Chapter Text
There’s something extraordinary about how much Shota hates his upcoming lesson. It always comes with a sour taste in his mouth and an incredible urge to sleep longer and perhaps never wake up. It isn’t because he hated the topic of discussion itself—on the exact opposite, the teacher had been fascinated by the Old World ever since he could remember. He felt an undying sense of belonging to it, that perhaps the universe made far too many mistakes and Shota’s birth wasn’t supposed to happen inside the sterile walls of a small clinic in Musutafu. It’s about everything else related to the lesson—how the HPSC demands it be taught, how the heroes react to anything related to it, how the entire world chooses to ignore such marvelous existence so willingly. It all adds to his unspoken resentments about their society.
He has hope, however, that things this time can be different. That this class can see what Shota has been screaming with a microphone for years to deaf ears.
“Today’s topic,” the teacher starts after wiggling out of his sleeping bag, “is about Yokohama.” He picks up the chalk and writes the country’s name on the blackboard. When he turns back, he studies his students’ expressions carefully. Several of them open their mouths, presumably to exclaim about Japan’s most taboo topic, before remembering that Shota would put them in detention for speaking out of turn. He subtly takes a breath, preparing himself for the chaos he’s about to unleash. “What do you know about it?”
Miraculously, his students don’t start shouting answers incessantly at the same time. The teacher sees the hesitation in some of them, the ignorance and confusion of others, and the curiosity of the rest. This would need some working on, it seems. But—Shota concedes—it’s better to be given blank slates than baselessly judgemental ones.
Finally, someone lifts his hand; Todoroki Shouto. “Yes, Todoroki?” Shota allows with difficulty—he isn’t thrilled about what Endeavor told his son about the country.
“I know it used to be part of Japan, before Quirks manifested. “The boy speaks slowly, “and later, it announced its independence from the rest of Japan, becoming a new country.”
Shota nods along; those words are most definitely correct. Iida Tenya lifts his hand next, apprehension clear on his face. He clears his throat and says, “My brother told me that it’s a place filled with criminals and villains.”
Well, Shota himself doesn’t know how true that rumor is, but if the country was truly like that, it wouldn’t have lasted for more than two centuries. “I see.” Shota sighs, slumping in his chair. “Well, let’s dive deeper into the history first.”
He shifts, allowing himself to relax into a slouched position. “Two centuries ago, after the Quirks started appearing at an alarming pace, Yokohama’s citizens were largely excluded from this phenomenon. There’s a reason for that; it’s also the reason why Japan, and most of the world, agreed to declaring Yokohama as an individual country.” he pauses to let the teenagers process the information. “Do any of you have an idea about this reason? Any guesses?”
Murmurs echo through the classroom as each of them turns to a deskmate or a friend to discuss. Shota waits patiently, a little curious to know what those brains can concoct from little information. Mina turns her head to him, blinking, “Blackmailing?”
Surprisingly close, but. “No.”
“Exclusion?” Izuku offers, his hands fidgeting around his pen, “The discrimination against powerless people? Maybe the hate towards Quirklessness started from there?”
Shota blinks, a little taken aback at how the green-haired teen tied the knots together. He’s completely off, but that would make a bit of sense. “No.” the teacher answers with a slow blink, “Being Quirkless was the norm back then, Midoriya. Quirked people were the ones that are strange.” he watches as some of the students, the smarter ones, shift in their seats uncomfortably at the possibility of Quirked people being discriminated against.
“It’s fear.” Shota finally reveals. Many don’t understand this point—his previous students, some of his colleagues, some heroes—that the world has much darker places, a hell that all countries collectively don’t want to provoke. He adds, “Japan and many other countries don’t want to provoke, or anger, that specific place and its inhabitants.”
It’s starting to dawn on them; Shiota can see it: the reason the world would agree to such a ridiculous demand when it had just acquired a set of Quirked people—superhumans with superpowered powers that can be used to force obedience, the reason why Yokohama itself is a taboo topic around Japan and the citizens are kept in the dark about everything related to it.
This time, it’s Bakugo who asks what his students are wondering about, if a bit crassly, “what’s so special about those damn extras?”
