Course all right. I honestly don’t even know what half of the tools those kids use even do.”

Hatsume blinked up at him, her eyes that resemble scope lenses widening. “How do you know that? How have you seen the Promised Land, the paradise that is the U.A. Support Course, before me?!”

“Because I’m a teacher at U.A.,” Toshinori chuckled. “My name’s Yagi Toshinori; I teach the Hero Basic Training classes for the first years.”

Hatsume gaped, her shocked expression quickly changing into nervousness. “Oh. Um, does the fact that I called you old and threw a can at you mean I won’t be allowed in?”

“I don’t think it works like that,” Toshinori smiled. “Tell you what, how about we make a deal?”

“What kinda deal?” Hatsume cautiously asked.

“I want to clean up this beach; you want to get to the tossed out components. So, how about whenever you come here, you help me with cleaning up the beach, and in exchange you get first pick at anything? Sounds good?”

“Well, maybe? I’m only able to come here on Friday and the weekends thanks to my parents having shared custody, but that means four whole days where I can’t collect parts! What if you found a car that was functioning? Or an old security system?”

“You could always tell me what you’re looking for,” Toshinori suggested. “Just, be general, okay? I can’t tell the parts of a fridge apart, but I know what a fridge looks like. I can set them aside for you and then get rid of what’s left later.”

“Hmm…deal!” Hatsume declared, a beaming smile on her face. “So when are you down here taking away all this good scrap?”

“After I’ve taught my classes and had dinner,” Toshinori answered, placing his hands underneath a washing machine he had been carrying before Hatsume found him. “I find it to be relaxing and a great workout all at once. And most of the weekends too, since I don’t have much on. Being a heroics teacher has the benefit of not much student work to grade.”

“Well, I think this will be a splendid deal,” Hatsume declared, poking around at some odd bits and pieces as she followed Toshinori. “So many new parts, and so little work required to get to them!”

And just as she’d said, every Friday evening, Saturday, and Sunday, Toshinori would run into Hatsume yet again; he would slowly and methodically clear the piles of rubbish, while Hatsume would pick at anything that was uncovered, her toolbelt that she carried with her being used to rip the electronics and other discarded items apart. This semi-ordered pattern continued uninterrupted until one particular day in mid-July, Toshinori’s attention was grabbed by the sounds of explosions and the grunts of exertion. 

“What’s that?” Hatsume asked, her head poking out of the engine of a car she was currently scavenging. 

“I’m not sure,” Toshinori admitted. “Wait here, I’ll see what it is.”

Calmly walking towards the noise, Toshinori kept his Danger Sense quirk on high alert, just in case something happened. But when he came to an exposed part of the beach he had cleared recently, he found the strangest sight. The noise came from two teenage boys currently sparring in the sand, whilst three others spectated from the sides. But what was strangest was the looming figure of a blue and white Titan also on the sidelines, towering over the spectating teenage boys even as it sat in the sand. He didn’t recognise the model, but that wasn’t saying much; David might have known the answer.

“Since when can Titan’s sit?” Toshinori muttered to himself, apparently louder than he expected since the four watching the sparring match, the Titan included, immediately turned their heads and saw him.

“Shit,” one of the boys with spiked black hair swore. “Hey, Bakugo, Midoriya, we might need to bail.”

The two fighters immediately stopped their match, one with short green hair and the other with spiky blond hair

“Don’t worry, I’m not planning to call the cops,” Toshinori reassured them, holding out his hands to show he wasn’t holding a phone. “This is just sparring, right? All in good sport?”

“Yeah,” the green-haired boy nodded.

“Then there’s no issue. As you were,” Toshinori waved them off, turning around and walking back the way he came.

“Man, that was lucky,” a different voice said, probably one of the other spectators due to his calm, unexhausted voice.

“Yeah,” another chimed in. “That old guy was really chill about Bakugo and Midoriya using their quirks.”

Toshinori stumbled as he felt a familiar jab in his heart from being called old, but fortunately he was far enough away that none of the teenagers commented on it.

“What was it?” Hatsume asked when he returned, somehow having gotten the entire engine pulled out of the front of the car, dragged it over to his truck, and was in the process of disassembling it into smaller pieces, her hands and forearms covered in grease and oil as she tossed parts she wasn’t interested by into his flatbed.

“Oh just some teenagers sparring with their quirks,” Toshinori replied, picking up an old computer. 

“I thought you adults were all touchy about kids using their quirks in public.”

