Chapter Text
Yokohama had cut itself off from the rest of Japan long ago, back when Quirks first emerged, and society collapsed into chaos. While the outside world rebuilt itself around heroes and superpowers, Yokohama vanished behind an impenetrable barrier and sealed its borders shut.
Since then, the city had become little more than a rumour.
A Quirkless city.
A city supposedly controlled by villains.
A city no hero had ever successfully entered.
Over the years, countless attempts had been made to breach the dome surrounding Yokohama. Pro heroes, government operatives, even military units had tried to force their way in under the justification of “saving” the isolated population. None had succeeded. Those sent to investigate either failed to penetrate the barrier or vanished before ever reaching the city itself.
No one had ever managed to pass through the barrier surrounding Yokohama.
No one until today.
Hito Jin leaned his head back against the cold metal wall of the van and glanced toward the front seats, where the government escort from Yokohama drove in complete silence as the vehicle moved along a hidden entry route. The interior had no windows, so he couldn’t tell where they were or how they had passed through the barrier in the first place, and he doubted they would be permitted that information anyway.
Not that he particularly cared.
The Hero Commission would handle the intelligence side of things. Hito’s task was simply to represent Japan during first contact and establish diplomatic ties. Everything else was above his responsibility.
Across from him sat the heroes accompanying the delegation.
All Might occupied most of one side of the van with sheer presence alone, his broad shoulders rigid and posture alert despite his calm expression. Hawks lounged nearby with practiced ease, though the occasional twitch of crimson feathers betrayed his awareness of their surroundings. Near the doors sat Eraserhead in complete silence, sharp eyes fixed forward beneath half-lidded exhaustion. All three looked ready for an ambush at any moment.
If Yokohama truly was controlled by villains, then any moment of weakness could turn deadly.
Still, Hito found it difficult to feel nervous with two of the top three heroes in Japan sitting mere feet away. And Eraserhead’s low profile aside, he specialized in close combat and stealth, with rescue rates comparable to the top heroes.
Hito thought they were being overly cautious.
Yokohama was famous for being Quirkless. Whatever danger the city posed surely couldn’t compare to what the outside world dealt with daily. He had heard the stories, of course. Rumours about mysterious “Abilities” possessed by some citizens of Yokohama, powers said to predate Quirks themselves. Ancient phenomena that existed before the glowing baby and before society changed forever.
But information regarding these Abilities had always been fragmented at best. Most records had disappeared after Yokohama isolated itself centuries ago. What little remained sounded exaggerated and inconsistent, and Hito had never taken them seriously.
Besides, Abilities weren’t hereditary like Quirks. They couldn’t be passed down through bloodlines or strengthened across generations. Even among Yokohama’s entirely Quirkless population, only a small percentage supposedly possessed them. Compared to the overwhelming number of Quirk users across modern hero society, they were insignificant.
The van finally slowed, tires crunching softly against pavement before the engine died altogether. A moment later, the back doors swung open.
Bright daylight spilled into the cramped vehicle and cool air rushed inside as Hito stepped out after the others, boots meeting solid ground.
The moment his shoes touched the pavement, a strange feeling settled over him, a quiet awareness that he had just done something no outsider had accomplished in centuries—He had entered Yokohama. Hito couldn’t help but marvel at the significance of it.
He straightened instinctively, eyes immediately sweeping across the mythical city.
Then he blinked.
A flicker of disappointment rose before he could suppress it.
Yokohama looked so... normal.
There were no giant hero billboards plastered across buildings, no towering hero agencies dominating the skyline, no civilians with mutations walking through the streets. The people around them looked ordinary, dressed in muted clothing that seemed outdated compared to modern Japan. No visible Quirks at all.
The city looked like it came straight out of the history books—architecture preserved from the era before Quirks came about, brick buildings and older street designs untouched by the rapid modernization that Quirks had forced upon the rest of society.
It barely felt real.
Behind him, the heroes took in their surroundings with awe, watching as the people moved about freely through the streets. It was peaceful. There was no fear hanging over the streets, no villains tearing the place apart. Nothing like the stories they’d heard, nothing like rumours that painted Yokohama as a lawless city ruled by villains and violence.
