Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Darkness.

It was the kind of darkness that soothed you as one slept. A caress of pure, unknown darkness encapsulated her entire being. There were no hateful hands ready to squeeze her throat or gouge her eyes out with sharp fingernails. It was like sleeping in a freshly cleaned and toasty blanket that smelt of linen and blood. If possible, Makima would've liked to have enjoyed this dark embrace a little while longer.

Was this what it was like to be consumed by him? Makima thought to herself. She found herself smiling and giggling at the idea. It was silly yet almost exactly what she wanted. Makima reached a hand out into the darkness, hoping that some part of him would hold her, embrace her, and love her.

Nothing happened. No one hugged her. Nobody spoke to her. Just pure nothing.

At least until everything came to a halt. She was suddenly thrust into a bright white light that blinded her and almost nothing could be seen except for her own hands trying to shield her eyes. A loud resounding boom erupted from all around and it rumbled the very dark haven she was in.

The boom Makima saw in this pitch-black abyss was seen off in the distance at last. A bright beacon of golden light slowly floated toward Makima. The ball itself no larger than a basketball sparked and jolted as it begrudgingly floated even closer.

All Makima saw next was an iridescent figure emerging from the small ball and embracing her slightly before the darkness encroached on her vision.

"Do you think she's dead?" A raspy voice asked warily. 

A small nervous chuckle came soon afterward with a huskier voice spoke. "Don't be daft, you dim-wit. 'Course not, don't you see her breathing?" 

True to words, the light-red-headed lady was slowly breathing and seemed as though she was in a very good dream with that beautiful smile on her face. Almost a shame to wake up a gorgeous woman like that. 

The two homeless individuals admittedly got more than a little spooked when a random lady suddenly dropped twenty feet from a weird circle of what one could only assume was a horrifying hell-like portal made up of flesh. All they did was just hang around a lonely alleyway that led off into downtown Musutafu drinking some cheap booze. Seeing a half-dead lady was not on their schedule at all. 

They prodded her torso with a nearby stick, hoping to elicit some sort of response from the unconscious lady. She looked to be some sort of office assistant or something. Her white-long sleeved shirt and black pants certainly painted the picture of a high-end type of person. The two didn't notice a slight irritation in her brow as they poked her cheek with the uncomfortable end of the stick. 

"Should we call the police? Maybe the heroes?" The homeless man with a raspy voice and a bucket hat asked while he kept poking her with the stick, still trying to not be too close to a potential victim of a crime. 

The other, wearing a dirty yellow patch coat scoffed. "And do what? What do you think they'll say about two suspicious-looking homeless guys alone with a pretty lady that's unconscious?" He stepped away from the woman's sleeping body and pointed towards the busy area that's outside of the alleyway. "Just tell me one plausible reason."

"Uhh, not arrest us because we didn't do anything to her?" 

"You're an idiot." He shook his head. "C'mon. I ain't trying to get caught up in a misunderstanding--"

Behind him, the woman was eerily standing up straight with eyes that seemed almost devilish. 

"You interrupted a rather beautiful and satisfying dream." She said with a calm, soothing voice. "I was really enjoying it too." She raised a hand up to the man in a bucket hat and made direct eye contact with him. "You there, bite your fingers off and then your tongue." The man simply gazed at her and nodded. He proceeded to slowly put his thumb into his mouth and slowly bit down. He didn't scream. He didn't cry out in pain. He just obeyed while having a blank look on his face.

His friend could only watch in horror as blood was spurting down this man's mouth as he slowly bit off his own fingers. He got a good look at the woman's face and she was actually smiling at this cruel act. She just ordered an innocent man, a man he'd known almost all his life before they both went homeless, to eat his own fingers. It wasn't right. This wasn't human. This was.... a villain. He didn't want to stay any longer; he had to run away as fast as possible from this woman. She was bad news.

The man who quivered in fear in his yellow patch coat turned and made a beeline toward civilization. At least, that was what had supposed to happen. Instead, he came face to face with this woman. Her hands were behind her back as she looked disappointedly at him. She looked at him like he was nothing but a piece of inferior trash. 

"I was really experiencing something out of this world, you know? I was in Nirvana for a brief moment and you and your fingerless friend had to ruin that." She glanced over back to the offending man, who has moved on to his left hand, ready to bite them off without a care in the world. "Now, it's your turn." This red-haired girl eyed him up and down, "Show me--" 

Before she could inflict some sort of horrible torture on him, a loud shockwave overcame them all and shook the buildings around. There were screams of adoration and cheer from outside the alleyway, it was enough to capture the evil woman's attention as she walked out.

He was relieved... He was saved.

"Don't forget to show me how you can swallow glass shards from your bottle." She said as gave him a going-away command and casually walked away from the soon-to-be torture method.

"It's a villain! Oh my god, I have to record this!" Screamed a man with giant insect-like eyes. 

"No way, it's Kamui Woods!" A blond-haired woman cried out. 

Makima followed the source of the commotion and found herself in the middle of what appeared to be an altercation between a brutish-looking fiend and a wood-using devil. There was no other explanation. However, these people appeared to have been cheering for them all like it was a spectacle. Usually, there would be blood, viscera, etc., and traumatized civilians whenever the Devil Hunters finished up their missions. Were they local celebrities? Foreign visitors? 

"Excuse me, ma'am." A fire-hydrant fiend pushed past her and the crowd and formed a water barricade. "Stay clear, everybody!" 

Even more cheer came when a gigantic fiend wearing a very revealing body suit drop-kicked the brute. 

It didn't help when more people with cameras with blushes came onto the scene and took pictures of that woman. 

"I'm sorry, but what is going on?" Makima asked no one in particular, though she couldn't help but look at the boy in front of her. He kind of reminded her of Chainsaw Man's previous host -- the one known as Denji in a way. He didn't seem particularly unique except for his green hair and adoring eyes. He sort of looked like a happy puppy.

"It's a villain trying to escape the laws of justice, young lady!" An old man next to the boy answered. "Why, I won't be surprised if All Might shows up for a surprise visit!" He laughed heartily and the green-haired boy almost gasped and looked around in hopes of seeing this 'All-Might' figure. 

"I'm assuming that those are Devil-Hunters containing a rampant fiend?" She eyed the heroes as they cuffed the man-brute in lots of metal. 

"Huh? If you're meaning Heroes, then sure! It's off to jail for that fiendish villain." 

Heroes? Villains? What are these silly comic-book titles, Makima asked in her mind. 

Just where exactly was she? 

Chapter Text

Several camera clicks echoed out in silence as girl with a built-in camera quirk took photos of the horrific scene. The crowd of a few bystanders tried peeking in to see what was in the alleyway, but more police officers stood by to let no one see the scene.

"Jesus, I swear that this looks like something out of a horror movie." A man said disgustingly as he squatted to get a better look at the crime scene. It was certainly one of the more gruesome scenes he had seen in his day, that's for sure. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he imagined the explanation he'd have to give to some parents whose children had to witness a man with glass shards sticking out of his throat stumbling out into the middle of the street from this alley and getting hit by a delivery truck. 

"Anything you see interesting, Tsukauchi?" A nearby cop asked with a notebook. 

Tsukauchi sighed and took a look at the other body further into this isolated alleyway. It was dark, damp, and all sorts of sketchy in the way it appeared; a typical area for unscrupulous figures or homeless people who live here. The fact that the other body was just as worse didn't help at all; missing fingers from both hands and a chewed-off tongue. The man had actually done this to himself and somehow got his tongue off too. His dull eyes seemed as though they were apathetic in what they saw through the end. The whole thing didn't make sense. Was it a drug session gone wrong? No, it couldn't have been with no visible amphetamines or narcotics in the area. Maybe a drunken fight went wrong with the way that the stench of cheap alcohol was in the air, mixed with the stench of someone's inner entrails. Definitely not a scent he'd like to have smelt first thing in the afternoon. 

"Other than the fact that I'm creeped out by the scene, no, not yet." 

When he'd gotten the call that there were two deaths nearby the Shizuoka prefecture in Musutafu, he'd jumped at the chance to see if this could've been connected to a series of serial murders from some young girl, but that was neither here nor there. This was something different. No stab wounds or drainage of blood from these two. His only explanation for this was it had to be a quirk. No sane man, drunk or not, would willingly eat his fingers or chew on glass. But the question was where did the user go? 

"Can you get the forensic team here any faster? I want this area scooped clean of any residue that may give us some answers. 

"Right away, sir!" A woman quickly said as she pulled out a phone.

"Just what in the world did this to you?" He asked the dead fingerless corpse. 

Golden eyes with a creepy red swirl stared out at the world before them. Makima meticulously analyzed the scenes in front of her. Soon after the arrest of that brute fiend, she walked off and explored her surroundings; checking the nearby buildings for familiar landmarks and stores to see if any had a magazine of some sort. She found out that she was in Musutafu, Japan. Though, to her knowledge, there was no way that such a place should exist. It did soothe her that she was in the Shizuoka Prefecture, but still... where had this city been all this time and why were there so many rampant fiends and devil-hunters with contracts running about? Even random civilians had looked as though they'd traded their humanity for blue skin, wings, or horns. 

Was this some sort of hidden city that wasn't spoken about by the Government? If so, she wasn't told anything about it. 

She wandered further, ignoring the gazes of people staring at her for too long, and hoped to find a lesser-damaged train site that could get her away from this place and into familiar territory. 

There were humongous billboards advertising people like All-Might, Endeavour, and Best Jeanist as some of the top pro heroes, with the former being number one, apparently. Makima stopped to stare at them, seeing another with an animated cartoon selling cereal boxes. They all looked silly in the way that they talked about justice, the laws of good vs evil, and such. It was so... comical. Like a manga character straight out of fiction. 

Makima wondered if there were 'supervillains' in this world as well that continued to create machinations time and time again, only to be defeated by the good guys, like the ones on that billboard. She let out a little smirk, thinking of how that would be wiped away by something with power like the Gun Devil or Chainsaw Man. 

Chainsaw Man... Her smile faded away after remembering that particular memory of those two men who ruined her euphoric dream. All it took was a few more prods to completely push Makima away from that golden being that adored her for a brief moment. It was what she wanted; to be loved unconditionally and without judgment for what she was. In another life, she fantasized about being in a family that would love, laugh, and enjoy everything that a regular family would do. 

However, it doesn't seem like it was meant to be. She frowned and shook her head. A small drink of tea would ease her mind for a while. 

"I'm telling you, I know what I saw, Hayate!" A frantic girl with scruffy bangs said, clenching her fists as she yelled once more at her friend who seemed like he wasn't buying it at all. The trash-riddled apartment shook as the woman punched a wall. 

"Sure, sure. I'm happy that you think you saw a bloody monster with chainsaws for hands jumping on the roofs yesterday for the sixth time. If you're going to continue talking like this, I think I should call your psychiatrist again. You don't seem to be taking your meds anymore, and hells, Emi, look at this place." Hayate gestured with both his hands to emphasize how horrible it looked.

Empty ramen packaging, spilled coffee stains riddled the floor, and cluttered clothes were not folded, but tossed around in a hurry. 

"It could've been anything, Emi. Not some monster out of some weird, made-up story you found online."

Emi scowled, "You're not listening! I'm not crazy. I saw it! I know what I saw!" She pointed out to the window with a trembling finger. She remembered it vividly as though it were yesterday. 

A tall, menacing creature as dark as the night with chainsaws for hands and a face mixed with an evil grin. It was horrifying as it peered into her window with bright yellow eyes that just stared at her. As soon as she saw it, the thing jumped away from the balcony and glided towards Kamino's downtown area, no doubt causing havoc in its wake. 

Or hiding for the perfect moment.

The fresh brew of tea and coffee filled the packed café as loads of young students and adults flooded in. Makima was among them as she waited in line, staring at the menu. 

It seemed odd to see the café staff use more of their abilities to heat hot water with their bare hands and see that nobody batted an eye at that. If that happened in Tokyo, everyone would be screaming and thinking that there were devils afoot. 

A girl with a bright smile and purple hair was the cashier and the one who heated the water called out to her, "Hi there, welcome to Comet Bucks, what would you like?" Her cheshire, but false grin seemed as though it was company policy to give the customer a smile while serving.