Shota shuts him with a glance. He readies himself to share the second revelation, “Quirks aren’t the only superpowers in the world.”
There’s a collective sharp intake of breath, startled gasps, and looks of disbelief. Shota remembers when he learnt about this in his high school days as well. Admittedly, it was a little different for him; a heart hammering against his ribs, a shock that quickly fueled his fascination to unperceived levels, and sleepless nights of research about the damned mystery. “There are superpowers that are far stronger than Quirks, ones that aren’t genetic but bestowed upon a person for unknown reasons,” he continues, unperturbed, “they’ve always existed, before Quirks, even.”
The next part is one of his favorites, so he doesn’t notice his faint smile. “They can’t be controlled, and their strength varies. However, there are rumours that whatever affected the normies at the time to start having Quirks, it also affected those people differently.” he exhales slowly. “They became ageless.”
“What!?” Many of them startle, jolting in their seats from shock.
Bakugo grits his teeth, clearly skeptical and disbelieving. He snarls, “What? We believe baseless shit and conspiracy theories now?”
Shota stares at him, unimpressed. “The barrier around the country—it’s been there for two centuries—is one of such powers that the inhabitants possess.”
Bakugo’s face falls. “What?”
The reaction is nothing new; it’s mirrored across generations of talented heroes and top support technicians. It’s the same one Shota and his classmates had when they heard it and considered the meanings of those words. It’s the same reaction his students are all having. That barrier, after all, is one of the open secrets about Yokohama that the HSPC desperately wanted to replicate for more than a century because of its efficiency against all pro heroes and villains alike. Even advanced military weapons were launched at the damn thing, but once the dust settled and the heroes stood aside, there wasn’t even a crack on that yellowish creation. It’s the only example Japan has of how powerful the abilities those people possessed—any other country that had any semblance of more information is adamantly keeping quiet about it—but it’s enough to prove it might not be a battle the heroes can win.
“Then,” Shouto cut through the silence, “everyone agreed to give them what they want because they’re afraid of what Yokohama can do if they refuse.” He blinked with a calm face. “Then how does the country function? They’d need to buy food and whatever else to live; do they threaten so they can have that too?”
Kirishima crunches his nose and clicks his tongue, “So they are a country of villains.”
“They don’t.” Shota quickly corrects. He’s also fascinated by that point. He leans slightly onto his desk and explains, “they do normal trade with other countries. Never with Japan, though. We are unclear on how they do it and the other details.” he sighs tiredly, “Their closest allies are England, Russia, and America.” he really wants to know how Yokohama managed to acquire such powerful countries as allies; it proves a level of political and economical maneuvering that is rather impressive.
“So they’re a powerhouse,” Izuku concludes numbly.
The teacher nods, pauses to blink because he might’ve overdone his job to scare the children. He backtracks, clearing his throat, “It is. The very few times the HSPC interacted with them, it was noted that they were surprisingly polite and efficient in their work. It made them suspect that the country isn’t ‘made of villains’.”
“Wait!” Ochako exclaims, eyes lighting up, “So the HSPC did interact with them!? How was the country like from the inside?”
Uhhh.
“We don’t know.” Shota replies blankly, “No one ever went into it, or gotten out.”
And knowing that no one will ever do so, considering the country’s extreme secrecy, the teacher’s heart aches a little more than usual. The chance to unravel that mystery and see it with his own eyes, basking in the marvelous, thrilling puzzle that passed across decades without exploration—that minuscule chance is the very reason Shota decided to become a student at U.A. and thus, a hero. He would give anything, except innocent lives, to have the opportunity of—-
“Hello!” Shota jumps at the sound of Nezu’s voice cutting through his bitter fantasies. He slouches more in his seat, wanting to disappear, while the president slithers his way into the classroom. The students turn their wide-eyed attention toward the mouse, faces still morphed into varying degrees of horror. The mouse smiles widely, unperturbed. “I looked at Aizawa-sensei’s lesson plan and saw him teaching about Yokohama!” he tilts his head. “So I figured it’s the best time to share the great news! Your field trip for next week will be to Yokohama with All Might and Aizawa!”