At the sight before him, All Might clenched his fists with determination. For years he had fought tirelessly to create a safer society, carrying the hopes of an entire nation on his shoulders. Yet standing here now, in a city without heroes patrolling every corner, he was forced to confront something unexpected.
Peace.
Real peace.
He had never imagined a city could sustain it without hero intervention, yet Yokohama seemed to prove otherwise. The calm streets and the carefree smiles felt almost unreal. For the first time, he found himself wondering if Japan could become like this too. A place where people could live without constantly looking over their shoulders for villains.
“This way, please.”
A sharp voice pulled them from their thoughts. A man in a dark suit stood waiting nearby. Without another word, he turned and led them into a government building.
They drew attention as they moved through the corridors. Government employees in formal attire paused as they passed, their gazes lingering a little too long. The looks they received weren’t openly hostile, but neither were they welcoming. Hito could practically feel the distrust hanging in the air.
Their escort eventually stopped outside a modest meeting room and opened the door.
Inside, the space was stark.
A long table sat at its centre, surrounded by simple chairs, with little else decorating the space. It was minimalistic to the point of austerity, without any visible technology beyond the basics.
Hito frowned slightly.
Was Yokohama truly this outdated?
The thought barely crossed his mind before the door opened again and a man stepped inside.
He wore a brown suit and thin glasses, his appearance completely unremarkable at first glance. Neatly combed dark hair, average build, posture composed to the point of neutrality. The kind of person who would disappear in any crowd.
He stepped forward calmly.
“My name is Ango Sakaguchi,” he introduced himself politely, offering a measured nod as he extended a hand. “I’ll be representing Yokohama for today’s discussions.”
Hito shook his hand while studying him carefully. Like everyone else they had seen so far, Ango possessed no visible mutations or distinctive physical traits. No signs of a Quirk whatsoever. Nothing that would stand out beyond the tired professionalism in his eyes.
Yokohama truly lived up to its reputation as a Quirkless city.
Hito found himself wondering how these people had survived for so long without relying on Quirks. Life must have been difficult in a society like this, isolated from the rest of the world and lacking the advantages Japan took for granted.
Taking his seat across from Ango, Hito cleared his throat softly as everyone settled into their seats, deciding there was little point wasting time on pleasantries.
“Then I’ll get straight to the matter at hand.”
The atmosphere in the room tightened immediately.
Hito slipped into the composed diplomatic tone the Hero Commission had drilled into him before the trip.
“Japan initiated urgent contact with Yokohama because we’ve received credible intelligence regarding several villain organizations taking interest in this city.” He paused briefly, watching Ango for a reaction. “There are groups outside the barrier who view Yokohama as vulnerable due to its isolation. Some are already discussing ways to invade the city and seize control of it.”
Ango’s expression did not change in the slightest.
Hito continued anyway.
“The Hero Commission believes cooperation between Yokohama and wider Japan would be mutually beneficial. If your government permits it, we can deploy heroes here immediately to reinforce your security and help neutralize any potential threats before they escalate.”
There was still no reaction. Not even a hint of concern or curiosity. The Yokohaman simply listened in complete silence, his hands folded calmly in front of him.
Hito forced himself to keep speaking.
“In addition, opening relations with Japan would create opportunities beyond military support. Trade routes could be established. Communication channels reopened. Access to modern infrastructure, resources, technology—”
He gestured faintly to indicate the city beyond the room.
“Yokohama has remained isolated for centuries. Surely there are advantages to reconnecting with the rest of the country.”
As Hito carefully outlined the benefits, Ango remained perfectly impassive throughout the entire explanation. He didn’t even bother taking notes.
That, more than anything, irritated Hito.
The Hero Commission had spent months preparing for this meeting. Entire departments had worked nonstop compiling reports, strategies, and diplomatic proposals. Yet the man across from him looked as though he were listening to a mildly interesting briefing rather than a discussion that could reshape Japan itself.
Hito exhaled quietly through his nose, irritation creeping under his composure.