Makima held a finger to her chin as she scoured the menu again, "I'd like a coffee please, with a bit of sugar and milk." She handed the girl 500 yen, though she hesitantly took one look at it and sneered. 

"Ma'am, I'm sure you think this is funny, but that isn't money." 

Makima looked a little confused and looked at her yen, there was nothing wrong with it. Why was it being refused? 

"I don't understand, why do think that?" 

Before the girl could annoyingly call over her manager to yell at Makima, a small voice stepped in. 

"Ha, ha. That's a pretty funny one, old friend. But, I think that your jokes are in poor taste in these parts of town. Allow me to pay for it." A small, mouse-like thing waddled its way to the counter and did a tiny jump to slap some yen onto the counter. Just as that lady said, her yen looked vastly different from his. 

"Hm," The girl narrowed her eyes and nodded, "Thank you for your patronage." 

Makima nodded her thanks and took a seat by the windows, the view of cars and pedestrians walking by looked like the perfect spot. She didn't think that the mouse creature would ask to sit with her for a bit.

"I apologize for my intrusion, but I'm sure you know that counterfeit money is a crime." The mouse said while taking a sip of his own brew of coffee. "Against my better judgment, I deduced that perhaps there was more than meets the eye with your situation, is that correct?" 

The mouse was clearly more intelligent than it looked, that much was clear. And by the looks of it, its existence is also accepted in this world as nobody wants to cry out in fear or shoot it with something. 

She rested her chin on both hands and smiled, "I'm quite thankful for your rescue, but forgive me for asking why you did that. You could've easily let me suffer the consequences and see me be kicked out of this establishment." 

The mouse sighed heavily into its drink, "That is probably in due part to me being a good person. I can never stand seeing someone suffer from something that they themselves know wasn't their fault. I saw that in your face when you offered that girl your money. You didn't feign surprise like most criminals do when they're caught in the act; your reaction was genuine, and I pride myself on interpreting stuff like that." 

Makima let out a small laugh, it was amusing to see this mouse talk so proficiently and in a refined manner. "You're quite perceptive for a mouse, may I know your name?" 

"It's Nezu. A pleasure to make your acquaintance." He said with a smile, "And may I know yours?" 

Makima leaned a bit forward, her eyes centering on Nezu, "I'm Makima, say, can you tell me where I am?" 

Tsukauchi rubbed his eyes, he'd been at the computer monitor for ages now in hopes of learning something new from this case. It wasn't much to work with, but the forensics team came back with some good news.

There was a third suspect at the scene of the crime. There were faint traces of red hair left not too far from the scene, it did seem as though there must've been an altercation. Further testing revealed that neither of the two even had any contact with this individual. One of them did have some on a twig, perhaps as a weapon for self-defense, but it must've ended too quickly to get a strike in. 

Did this person have some sort of quirk that allows them to control them for a brief moment? What were its conditions? He and his team were drawing up ideas. One of them was a freak-quirk accident gone wrong where one of their friends just unlocked their abilities and accidentally used them unconsciously. Though that idea went out the window as soon as it got to the man eating his own fingers conclusion. Who in their right mind would order their friends to kill themselves as painfully as possible? Only a demon or a psychopath would do that. 

Next was the potential of yakuza taking their anger out on their informants. It's a bit of common knowledge that some of the yakuza use homeless people as watchers or spies to keep an eye on other gang families or the police themselves. It lined up with the excruciating punishments that these two guys went through, but a look into their backgrounds suggested nothing of the sort. They had no criminal records to speak of nor ties to any yakuza. 

The last and most probable was that this was a villain's doing. It made the most sense with how awful the whole situation was. Tsukauchi's fellow policemen tossed around a few ideas that this was a villain who likes misery and suffering, and uses their quirk to watch it unfold as a devil would to a poor human. They all shuddered a little at the thought of it. 

Tsukauchi's idea was that this had to be an organized or well-thought-out villain and most agreed with him. His reasoning was that when the DNA tests came back, there were no traces as to who it was. Whoever's hair was left at the scene didn't exist or was erased from the system. This meant that whoever did this had probably gone to great lengths to remain undetectable. 

He made sure to ask for the tests to be sent overseas to get it tested in other forensic labs to see if their killer was a foreigner. Tsukauchi rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on from the number of questions he'd be getting if words gets out that there was a potential untraceable villain running amok in Musutafu. 

"I'm getting some weird vibes, Sansa."

The feline officer nodded, "Agreed, sir." He saluted and the shake of his tiny bell made a noise. "May I make a suggestion?"

"Go ahead, I'm in need of more."

"Might you try and ask someone else to see if they saw anything? Maybe a scared individual who ran away and witnessed it?"

"We've already done that, Sansa, I need something else."

Sansa shook his head, "No, no. Like animals." 

Tsukauchi widened his eyes and grabbed Sansa's shoulders and shook them with glee. "You're a genius, Sansa!" 

Of course! There were bound to be birds, dogs, or cats who saw it. 

"Sansa, I need you and a couple of others to round up anyone who can speak with animals, and be on the double!"

No one escapes justice, villain. Not even a ghost like you will slip by us. Tsukauchi smiled at the digital picture of a single strand of red hair. He already imagined putting cuffs on this wicked person and sending them off to Tartarus. No one should have the ability to control people. It was simply inhumane. 

This wasn't her world. 

Makima deduced that much from the conversation with that mouse. He regaled her with stories of heroes and how everyone grew up with quirks and that it's a natural facet of life now. Of course, there were few who weren't born with powerful quirks or any at all, and it did create a bit of a divide in society, but that is also a common thing, at least to Makima. He also told her that he had never ever heard of the Public Safety Devil Hunters. In fact, he said that what she was talking about sounded like something out of fiction, or a highly-thought out organization made up by her and her friends. And then the topic of her money; Nezu pointed out that hers was severely outdated. Like, it ought to have been in a museum or a collector's item. 

Makima recalled that it was 1997 when she was trying to obtain Chainsaw Man, and when she asked what year it was, Nezu obliged and said it was 2130. A vast leap in time into a different world. That would probably explain why none of her contacts on her phone weren't working. 

She soon felt bored by that topic and moved on to the topic of heroes. She learned that Nezu, the highly-intelligent animal that everyone questions is either a dog, mouse or a bear, is the principal of a top-tier hero training school in Musutafu. 

A school made to train the next generation of heroes that will continue to serve Japan. Their own talents are nurtured and catered to their abilities as much as possible to get the most out of them. Nezu said with pride that All-Might and Endeavour were former students at his school and that any child that comes out of his school has the potential to be great. 

The two exchanged words with one another, though one was gleaming more information than the other without their permission. 

She smiled as the mouse told her all she needed to know. It was a nice change of pace. Nezu didn't withhold information at all, he laid it all out on the table for her. The little thing prided itself on analyzation, but to her, it was like breathing. There were no lies in his words or his facial expressions. He really didn't know anything about what she asked him. 

Things like Chainsaw Man and such didn't even elicit a single hesitant answer. This was a little depressing to hear, but it was good to know that she didn't have to force things her way this time. She doubted the possibility that the deaths of those two plebs in that alleyway would go unnoticed. It'd probably take one more day or even sooner to make news to the people about their gruesome demises. She smiled into her coffee at the recollection of that man's horrified face as he was told to eat glass. 

Makima looked at the clock on the wall and realized that she'd spent quite a bit of time in this café. "Please excuse me, but I have things to do." She took one last sip at her coffee and bowed to Nezu, "I appreciate all things you've told me. It was... enlightening. "

"Of course! I fear I must be going as well. I have to get prepped for the upcoming new term for my school."

"Ah, before you go," She placed a hand on his tiny shoulder to stop him and knelt down on one knee to make eye contact, "Can I have your number? I'd like to stay in contact." 

Nezu's mind blanked for a while, "Oh, yes. Where are my manners, I wouldn't dare turn down a good conversationist, ha!" He quickly brought out a pen and scribbled down his number, "Here it is. I am usually available most Saturdays and Sundays, but I'll answer many messages you send if it's an emergency during weekdays." 

Makima clapped both hands and let out a gorgeous smile, "Splendid. I'm sure we'll stay in touch." She waved him goodbye before leaving the Comet Bucks Café, a satisfied smirk ever present on her face. 

And now all she had to do now was get an official presence in this place. She'd have to find a forger of some sort, most likely a yakuza or a criminal with a good reputation. 

Her first order of business was to try and find the sketchiest bar or locations. After she gets a fake ID, maybe she should try getting into an official job again. Maybe something similar to the Public Safety Bureau back home. Her eyes locked onto another one of those billboards of a hero smiling with a bunch of adoring fans. This one had a freezing ability. To have that on her side certainly sounded useful if the local authorities ever catch up to her. And maybe an official type of person, one that would allow her to have her way through the system legally.

I should really find myself another dog or two. 

Chapter Text

Tskuachi was at the ends of the rope here, and he couldn’t help but want to toss his notebook into the trash with how weird this case kept getting. Spinning around in his office chair and fidgeting around with it wasn’t helping at all. 

Sansa and the others rounded up a few people who could speak with animals, though most of them said that they couldn’t talk to the animals, only listen to them. So all he got were chirps of migrating to a warmer place, or how hungry they were during that day from a dog, a couple of birds, and a cat. 

It was only when the police brought up a young boy with a square jaw and an unevenly shaped rock-like head did progress begin to change. He was timid-incarnate with how shy he was talking to Tsukauchi about his experience with animals. It took a while to break the surface and ask him if he could effectively talk to animals about what they saw in this case.

The boy nervously said yes and his mother asked if they could remain anonymous if this somehow solved the case in some way. Tsukauchi understood the fear of being the target of this villain, he very much doubted that they were a forgiving sort. 

What really made this boy, Koda was his name, special was his quirk. He could not only talk to the animals but also ask for their assistance by calling out to them.

He asked if Koda could come with him to the scene and assured the boy and his mother that no harm would come to him. The area was locked down tight with police officers and the pro hero Kamui Woods. If the criminal ever decided to come back, they’d be in for a world of pain.

The boy reluctantly agreed. 

When he was asked by Detective Tsukauchi, Koda’s spirits swam in great admiration. The man himself was a well-known officer of the law, but also considered one of the best in Japan. So when he got word that Tsukauchi himself wanted his help, Koda wanted to say yes! Even if he was super nervous to say that outright, it was still an honor to help him on a case. 

Though his mother wished it wasn’t a murder case… That made him feel woozy at the thought of it. He wouldn’t get assassinated or something, would he? The police car he and Tsukauchi were in came to a stop, and already he had several insects telling him to go no further. He assured the little beetles that the heroes were here, but those beetles and others kept saying to stay away. 

“Something the matter?” Tsukauchi said, “You’re looking a little skittish there, Koda.” 

“It’s nothing! Just a little scared…” 

“There’s nothing to worry about. We will protect you, no matter what, Koda.” He gave him a reassuring smile and led him to the scene of the crime. A dark alleyway where two men ruthlessly killed themselves by some sort of quirk. Tsukauchi nodded to the boy and asked if he could use his quirk. 

Koda looked around and spoke in a quiet whisper and several dozens of birds, dogs, and even swarms of insects came out of nowhere. It looked a little creepy with how they all lined up in united formation and waited to hear what Koda had to say. The detective had asked them all to come a bit closer so he could show them something and they all did so.

Tsukuachi lifted up a tiny bag of that hair and immediately they all started crying out or running away; it was thanks to Koda that he managed to sway some of them to stay. 

“EEEEEKKK!” 

“MONSTER! MONSTER WOOF!”

“STAY AWAY! STAY AWAY! BAD, BAD!” 

“RUN, HUMAN, RUN!” 

“DON’T SHOW US!” 

“THROW IT AWAY! THROW MONSTER’S HAIR IN HOT FIRE!” 

“What’s wrong with them?” He asked, looking at the dogs with tails behind their legs, cats scrambling to find a place to hide, and the bugs themselves trying to not want to burrow underground. 

“They say…. They said to not show them that again. It terrifies them.” Even Koda looked a little frightened, “They say to get rid of it. It’s bad to keep on your person.” 

Tsukauchi handed Sansa the bag and soon the animals started to settle down. “Ask them what they saw here.” 

Again the animals went into a frenzy, each of them screeching, barking, or hissing as if to warn them. Koda winced and relayed it back to him. 