Everyone, Shota included, promptly loses their shit.
“Explain,” Shota demands from his boss with a weak glare. It took him an hour to calm his students’ excitement and disbelief, as well as the questions they threw at him, which Shota had no idea how to answer because Nezu, apparently, likes surprising him too. If this is just a stunt to make the children more motivated to excel in their exams, then Shota is going to quit. He stares at the stupid, grinning mouse who’s languidly drinking his tea while Shota is seething from the inside.
Nezu puts down his cup on the saucer and regards Shota with a curious look. “You heard me,” he says pleasantly, “I managed to acquire an agreement for a trip to the Old World.”
It isn’t that simple; it can’t be. No one can acquire a trip to that country, even someone with ridiculous connections like the U.A. High President. It isn’t only about how impossible that task is—which it is; the damned country had shut itself off for so long. Not to mention, everyone knew that Yokohama had a special vendetta against Japan, for whatever reason, considering how it refuses all communication with the HSPC yet agrees to interact with foreign countries. The political repercussions of Nezu’s statement are not light, and why would he want to send children to the mysterious country instead of Pro Heroes?
Shota doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he lets out, “How?”
Nezu hums in understanding and rests his elbows on his office desk to stare straight at Shota. “It was very difficult,” the mouse admits, “practically impossible. But their government is in need of some information that the HSPC has. The HSPC tried to send pro heroes, but Yokohama was very against it. They wouldn’t budge, even if they don’t get the information they want.” he sighs and picks up his teacup again, “But they agreed for the hero students. So, they are going.”
The teacher mulls over those words and their implications. “What does the HSPC want from this?”
His boss smiles. “An accurate assessment of how powerful Yokohama is. They will be happy with as much information you all manage to collect.”
That makes sense. “And you?”
Nezu’s smile turns into a sharp grin. “Connections. From somewhere higher up, if possible.”
“I see.” Shota sighs, having expected this. “And how will this trip happen? I assume there will be a guide for us.”
“Ah. That.” The principal tilts his head. “As far as I’ve been told, the guide will only help you cross the barrier and take you to the prepared accommodation.” he sniffs, “Other than that, you’ll be free to do what you want.”
Hm. Shota certainly didn’t expect Yokohama to let a political delegation roam free in their streets. “Odd,” the teacher comments.
“I agree. However, needless to say, none of you are allowed to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
Shota scoffs. “I’m aware of that much.”
“Shota.” Nezu says pointedly, which means that he’s very serious, “It’s not you I’m worried about, but everyone else. You cannot use your quirks out of line.” he blinks slowly, “If any of you causes trouble in their country, they have the right to deal with it as they see fit since it’s no longer under our jurisdiction.”
Shota’s hand turn into fists; right. His students won’t be easy to monitor under those circumstances. Especially with their righteous, heroic mindsets that led them here. Some students, like Todoroki and Yaoyorozu, would understand the danger of a political dispute and how any action of theirs can, perhaps, lead to war at the worst, and someone getting arrested at best. Other students, like Baugou and his friends, would understand, sure, but that doesn’t mean they’ll follow it if they’re faced with a heated moment or two. Others lie Midoriya, are simply too naive and idealistic, wanting to do what they see fit for a ‘hero’ to do and thus absolutely stick their heads into trouble.
All Might is even worse, honestly. The former number one hero has an ego, as much as everyone else chooses to ignore that blatant fact; he’s used to worshipful gazes, to being listened to and respected, even by villains. Not to mention his bright, annoying, and loud presence and voice, as well as his ideals and his usual, casual dismissal of others’ opinions in comparison to his own. That’d definitely land them in a prison somewhere in Yokohama. His colleague’s stupid, moronic entitlement will land him in a prison in the country he’s so desperate for, and Shota can’t let that happen.
“Can you switch All Might with someone else?”
Nezu purses his lips. “No. They wanted him to come.”
What?
“Why!?”
“They’re curious about the symbol of peace. Maybe they want to make one of their own and want to see a reference?”