“You look a little young,” he remarked, unable to fully mask the edge in his voice. “Are you certain you’re qualified to make decisions regarding something this significant? Negotiating a treaty with the rest of Japan isn’t exactly a minor responsibility.”
Ango met his gaze calmly, a small, measured curve on his lips that struck the perfect blend of polite professionalism.
“I can assure you, I am perfectly qualified,” he replied.
“I belong to a special government division tasked with handling any and all threats to Yokohama.” The fluorescent lights overhead glinted off his glasses for a brief moment, rendering his expression unreadable as he continued evenly, “Whoever they may be.”
Something about the way he said it made the room subtly colder.
Hito ignored the feeling.
Instead, he pressed forward with renewed determination, outlining the many ways the Hero Commission and Japan at large could provide assistance.
“The Hero Commission is fully prepared to offer Yokohama our strongest support.” He gestured toward the heroes seated beside him. “We even brought two of Japan’s top-ranked heroes here personally as a gesture of sincerity.”
He motioned toward Hawks first.
“Hawks possesses incredible speed and aerial mobility. His feathers can be used for combat, reconnaissance, rescue operations, and support simultaneously. Frankly speaking, there are very few heroes in the country as versatile as him.”
Hawks flashed his usual easy grin and gave a casual wave from where he sat.
“Happy to help,” he said lightly, and Ango inclined his head in polite acknowledgment, the reaction more courteous than impressed.
Hito quickly moved on.
“And this is Eraserhead, one of U.A. High School’s faculty members.”
He added, a touch of emphasis returning to his voice, “U.A. is Japan’s top hero academy, accepting only the best of each generation. Their teachers are among the best professionals Japan has to offer. Eraserhead here can erase the Quirks of anyone he looks at...” Hito paused, realizing his misstep. In Yokohama, where Quirks didn’t exist, the significance of Eraserhead’s ability wouldn’t translate cleanly. He corrected himself smoothly. “And he also specializes in close-quarters combat, making him highly effective in neutralizing hostile targets.”
Eraserhead gave a brief nod, tired expression unchanged.
Hito saved the best introduction for last.
“And of course...”
He turned toward the towering figure beside him.
“This is All Might. Japan’s Number One Hero.”
Even the title seemed to carry weight on its own. Surely even Yokohama would understand what that meant.
“All Might is unmatched in both strength and speed. He stands above every other hero in the country in both combat ability and public trust. His mere presence drastically lowers crime rates wherever he operates. Just last week alone, he personally helped rescue—”
Ango raised a hand.
“There’s no need to explain further,” he said politely. “I know who they are. I’ve seen the news.”
The room fell quiet for a beat.
“The news?” Eraserhead repeated, eyes narrowing slightly.
Ango adjusted his glasses.
“Despite what the outside world believes, Yokohama is not entirely cut off. We maintain access to external broadcasts and news channels from beyond the barrier.”
That caught Hito off guard. He had assumed Yokohama knew little about modern society beyond old rumours and fragmented reports, similar to Japan’s knowledge of Yokohama.
Still, this could work in their favour.
“Then you already understand how valuable their assistance would be,” Hito said quickly, leaning forward slightly. “Allow them to patrol the city. I can personally guarantee they would be a tremendous asset to Yokohama’s security.”
Before Ango could respond, All Might himself spoke up.
“If your people are in danger, then I would be honoured to help!” he declared earnestly, voice steady and warm, filling the room with conviction. “Protecting peace is the duty of a hero, no matter where that peace may be!”
Hawks leaned back lazily beside him, saying with a grin, “A quiet city like this sounds kinda nice. I wouldn’t mind lending a hand for a while.”
However...
“No.”
Ango’s voice cut through their enthusiasm, the refusal quick and decisive.
All Might visibly deflated at the response, surprise flickering across his face. The rejection left the others faltering as well, unused to having a hero’s aid rejected.
Ango wasn’t perturbed by the sudden disquiet he caused. He folded his hands neatly together atop the table, studying the group for a brief moment before speaking again.
“Hito-san,” he said calmly, “let me make one thing clear. Yokohama does not intend to open its borders.”