“She-devil! It wears skin like him,” The dog pointed with its paw at Tsukauchi, “but talks like human!” Koda acted as a translator to Tsukauchi as he each asked them important questions. 

“Can you give me a better description? What did she look like?” 

“Beautiful, but looks lie! A monster in that body.” A wary calico cat said, “Hair like blood and smells like blood. Eyes…” It hissed, “Like a monster. Not human. Never human.” 

A mangy mutt waddled onto the scene, “Looks like you, woof. Like good-dressed human, woof. Smells like the dead but hides it with the smell of flowers! Sweet and fruity! Like white flower, woof!” 

Was it white jasmine? Tsukauchi made sure to put that on his notepad, same as with the description of a business attire.

“Do you mean like a cop? Like what I’m wearing?” He motioned to his white dress shirt and business pants. Koda nodded for the animals. 

“What did she make these men do?” He pointed at the chalk outlines of the poor homeless men who died. 

Again, the animals seemed too scared to answer. 

It wasn’t until a brave cockroach scurried up to Koda’s hand and made to answer.

“Monster lady told them! Told them, she did! Told man to eat his fingers!” It jerked its tiny body to face the other man’s chalk outline, the one who ran out of the alleyway.

“Before she leave, she told him to eat glass like candy! Pain wake him up! Made him himself again!” 

Did pain remove the quirk’s ability? Was that the extent of its power?

“And do you know where she came from, this monster lady?” Tsukauchi leaned closer to a cockroach, of all things, as if it were an important witness. 

The brave little pest squirmed as if it remembered it yesterday, “She came from hole. From flesh hole! From other place!” 

“Flesh…hole?” Several other police officers did a double take at that, and even Kamui Woods scrunched his face up underneath his mask. “You mean she teleported?”

“Move from one place to another, yes! Dropped her here and men bother her sleep! Bothered her too much! Made monster lady angry! Me lucky to not be next!” 

“And do you or anyone else here know where she went? Can you bring us to her?”

“No! No! No! Humans not listen! Humans must stay away from monster! Monster make you eat glass again! Make you dig out eyes next!” 

Every single animal there made to run, fly, or burrow underground at the simple thought of seeing this monster lady again. Even the brave little cockroach scurried away, leaving Koda and the police officers alone at the scene. At least Tsukuachi got a bit more out of this. His suspect was a woman with red hair, and business attire, and looked really pretty. That totally lowered his amount of suspects, surely. He’d have to ring up some more contacts to see if anyone fits the bill. 

“Thank you, Koda. You really did amazing work there, we at the police station are deeply indebted to you.” The look of happiness and relief on the young boy’s face made him laugh a little. “I suppose we should get you back to your family now, don’t we?”

The clinking of glasses and the stench of cigarette smoke permeated throughout the bar. A distant sports game could be heard on a television above the long bar counter. 

Several people were sat upon the ruffed-up leather seats and in four of the booths, each of them with a giant mug of draft beer or a mixed cocktail. All of them talking animatedly about their lives or current events. Further inside the bar, a karaoke bar was to be seen blaring loud obscene music with a couple horribly trying to match the lyrics as best as they could.

A pool table was just behind the couple and right in the center of the whole lounge, two large men grinning as if they’d beaten one another with their own stratagems. 

It was a typical lounge bar, no different than any other. 

The bartender smiled happily at more incoming customers as they each took more seats and a gander at the menu. Though, one of them stood out from the rest; they looked as though they were here for something else.

He eyed this one carefully, briefly catching glimpses without staring too much. Light red hair in a loose braid with some bangs. Her eyes, he noted, were odd. Were they contacts? Maybe her quirk? It didn’t help that her outfit reminded him of a detective’s or a secret agent. 

“Oi, Subaru! Are ya listening? I said I’d like a whiskey sour! And get my girl ‘ere a tequila sunrise while you’re at it.” A patron shook the now-named Subaru’s attention.

“My apologies, I’ll be right on it.” He glanced and saw her talking to nearby customers.

Hinata thought that she’d met the most kindest and gorgeous woman ever in her life, and to think it was at her regular hanging spot too! She insisted on buying this beauty as many drinks as she needed because if it kept her sitting next to her, then who cares if her bank account will take a couple of hits! 

“So… What brings you out here, miss?” The girl drawled out.

“It’s Makima, a pleasure to meet you, Hinata. Though, you didn’t have to buy me another round.”

“No, no. I really don’t mind! Anything for a newcomer to the Capitol!” She laughed heartily as she took another swig at her own draft beer. “But what brings you here? I’ve never seen you at all before.” She scootched her chair closer to better hear her soothing voice and to try and close out the loud raucous laughter coming from the bartender’s area. 

Ah, she’s smiling at me again! I could get lost in those eyes.

“I’m looking for someone,” Makima said, “I was hoping I’d find him here.”

Eh? Him? No, no, no. It isn’t a lover, is it?!  

“What?!” Hinata didn’t realize she said that with a bit more volume than she should’ve and her face burned with embarrassment at the thought of everyone looking over to see Makima. It irritated her that now several guys were staring in their direction, each of them pointing their fingers at their table. Hinata clenched her fists in annoyance, “Sorry. I’m just… I didn’t realize you were--”

Makima let out a cute laugh, “No, it isn’t like that, I’m afraid. It’s purely business.” 

Yip, yip, hooray for me!  

“Oh, sorry for misunderstanding! It’s just you’re really new here and I don’t see new faces anymore.” 

Makima rested one hand on her cheek and gazed directly at Hinata with those alluring eyes again. “Hm, is that so? Well, maybe you could help me find this person that I’m looking for?”

Hinata jumped at the chance to help, hell, she’d go through hoops if it meant earning more of those smiles and a ‘thank you, Hinata,’ from Makima. 

“Y-yes. I can do that. Can you describe him to me? I’ve been here for almost three years now, so I kinda remember a lot of the faces here.” 

Makima clapped her hands and showed her another heart-melting smile, “Wonderful!” She actually pulled out an old-fashioned polaroid of a man with glasses. Hinata’s eyes widened and she quickly made Makima hide it from view. She let out a quiet whisper and pulled Makima closer, “That isn’t the guy, right?! That’s Giran! He’s bad news.” 

Makima frowned a little and that made Hinata’s heart ache. “It’s just that he’s not the kind of guy someone like you should be meeting, like at all.” 

“And why is that? I’ve been told he’s a kind gentleman who knows a lot of things.”

“It’s just… he knows a lot of things because of his bad connections. We really shouldn’t be saying his name around here.” Hinata looked nervously around, checking to see if someone was listening in on their conversation, and sure enough, those same guys who were looking earlier were still staring, especially at Makima. 

What do I tell her? Oh crap, oh gods, oh jeez.  

Hinata was stuck at an impasse in her brain. Did she follow common sense and tell Makima that she honestly doesn’t know anything other than the fact that Giran is a bad dude? Or follow her raging hormones and earn Makima’s praise? 

Hinata didn’t notice that Makima’s hands were touching her own and the last thing she remembered was Makima ordering her to do something.

Her words were fuzzy, but it certainly sounded like, “I order you to tell me more about Giran.” 

No, Makima wouldn’t order her around. She was nice, kind, beautiful. Hinata was… What was she doing again? Oh, right. She was talking to Makima… Where did she go? 

Makima didn’t want to beat around the bush any further. It irked her that this girl brought unneeded attention to herself with that loud screech. 

If she had to use her power to force the knowledge of out this hormonal girl, then so be it. She ordered Hinata to tell her everything she knew about Giran. But it was all for naught, it seemed. All she had in her brain was that he was a information broker that could only be found by his own buddies. 

Makima scratched another bar off her list, this had to be the fifth one by now. She took one more look at the polaroid she forced some guy to print off his chest from an earlier bar and placed it in her back pocket. 

I was hoping this was going to be the one. Maybe I should try those guys over there before I leave. Makima’s eyes shifted over to the leering guys with tattoos on their faces and hands. 

They’ve been there for a while and perhaps even idiots like them could know something.

Makima wore her most seductive smile and sauntered over to the pool tables. 

They didn’t know anything. It was more of the same except with lewd remarks about her ass. Makima sighed disappointedly for the umpteenth time. 

She should’ve just left off with that Hinata girl and chose another bar. Makima paid her tab with Hinata’s money and made sure to keepa  note to not use her power as much in future visits to other bars. It would have been a problem if the police were to trace it back somehow. 

Makima left the bar, the smell of fresh air free from the smell of second-hand smoke and beer was relished. She walked for fifteen minutes, that was all it took for five men to be following her down a lonely street. There were only two street lamps illuminating the area and it was considerably dark. No cars neaby or fellow civilians to scream for help. This was obviously a shakedown or an imminent assault. 

She stopped and turned around, “Can I help you?”

“Ya sure can, toots. Ya can start by coming over here so we can tell you something.” A man with a buzz cut and a scar down his left cheek said, “C’mon, we don’t bite.”

He was holding tiny switchblades in each hand, eager to probably scare her with them. 

“Gonna have to listen to us a bit more, babe. You didn’t get the memo, but we ain’t done with you yet.” A giant man with a stone face said. “We don’t know what you did, but you sure as hell used something to make us space out there for a second.” 

“Fuck yeah, I ain’t having some bitch use their quirk to fuck with my mind! I’m supposed to fuck yours!” A spindly man with horrible acne spat out, “You’re either coming with us the easy way,” He pulled out a gun, “Or the hard way. The choice is yours, you piece of good ass.” 

Makima rested one hand on her elbow and another on her face, “Say, do you lot know a place where I can find villains? Perhaps I’ve been asking around for the wrong person.” 

The stone-faced man sneered, “Course we do! Only we’ll tell you if you come with us.”

“Hmm, and you’re not lying, are you? I’d hate to have the same outcome when you didn’t tell me anything meaningful about Giran.” She raised a single finger at the spindly man, “And I don’t like it when you’re not actively listening to me.” Her smile was gone, the beautiful angel they’d hope to snag was replaced with a cold glare. 

“I want you to--” A gun shot rang out and that was all it took to put the woman down. It was anticlimatic to the guys as they suddenly realized what they’d done. She slowly slumped forward, stumbling a little before sliding against a streetlamp, blood pooling around her dead body. 

“Oh fuck, oh shit. What the fuck were you thinking, Johnny?!” Stone face looked like he’d wanted to rip the shooter’s head off. “You just murdered the bitch! We’re supposed to scare her, not kill her! What the fuck!?” 

Johnny was hyperventilating, “I… didn’t know! I didn’t like the way she was looking at us, Gyu! Fuck, we gotta bail! We have to!” 

They didn’t realize that she was slowly getting back up as they argued until Fushi, the one with switchblades pointed it out. “What the hell….” Fushi dropped his weapons as he saw the strange woman get up from a bloody headshot in her eyesocket. However, she wasn’t missing an eye anymore. The fatal wound was completely gone. Like it never existed in the first place.

Right next to them, one of their friends dropped dead with the same fatal bullet hole in his eye. 

“I really don’t appreciate people who interrupt me. I would’ve spared you if you’d just let me go or told me about these villains. I suppose mutts like you don’t ever listen.” She raised her left hand and did a finger-gun gesture towards Fushi. 

“Bang!” She said and with the force of a railgun, Fushi’s upper midriff suddenly exploded. He clutched it in great pain and almost let a scream, “Bang!” Again, she hit Fushi in the leg, “Bang!” Once more into the face, leaving only a hole in his head. His brains scattered across the pavement. 

She aimed it at the rest and they all surrendered, dropping their weapons and stood ramrod straight as an arrow. “We’re sorry! Don’t kill us! We were just being--” 

“Bang!” She shot Johnny in the stomach, “Please be quiet. I’m done hearing you talk.” No longer did this woman speak in a lovely tone. It was replaced with a nonchalant and bored voice.

And just like that, Johnny shut up immediately.  He struggled to try and speak, but it looked as though he couldn’t open his mouth. She shot him in a place where he’d suffer the most without being able to scream.

“Can the rest of you shut up?” Their whimpers were muted like a button on a remote. Whatever quirk she had, it was to powerful. An invisible gun was too cheap! It didn’t help that they couldn’t speak at all to her. Were their own bodies too scared to refuse her commands?