For the first time since meeting the principal, Shota genuinely thought that this was the most moronic idea, or conclusion, that Nezu could come up with. He doesn’t know whether it's correct, of course, but the idea of Yokohama—the Old World, the Mysterious Country—wanting something like All Might makes Shota’s mouth sour with distaste. He respects his colleague and what he’s done for their society, what he represents for everyone, but he also doesn’t want to believe Yokohama could fall so low as to seek a reference from him. This isn’t even jealousy, but apprehension and a blind faith that the barrier country doesn’t need such a thing.
“Right.” he mumbles. This is his fate now.
“We count on you, Aizawa-sensei.” Nezu chirps, rather annoyingly if Shota is honest.
“I will do my best.” And he will, because this is his opportunity.
The week that follows is eventful, unfortunately for Shota. It’s the last week of final written exams for the second-year hero students. The practical one had already finished two weeks prior to that particular lesson that the principal interrupted. He had to meticulously do all of the written exams for his students, along with planning any damage control that could happen in the upcoming field trip. It barely allowed him any time to do what he actually wanted: to bask in his excitement, prepare exactly what he would bring on the trip, and wallow in the potential of being arrested because of his students or All Might.
Once the week passes, Shota finds himself two hours early with All Might, glaring at the man in casual clothes and explaining to him all the ways he can’t simply butt in and expect the country to thank him for his existence like all of Japan does. He even goes as far as giving the man a brief history explanation about Yokohama—Shota is sure that All Might forgot all about that a long time ago—and emphasizing the country’s unspoken vendetta toward Japan and how suspicious it is that they requested for him to come as well. The retired hero pouts as he listens to Shota, making his annoyance obvious yet daring not to stop his determined co-worker.
The hours pass by quickly like that, and the students start arriving, each of them carrying their suitcases and two signed copies—one for the parents to sign to approve their children to go on the trip and the other is an NDA for both the student and their parents to keep quiet about the entire thing. They all stand together in front of the U.A High gates, waiting for the bus that Nezu promised would be arriving for them on time. It does—once the clock strikes seven o’clock, there’s a humming sound in the distance of an engine. It prompts them to turn their attention toward the coming bus on the road; a new one perhaps? U.A didn’t have that particular aesthetic for any of their vehicles.
The teachers blink in sync as the bus stops in front of U.A and opens the doors. An unfamiliar man with meticulously styled white hair steps out; he’s wearing casual clothes—a printed white shirt tucked into slim-fit black pants. He’s young and handsome, much to the excitement of his female students. Offering them a pleasant smile and a small dip of his head, he speaks, “Greetings, I’m Saigiku Jouno. I’ll be your guide into Yokohama.”
Shota’s breath momentarily hitches with the new information—he had briefly assumed this man could be sent from the HSPC to escort them until the edge of the barrier. His eyes scan Jouno slowly, reassessing the calm and pleasant stranger in front of them. So this is a local from Yokohama? Shota doesn’t know what he expected to see, exactly—not something new or terrifying or strange—yet he finds himself strangely pleased; is it because the man is handsome, or calm, or pleasant, thus throwing Japan’s prejudice into the trashbin? Perhaps it’s the way he speaks, or how he tilts his head curiously, that makes Shota want to mirror the action.
He steps ahead instead, dipping his head in a polite bow as well. “It’s a pleasure. I’m Aizawa Shota, and this is Toshinori Yagi.”
Jouno hums, head turning to peek at the students. “The pleasure is mine. Is everyone ready?”
Shota nods, motioning for the buzzing students to put their suitcases away, then enter the bus. He and Yagi are the first to enter and notice the driver, an old man who looks oddly elegant with a simple suit that’s suited for a bartender. The teacher blinks silently, deciding not to comment since it isn’t his place or business, but he is curious. The students enter slowly, and Shota can see with glaring clarity how curious the children are about the man from Yokohama. They’re barely containing themselves, which is done by unflattering loud whispers that Jouno can probably hear since Shota, who sits beside him, does.