Hito’s smile disappeared instantly.
“As for your society’s Heroes,” Ango continued evenly, “Yokohama has no need for them.”
His tone remained courteous, but the firmness behind it left no room for negotiation.
“There are no villains here for you to fight, which makes the presence of Heroes entirely redundant,” he said. He ignored their surprise at the mention of there being no villains. “If that is the sole purpose of your visit, then we have nothing further to discuss.”
With that, he stood before they could process his words. The chair legs scraped softly against the floor, signalling the meeting was over.
Hito finally reacted, rising immediately after him, disbelief breaking through his composure.
They had crossed an impossible barrier, brought the Symbol of Peace himself as a gesture of goodwill, and offered Yokohama access to resources after centuries of isolation. And this man was dismissing it all as though it was beneath him.
“Do you seriously believe your barrier can protect you forever?” Hito demanded, voice tightening in anger. “There will come a day when it fails. And when that happens, when villains eventually breach your defences, you’ll regret refusing our offer.”
The words left his mouth before he could stop them, and the room immediately grew colder.
Ango paused near the door.
Slowly, he turned his head back toward Hito.
“Hito-san,” he said quietly, “is that a threat?”
Hito’s irritation vanished almost instantly, replaced by sharp alarm.
“No—of course not,” he corrected quickly. “I was merely offering advice. We’ve already received intelligence reports suggesting potential hostile groups may be interested in Yokohama. It’s only a matter of time before someone attempts something reckless.”
Ango regarded him for a long moment.
Then he asked, “Hito-san, how would you define a villain?”
Behind those plain glasses, his eyes suddenly felt far sharper than before.
Hito frowned slightly, answering with practiced certainty the definition ingrained into every citizen since childhood. “Someone who uses their Quirk to break the law and threaten hero society.”
It was a textbook answer, the foundation modern Japan had built itself upon.
Ango gave a faint, humourless smile. “Does that include the masterminds who decide to break Yokohama’s barrier?”
Hito stiffened, a pulse of unease crawling down his spine, wondering what Ango meant by that.
Ango continued before he could respond.
“Whoever attempts to invade Yokohama,” he said calmly, “will be considered our villains.”
“Under the law, any unauthorized entry into Yokohama constitutes an act of war, and we reserve the right to eliminate such threats by whatever means we deem necessary.”
Silence settled heavily over the room.
It was an old agreement, dating back to when Yokohama had closed itself off. A trivial concession on the part of Japan. The fact that Ango would even invoke it seemed almost naïve. After all, what could an isolated city possibly do against the rest of country? At best, it granted Yokohama the illusion of safety, a fragile reassurance more than any real protection.
Ango didn’t acknowledge their strange expressions, continuing, “Yokohama will not shy away from a fight. If anyone enters without authorization, we will engage. There will be no further warnings. I trust you can relay this back to your government and ensure your borders remain secure. Peace is ultimately what we all seek, is it not?”
The weight of his words lingered in the still air.
Then Ango gestured toward the door with quiet finality.
“Gentlemen, I’ll see you out.”
Hito gave a quiet snort and turned on his heel, striding out of the meeting room before his temper could sour further. His jaw remained tight as they moved back through the corridors of the government building.
Honestly, it was no wonder Yokohama had become such a backwards place. Japan had extended genuine goodwill—offering support, trade, cooperation—an opportunity for the city to reintegrate itself after centuries of isolation. And yet, the offer was met with veiled threats and paranoia.
These people had isolated themselves for so long they no longer understood the value of alliance.
Backwards. Deliberately backwards.
That was the only explanation that made sense.
As they walked, All Might tried to persuade Ango.
“I apologize if our words caused offence,” he said earnestly. “But we are genuinely trying to build a connection here. Would it not be beneficial for everyone if we worked together for the greater good of Japan? You’ve already created what appears to be an ideal city of peace. Why not open your borders and share it?”
Ango offered a thin smile without turning his head.