“And you two,” She pointed towards the last two remaining of their still-alive friends. “Carry those bodies to that alleyway and smear their blood on your hands and face with his gun.” She kicked Johhny’s pistol to them, “Be sure to stay there, too. I want the police to find you. You’re going to tell them that you’re the killers and that things got out of hand. You will never remember my face or what you did here other than the fact that you killed those two, am I understood?” 

They nodded in fast succession and went to take care of them, especially Johnny as he tried to scream with the gaping hole in his stomach, but they didn’t care. They wanted to live. To hell with Johnny. 

Makima knelt in front of the stone-faced man, “What’s your name?”

“It’s… Gyu. Please, we didn’t mean any harm. We were just joking around; we had too many to drink! Just us being stupid, I swear!”

“I only asked for your name, Gyu. I didn’t ask for your excuses.” Her eyes bore directly into his skull, then onto his body, as if she were examining a prize horse. She squeezed his biceps and checked his hands, feeling the stone calluses. When compared to hers, it was like silk. They were incredibly soft. 

“Hmm, what is your quirk? Can you tell me that or do I have to force that out of you?”

“It’s hardening, ma’am! My skin is naturally hardened and I can amplify my punches with these stone hands. I’m impervious to most forces of trauma.” 

Her finger gun slowly came up to his forehead, “So, if I shoot you, will it bounce off? Can your ‘hardening’ deflect bullets or my power?” 

“No!” He cried out, wincing as her weapon was directly on his head. 

She frowned as if she’d found some defect with her prize horse and suddenly stood up, her finger gun at the ready, “Ban-”

“It deflects bullets! I just meant… your power. I don’t believe my hardening ever stands a chance against yours, ma’am.” Gyu raised his hands and was quivering. “I would never lie to you; it’s the truth.” 

“That’s better.” Makima closed her hand, “You’ll do nicely then. From now on, you’re going to be my temporary mutt. Well, at least until I find myself a nice Pomeranian or a German Shepherd.” Gyu had the feeling she didn’t really mean actual dogs, but people. 

“As my dog, the only words that will come out of your mouth when speaking to me is, ‘woof’, or ‘Yes, Miss Makima.’ Things like ‘no,’ don’t come out of my dogs. Is that clear?”

“Of course--” The finger gun came out again, “Yes, Miss Makima.” Was he saved? Did that mean he had to serve her? The first thing he’d do once she didn’t notice was to get the hell out of here. 

“Good. You will speak when spoken to, that will be the only time you’ll not say the words I gave you, and to make sure you don’t run away, I’m going to have to put a leash on you. It wouldn’t be good at all if my new dog ran away, would it?” She placed a hand on his chest and something foreign squirmed its way into his body. It felt like a worm or a chain wrapping itself around his heart and ribcage, trying to settle in his body.

“Should you even think about running away, I can simply do this.” She jerked her fist away as if it were a leash and as she did, the most horrible sensation erupted from his chest. Something was squeezing his heart and all his insides at once. “You should be thankful. I don’t usually put leashes like this on my dogs. Then again, you could be considered my mutt.” 

She grabbed his stony chin and pulled it closer, “Now, you said you knew where some villains were. Show me.” 

Gyu’s life would never be the same and he feared that he was only a means to an end. Why else would she call him a temporary mutt?  

“A drunken fight went wrong in eastern Musutafu as reports find two men who brutally shot and killed two innocent bystanders who left the bar on Friday evening. Here’s more from Yui Tanaka!” A breaking news story was being played in the background of an abandoned warehouse. It was night-time, no doubt midnight and the air was cold and humid as it was nearby the port. 

The whole place was riddled with creepy-crawlies like roaches and ants, and much more. The two figures inside had to constantly slap or kill a bug or two that was trying to gain shelter inside of the only furnished area. Though, they were being more persistent this time. It wasn’t that cold outside.

“Those were Gyu’s boys, weren’t they?” A woman’s voice asked as she turned up the volume on the newscast in the dimly lit warehouse and slapped away another beetle near the tv remote.

“Yep. Should’ve figured that messing around with people with his gang of idiots would flop one day. Guess this was it.” An older voice said regretfully. “I’ve told him so many damn times. I gotta let Giran know that one of his body guards fucked up big time.” An old man rested his legs atop a desk and reclined further back into a comfy office chair. “He ain’t gone like this, though. It’s bad enough that we had the fuzz knocking on every door about that suicide case a couple days ago.” 

The woman scoffed, “You and I both know that shit wasn’t suicide, Caz. There’s a fucked-up person running around with a control quirk.”

“Oh? And where’d you hear this?” 

“From one of Giran’s moles. They say that they’re looking for some broad with red hair.” 

“Shit, so they’ve already got a lead then? How much you want to be it’s someone that Kurogiri guy wants? Can’t imagine trying to--”

Glass shattered in an instant as a large-rock man busted through the windows and into their little abode. 

“What in the name of--” A stone hand grasped Caz’s face and lifted him up in the air. “Hmmmhmm!!!” The old man shook with as much strength as he could and his female companion unloaded seven rounds of .45 caliber bullets into the stone golem’s back, but to no avail. 

I’m really sorry, Mari and Caz! I really am! Gyu wanted to cry that out to them and instead he  hardened his eyes and made sure that little Mari would suffer without pain before she got here. He strode over in two steps and made to punch in her head as fast as possible. 

Mari closed her eyes, thinking this was the last thing she’d see.

“Leave them both alive, please. I want to make sure I get two nodes of information instead of one, Gyu.” There was that accursed voice again -- forcing its way into his mind and making his body move on its own. 

“Yes,  Miss Makima.” Gyu lowered his fist and instead grabbed Mari with his vise grip. The two criminals that he’d known for a while were looking at him incredulously as if he’d betrayed them. Each of them probably spewing obscenities and curses as they tried to punch at his arms and hands. He was a seven-foot-tall giant and they could do nothing in his hands except squirm. 

Help me get away from this woman! I don’t want to do this either! He wanted to say, but his mouth refused to cooperate. 

“I’m sorry for the sudden intrusion, but Gyu mentioned something about cameras, so I figured it’d be better if we just forced our way in. I’m sure you have insurance to cover the damages.” This woman that Gyu was with just casually sat down in Caz’s favorite chair, “Oh my. It’s a little hot in here isn’t it? Don’t you keep windows open in here?” Makima pulled at her collar. It was obvious she was trying to be funny or something; all it did was piss Caz and Mari off even more. 

“Can you take your hands off of their mouths for me? I need to hear what they’re saying.” 

As soon as he did so, a wave of insults and death threats came out of their mouths.

“You fucking bitch! Do you know who you’re talking to?!”

“Yeah! You better stop this shit immediately, Gyu, or else you’ll wish you were dead when we’re done with you!” 

Makima rolled over to Caz in his favorite office chair with a condescending smile, crossing one leg over the other. “I don’t think threats are going to do you any good. You see, I’m in need of information, and I was told by Gyu here that you know where Giran might be.”

“You must be fucking police or something, but we ain’t giving you shit! Giran’s one of us and we have a code of honor. We’re not gonna be breaking it for some sleazy bitch like you.” Mari said with a victorious grin. “We know how this interrogation shit works and we’ve played those tricks too.”

Caz nodded furiously, “Damn right, Mari!” As long as they dragged this out, help would arrive. They installed those alarms for a reason. Good thing these idiots didn’t think of that. 

Gyu looked at them, shaking his head in warning as best as he could behind his blank stone face. 

“I see. I don’t like being forceful. I usually let my dogs do things like that. But you know something, and I want it. So,” Makima moved over to Mari, “Oh dear,” She accidentally crushed a large cockroach by rolling onto it with the office chair. “You have an infestation problem, that’s never good.” 

Gyu didn’t like how she stared at those bugs and then quickly glanced to Mari. “I suppose you were never going to do this the easy way, were you?” Makima said with feigned reluctance.

Mari laughed, “You should’ve thought this out more before doing something so retarded, you whore.” Her laughter echoed throughout the empty building and it was stopped abruptly as she felt something going up her legs.

Realization dawned as she looked down and saw countless insects climbing up and into her pants. It didn’t stop there, more came from above as they clambered onto her blouse and into her bushy hair; large ants, beetles, and moths were completely covering her clothes. 

“Y-you think this is gonna scare me? I’ve been through worse, bitch.” Mari said with a tad bit of fear. “Do your worst.” 

Makima simply smiled and sat taller, “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.” And like a sudden click, all of those insects started climbing further -- into her ears where they scratched and bit within; into her mouth where they descended down her throat and into her stomach; into her nose where she could feel them biting and clawing their way deeper; even into her lower parts. 

Caz watched in horror as his long-time partner in crime was being drowned in insects. Mari shook and Gyu let her go as she fell into a pile of more bugs. He saw her shake and scream and tear out the invading creatures to no avail. 

“I wanted to use her as an example. Now you see that I am serious about wanting to know where Giran is. If you don’t answer my questions, then the same fate awaits you.” Caz looked around him and he already saw more insects circling around him, ready to crawl into all of his orifces. 

“Will you talk or am I already speaking to a corpse?” 

Makima didn’t like having to do things herself when it meant that it would implicate her in crimes. She usually had Power to do troublesome things like that. And she definitely knew that this expendable stone-man would be non-proficient in interrogation techniques. 

The blue-haired old man known as Caz told her lots of things. Things like how Giran was meeting up with some powerful clients recently and that he was keeping some notes on a little girl that the Shie Hassaikai had been capturing over and over. This Giran was proving to be a very useful man from the sound of it. She couldn’t wait to meet him and his friends in Western Musutafu. 

What she didn’t like was how Caz died of shock, or was it a heart attack? She presumed it was because she kept making him watch his lady-friend get devoured from the inside out as she asked him questions. 

She told Gyu to leave the bodies. Their fellow criminal friends would arrive sooner than the police and clean the place up even faster. 

“Come along, Gyu. I’ll need your help convincing Giran to meet with me.” The last thing that the dying Caz heard was the clicks from Makima’s brown dress shoes as she walked away with Gyu. And what awaited him was a painful death when he saw all the insects erupting from Mari’s husk of a corpse and crawling towards him. 

He prayed that God or an angel would swoop down and save him from this woman’s evil quirk. But none answered the call. All that answered for him were ravenous insects that were under the whims of the monster known as Makima. 

“Chief Kenji, is it true that you’re investigating a murder case in Musutafu!?” A reporter shoved a microphone directly into his snout. The Dalmatain gently pushed the woman away, “No comment.”

“Over here, Detective! We heard that a murderer with a control quirk is somewhere in our city, how are you handling these?” Another man demanded with a tiny note pad and pencil in hand. “We have multiple sources that indicate that you’ve been having trouble finding this murderer. Is it true?” 

He and the Chief of Police pushed past the crowds of reporters, trying to get into their squad car and drive off, but they didn’t relent as they kept blocking the way. Who leaked the information? Why would someone want to get a scoop of some good news if it meant it’d cause panic? Didn’t they know that the criminal would learn of their investigations?

Tsukauchi had a feeling that his mystery suspect would soon catch wind that they were onto her. Soon another microphone was shoved into his face, hoping to earn some sort of sentence, but he too didn’t say anything.

Giran counted out the stacks of money he received from a protection ring he had out in Kamino, and boy was it a good haul. He chuckled a bit at the grateful note that came with the briefcase of a million yen. It was the little things that kept a man like him happy. Money made the world turn and it did turn his frowns upside down whenever a direct deposit hit or another mail order of thousands of yen threw themselves into his lap. Life was good.

A knock broke him out of his happy bubble and he narrowed his eyes, “Come in.” He tossed the stacks of yen back into the briefcase and gestured for the man to come inside. “What is it? It better not be another complaint from Kurogiri’s brat, I’ve told him that I’m working on getting him some playmates in advance.” 

The clean-shaven man answered with a bow, “I’m afraid that is not who wishes to see you, Giran. It’s a young woman and one of yours, a young lad by the name of Gyu.”

“Ah! Stone-face! I can never forget my stone shield! What does he want?” 

“It’s not him that wants to meet you, he’s asking if you’d like to meet with a fine lady by the name of Makima. She seemed very eager to come meet you personally, sir.” 

A young lady wanting to see ‘ole Giran? Maybe she heard how much riches he had and wanted to proffer herself up to him in hopes of becoming his sugar baby? Hah, like he’d need one. “Fine, fine. Send her in, I ain’t got nothing better to do.” 