It’s then that Shota is struck by the epiphany; the one thing he should have insisted on with his students as he did with Yagi. Except, due to the busy schedule of last week, he completely forgot. Truthfully, he intended to do it on the bus as they traveled into Yokohama; he made the unfortunate assumption that Nezu, or the HSPC, would be the one to offer them transportation and thus he would be able to warn his students about overstepping their boundaries before they met with their guide. But now that they’re here, Shota realizes that he still has to do that, even with their guide sitting right next to him. He has to, because those children are idiots and the teacher is going to make this so awkward and embarrassing for both parties.
He stands up, clearing his throat and ignoring Jouno’s curious peek at him. He prepares to speak, starting with the fact that this is also a political maneuver and not simply a field trip, but one of his students beats him to it by boldly and shamelessly asking, “Jouno-san, are you a local in Yokohama?”
That was Shindo Mina, definitely.
Shota watches as Jouno’s lips curl upwards into an amused smile before he answers. “I am.”
“Why were you chosen as our guide?” Todoroki? Really? Shota expected better from him.
The stranger chuckles, “I’m a member of Yokohama’s special military unit. One of us is supposed to be the guide, and I was chosen.”
“You?” Bakugo scoffs, which makes Shota wish he could faint. “What were the qualifications? Lanky, weak, and a creepy smile?”
Jouno, very oddly, doesn’t seem offended. In fact, he looks incredibly amused. “Not quite, I lost a game of rock-paper-scissors.”
Shota pauses, mind blanking out as he tries to process those words over and over. A game of rock-paper-scissors over who becomes the guide of the trip? Huh. That is certainly unique, but the teacher doesn’t find that he hates it, so he turns his attention back to his students. “Be respectful,” he warns grimly, “this is not a simple field trip. It’s also a political maneuver. I will not tolerate anyone who attempts to cause trouble or stick into others’ business as you do at home. Understood?”
There’s brief silence that occurs, which makes Shota narrow his eyes at them menacingly. Finally, they say in unison, “Understood!”
Shota exhales in relief, noticing that Yagi fell into a nap, and sits back down. Jouno doesn’t show any signs of discomfort or the awkwardness that Shota expected, which relieves him greatly. However, once he settles into his seat, the stranger says, “I’m aware that your hero society is used to casually asking about Quirks. Do keep in mind that things in our country are different.” he chuckles lightly despite the many gazes zeroed on him. “It’s like a taboo,” he continues, “some people would attempt to kill you for asking.”
Shota turns, his eyes widening at the shocking fact. “A taboo?” he echoes numbly, ignoring the stunned silence of his students who were surely waiting to ask just that to about anybody in Yokohama. “Mhm.” The man sounds unperturbed as he hums, “We view it differently; we aren’t keen on sharing our abilities with others. Me included.”
“But kill?” the teacher emphasizes with a frown.
Jouno raises a brow. “Would any of you know which people are good, and which are bad?”
No, Shota realizes belatedly. Jouno’s advice makes sense now; he isn’t trying to intimidate them, but to scare them off from things that can lead to unfortunate and bad situations. While the teacher may not know this man personally, he recognizes that he is a man of the law, and thus wouldn’t want the harm of innocent lives, either. His students recognize that too; they aren’t idiots in that department after the many battles with the League of Villains and other criminals from this year and the one prior. They know what’s best for them, and how to navigate a situation if they really needed to. Perhaps that’s why Bakugo still hasn’t made another explosive and covdescending comment, either.
“I see.”
“Other than that!” Jouno says with a cheerful lilt in his voice, “Don't cause trouble and enjoy. Today is actually the Independence Day for Yokohama, so there’s a celebration happening in the country, and there’s a festival later, too.”
That seems to pique the interest of everyone, including Shota.
“Sounds lovely,” Shota comments politely despite the curiosity growing on him. He’s a few minutes away from entering the country. The bus stops at the edge of the barrier—Shota blinks slowly; when did they arrive here so quickly?
Jouno takes out his phone from his pocket once he notices too, and dials a phone number. It isn’t put on speaker, but Shota is close enough to eavesdrop. When the line is picked up on the fourth ring, someone with a chilled voice answers. “Hello, Jouno-kun.”