“Yokohama may be geographically connected to Japan,” he replied, “but we have not been part of your country for over two hundred years. You would do well to remember that Yokohama is an independent state—formally and legally recognized as such. We have no obligation to offer anything freely to outsiders.”
Behind Hito, Hawks exchanged a quiet glance with Eraserhead. Neither hero had spoken during the latter half of the meeting, but Ango’s accusations earlier had hardly been subtle.
Combined with Hito’s reaction, it was becoming increasingly obvious that the Hero Commission had not told them everything regarding this mission. There was more happening beneath the surface.
And if the Commission truly intended to force Yokohama open somehow…
Eraserhead’s gaze drifted briefly toward the unseen barrier surrounding the city.
Japan was already standing on unstable ground as it was. The threat of All For One was imminent, villain activity was escalating nationwide, and public faith in hero society had begun cracking under pressure.
If conflict with Yokohama was added on top of that, then peace in Japan might become impossible for a very long time.
By the time they reached the entrance, a black van was already idling at the curb.
The afternoon sunlight spilled across the street in long golden streaks, warm against their skin after the sterile fluorescent light inside. One by one, the group moved toward the vehicle in silence, the failed meeting still lingering heavily between them.
Hito reached for the door, impatient to leave.
Behind them, the government building towered overhead like a silent observer.
At the top of the stone steps stood Ango.
He had not followed them all the way down. Instead, he remained beneath the wide awning, half his figure swallowed by shadow despite the bright afternoon sun. From where they stood, his face was obscured, save for the faint glint of his glasses.
He spoke before they entered the van. A final warning of a sort. “There is an old saying that still waters run deep.”
The heroes paused instinctively.
“Yokohama harbours monsters that, fortunately for the outside world, currently have no interest in it.” He let that sink in. “I hope you will not provoke them.”
The words rang out ominously.
Eraserhead’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, while All Might stood motionless, staring back toward the shadowed figure at the top of the stairs. Even Hawks’ usual relaxed expression faded slightly.
Hito felt a chill crawl beneath his skin despite the heat outside.
For the first time since arriving in Yokohama, a small seed of unease rooted itself in his mind.
Ango spoke as though he genuinely believed whatever existed within this city could threaten the outside world.
As though Yokohama’s isolation was not meant to protect itself from Japan—
But to protect Japan from Yokohama.
The thought was simply absurd.
Hito forced a tight, polite smile, dismissing the moment entirely. “Of course,” he replied curtly, then he climbed into the van. The door shut behind the group with a heavy metallic thud.
Only once inside did Hito exhale under his breath, “Arrogant, isolated fools.”
Ango watched as the van disappeared down the road, the sound of its engine gradually fading beneath the quiet rhythm of the city. Within moments, there was nothing left but the distant murmur of traffic and the soft rustle of wind through the streets below. Yokohama carried on as though nothing significant had occurred.
Footsteps approached, and a young woman stopped beside him, hands tucked into the pockets of her coat as she stared toward the road the delegation had taken. Her turquoise hair was tied neatly into a high bun, curled strands framing her face.
“Ango-senpai,” Tsujimura Mizuki began, narrowing her eyes slightly, “Are we really just letting them leave?” There was clear dissatisfaction in her voice.
“The Hero Commission is obviously preparing to move against us. They came all the way here under the guise of diplomacy, but they practically admitted they want Yokohama under their control.” She clicked her tongue softly. “Apparently not conforming to their idea of society is enough to make us suspicious now.”
Ango finally turned away from the street.
“Let them try,” he said flatly.
The response was so indifferent that it almost sounded dismissive. He began walking back toward the building, polished shoes echoing quietly against the stone floor beneath the awning.
“Our government intends to make an example of them.”
Tsujimura fell into step beside him as he continued, “If the outside world insists on viewing Yokohama as a threat, then we’ll simply make certain they understand the consequences of provoking us.”
His tone remained measured, almost bureaucratic, but beneath it lay something colder.
There was one thing nearly every Yokohaman agreed upon, regardless of affiliation, morality, or politics:
Yokohama did not belong to anyone.
Not the Hero Commission.
Not the Japanese government.