“Right away, sir.” The butler left and returned with the most alluring woman he’d ever seen. The way she walked in was almost divine and yet also deadly. He shook himself out of his stupor. It takes a player to see what kind of woman this Makima was and all he saw as a predator. He knew her type. A manipulative son of a bitch hiding behind a mask of friendliness and using a dulcet tone to honey up her venomous words. 

She stood in front of him and held her hand out, hoping to earn a handshake, but he didn’t fall for that. He gestured for her to take a seat across from him. A safe distance that didn’t let her touch him or breathe on him. He nodded to his butler to get the rest of the guys. This woman seems off, like in an unhinged, torture-you kind of way. 

His leather chair made that annoying sound that sounded as if one flatulated, and luckily it lightened the mood a little as she smirked a little at its noise. 

“It took a great deal of effort to find you, Mr. Giran, so I hope you can excuse my sudden arrival to your home.” Her eyes never once left him. They didn’t wander around like most others would. It was unnerving. 

“Is that so? And what can I do for you, young lady? Surely this isn’t just a social call.” 

“No, it isn’t. I was told by a great deal of people about you, and I think you and I would get along most favorably.” 

The rest of Giran’s goons showed up, silently as they could, handguns with silencers hidden in their jackets. 

“What makes you think that? It doesn’t intimidate me that you somehow cowed my boy Stone Face over there so that ain’t going to work out for you.”

Makima laughed a little, “I know. Something like my new dog here wouldn’t stand a chance against someone with connections like you. But, I think you would benefit most greatly from myself. You see, I have something that you don’t.” 

“Oh?” Giran leaned closer, a smug smile on his face. “And what’s that?” 

Makima stood up in the most confident way possible and pointed a finger gun at her head. As she did, Giran heard struggling from all around him as his men were trying to lower their own guns away from their faces. 

“Absolute control of the situation.” She let her hand go and so did the dozen men surrounding the bar whose hands went limp. “I am a very valuable ally and I feel like you would not want to turn down the deal I have to offer you.” 

Giran smiled through it all, making sure to not show fear. To do so was to admit defeat.

“I need your help to forge me an ID and to find a job suitable to my demands. If you do that for me, I can offer you something in return. Quid Quo Pro. Hmm,” She noticed his lack of understanding, “I suppose you don’t know--”

“I know what it means. Shit, you’re an odd one.” Giran laughed harder than he should’ve and slapped his knee that for sure had gone wobbly. “I think you’re the first one to come in here, scare the living shit out of me and my boys, and then simply ask for a forging job? Gods, woman, you could’ve started it off with that instead of the creepy ass scenario you just did. Fuck,” Giran wiped away a bit of sweat from his head, “Just gimme a few days and I’ll get that sorted out for you.”

Makima sighed in relief, “I’m glad you could see reason. I apologize for making your men do such a scary thing. I just had to make sure my message was clear.” 

“You got it crystal fucking clear, miss. Just… don’t do that again. You might actually kill us with a heart attack with that scary ass quirk of yours.” 

“And what do you desire in return? I can get money or,” Giran held a hand up to stop Makima, the greasy cogs in his brain turning at the thought of her useful ability. “I’ll think of something. I’m going to be a bit busy  but your request will be at the top of my to-do- list.” 

He bid farewell to the scary broad who waved as gently as she could, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he made a deal with a devil. He was thankful that his intuition was still kicking in, otherwise a stupider man would’ve bit the dust earlier. 

Giran brought out his cell phone which had an adorable bunny ear accessory on it and dialed Kurogiri’s number. The phone rang for a solid thirty seconds before finally picking up. 

“Kurogiri speaking.”

“Hey, you said you’re looking for some help with breaking into somewhere, right?”

“Yes, you said you’d gather up some men for me and my associates. Tell me you found someone that isn’t just rubbish.” 

Giran could’ve won the goddamn lottery with this amount of excitement and dread he was feeling, “I just got visited by a rather interesting client. Someone that I think you’ll love more than anything in this world.”

Kurogiri rarely sounded intrigued, but it was at this moment Giran wish he could see the look on his face. 

“Oh? You’ll have to introduce me and my associate sometime.” 

“Hah, you’d better line up them stacks of yen because I’m asking for extra for this new contact of mine. She’s something of a special case, I’d say she’s probably going to go for a rate of million yen.”

“Is this a poor attempt at haggling, Giran? You know that my investor isn’t made of money.”

“And if I told you that my soon-to-be contact has the power to control people by simply being in a room with them, would you believe me then?” He heard Kurogiri choke on water or something as the phone dropped before being quickly picked back up. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll be sure to send my bar’s footage to you. The goddamn broad almost killed all my guys when talking to me.” 

“Send it to me discreetly. If you’re talking about the same person who is being investigated by the Musutafu Police Force, then I think you got yourself a deal. I’ll wire the yen to you, same as usual.”

Giran pumped his fist in the air and downed a shot of whiskey to celebrate a nice transaction. He’d make sure that this woman’s ID was the cleanest thing to exist on this earth. Hell, he’d lick her boots and call her master himself if she could help him with a ton of other gigs. 

Life was good.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Sincerity over Sycophancy

Her eyes scanned the brochure, promising a beautiful beach park located on the coastline in Musutafu. It was plain deception with the sheer comparison. The little brochure she acquired downtown, showed a crystal clear beach with a fine pier and gazebo. Instead, it was a trashy mess with piles of waste and tossed furniture blocking said gazebo. 

The stench was awful -- rancid and putrid. Animal feces, urine, and spoiled food permeated the area. The smell of a fresh, salty ocean was blotted out by its odor. Makima couldn’t help but squeeze her nose, ready to leave this place and find another to ponder about her objectives in peace and wait for those forged documents. She stopped and spotted a lone boy hauling some of the trash away.

Was this some sort of body-building exercise? He’d managed to only get rid of a few broken-down recliner chairs, but that was it. He had a mountain of this garbage dump to take care of soon after. It would probably take at least ten months or more to get it all cleared.

Makima found herself walking closer to the half-cleared site and was met with an interesting individual that appeared out of nowhere. He looked deathly ill and skeletal in appearance. She would not be surprised if a strong breeze whisked him away like a piece of paper or if a tiny push from her would shatter all the bones in his body from a slight fall.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m trying to train that boy’s endurance and strength. Any distractions will only serve to prolong his growth.” 

Makima peeked over the man’s shoulder and saw a green-haired boy pulling with all his might as he tried one of the thrown-away washers this time. The same skeletal man shuffled to his right, blocking the boy from view and standing face-to-face with her again. 

“If you’d like, I can entertain you with company, just don’t get in the way of his training.” 

Makima ignored him and kept searching her mind on where she’d seen this boy before. It’d been three weeks since she arrived in this world and she scoured her scent memory like a file cabinet; cycling through the smells of all the individuals she’d met thus far - boys pretending to be men at several bars, a few cashiers who were trying their hardest at keeping her attention when she shopped for snacks, and some young students who tried working up the courage to speak with her. None of their aromas matched this boy.

A skeletal hand was waving in front of her and was snapping its fingers to get her out of her thoughts. “Are you okay?”

“Hm, I’m fine. I just tend to space out sometimes, I apologize. What were you saying?” Makima’s eyes left the struggling young boy and went back to the man.

The skeletal man with sharp angular features shrugged and scratched his wild blonde hair. “I was saying if you wanted to join me, I got another lawn chair if you want.”

“I don’t see why not. I need to kill some time anyway.” 

“Great, follow me. “

Toshinori felt pretty awkward talking to people in this form. He was glad that this woman wasn’t a disrupter who told him to get off his ass and help the young boy like others did before. They complained and whined about every little thing wrong with society and how he wasn’t helping by not providing assistance to young Midoriya while he cleaned up the beach.

Then again, he did this because he also wanted to have a nice gazebo to sit back on without the smell, but he didn’t tell the boy that. While the spot he chose was far from perfect, it was good enough to bask in some sunlight and evade most of the smell. He unfolded another lawn chair and laid it out for this stranger who was probably a tourist by the looks of it. She wore an oversized beach hat and a black dress with the oddest pair of eyes he’d seen yet. 

He only then realized that they were sitting in silence for a while, neither of them saying anything to each other as they watched young Midoriya clean up the Takoba beach. Between them, the ripple of the waves crashed gently against the beachside as more silence took place. 

“So, uh… what brings you out here?” He asked out of the blue, scratching his cheek to get rid of the awkward silence.

“I’m just visiting until a friend of mine texts me back. He’s taken a long time getting back to me.” She didn’t look at him.

“Oh, a lover’s spat?” 

She laughed a little. “No. Very much the opposite. He’s supposed to get back to me on some things I needed.”

“Ah, I get you. You’d think that with all the high-tech, it’d be instantaneous. Heh, quite a hard thing these days, isn’t it?” Toshinori tapped his thigh and looked around, thinking of something else to say.

“Yes, very difficult these days.” The woman shifted a bit in the cheap lawn chair.

Toshinori didn’t know what to say to the woman. These one-sided conversations continued for another three minutes and he deeply regretted inviting her to sit with him. 

“Why are you training him?” She finally asked, “I imagine all of this heavy lifting will raise his physical strength and his physique as well.” 

Finally, Toshinori could get behind a topic like this. “It’s for the U.A Entrance Exam, it’s coming up in ten months, and I’m getting him ready for that. That young boy wants to become a pro hero and he doesn’t have a quirk, but he wanted to give it a shot anyway.”

The woman leaned a bit closer to him, obviously more intrigued now, “Oh? Don’t most people say that being quirkless is as good as closing that career path?” 

Toshinori squeezed the armrests on his lawn chair, “I thought so too at one point, but…” He looked at Midoriya, still moving more and more trash all by himself. “He showed me that resolve and sheer determination is a quirk all on its own, and I couldn’t turn down his optimism.” 

Makima hummed, “You have a lot of faith in him, don’t you?” The frail-looking man nodded, “I admire that in people. When faced with insurmountable odds, it makes it much more rewarding when they overcome them with a handicap.” Toshinori couldn’t agree more.

“Are you his uncle or father?” She asked with even more intrigue than she did before. 

Toshinori waved his hands away, “No, I’m just a retired hero getting past his prime. I was thinking I can do him this one favor and hope to pass my knowledge and advice onto him once I whip him into shape.”

Toshinori noticed the slight smile he saw at the edge of her lips when he mentioned that he was a retired hero. He prepared for this moment. The moment when someone asked what sort of hero he was and if he had a picture. 

Talking and speaking with this man got more intriguing as time went on. She found a way to get him talking by asking more about training, and sure enough, he talked her ear off about heroes and this young boy who he thought had tons of potential. 

He told her that he was a pretty good Pro Hero back in the day and that he was the one to call on in times of crisis. He mentioned that his quirk was strength-enhancing and it diminished his health greatly over time. Makima indulged his talks of the past nonetheless and occasionally he’d bring up that boy again like he was something to be proud of. 

All she saw was a regular little boy with above-average muscles cleaning up a garbage yard. She didn’t understand what this man saw in him. Then again, she couldn’t quite grasp a human’s sense of pride in another human being. Maybe it was a familial feeling, something that isn’t innately about being prideful about one’s own self but to share that pride with another. She couldn’t understand it, so she kept asking him about the things this boy had accomplished. 

To have someone unknowingly love you or be proud of the small things you did, as a father would for a son who did well on a mathematical test, sounded utterly alien to Makima. She compared that to her own childhood with the government never gave her that. It was either a predictable outcome that she excelled in an advanced placement class or a harsh and severe punishment if she ever failed at a course they taught her. 

She still recalled those memories vividly.

“As expected of Makima, you’ve passed with flying colors.”  

“Why can’t you understand? You don’t have any learning disabilities, so why are you failing?” 

“Friends? No, dear Makima. To have friends in this field is to become weak. Friends are only tools to further your standing, remember that.”  

“A hug? We don’t do that around here, Makima. To show empathy to others is to be taken advantage of. The only time you ask for a hug is when you want something.” 

“I want her ready by tomorrow. What do you mean she’s a child? She’s not human. She doesn’t have rights; she’s a devil.”