“Not this adult. I don’t agree with the Safety Commission’s stance on quirk licences; hell, there’s a lot about them I don’t agree with.”

“Did you see their quirks?” Hatsume asked, rubbing her stained hands on her overalls.

“No, they were doing hand-to-hand combat when I got there,” Toshinori answered, tossing the computer none too gently onto the truck, ignoring as parts of it broke. “I think they had a Titan with them though.”

“A Titan?” Hatsume asked, her attention instantly snapping towards him. “Did you say a Titan?”

“Yeah, though I don’t know what it was,” Toshinori thoughtlessly answered, his eyes widening only a second later when he realised what he’d just caused.

“Don’t leave just yet, Titan!” Hatsume cheered, racing across the sand faster than he’d ever seen, Toshinori chasing after her in hot pursuit.

“Wait, young Hatsume, we talked about this!”

Chapter Text

To say Hatsume Mei, future inventor extraordinaire, enjoyed making things was like saying water was wet and safety rules were boring. Inventing new items, devices that had never been seen before was what she lived for, what her passion was, where her expertise lay. To take basic components, wires, screws, sheet metal and more, only to combine them in a very particular way to create wondrous inventions, her darling babies, was the greatest experience in the world.

And she didn’t just like creating, she also loved to discover what others had made, drawing on them for inspiration to create her next beautiful baby! She wasn’t so arrogant to assume that she knew the answers to everything, that would come later in life, so there were going to be areas she had overlooked, or a problem she struggled to solve. But by observing the wonders her fellow inventors had created allowed her insight into their minds, helping to expand her knowledge, and grant new pathways to the solution. In turn, she desired for other inventors to witness her creations, take inspiration from her works, and create a perpetual motion of inventors, engineers and gadgeteers all improving themselves through their rivals and competitors. After all, competition is always a good thing; it forces those who compete to be their best.

However, even if all this wasn’t the case, Mei would never get tired of watching a Titan up close.

“Hatsume, you requested my help?” the female Titan asked, striding over towards her across the sand of Mei’s new favourite place in Japan.

“Yes!” she excitedly replied, gesturing towards a wrecked muscle car that had a chalk line drawn across it. “Could you cut through here? I want to get into the lovely insides of this baby!”

“Afirmative,” the blue Titan vocalised, crouching down and deploying her Energy Projector, a yellow beam of energy shooting forth, cutting through the car. Mei sat on a nearby washing machine she hadn’t yet stripped for parts, watching with pride as the Titan worked. While Mei adored Titans, a new passion of hers after meeting Midoriya and Bakugo, Ion, the Titan linked to Midoriya, was something special. She was alive, in every sense of the word that actually mattered. When Mei had first laid her eyes on the experimental Titan frame, she hadn’t seemed all that different from any other Titan. Sure, Ion was more advanced with her laser weaponry, but she behaved like a slightly more intelligent Titan Operating System. However, as the months passed and Mei spent more and more time around the two boys and their Titan, she noticed how Ion changed; how she evolved. Where she struggled with thinking out of the box, she was now able to problem solve independently. Where her existence was entirely to the protection of Midoriya and the fulfilment of his directives, Ion was now able to act independently, helping when someone other than her pilot asked for assistance. But most strikingly, Mei had noticed how much the Neural Link between Midoriya and Ion had influenced them both.

The change in Midoriya was much more subdued and harder to notice, due to the fact he was human with all of the complexities of one, but given how much of a blank slate Ion had been when Mei first met her, it made it all the more prominent. Like her pilot, Ion had become fascinated with quirks, observing new ones whenever she could. And while Mei knew that her behaviour wasn’t true sentience, Ion had undoubtedly gained sapience, the ability to think for herself, even if the capability for emotion wasn’t something she could truly replicate.

“What are you hoping to find, Hatsume?” Midoriya called out, walking over from where he and Bakugo had been talking with Mr Yagi. 

Midoriya was also someone who fascinated Mei. She didn’t know the details, even after all these months of the three teens and the Titan helping clear the beach under the supervision of Mr Yagi, but Mei was fascinated with the seamless integration of flesh and technology that the green-haired boy exhibited, those silvery lines that ran along his body. She’d watched Midoriya and Bakugo spar countless times, and his ability to produce holographic decoys was unlike anything she’d seen before. His regeneration was staggering, not only allowing him to heal from a broken arm after a fridge fell on top of him, but also allowing him to push his body to the limit without having to worry about torn ligaments or broken bones. 