“Hello, Rimbaud-san.” Jouno greets back, his voice sounding a little bit warmer. “The Bus is at the barrier; can you let us in?”
“Of course,” the other person—Rimbaud—answers. “Will it take long for you to finish?”
“Concerned parties wish to know?” Jouno muses while Shota watches with fascination and morbid curiosity as the barrier opens to the exact size of the bus.
“Yes.”
“It won’t take long,” he says with a hum, “we’ll pass by the park on our way and take a look.”
“Alright. See you later.”
Jouno hangs up, making Shota turn to him silently after entering through the barrier and into the borders of the country. His students had gasped in fascination and alarm when it happened; no doubt shocked by it, especially when every pro hero failed to scratch it before. So the HSPC assumption is correct; the barrier is indeed one of the abilities of these inhabitants—but, to keep such a strong barrier around all the time for two centuries, were there no limits? Or was this Rimbaud person exhausting himself beyond repair to protect the country?
“Was that a member of your military unit?” Shota asks. It must be. Someone so powerful must be considered a hero and protected.
“No,” the other replies, offering no further explanation. The teacher supposes that’s fair; their countries aren’t friends and Yokohama wouldn’t be giving free and important information so easily. He sighs quietly, eyes glued on the front windows to marvel at the architecture and the people starting to appear as the bus drives further into the city. There are signs of festivities—children running around with balloons, families strolling together, side shops that are preparing to open for later. It’s still a little early; almost ten o’clock, but everyone seems to be awake in the country to celebrate the happy day.
The bus comes to a stop in front of a busy park; many people are in it, but it isn’t full. The strange part, Shota notices, is that many pedestrians walk past it, rolling their eyes fondly at something—or because of something—while others laugh and pause for a moment before continuing. It makes him impossibly curious. He wants to be let in on the inside joke that the Yokohama locals seem to share.
“Let’s get off.” Jouno draws back everyone’s attention from the window. His voice is loud enough to wake Yagi up, who looks disoriented. Shota stands up quickly after the man and exits the bus, waiting for the students to pile out from it as well. He counts them, making sure he doesn’t miss anyone, while noticing the confused and curious glances the locals are giving them. They’re rather obvious about it too, which makes Shots huff in faint amusement. Jouno is waiting right beside him, patient while his eyes glance from the park’s entrance to the bus again.
“No need to take your suitcases.” The man dismisses with a wave, “They’ll be waiting for you at your accommodation later.”
Yagi hums and asks cheerfully, “What will we be doing, then?”
Jouno’s lips twitch. “There’s a performance happening inside by a bunch of idiots. Thought it’d be fun for everyone to see.”
“A local performance?” Ochako buzzes with excitement as she jumps with Jirou. “Yes! We want to see!”
“Me too!” Midoriya adds with a bright smile. The teacher can see that they aren’t the only ones who want to see among his students; he can even notice Yagi’s puppy stare. Shota has no right to deny them, because he also really wants to see. So he speaks before Iida can try to interject, “Alright. This is a field trip, so it’s good to have fun.”
The students cheer before they all follow Jouno into the park while looking curiously around and talking among themselves. Honestly, Shota is glad that many of them are absent—the parents weren’t very thrilled about the NDA form—or the noise would’ve drowned whatever performance they attempted to hear. The park is beautiful, that’s for sure, and very well-kept, but the melody and music that’s becoming louder with every step is what intrigues Shota most.
Eventually, they stop in front of a ragged, wooden stage where people are surrounding it while either cheering, booing, or laughing. There are two young men on said stage; an extremely handsome one with brown hair, brown eyes, a sand-colored trench coat, and a hint of bandages on his neck. While the other is a much prettier one with light purple hair and beautiful yellow and purple eyes. None of them, except Jouno, knows what they’re looking at. But the man in the trench coat is smirking widely while the other is huffing in amusement, and this is so strange.
“Dazai Osamu.” Jouno points at the man in the trench coat. Then, he moves his finger to the other, “Nakajima Atsushi.”
Shota nods, still very much confused and maybe a little concerned about how excited his students are at seeing more handsome people, even among the crowd. “Okay,” he says right before Dazai Osamu shoves his hand up excitedly. “This year is the year we win for good, Atsushi!” He’s very enthusiastic and excited, which makes the crowd laugh.