And certainly not entitled outsiders who looked at the city and decided it needed to be “saved”.
Ango’s eyes darkened faintly behind his lenses. “Notify the Tripartite Framework immediately,” he ordered. “The barriers will be weakened as planned.”
Tsujimura blinked before straightening instinctively. “...As planned?”
“As planned.”
Then he said, colder still, “If Japan wants a war, they will get it.”
Tsujimura snapped to attention at once, acknowledging the order. “Yes, sir.”
The professionalism lasted all of three seconds before her shoulders slumped dramatically.
“Hahhh...” she groaned. “Another invasion already? Does this mean more overtime again?”
Ango continued walking without breaking stride.
“Tsujimura-kun," he called, not looking back.
“Hai!” she replied instantly, straightening so fast she nearly stumbled as she hurried after him.
The doors to the government building slid open once more as the two stepped inside.
Hopefully, Japan will heed their warning.
Because if they didn’t, they would eventually learn the same lesson every invader before them had learned at a great cost.
Yokohama was a city of stray dogs.
They endured.
They survived.
And when provoked—
They bit.
Inside the van, the atmosphere remained tense long after they left the government district behind.
The earlier silence had settled into something heavier now, more reflective, weighed down by Ango’s words. The city passed quietly outside, hidden beyond the van’s reinforced windows as the low hum of the engine filled the cramped interior.
“Monsters, huh?” Hawks broke the silence first.
Leaning back lazily in his seat, he tilted his head toward Eraserhead beside him, though the usual playfulness in his voice had dulled considerably.
“You think he meant the villains supposedly running this city?” he asked lowly, not wanting to alert the driver up front.
The question lingered uneasily in the air.
Eraserhead considered it, scarf draped loosely around his shoulders. “Possibly,” he answered after a moment.
But even as he said it, the answer felt incomplete.
If Yokohama truly harboured dangerous individuals powerful enough to warrant a warning like that, then the natural question was why tolerate them at all. The logical response would be containment, not coexistence.
So why weren’t they gone?
Why were they still here?
A government that allowed villains to remain unchecked within its borders didn’t make sense.
Aizawa’s gaze narrowed slightly.
Unless even the government couldn’t control them.
The possibility was unsettling.
Across from them, All Might had clearly been listening despite pretending otherwise. He whispered in what was absolutely not a whisper, “If there truly are villains here, then perhaps we can assist in dealing with them someday!”
The Number One Hero clenched a fist passionately.
“It is the duty of heroes to protect the innocent and stand against evil, no matter where they are!”
The declaration carried all the righteous conviction expected of the Symbol of Peace.
Hawks smiled faintly at that, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Optimistic as always,” he murmured.
Eraserhead said nothing. His attention had shifted inward instead, replaying the meeting in fragments.
Something about Yokohama didn’t align.
It wasn’t behaving like a city under threat. The people here clearly distrusted heroes, yet there were no signs of fear or oppression among the civilians. Ango had claimed there were no villains, yet he had spoken of “monsters” with certainty—but without urgency. Only warning.
The information didn’t add up, the pieces contradictory.
And every time heroes had been mentioned during the meeting, Eraserhead had caught the subtle shift in Ango’s expression.
Disdain.
Carefully hidden, but unmistakable.
Yokohama’s system clearly differed from the rest of Japan in ways they didn’t understand.
“Well, whatever they’re hiding,” Hito scoffed sharply from the side, breaking the moment, “it’s obvious they don’t know how to do anything except threaten people who try to help them.”
He was clearly still sour about the rejection.
“We come here offering trade and protection, and they respond with threats like we’re the problem,” he grumbled, “And they couldn’t even send someone important to negotiate. Just some wet-behind-the-ears government lackey pretending to have authority.”
If the driver heard the unpleasant remarks, he gave no sign. His eyes remained fixed on the road, posture steady, hands relaxed on the wheel.
That indifference only seemed to irritate Hito further.
It had been an exhausting week for Atsushi.
Between chasing after his mentor, sparring with Akutagawa—who tended to attack him without warning—assisting with investigations, and then being sent off to search for his mentor again, Atsushi was beginning to suspect that half his life existed solely to compensate for other people’s terrible decisions.