“Hatsume?”

But all of this paled in comparison to how he could link his mind with Ion! Oh, Mei was desperate to figure out how it worked, just where the line between Pilot and Titan existed! Their ability to communicate telepathically, not requiring vocalisation to communicate but instead near-instantaneous thought transfer. Why bother trying to articulate where you should go when your Titan knew exactly what you were thinking the moment you thought it? And the ability to operate in tandem over vast distances was incredible. There had been a few times when Bakugo, being the more headstrong one of the two friends, had challenged Midoriya and Ion at the same time. Not once had he won, but Mei considered a personal victory for herself, watching closely in those rare moments where Midoriya would fight alongside Ion rather than piloting her, the pilot and Titan operating in perfect unison.

“Hey, Hatsume,” Midoriya called out, tapping her shoulder and dragging her out of her thoughts. “You alright?”

“Never better!” Mei enthusiastically nodded, not that bothered about getting caught in her thinking. “Just thinking about stuff, you know? Notes I’ve mentally made, new ideas for a future baby of mine, maybe some upgrades or improvements to existing babies, that kinda stuff.”

“Okay, well, Ion finished with your car a bit ago,” Midoriya shrugged, glancing over to where the female Titan was currently helping Mr Yagi transport the last of the fridges on the beach. In fact, now that she thought about it, a lot of progress had happened on the beach over the past few months. Initially, Mei had only helped Mr Yagi because she wasn’t confident about getting to the lovely loot when it was buried in piles of garbage, having to pick through the discarded electronics and machinery on the surface and edges of the pile, or those lucky ones that stood by themselves and didn’t run the risk of collapsing a trash mountain on top of her when she moved them. But with Mr Yagi’s help, who was surprisingly strong for an old man, they’d made good progress with getting rid of the actual garbage and leaving behind the appliances, discarded electronics or beat up machinery that Mei hadn’t salvaged yet. 

But that had all changed that fateful day in July when Midoriya, Bakugo, two of their friends and Ion decided to spar down the beach from where Mei and Mr Yagi had been. After Mr Yagi had somehow caught up to her (how was such an old man so spry?), he had convinced Midoriya and Bakugo to help clean up the beach in exchange for some tips of the hero industry. Apparently Mr Yagi had been the manager for All Might of all people before the Symbol of Peace’s death, and with Bakugo being a very clear All Might fan and Midoriya apparently going wherever his friend/cousin/brother/whatever-they-were went, the two humans and one Titan joined Mei and Mr Yagi in their efforts to clean the beach. And with a Titan over 8 m (26’2”) tall helping them, the beach looked less like a rubbish dump and more like a scrap yard. It would probably be entirely clear right now if it wasn’t for the fact that Mei refused to send off anything mechanical or electrical without taking the parts she needed, as well as how often Midoriya and Bakugo sparred on the sand.

“So what are you hoping to find?” Midoriya asked, leaning on the side of the car as Mei busied herself with scavenging the insides of the vehicle.

“Sparkplugs, hydraulics, anything really,” Mei said, her head remaining buried in the guts of the vehicle. “I need lots of parts to make my babies, since they don’t have the greatest success rate at the moment.”

“Well, you are making them out of literal scrap,” Midoriya admitted. “It’s kinda impressive really.”

There it was again. When Mei heard Midoriya’s praise, she felt a strange, warm feeling in her chest, similar to when one of her babies worked just as she intended it to, but more intense. It wasn’t pride, she was sure of that, since that was a feeling she knew whenever Mr Yagi praised her work or Bakugo admitted that her gadgets were effective. But for some reason she couldn’t fathom, whenever it was Midoriya, it wasn’t pride she felt, but something deeper.

“Oh, um, thanks, Midoriya,” Mei stammered, her words tripping over themselves for some reason. “But I mean, you know, my babies aren’t that great.”

“You’re wrong,” Midoriya firmly disagreed. “You’re able to get rundown, worn out materials, and combine them to create incredible devices. Your capture net for instance; sure, it didn’t work the first few times, but once you figured out you needed a new piston, it was able to tangle up Kacchan. I don’t think there’s anyone in Japan who’s as amazing as you are, Hatsume.”

Mei could feel her face burning up, even though the car’s engine wasn’t running and she was sure she wasn’t coming down with a fever. Very strange indeed.

“Oh, actually, there was something I was hoping you’d be able to look at for me,” Midoriya remarked, rustling through his pants.