“Yes, Osamu-san!”
The music starts to play, making Shota blink owlishly at this sight. The two men are about to sing, he realizes. Beside him, Journo is smirking widely, his hands shoved into his pockets as he watches the show intently.
“Lily was a little girl, “ Dazai sings, rather masterfully, “afraid of the big wide world. She grew up within her castle walls.” he pauses, letting the melody continue for a second. Then, he continues,
“ Now and then she tried to run,
And then on the night with the setting sun,
She went in the woods away,
So afraid, all alone.”
Shota doesn’t know what to call this feeling; the fluttering in his stomach as the man sings so beautifully with his eyes closed and his attention focused on every single syllable out of his mouth. This is mesmerizing, he realizes, a little enchanting in such a beautiful way. It isn’t his first time listening to music or attending a live concert—although this is far from it. Far too casual to be anything other than a playful performance—and yet this is his first time being completely and wholly captured within the realm of the song; guided by the beautiful voice through the trip. The other man, Atsushi, brings his mic closer to his mouth and takes Shota’s breath once he hears his voice.
“They’ve warned her; don’t go there
There’s creatures who are hiding in the dark,
Then something came creeping.
It told her— “
Atsushi’s voice lowers, turning into a velvet of darkness and ominous lights. It reminds Shota of the manic looks he sees on villains’ faces when he and his colleagues face them. There’s villainy, wrath, and morbidity in the harmony he and Dazai fall into as they sing together. Shota cannot believe what he hears; whether this is reality or perhaps an Ability of someone, he doesn’t care. All he can focus on is the hauntingness in the two’s voices along with their faces.
“Don’t you worry, just
Follow everywhere I go,
Top of all the mountains or valley lows,
Give you everything you’ve been dreaming of,
Just let me in, ooh.”
Atsushi continues alone, his lips curling higher—into something that is neither a smirk nor a smile, but somewhere in between. His voice climbs higher, too, yet still maintaining that unsettling allure that Shota knows he shouldn’t be enchanted by, but can’t help fall into the trap willingly.
“ Everything you want in gold,
I’ll be the magic story you’ve been told—”
Dazai continues, and the transition is so smooth; one cannot help but think the two are professionals. Dazai’s voice also climbs to a higher note, becoming more seductive than Atsushi’s.
“And you’ll be safe under my control,
Just let me in, ooh.”
The melody continues, and it’s then that Shota spares his students and Yagi a glance. He can see it in their faces and eyes too; the enchantment and mesmerization. They’ve never seen, heard, or witnessed such talented singing and such a haunting song. He can’t even begin or try to understand the depth behind the lyrics yet; it’ll be something that keeps him up at night later, or even for weeks to come. Jouno hums, not seeming surprised—he’d known; Shota’s mind whispers to him, and he calls them idiots? This singing?
Suddenly, Shota notices the surroundings changing instantly into a fluorescent forest, with the moon impossibly big in the sky, almost swallowing it whole. He blinks, feeling disoriented as much as his students do, but he’s much more alarmed by the change. Jouno sees this and offers them a smile, “Don’t worry. It’s just an illusion Ability.”
Shota looks around him again, not quite believing. This range, the details, the sensory elements. “This is an Ability?” he asks, and he sounds breathless even to his ears. He can’t help it, whether it’s the beauty of the place or the terrifying aspect of how powerful this illusion is, in comparison to the illusion Quirks he knows of. The melody comes to a slower rhythm; the two men are still on the crappy stage, but they both have a satisfied smile at the change.
Was it one of them? Did one of them have this Ability?
A new voice starts singing as a man, shorter than the other two yet no less attractive, appears once the melody stops. The man himself descends from the sky, sitting on a crooked swing and looking down arrogantly on the rest. Shota doesn’t realize that the crowd has become much bigger; half of Yokohama is here to watch this yearly show. The voice itself has a childishly arrogant tone to it despite the adult man with glasses sitting there. He looks more like a detective than a performer, Shota thinks.