Mostly Dazai’s.
“Dazai-san...” he groaned aloud, furiously tapping at his phone as he hurried down the sidewalk. “Where did you disappear to this time?”
Hours earlier, Kunikida had tasked him with locating Dazai after the man had vanished without explanation midway through the workday again. Atsushi knew his ability involved turning into a tiger, but that hardly meant he could track Dazai by scent like some trained bloodhound.
Beside him, Kyouka quietly tugged at his sleeve and held up her phone. A new message from Kunikida appeared on the screen: Dazai is back at the Agency.
Atsushi stopped walking altogether.
Then he let out a long, defeated sigh and pressed his forehead against his phone.
“Ahh... why couldn’t he have come back earlier?” he mourned. “I just wanted to eat lunch in peace for once...”
Kyouka gave him a small, sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
By the time they returned to the Armed Detective Agency office, the atmosphere inside was strangely lively.
Most of the Agency members were gathered around the television near the centre of the room, attention fixed intently on a live news broadcast from Japan.
“Hurry up, you two! You’re going to miss the best part!” Yosano called out, eyes glued to the screen like she was watching her favorite TV series. She looked far too entertained for someone supposedly watching the start of a national crisis.
“This is where it finally gets interesting,” she added gleefully. “After all that talking, they’re definitely about to start fighting.”
Kunikida reprimanded, “Yosano-sensei, those are real people out there.”
“I know, I know,” she replied dismissively, waving a hand. “But honestly, it’s hard to take them seriously when they all look like they walked straight out of a comic book.”
On the television, footage replayed of the heroes who had gathered earlier that day to confront the League of Villains. The exaggerated costumes didn’t help their case.
Dazai burst into laughter from where he lounged in his seat. “Don’t forget the dramatic lines,” he said cheerfully, sitting upright to throw an exaggerated punch into the air.
“Plus Ultra!”
Yosano immediately pointed at him.
“No, no, you’re doing it wrong,” she corrected. “It’s supposed to sound like one of those fighting games.”
She copied the motion with far too much enthusiasm.
“Texas Smash!”
The moment the words left her mouth, both she and Dazai visibly cringed at the corny line, then promptly collapsed into laughter.
Atsushi stared at them helplessly while Kyouka quietly sat down with complete indifference, already helping herself to the snacks on the table.
Kunikida pinched the bridge of his nose with a long-suffering sigh at their childishness.
Honestly, he didn’t entirely disagree with them.
The Pro Heroes of Japan always seemed excessively theatrical, more flash than substance. Costumes, slogans, dramatic poses. Everything about hero society felt exaggerated to an almost absurd degree.
And beyond that, the structure of hero society itself was far too simplistic, so black and white it bordered on unreal.
Kunikida frowned faintly as he watched the broadcast continue.
Heroes and villains. Good and evil. Law and disorder.
As though human beings could realistically be divided into such clean categories. The world did not work that way.
Kunikida had seen far too much to believe otherwise.
Which only made it harder to understand how Japan’s hero society had managed to survive this long without collapsing under the weight of its own contradictions.
In Japan, the labels of Heroes and Villains weren’t just descriptors, they were permanent imprints. It followed a person for life, shaping how they were seen, judged, and remembered. Few people ever looked beyond the labels.
A Hero was good. A Villain was evil. And that was the end of it.
It didn’t matter what they did after that point. Actions became secondary to classification. A single word could decide the entire narrative of a life.
But reality was never that clean.
Good people were capable of terrible actions. Bad people were capable of kindness. Motives shifted, circumstances changed, and consequences rarely respected the neat categories society liked to enforce. People weren’t fixed.
Even a child in Yokohama could understand that much. Yet Japan, as a whole, still seemed trapped in a world of absolutes.
And for all his ideals, Kunikida understood that even charitable intentions could cause harm, and cruel actions could sometimes be necessary. There were lines he refused to cross, but he was not naïve enough to believe the world could be neatly split into black and white. There were entire regions of grey in between.