Makima clenched her armrest tightly and smiled when she finally got rid of those voices. Of those people. She remembered having the Japanese Prime Minster gather all of the people who raised her and their families into a room for her to deal with as she saw fit. 

Their screams and shouts were like a musical composition made entirely of their combined suffering. She’d ordered the teacher who taught her all her known subjects to gouge her eyes out; she forced the man who taught her all of those useful psychology tricks to continuously slam his head against his own work desk until he couldn’t think; she made the man who taught her how to use her powers against other people watch as her loyal dogs mauled his seven-year-old daughter to pieces; she let go of those demonic thoughts with a sharp exhale and slowly opened her eyes back to the real world. 

“Can you tell me more? I want to know more about your time with this boy and… of your old mentor.” 

The skeletal man smiled, “Of course.”

Toshinori thought that this was a first. He never sat down on a crappy beach filled with trash and expected to tell parts of his life story to a complete stranger. It was fulfilling to get old memories off his chest with someone and had them completely invested in his tale. 

She was genuinely laughing at the times he told her about his mentor who scolded him on something he shouldn’t have done, or when he, in a time of crisis, had to fight with a villain who shrunk his clothing, revealing his ass cheeks to the public. They stayed an hour longer talking about stuff like that and he didn’t mind telling her more. She never once interrupted his stories, she just listened. 

And Toshinori was never ladies' man, but he thought it was the first time he’d made a woman cry about something like this. He didn’t point it out because the woman wasn’t wiping them away, she just let them continue to flow like a river. She just kept staring at him with those eyes and waited for him to continue. It was sad and depressing, and he couldn’t stand seeing those tears any longer, his heroic side would never stand for it. He got out of his chair and stood in front of her, gesturing to stand up as well as he held her hand.

“What are you doing? Is your student--” The woman was wiping tears away with one hand, that genuine and somber smile still present on her. Toshinori without a second thought pulled her closer and gave her a hug. 

She went quiet and it looked like she was speechless. In fact, she seemed as though she froze into solid ice and it made Toshinori think he was hugging a log. 

Midoriya’s muscles were on fire and felt like jelly as he stumbled over to All-Might’s lawn chair. He stopped himself when he was that his idol was hugging some random lady. All-Might obviously saw and gave him a brief wave over the woman’s shoulder and kept talking to her. 

He didn’t want to interrupt anything and just laid back on the sand, staring at the dark-blue sky as it began pushing the sun down.

Makima didn’t understand what had transpired. She was still processing what that man said to her and was staring at the little note he gave her while waiting for a taxi. This was the first time someone hugged her without asking. She felt no malice or ulterior motive behind his embrace either. It was just a hug and it felt so strange to her. She brought up the tiny piece of paper he gave her and read the little note. 

‘Don’t bottle up your emotions.’ She crumbled the note and stuffed it into a pocket in her dress. 

Makima felt conflicted and kept thinking about the whole thing on the ride back to her hotel. Did he hug her because he was thankful that someone listened to his boring life story?

Did he do that because her made-up personality for him actually looked like she enjoyed his stories about some dead and gone mentor, and he wanted to express gratitude for that? 

Her mind came up with so many conclusions as to why she got a hug out of everything. She only cried because she felt envious of him. She hated how he told her about this family of friends he had who cared for him. She disliked how much affection was oozing out of his soul. All Makima could think about was how greedy that man was with what she wanted. It was like dangling food in front of a hungry person and having the audacity to savor every bite in front of them as they starved. It made her angry that this fake pitiful feeling was welling up inside of her because of this one interaction. She’d wished she left the beach the moment she saw it, so she would have never met this stranger. 

What she didn’t know was that a part of her, the tiniest part that made her slightly human, knew those were excuses and lies. That minuscule part of Makima which contained a sliver of empathy, wanted to stay and listen to more of those stories.

The driver, on the other hand, saw a frown on that woman’s face in his rearview mirror throughout the whole ride back.

Birds were chirping and the cold morning dew swept over the outside of Giran’s bar. It was almost sunrise, but his new-soon-to-be business partner demanded that they meet as early as possible. The way she talked this morning on the phone with him was nothing short of Makima feeling irritated about something. Something obviously got her panties twisted in a bunch and Giran didn’t dare ask. He just agreed to meet at six in the goddamn morning and made sure to gather up all the things she wanted from that list she gave him a while back.

Six in the morning, jeez…  

A large yellow packet slid across the booth table and a gentle hand took it and opened its contents. Inside were a pristine identification card and driver’s license, several personal documents, and a completed resume with loads of references. 

“Making all of that was a piece of cake for someone like me. That thing is as good as the real deal. I made sure to get your good side too.” 

He went through an arduous process of making it the cleanest set of personal information in all of Japan. 

“Answer me one thing, you’re really wanting to join up with the Musutafu Police Force? Are you serious about that?” Even he, an infamous villain thought that idea was batshit insane. 

“You do realize hound dogs like Detective Tsukauchi’s bunch don’t let go of scents once they get a whiff of you.” He wouldn’t be surprised if Tsukauchi and a whole gang of Pro Heroes just nabbed his new contact right there and then when she waltzes into that den of pigs. 

Makima hummed and nodded, “I’ve been meaning to get acquainted with the local law enforcement around here. It’s a position that I was formerly in, and I’d like to get into a similar work force.”  

“Geez, you must like being in charge, eh? Holding both the whip and leash at the same time?”

“Something like that.” 

Makima didn’t acknowledge Giran for another solid minute and kept looking over the rest of the things she’d asked him to make. A bachelor’s in criminal justice and law enforcement from the University of Tokyo, a passport, and many precious certificates and reports needed to get into any typical law enforcement agency. 

“These are perfect, thank you, Giran.” She put the papers down and gave him her undivided attention, her cold mood diminishing from earlier, which was good. A ‘I am pleased’ type of Makima was a lot better than ‘I’ll make you murder the shit out of yourself’ type of Makima. “As for your question, I hear that there’s quirks similar to mine, isn’t that correct?” 

He shrugged, “I suppose so, but what about it?”

“You’re going to scour far and wide in all of Musutafu to find someone that fits my description so that they can take the fall for it.” She continued, “When you find a match, bring me their names, age, addresses, and their close relatives, friends, lovers, everything.” 

Giran could already imagine the loads of people he’d have to in touch with to make this happen. “What do you need close relatives and all that for?”

“I’ll need them to make false alibis for my doppelganger. Just having the one person take the blame won’t be enough.” She did that signature creepy ass smile that Giran didn’t like. “If I could get access to their relatives and friends to say that they have been acting suspicious, like not talking as much, being paranoid over the course of several weeks, and shutting people out, it’d make the perfect breakthrough for those detectives to go after. Isn’t it nice to fool a hound’s sense of smell by making it sniff out an animal’s grave and giving up, only to not realize the corpse hidden underneath it all?” She tapped her nose to emphasize it. 

“And the evidence that they have on your red hair and that they know the killer is a woman already?”

“Just leave those little hiccups to me.” 

Fuck sake, this woman is not right in the head…

“I’ll see what I can do. Psychopathic plotting aside, we got to talk about what you owe me now. I’m going to be bending over backwards getting all this, so I expect you to do the same.

He waved his hands and made to light a cigar, giving it a few puffs before speaking, “I’ve got some friends I’d like you to meet. They’re a handful, I'll tell you that right now. Most of them, though I say probably only the one, is a real anarchist; wants to change society’s viewpoints about heroes and stuff.” He tossed a picture of a young teenager with a bunch of hands on his body.

“This here’s their spoiled brat that’s sorta leading the whole thing.” He tapped the photo with a finger, “His advisor, the one that’s probably the competent one, is the guy who’s wanting to meet you. He sets up meetings with the brat and his mysterious ‘investor’ to recruit people for their new and upcoming organization.” Giran puffed out some smoke, “Thing is, not a lot of people are meeting up to their expectations. It’s like they’re building up their own league of criminals, and Kurogiri here,” He threw another photo of a man covered in dark blue mist, “was really interested when I told him about you.”

“What is this one’s quirk?” She pointed at Kurogiri’s picture. 

“It’s teleportation, probably why he’s so well needed by that investor. He’s a ‘get out of jail’ free card with that ability.” As soon as he said that, Makima’s smile grew a tiny bit,  “I’m afraid I don’t know much about the brat. It has something to do with his hands, or so I’m told.” 

“Hm, that’s alright. And what is this about a job they’re wanting me for?” Her eyes focused back onto him, and Giran always felt as though it was piercing directly into him. He shuffled a bit in his seat uncomfortably and took another hit of his cigar.

“These guys want to break into the U.A High School to whack All-Might for good.” Giran lifted a finger before Makima could say anything, “And I know, it sounds like the most dumbest plan I’ve ever heard, but apparently, they got some secret weapon against the big guy. Something that was made to fight him one-on-one.”  

A weapon to take down Japan’s mightiest and strongest hero? Was it a gun or a person?

“Dumb ideas aside, they need people to distract the other heroes while their weapon goes to work on All-Might. That is where you come in.” He pulled out another packet with photos of a separate training area inside the school called the Unforeseen Simulation Joint. “You’re going to be with a few groups of other villains that will keep the school kiddies at bay, though it won’t be easy. I hear that each group will have to take care of either a supporting teacher there or if you’re unlucky, a pro hero like Eraser Head.” 

Makima tilted her head at the title, “Eraser Head?” A man with a pencil eraser on his head came to her mind. 

“He’s trouble, especially to you. He has the ability to temporarily erase the quirks of anyone he looks at.”

Makima hummed at the thought of this Eraser Head, his quirk sounded really useful. More useful than her current dog. She glanced over to Gyu in the corner of Giran’s bar who jumped a little when he caught her staring at him.

“The kids themselves will probably be push-overs, and the areas are all meant to be rescue joints, like a simulation kinda. There will be urban areas with alleyways, your specialty,” He earned a little chuckle from Makima. Giran did a little fist pump in his mind, “Others will include burning buildings, forests, or a flooded zone.” 

“And when will I meet these clients?”  

“They’ll be here in about a few weeks through Kurogiri’s portal. They said they had to take care of some business up in Hosu and Kamino, so we may have a bit of a delay before you actually meet them. Oh, and a word of advice, don’t tell them too much about your power. You’ll have them pounding on your hotel room every day with how useful it sounds. Just tell them a little white lie that it has a time limit or only works on certain conditions. It won’t be good if my partner is suddenly whisked away from me.”

“Hm, I’ll keep that in mind.” She saw him slam a bottle of black fluid and a pair of dark denim clothes too onto the table.

“You’ll also have to change up your look for these guys and for your crazy-ass police infiltration. I like them, well, that’s a lie, I only like Kurogiri, really. But, it’d be better if you wore something more discreet for them and for the attack on the USJ. 

Giran tapped the bottle and it switched colors slowly, “It’s black dye for your hair. Don’t worry, it’s really neat, I got it from some of my support-gear contacts up in the Americas. Just pour it on your head and snap your fingers. It changes from black to your original hair color in about a minute or two, give or take.”

“And these clothes…” She lifted up the stone-washed denim jacket and pants, noticing the plates inside the coat’s fabric. 

“Bulletproof denim jacket and jeans, my friend. I’m really proud that these things will finally be put to use. You see I got these for a girl I liked and she said they didn’t fit her and…” He saw Makima was ignoring him again, “Never mind, in any case, they’re good to last a couple shots.” 

“Thank you, Giran. I’ll be sure to express my gratitude after all this is done and finished.” 

“You’re welcome. Just remember, don’t tell those guys too much.”

All she did was give him a nod and exited the bar. He ran a hand through his hair, sitting with that woman is like walking on thin ice half of the time. He’d hoped that with his gifts, she’d look at him more favorably. Giran already drew up plans of planning a bank heist with her powers 

Just baby steps, Giran. Just baby steps.

Seven weeks. 

It had been seven weeks and nothing resembling his suspect had popped up at all. Ever since he and that young boy who could talk with animals got a lead, it was like this girl just up and disappeared. He knew that with the news getting out, any chance of finding this control quirk user had vanished. She’d probably seen the articles and figured it’d be better to skip town or stop for a while. He wished he could’ve slapped the person responsible for leaking it. 

Tsukauchi looked up to the sky and saw the grey clouds forming, weeping as if they knew that this case was becoming muddier. 