“Hm? Ranpo-san too?” he catches Jouno’s mutter followed by an amused laugh. Then, he allows himself to drown in the music.
“She knew she was hypnotized,
And walking on cold thin ice,
Then it broke, and she awoke again.”
The man—Ranpo—tilts his head to the side, regarding the audience blankly and crossing his legs. It doesn’t match his voice at all, yet it’s no less captivating than the other two—Shota doesn’t know how or why; he isn’t cultured in these things, but he knows he can’t look away.
“Then she ran faster, and,
Start screaming, ‘Is there someone out there?
Please help me, come get me.’
Behind her, she can hear it say—”
Then, the mesmerizing blend begins once more, and Dazai and Atsushi sing together. Except, this time, Ranpo joins them, and it adds another layer to it all; to the message Shota can’t decipher.
“Follow everywhere I go,
Top of all the mountains or valley low,
Give you everything you’ve been dreaming of,
Just let me in, ooh.”
Atsushi continues alone, just like before
.
“Everything you want in gold,
I’ll be the magic story you’ve been told—”
Dazai cuts in, alluring as earlier, especially with that cocky smile.
“—And you’ll be safer under my control,
Just let me in, ooh.”
When the song ends, Shota stands still, dumbfounded as the illusion dissipates back into the park, where the man named Ranpo is looking down with a frown, probably debating how to get down. The crowd is shouting praises, clapping, and whistling at the otherworldly performance. His students aren’t any different, and he absently wonders if this is the moment that each of them falls in love with Yokohama.
His attention is locked on the trio; Dazai and Atsushi are looking up at Ranpo thoughtfully, while Ranpo is still frowning. The swing creaks and tilts to one side dangerously, making the man slide backwards and fall with a bewildered “Eh?”
Shota, Yagi, and their students take an instinctive step forward with alarmed shouts. Yet, strangely, people are calm about it, even turning to glance at their group with a strange expression. Dazai, on stage, bursts out laughing as the other descends rapidly toward them. Atsushi gives Dazai a disapproving look but steps forward and catches Ranpo far too easily.
“Okay!” Dazai chirps happily after calming down, “We’re going to run away now because we skipped work to be here!”
Shota pauses. This is the independence day for Yokohama; it’s a holiday for everyone. Even musicians should be resting on this day. He turns to Jouno, his unwilling source of information, and asks, “Isn’t this a holiday for everyone?”
Jouno tilts his head, linking. “They’re detectives. They don’t get a day off.”
“What!?” Bakugo roars behind him, likely pissed, and it’s loud enough to make a lot of people stare. “Those are detectives? Don’t lie to us just because we’re outsiders!”
Shota sighs; although he also hardly believes those three can be detectives, he wasn’t going to ask the man in such a rude manner. Jouno turns to Bakugo but doesn’t address him. Instead, he waves his hand around coolly, “You can ask around, if you wish.”
Bakugo huffs and walks away to do just that. Yagi tries to stop him, but he slips away in time to hold a stranger’s shoulder. It’s a man in his fifties. He turns to Bakugo, furrowing his brows in confusion. “Yes?” he demands, not unkindly.
“Who were those three?” Bakugo demands, rudely.
“Those..three?” the man repeats blankly before scanning his student from head to toe. “You’re an outsider, kid?” his tone turns an edge, signaling his annoyance, but he does answer. “Edogawa Ranpo, Nakajima Atsushi, and Dazai Osamu. Detectives from the Armed Detective Agency.”
“So they really are detectives?” Midoriya wonders weakly, “Not celebrities and singers?”
“They are,” the man affirms. “And you better treat them with the respect they deserve, or you will be the enemy of every citizen in Yokohama.”
“Okay!” Jouno claps, cutting off the flow of the conversation while ignoring the twisted scowl in Bakugo’s face. “Let’s go to your hotel now, since the performance is over.”
Shota looks back at the stage, noting that it is now empty and the audience is slowly leaving the park. He should’ve kept his eyes on them, followed them to whatever direction they disappeared off to, and started a conversation. He follows Jouno instead, along with his students, toward the hotel.