Mei pulled her head out of the car’s engine, watching as Midoriya brought up a video on his phone.

“Are those that mercenary group you’re a fan of?” Mei asked, squinting to try and make out the details on the grainy footage, obviously taken from a civilians phone.

“Yeah, the 6-4,” Midoriya grinned. “They’re some of the most honourable mercenaries in the world! They only help those who need it, and they never work for corporations that are trying to run people off their lands for mining projects. They’re unmatched when it comes to urban combat, even being able to take on Titan squads when they’re working together!”

“Damn,” Mei whistled, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “That’s impressive, sure, but I’m not sure why you wanted me to watch this low-res footage.”

“Oh, right,” Midoriya winced, pausing the video and rewinding to a closeup of one of the mercenaries. “I was hoping you’d be able to make this.”

He pointed to the video, right to the waist of the mercenary who had their back to the camera. While they were clearly clad in advanced combat armour from head to toe, the thrusters that sat on their hips, currently frozen in mid-burn, stood out the most.

“I, um, I was wondering if you’d be able to make me a jump kit. It would really help with my mobility, and I might be able to keep up with Kacchan.”

“This looks really complex to use, Midoriya,” Mei pointed out. “Do you even know how to use one of these?”

“I’ve been, uh, reading about it online,” Midoriya claimed, looking to the side. “I was hoping you’d be able to make it in time for the Entrance Exam.”

“Is that even allowed?” Mei asked, not that it would stop her from making it.

“It’s more of a grey area,” Mr Yagi called out, walking over to join them with a minifridge held in his arms. “Students are allowed to bring in one support item into the Entrance Exam if they’re trying to get into the Hero Course.”

Mr Yagi was someone that Mei couldn’t quite figure out. He was old, being in his fifties, so he must have been born and raised in the Era of Chaos before All Might stabilised Japan, and to some extent the world. And yet, unlike Mei grandparents on both sides of her family, Mr Yagi was a prominent supporter of the free use of quirks, and was very open about his belief in the more traditional sense of a hero rather than the modern, government-licensed Pro Heroes. He was fairly muscular, filling out the clothes he wore when he was clearing the beach quite well, and he had grown out two long tufts of his blond hair that framed the sides of his face. He was also unique, being a teacher at U.A. despite not being a Pro Hero himself. And for a teacher at a Pro Hero academy, especially one as prestigious as U.A., Mr Yagi was surprisingly open about vigilantes and people illegally using their quirks, something that Bakugo was quite fond of.

“Isn’t everyone who takes the Entrance Exam applying for the Hero Course?” Midoriya asked, voicing a question Mei had been wondering as well.

“Usually that’s the case,” the man nodded. “However, students trying to get into the Support Course are also able to take the practical portion of the Entrance Exam, rather than show off their technical skill in a workshop. Sure, it makes it much more risky, however students that do so are MUCH more likely to get accepted if they perform well. They’re also given the option to bring in a support item as well as a weapon of their own making, with a few limitations of course.”

“A practical demonstration of my babies’ abilities?” Mei muttered to herself, a grin slowly forming on her face. “No doubt many eyes will be on me, watching my glorious creations at work!”

She spun around, grabbing Midoriya by the shoulders and grinning gleefully at him. “Fear not, Midoriya! I shall create your jump kit in time for the exam, whilst also creating some babies of my own to show off to the judges! My ticket into U.A. is all but guaranteed! This test is going to be terrific!”

-]l[-

“This test is bullshit!”

Bakugo Masaru flinched in his chair as he sat reading in the living room, startled by his son’s shout. Today was a Sunday, and with Mitsuki taking Izuku out shopping, he’d assumed now was the perfect time to read his book without having to drown out his wife and son arguing.

‘Well, my eldest son,’ he thought to himself as he bookmarked where he was, placing the book down on a nearby table before walking upstairs. Over the years of caring for Inko’s orphaned son, Masaru had come to see Izuku as his own, a sentiment that he knew his wife Mitsuki shared. He knew Katsuki viewed Izuku as a brother, and he had a feeling the only reason Izuku hadn’t called him ‘Dad’ was because he was afraid of being rejected.

‘I really should remedy that,’ Masaru mused as he headed towards Izuku and Katsuki’s. ‘Maybe start referring to Katsuki and Izuku as my sons when introducing them to people? Mitsuki might have some ideas.’