The pitter-patter of rain came shortly afterward and he rushed to get inside a busy café. A nice warm latte would ease his nerves and give him time to think of what to do next. Some of his buddies said that this might turn into a cold case with how little they’d gotten with it -- that fact was further solidified when the overseas tests came back the same as theirs -- this person didn’t exist. Whoever they were, they were doing a damn good job at being incognito. 

He thanked the girl who made him his latte and took a seat next to the café's exit, taking his trench coat off and placing it on his chair. 

More rain lightly splattered against the windows with a small wind picking up, it was getting heavier. He’d have to wait here for a while until it died down. He looked outside, hoping to at least be distracted by the scenery. 

People out in the rain were jogging or walking faster to find cover and umbrellas soon came out as the clouds spat out beads of water from the sky. Puddles began forming nearby and the faint plinks of the rain became a bit therapeutic to Tsukauchi’s ears. 

He heard conversations of some schoolboys talking about U.A. and how they planned to ace the entrance exam, with one of them sounding more arrogant than all the others. Tsukauchi tuned out that riff-raff and brought out his phone, checking to see if he’d gotten any texts or missed calls while out today. 

News articles pertaining to upcoming events, like a dancing competition for youth ages fourteen and older, or a visit from the United States with their own number one hero Captain Freedom. Tsukauchi’s index finger scrolled through more articles and it just showed more stuff he didn’t care about. 

Tsukauchi sipped more at his latte and saw a text from the Chief and he read it thoroughly.

‘Detective, I am elated to tell you that we’re getting some help from the Hosu branch on your case. They recommended one of their newer additions to the force that specializes in analyzing crime scenes. From what I can tell you, she’s determined, hard-working, and a no-nonsense kind of character. Swing by the office to introduce yourself when you get the chance.’ 

Another addition to the Musutafu Police Force? Tsukauchi downed the last bit of his coffee and went back to his notes, thinking of what he could show this new recruit about this case that he didn’t already know. If he was lucky, maybe she’d point out some grand flaw in his analyzations and find a hidden clue that neither he nor the rest of the force didn’t figure out yet. 

Tsukauchi trudged through the rain with an umbrella he got from the café owner, who insisted that a man of the law should take it and get back to work. He took it with great thanks and kept trying to keep his hat on his head without the strong wind trying to blow it away. 

It took a while to get back to the building, but he’d made it with only a slight bit of his trench coat being drenched. He pulled open the doors and was by welcomed with the usual secretary at the front entrance of the lobby who told him that the Chief and the others were waiting for him.

He walked further in, seeing a large crowd of his fellow officers peeking through the cubicles and whispering to one another. Each of them curious about the new addition. 

“She’s really pretty.”

“You think she’s one of those geniuses? She looks really young!” 

“Man, those guys in Hosu are lucky….” 

“The sexy cavalry has arrived!”

“Tsukauchi’s got to be the luckiest son of a bitch to be working alongside that.” They all tilted their heads to the side as if to stare at something, some blood coming from their noses as they grinned at each other and high-fived one another. 

He squeezed past the leering, if not unprofessional group of officers, and strode to Chief Kenji who had a hand on this woman’s shoulder.  She was a nice enough-looking lady. She had black hair and yellow eyes in a long-sleeved dress shirt with a black tie and some fitted black pants accompanied by brown shoes. Her hair was tied up into a bun and she had steel-colored glasses on. 

“Ah, you’ve made it, Tsukauchi! I was just showing her around the office, woof.” He brought the young woman forward, “I want you to meet Mashiro Hayakawa, our newest addition to the team and your brand new partner, woof.” 

If eyes could pierce souls, then hers certainly did when she made to shake Tsukauchi’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Tsukauchi.” Hayakawa's voice was serene as it was professional. “I aim to not be a burden to you and hope to be in your care.” 

Chief Kenji laughed and looked at Mashiro with his dog-like grin. “How about you go and get acquainted with the rest of the force? Sansa here can show you where your desk is afterward, woof.” The feline officer saluted and escorted the woman away from them

“So, what do you think of her? I’ve read her reports and they’re all outstanding in terms of her capabilities.” 

Tsukauchi rubbed his head, “I don’t know yet, I’ve only just met her, Chief. And why is Hosu’s bunch suddenly wanting to help us? It seems pretty strange to want to send us someone like Hayakawa out of the blue.” 

“Eh, they said she wanted to transfer and get a new feel for things in a different environment, woof. The guys in Hosu recommended her to us and I couldn’t say no to more help, woof.”

“Hmm,” Tsukauchi watched Hayakawa from afar as she shook hands with their dispatchers, officers, and even their undercover unit as Monika, one of their best, viciously started chatting away with her. “I’ll be in my office. I’ll ask Sansa to have her swing by soon enough.” 

Now if he could only figure out how to bring this case back to life…

Chapter Text

The station was as busy as ever -- constant calls from dispatch on small-time robberies, a concerned citizen giving details on some sort of incident, or the barrage of various conversations going back and forth. It was invigorating to see such a lively police force so adamant about staying active. 

Makima’s eyes roamed over the various desks where her fellow peers worked tirelessly on new assignments, their smiles ever-present on their faces. It was the model police station, one that served the people and stayed true to justice. Every visitor’s concern was handled in a professional manner, and she observed how happy these officers appeared to be whenever they solved something as trivial as getting an old woman’s cat down from a tree. 

The true eye-catchers of her time here at the station had to be the heroes who turned in criminals or helped with a case. They worked in tandem with one another at times and she couldn’t help but stare at each one, remembering their smells and the unique costumes they wore. There was a fireman named Backdraft, a hero who worked with the Fire Department and his quirk sounded…

Proficient, but not as useful as All Might’s or Endeavour’s, Makima thought. She considered sacrificing Gyu and letting him run a little rampant in a store so that she could see how fast heroes respond to a scene and if, at all possible, time a potential ambush for a hero. Since she’s gotten to this world, there appears to be a Pro Hero patrolling system that goes in place for various sections and districts of the city. 

Little by little, she would trickle her influence throughout this department and gain information on all sorts of things. The routes that a hero may take, the timing and schedules of the various police officers here, and anything they feel extremely attached to. 

Humans were fickle like that, and she utilized that specific aspect of humanity as best as she could. In the face of villainy, most would put on a bravado act and say that nothing will deter them from enacting justice upon all forms of evil. However, dangle something precious in front of them then that all falls to pieces. No longer would Makima see a brave human willing to sacrifice tooth and nail to fight what they considered evil. No, what she would see after she was done showing a brave soul their child or lover’s eyeballs is a mewling and pathetic little thing. They would grovel on their knees with their heads buried in the ground. They would cry out in despair, their noses filled with snot as they pleaded for mercy. They would stop in their tracks and bow down in the face of something that has absolute control over their lives. 

And just like in her previous world, the humans who put on faces of heroism here were no different. All that mattered, in the end, was that they were flimsy and emotional creatures with an interesting viewpoint on justice. 

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, making a loud buzzing sound in her left pocket. 

‘Remember to come by the usual place. Our new friends are finally ready to meet with you.’ A text from the letter G popped up on her phone and she made sure to make a note on attending in her ‘villain ‘attire as Giran puts it for the two clients. He insisted and told her that she was going to be dealing with dangerous people. It was more for her safety and to keep her from being recognized out in public. 

Did he really think that little of her? It made her a bit happy to have fooled the infamous info broker himself, and she showed it by putting on her best altruistic smile for her new occupation as a detective in the Musutafu Police Force. Ever since she first arrived, everyone had been on their best behavior, even going so far as to flatter her on the most basic of things. At first, it was adorable. There were so many compliments going her way and she, as a top-class manipulator, could take advantage of it all.

Fast forward to a week at the job and her desk was constantly filled with gifts, notes of thinly veiled confessions and love letters, or other types of things that would make any other sane woman want to get in touch with Human Resources. Makima didn’t mind, though. It just meant more potential voices to back her up when the time came to get rid of Tsukauchi. 

Her plans depended on him taking the bait from the soon-to-be-found doppelganger. She could already imagine the sheer look of despair on his face when he figures it out all at the last moment.

A polite knock snapped her out of a calculated thought process, and she glanced to see Sansa with a binder in his arms. This feline was another creature that really fascinated Makima besides the dalmatian chief of police. It wasn’t a devil or a fiend whatsoever. It was a human with a cat quirk.

“Hayakawa, I was asked by Tsukauchi to give this to you. It’s all the information we’ve compiled on the control quirk user and potential leads that he’s had when the incident happened.” He heaved a heavy binder onto her desk, making a loud thump as it dropped. “As you can see, Tsukauchi doesn’t dare leave details out when it comes to his cases.” He did a smile and waved his goodbyes, leaving Makima to look at the humongous thing. 

She flipped it open to find pages organized in neat dividers and various sections highlighted with annotations and notes taped to the sides. The level of detail in this was absurd to the point that Makima had to give credit to Tsukauchi. He really wants to find this ‘control’ user so badly that he even started looking into the Yakuza -- specifically the Shie Hassaikai. It was a name Makima heard tossed around when she was spending time with Giran, but she had no use for them right now. Until she’d dealt with both this snooping detective and Giran’s favor, she’d put the Shie Hassaikai and other Yakuza groups into her plans later.

It piqued her interest that Tsukauchi was even looking into that fight she got into at the Capitol bar and that love-struck girl she met was a potential lead that the detective highlighted in his notes. 

Still, the only hurdle since she came here was the fact that their evidence room was under lock and key, protected with so many other irksome devices that are probably far more advanced than the ones she had experienced back in her own world. Things like finger scans, face scanners, and the like were especially irritating to her. She had to infiltrate someone’s mind and have them get the piece of hair for her.

The Chief of Police sounded like a wonderful subject for that, but no. It was far too obvious and people would question why he, of all people, would want to take a gander into it. The only other option was Tsukauchi or a forensic scientist -- one who could take it for her and ask to re-analyze it again for her as a cover. 

She was going to replace her hair with a doppelganger’s, accusing it of potentially being a proxy hair and say that the murderer was using someone else to commit the crimes for them, and then claim it was a ploy to throw off herself and Tsukauchi as they find a new lead. To anyone else, they’d question it brutally. But with Tsukauchi’s affirmation, it would become fact. After all, no one would dare question Musutafu’s best detective. But that idea may change with this Hinata girl...

She wished she could’ve been done with him much earlier by using her powers. She only needed to get into his mind once to make it work. However, the illustrious detective had a stalwart and unique mind. 

Every time she was with him as he explained the situation of the case, his mind was like an impregnable fortress. Forever alert and constantly building up theories, scenarios, and deductions. All her efforts to slip inside, lay her presence within, and leave it for later were shot down by a barrage of awareness, paranoia, and sheer willpower. With each attempt, her control was blocked. It was like trying to pick a steel padlock when compared to others who usually left the door to their minds wide open, like Gyu. It was rare to find a human with such a complex and impervious mind. 

Individuals like that were troublesome because it meant that either Tsukauchi feels like an equal to someone like her, which was vexing to Makima, or he doesn’t feel as though she is superior in a certain way. The others here clearly did with some of the women and men here already thinking of her as a young prodigy who is blessed by great intelligence and beauty, who emphasized that fact and felt beneath her in terms of said attributes. She had to figure out what would make him feel inferior to her, or, if possible, break his guard down and assume direct control that way.

She thought continuously of Tsukauchi, a whirl of plotting ideas brewing in her mind while she looked through the details of a gigantic binder. 

The sun was already gone, and it was getting dark.

Shigaraki was getting impatient; he didn’t like last-minute changes. The sooner he got to All-Might with his Nomu, the better. He scratched his neck for the fourth time, clearly getting more upset at how late it was getting. It was agreed that they would meet at a place that Kurogiri’s buddy designated at seven-thirty. He begrudgingly reared his head at the clock that clearly displayed it had been two hours past that. Two hours and this control quirk user was not here yet. She was starting to get on his nerves, and he hadn’t even met the damn girl yet.  

“You told us she’d be here by now. Where is she? I’m getting really sick and tired of sitting around here doing nothing.” His irritated question went over deaf ears as Giran did nothing but shrug. 

“Be patient, Tomura. I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.”

“You told me that two hours ago and she still hasn’t shown up, Kurogiri. I’m starting to think we should just bail. It’s obvious that your new character will not join my party.”  