On the television screen, All Might and All For One finally stood opposite each other after the U.A. student had been rescued, tension coiling tight between them. The air between the broadcasted figures seemed to thicken.
Then All For One spoke.
Whatever he said, it was enough to stop All Might cold, the fight stalling before it could begin.
“Ahh! Fight already!” Yosano yelled, practically leaning into the screen. “I want to see who wins!”
“Yosano-sensei,” Kunikida snapped immediately.
“Oh, shush,” she said before Kunikida could get into one of his lectures. “I’ve got a bet riding on this with Ranpo.”
“Ranpo-san!” Kunikida turned sharply to admonish the detective.
The detective, lounging comfortably with snacks in hand, didn’t even look up. “What?” he said casually. “It’s fun. Even if I already know how it ends.”
Atsushi stared at the screen, still trying to understand what everyone was so invested in. Both the hero and villain seem to be retreating.
“So... is this someone we need to keep an eye on?” he asked hesitantly.
“Mm.” Dazai was slouched across the table, interest waning now that the fight wasn’t happening. “Not you, though. You’ll probably end up dealing with a walking fire hazard instead.”
“What?” Atsushi said, confused by his mentor’s cryptic words, but Dazai only waved a hand, brushing it off.
“Don’t worry about it, Atsushi-kun,” he said cheerfully.
That did absolutely nothing to reassure him.
Before Atsushi could fret about it, the door opened, and the President walked in. The room immediately straightened, conversation cutting off as attention shifted away from the television.
“Shachou,” they greeted in unison.
Fukuzawa’s gaze flicked briefly toward the news screen before returning to the group, his expression tightening almost imperceptibly at the mess the outside world was dragging them into.
“The enemy invasion is confirmed to be a few days from now,” he announced. “Hostile forces are already assembling outside the barrier. At the same time, pro-heroes from Japan are requesting entry to assist in the engagement. Regarding the defense of Yokohama, the government has authorized any and all means of attack, so long as the threat is repelled.”
“Whoever is going to the frontlines, remember this above all else—your safety comes first,” he said sternly.
Sweeping his eyes over the group, he gave an order, “Protect Yokohama and return safely. That is your objective.”
“Yes, shachou!” the Agency answered in unison.
Dazai immediately slumped back in his chair the moment the briefing ended. Fukuzawa had also informed them about the government’s concession to the Hero Commission’s pestering.
“Working with Heroes?” He let out a sigh. “That’s worse than failing to have a double suicide.”
Yosano folded her arms, glancing at him quizzically. “Why are you complaining? You’re not even being sent out.”
Dazai perked up slightly, turning just enough to look offended. “It’s the principle of the thing,” he defended. “Besides, Atsushi certainly isn’t going to complain, so I’m doing it on his behalf.”
Atsushi gave a resigned smile. “Dazai-san... there’s really no need to involve me in this.”
Dazai ignored him entirely.
“Atsushi-kun,” he said instead, suddenly sitting up and pointing a pen at him. “Let me give you some advice.”
The room quieted a fraction without meaning to.
His expression was light, almost playful, but something sharper lingered beneath it, enough to subtly change the air.
“If you end up encountering any Heroes tomorrow, just do your job. Don’t bother reasoning with them. Understood?”
Atsushi blinked, slightly taken aback by the sudden seriousness, but he nodded anyway. “Yes, Dazai-san.”
“Good.”
Just as quickly, the tension evaporated.
Dazai flopped back onto the desk like the moment had never happened.
“Ahh... why do we still have to work tomorrow?” he sighed into the table. “Shouldn’t the rest of us get the day off? Yokohama being in danger is reason enough to stay home, right?”
“Oi! Don’t make excuses to skip work,” Kunikida berated immediately. “This isn’t a major crisis, and only a few areas will be restricted, so it shouldn’t affect the Agency operations at all. You’d better be here working when I get back. Understood?”
“Mm-hm. Yes. Of course,” Dazai replied, already turning away.
He clearly wasn’t listening.
“Oi—!” Kunikida started, voice rising.
Atsushi sighed as the inevitable scolding began.