“Katsuki?” Masaru asked, calling out through the door into his sons’ room. “Everything okay in there?”

No response came from within the room, and after testing the door handle and finding it unlocked, Masaru opened it enough to poke his head inside. “Katsuki?”

What Masaru found was his son seated at his desk, staring at some document that had been brought up on his computer.

“You alright, Katsuki?” Masaru asked again, stepping into the room and slowly walking over to his son.

“No, well, yes, I’m fine, but THIS isn’t,” he snarled, waving at the screen in front of him.

Masaru lowered himself onto his knees so he could see the screen without distortion, adjusting his glasses as he began to read.

“These are the rules for U.A.’s Entrance Exam?” he frowned, scrolling up and down the page. “Katsuki, I know you aren’t fond of them, but it makes sense there’d be rules for the practical exam.”

“Not that,” Katsuki huffed, grabbing the mouse out of Masaru’s grasp and scrolling down, using the cursor on the screen to underline a specific clause. “‘All students are permitted ONE support item in their participation in the Entrance Exam’s practical examination and students applying for the Support Course are permitted ONE weapon of their own design. Said weapon, if it is a projectile launcher, is unable to operate on an explosive mechanism. Additionally, no student is able to utilise a vehicle in the test, up to and including the use of a Titan of any model.’”

“Ah,” Masaru nodded, “I think I see the issue.”

“Our entire plan for the two of us to be the top scorers in the Entrance Exam’s practical half,” Katsuki scowled, glaring at the screen as if his obvious anger would make the rules change. “We can’t get Izuku a gun, obviously, and even if they weren’t illegal within Japan for civilians, I don’t think you or Mum would approve.”

“You guess correctly,” Masaru nodded. “Well, Izuku’s really strong, so he should be fine, right?”

“But he’s doing all this without the use of a quirk,” Katsuki countered. “My Explosion quirk is great for this, and sure, Izuku’s holograms would probably be effective, but he needs a way to take the robots down, not just distract them.”

“Ah, so that’s how the two of you made your plan,” Masaru realised. “You’ve been getting advice from Mr Yagi.”

“It’s not like it’s against the rules,” Katsuki grumbled, crossing his arms and looking very cute to Masaru, something he knew his son would vehemently object to if he said it out loud. “And anyway, other people can also-”

PING

Masaru and Katsuki both looked at the computer, seeing a notification at the bottom of their screen showing that Katsuki had received an email; an email from none other than Principal Nezu. Masaru watched his son open the email up, the contents blank except for a single line of text: “I am available tomorrow after classes to discuss the conditions of my exam.”

Masaru felt stunned and slightly disturbed by the timing of the email, and glancing at his son, his wide eyes indicated he held a similar view.

“How does he do that?” Masaru muttered to himself before turning his attention back to his eldest. “So, Katsuki, what are you going to do?”

Katsuki simply sat in his chair for a moment before shaking his head, a slight scowl quickly replacing his shocked expression. “We go in, obviously, Izuku and I.”

“I can-”

“Don’t worry,” Katsuki interrupted, his lips pursed in thought. “U.A. isn’t that far from Aldera, so we can catch a train after class.”

Masaru knew his son’s mind was made up, and it would be easier to lift his younger son’s Titan than change Katsuki’s mind. So rather than fruitlessly try to convince him otherwise, Masaru simply patted his son’s shoulder, headed out of the room, and went back downstairs. And all the while, Masaru truly couldn’t tell what would come out on top; his son’s determination, or the scheming machinations of Principal Nezu.

-]l[-

Izuku felt somewhat conflicted as he sat next to Kacchan on one of the black sofas in Principal Nezu’s office. On one hand, he did appreciate how strongly his friend, his brother, felt about the upcoming Entrance Exam. On the other hand, Izuku always felt a little unnerved around the chimeric principal, especially since he was seated right across from them on the opposite couch, sipping from a cup of tea.

“Mm, delicious,” Principal Nezu hummed, gently placing the cup down on a saucer in front of him. “If there is one thing I can pride myself on, other than my peerless intellect, it’s my teabrewing ability. Wouldn’t you agree, Midoriya Izuku and Bakugo Katsuki?”

“It’s very good,” Izuku agreed, not seeing any reason to lie, his own cup already half empty. Kacchan’s, on the other hand, had barely been touched, only drunk from as a sign of politeness.

“With all due respect, Principal Nezu, you know why we’re here,” Kacchan declared, and it was his lack of brashness or aggressive tone that clued Izuku on how seriously his brother was taking this.

“Ah yes, the rules for my school’s Entrance Exam. Well, what seems to be the issue?”

“Your rules deliberately state that Titans aren’t allowed,” Kacchan began. “Don’t you find that’s a bit specific to Izuku’s circumstances?”

“Not at all,” Nezu smiled. “The rule applies for all students, as they must be able to show their ability to operate on their own ability. We make exceptions for support items that are not outright weapons and exceptions for weapons if the student is aiming for the Support Course to allow them to show off their inventive ability. If we allowed students to utilize Titans, it would only create an unfair advantage for financially well off students. After, even if the use of Titan weaponry is illegal outside of law enforcement, a Titan itself is still allowed, and their strength would make the Entrance Exam negligible.”

“But Izuku and Ion aren’t like anyone else,” Kacchan argued. “They’re neurally linked and are meant to work together.”

“Be that as it may, the practical portion of the exam is to show a prospective student’s individual capabilities,” Principal Nezu argued. “While some other hero academies might settle for it, U.A. High School is not in the business of creating sidekicks, but with the goal that each and every student who graduates with their hero license becomes a fully fledged Pro Hero.”

“So what, Izuku isn’t allowed to fight alongside Ion simply because it would be too unfair for everyone else? That there’s a rule specifically for him?”

“Whoever said it was made solely for him?”

Kacchan’s voice quickly died a strangled death at that statement, and Izuku’s eyes widened rapidly.

“Who?” he asked, almost shooting up from the sofa. “Which of the Pilots are wanting to enroll?! How many of them?!”

“And spoil the surprise? No, I think not,” Principal Nezu chuckled, taking another sip of tea. “You both are under the assumption that this rule is to level the playing field. This assumption couldn’t be further from the truth. I don’t care if the odds are skewed in one student’s favour, that’s simply part of life, things are never balanced and fair. No, the reason why I implemented the rule was because it is a challenge I hope you can overcome.”

Principal Nezu picked up a small remote that rested next to his saucer, pressing it and causing a holographic screen to appear in the air between them, displaying a schematic of Ion.

“Should you, Midoriya Izuku, place within the top ten students, despite the disadvantage you are faced with, then U.A. will not only give you the legal ability to operate your Titan as part of your costume, but also offer our services with the Support Course for free repairs, upgrades, as well as providing your Titan with her designated weapon.”

“Ion had a weapon?” Izuku blankly asked.

“Of course she did!” Principal Nezu laughed, his head tilting back in amusement. “She was a weapon of war, and you never paused to think about why she didn’t have a weapon like any other Titan in history? Well, it wasn’t as if I was willing to give a child a Titan AND the Titan’s weapon. I’m insane, but not crazy.”

Izuku contemplated the decision, using the nanomachines in his brain to telepathically communicate with Ion.

‘What do you think?’ he asked her in his mind.

‘Protocol Three: Protect the Pilot. I am unable to effectively fulfill this directive without my designated weapon.’

‘You didn’t seem to mind its loss before.’

‘That was when you were in a civilian lifestyle. Now that you are deciding to entre into a more dangerous profession, my programming requires me to protect you at all costs and to fight alongside you. Therefore, the most effective and logical means of doing so is the retrieval of my Splitter Rifle.’

“‘What’s a Splitter Rifle?’” Izuku asked, only realising after he had spoken that it had been aloud as well as in his mind.

“The weapon that was considered ideal for Ion,” Principal Nezu explained, and with the press of another button the image changed from the schematic of the Titan to a large rifle, designed and scaled up for a Titan’s use.

“This is the Splitter Rifle, a Titan Particle Accelerator rifle that is designed specifically for Ion’s use. While it is a fairly normal rifle in a different Titan’s hands, in the hands of Ion, she is able to utilise her energy reserves to increase the rate of fire, whilst draining her energy levels as a result. Impress me, and this is yours.”

“Has the other Pilot been given a similar offer?” Kacchan asked.

“They have,” Principal Nezu nodded, though Izuku couldn’t help but notice the chimera’s intentional vagueness on their identity. “Only one of the other five survivors of the Pilot Program has applied to enrol at U.A., and they are in a similar situation. My school’s motto is ‘Plus Ultra’, to go above and beyond what you thought you could do. Show me you can emulate my school’s motto, and it will all be yours.”

The chimera leaned over the table, holding out his paw with a knowing grin on his snout. “Do we have a deal?”