A doorbell rang and Kurogiri immediately walked to the door to let in a woman with black hair in a matching denim coat and jeans. He was relieved that she finally showed up that he audibly sighed in relief. 

“Please pardon my tardiness,” She took off her coat, hung it up on a coat rack, and sat right next to the sleazy broker.

She sat in a way that was carefree too like the damn girl couldn’t be bothered to be here. Why come at all then? Shigaraki wanted to leave already. He didn’t like players who didn’t give any effort into the game. They were a waste of time and he felt like this was too.

Giran quickly got up from his chair and placed his elbow on the bar counter, taking a puff of his usual cigar, “I’m glad you finally made it, Makima. We were just beginning to want to play a game of Yahtzee while we waited for you.” 

“You’re late,” Shigaraki added with great irritation. “We waited almost three hours now for you to show up. What took so long? We all got things to do here, and I don’t like long loading times.”

Shigaraki got more than a little furious when she leaned a bit towards him with a smug and confident smile on her face, “I was busy.” 

Shigaraki narrowed his eyes, “Busy doing what?”

The girl thought about her answer, “Busy working.” 

“You--” Shigaraki almost wanted to grab her throat and disintegrate her, but Kurogiri interfered and brought himself into the conversation.  

“Are you the one with the quirk?” Kurogiri sat down with Shigaraki. 

The black-haired girl in denim nodded and spoke, “I am, and you must be Kurogiri. A real pleasure to meet you,” She made to shake his hand and he obliged. 

“Same to you as well.”

“This right here is Tomura Shigaraki,” Kurogiri continued and gestured toward the young teen who grunted his displeasure in response. “I assume you know what we plan to do. Are you willing to go through with it?” 

Makima nodded, “Yes, I’ll help you. But I cannot control opponents like All-Might.” She continued, “I can keep any opponents off you, but my quirk cannot pierce the mind of a person like him. It works on awareness and the level of someone’s perception. If they’re fully aware of the danger they’re in, then I can’t control them. Its limit also changes depending on the person, so even if I did manage to get him, it won’t last long enough for your weapon to kill him.” 

“I see.” Kurogiri looked a little disappointed with the way he folded his arms, “That is unfortunate. I was hoping we could’ve used you to let our Nomu deliver the final blow to him while he was under your control. But we can still have you assist us in dealing with other pro heroes.” 

While the two of them exchanged words, Shigaraki listened. He watched and knew that this woman was holding back on something. She wasn’t telling them everything. If there’s one thing he hated the most, it was secrets that his party withheld until the final battle. He scratched at his neck again, with each minute that passed, he already began hating this black-haired woman. Making him wait for hours in a crummy bar and acting so smug with her answers. It even made it more infuriating when she questioned their plans of approach. 

He made sure to remember her face when all this was said and done. If she made them fail this mission, or worse, she bailed on them early on for the final boss, then he’d make sure to have her killed. 

All For One was counting on him to kill All-Might. That took priority over everything. If this girl didn’t make the cut, then that was okay. He had a game-changer tank with him that will for sure get the job done. This girl is just a throwaway party member; she was nothing special. He tuned back into their conversation to see that it was near its end. 

“Then it is settled, in a few more months, we will defeat All-Might.” 

That young child’s eyes never left her, she felt them on her ever since she walked into Giran’s bar. All that rage, irritation, and anger fueled the boy. If she were any other devil, Makima would’ve thrived on all of that negativity. He was a piggy bank of raw emotion, and she already could see the horrific deaths that the boy is probably imagining on her. 

She paid him no mind despite the glares coming from him. Her focus was on the boy’s companion -- the mist-man Kurogiri. Where the boy was impatience incarnate, the man was his complete opposite with his calm composure. He had a polite way of speaking and was very well-spoken. 

“If I am to help you with your plan, I expect a favor.” 

“After being so late, I don’t think--” Kurogiri stopped his young charge’s refusal with a wave of his hand.

“What is it that you want? If it’s money, we can provide that for you.”

Makima shook her head, “I want something simpler than money. I need you to acknowledge a false lie for me in the future.” 

Kurogiri looked confused, “What?”

Makima elaborated further, “I am working on shaking off Detective Tsukauchi’s leads on me and I have need of a person to take the fall for my crimes. I need you to create a lie and say that my doppelganger was in league with you. That they were using a proxy, a woman to be precise, to commit the incidents and other crimes while staying hidden in the most inconceivable place imaginable. Make the lie believable, like one of you two or a low-level thug starting a rumor that the control quirk user is working with you all, and have them utter it ‘accidentally’ in front of Tsukauchi’s undercover agents.” She walked over to where her coat was and pulled out a folder from its inner pocket, “This is where I found out where one of their very best undercover agents, as I’m told, frequents in hopes of getting information on villains.” Makima rested her chin on her hands and stared happily at Kurogiri as she sat back down while the villain looked at its contents.

“The public will be shaken by it and doubt Tsukauchi’s previous findings, clamoring with anger that he is losing his edge and costing people their lives and safety with his incorrect deductions. The detective will be ripped apart by both the media and the Pro Heroes at the same time. Giran here has already found me a suitable scapegoat and a woman to be the proxy.” She tossed them a picture of a young teenager in a U.A. outfit.

“A U.A. student?” Shigaraki started giggling as he snatched the picture with two fingers, “That’s actually a pretty good idea, lady. If word gets out that one of their own heroic students was actually killing people, society will go nuts at them!” He looked at Makima once more, a gleaning shine of approval in his eyes. His giggling stopped with a low wheeze, “Kurogiri, make this happen for her. If it does ever come to a game over for us, then maybe her little scheme could help us in the long run too.” He handed the photo to his companion to hold onto. 

Kurogiri shared the same sentiments as he gathered everything up gently, “We will make it happen. Our investor might like this idea of yours. It doesn’t only serve you, but us as well.” A portal was swirling to life behind him and Tomura, “This meeting has held great merit. Thank you for giving us some of your time, we will be in touch soon.” 

The two disappeared into nothingness, leaving Giran and Makima all alone, with the latter falling into a chair and wiping some sweat off his brow. “I can’t believe you’ve gone and made such a friendly impression on them! Hell, you even got the little shit a bit giddy with your fucked up idea. But I bet it’s going to take a lot more to make you rise in his eyes.”  

“People like him seem to enjoy causing chaos in this hero society, I just took that into consideration.” 

Giran chuckled a bit, “And was it wise to lay out all the cards at your disposal to them? I don’t think they’re the kind of people you should be showing your ace to.”

“I only wish to see a plan go through thoroughly.”

“I feel like you’re dodging the question…”

“I have to get going. There’s someone I’m going to visit and I’m sure they’ll be very happy to see me after so long.”

“You’re not going to… y’know.” Giran dragged his thumb across his neck as a gesture.

Makima just smiled at him in response. She sat up and went to put on her coat and left the bar.

Of course, Makima wouldn’t tell anyone who was in that meeting that she had her own plans for Japan’s mightiest hero. She’d seen the videos of him blasting away opponents with his punches — that power alone was incredible. She had to have his quirk all to herself. If she could get him alone, without the rest of his gaggle of fans and friends, it would be perfect. A brand-new Golden Retriever with so many connections to Japan’s Pro Hero Agencies. What more could she ask for in a newly adopted dog? She would have him on his knees in due time. 

They all will, sooner or later.

Once she left the bar, Giran sagged into his chair like an ooze. He was worried that Makima would somehow piss off the little brat and cut ties with his potential money-maker right there and then. If only he had met this woman a lot sooner, he would be a hell of a lot richer.

Then again at the same time, he sort of wished this woman would have never found him at all. She scares the living hell out of him, and he really didn’t like dealing with people who gave him those kinds of vibes. He had to make an exception for Makima. She was bad news, and he knew her type right away when she did that messed-up display of power back then.

A master at manipulating people and a keen eye for analyzing them too. It didn’t help that she had a busted quirk to go with it. Hell, that quirk was made for her. A literal match made in heaven.

He made sure to keep recordings of himself in his house, at work, and someone to give him affirmation that he was himself. He put contingencies in place just in case he somehow falls under her control.

Giran let out a little scoff, “I can’t believe I’m getting paranoid because of her.” He scratched his head and reaffirmed himself that everyone has a weakness. He just had to find out what hers was before she got too carried away with using him like that. Telling him to find this person and that... He wasn’t anyone’s errand boy and he sure as hell wasn’t Makima’s. Giran laughed a bit, “It’s just one quirk. You probably get tired, or it makes you weak the more you use it.”

On that night, Giran promised himself that he would find a way to keep Makima from turning on him when the time came. She needed him and without his connections or his free will, he would be useless to her. He just had to figure out how to stay in her good graces.

As the man laughed with a cigar in hand, so too did the perched crows on a telephone pole who cawed in response.

His computer screen flickered to life, and it displayed a commonly used green landscape with blue clouds as a wallpaper.

Tsukauchi took a deep breath and pulled up another report made by Mashiro Hayakawa in an email he recently received. The noises of the police station were slightly drowned out by the thin walls he had in his office.

'Greetings, Detective.'

'I’ve compiled a list of things that you haven’t investigated throughout your research and sent it as a readable document. The main thing I want you to take a look at is your investigation into a drunken murder gone awry recently and look at the file I made about a young woman named Hinata Fujiwara. You seem to have overlooked her statements regarding her meeting an individual prior to the incident that happened not too far from the murders between two drunken friends. I also wish to analyze the hair sample you got from the first scene of the crime. I’ve been thinking up a hypothesis and want to test it to be sure.'

'I would also like to join you in meeting with this Hinata Fujiwara once more and getting an accurate statement about someone she met or saw while at the Capitol Bar.'

'I hope this email reaches you shortly.'

'Sincerely,'

'Mashiro Hayakawa.'

Tsukauchi pulled up the document and read through it. He was impressed by the amount of work she put into revising and adding her own bits about his case. Everything from looking at it in a different manner, looking further into using young Koda’s quirk and the interpretations he wrote down from the animals who witnessed the quirk user.

Working with Hayakawa herself was relieving. Not a lot of people could keep up the pace with him in terms of detective work like her and this thorough document she just sent him reflected that. Her ability to adapt and offer solutions to his inquiries about the case showed why she was probably a pro in this field. He felt a bit of happiness knowing he had found an equal in this work of justice. 

When he told her that, Tsukauchi took note that she disliked that. Like a lot. To anyone else, they would still see a smiling Hayakawa, but being a detective meant that he saw things more differently and efficiently than others. Everyone had small ticks that indicated when they weren’t happy about something — tiny twitches of the eye, mouth, or a slight furrow in their brow. Since his time with her, Tsukauchi took to account that this was the first real bit of the hidden Hayakawa that anyone at the department has seen. 

It was slight and almost instantaneous — if Tsukauchi hadn't spent years doing this, he wouldn’t have noticed it either, but he did. Hayakawa tends to change her smile ever so slightly as a form of reaction. He didn’t comment on it and knew that Hayakawa would only hum at the mention of it. She really was a no-nonsense type when she worked on the job. Most of her smiles were based on a chart he devised himself for figuring out how his new partner felt. Of course, he would never ever deign to show her that because she may think he was creepy or analyzing it too deeply.

A tiny upward smile with her eyes directly on someone meant that she was actively listening and giving them her full attention. This is the smile that Tsukauchi had seen whenever he was talking with her or to the Chief himself.

A small downward smile with her eyes looking a little bit behind you meant that she was not happy like he just saw now. That type was often directed at some of his fellow officers who tried to smooth talk their way with Hayakawa.

He had a few more expressions of Hayakawa that he cataloged, but it helped him understand his partner. She was someone that he attributed as a person who took work more seriously than anyone else should. Her dedication was pretty scary and he was happy that at least another person was inclined to solve a hard case like this just as he was.

Tsukauchi started writing her an email, asking her to come along with him to eventually meet this woman that she mentioned earlier.

“How are you doing in Musutafu, dear?” An old lady appeared on a tablet and was soon joined by an old man with a thick mustache.

“I’m doing great, Mom!” She waved at the with a polite wave and did a peace sign to her father. “Hi to you as well, Dad.”

“So, I heard some interesting gossip lately and cute Nozomi was telling us you met a fun someone at your favorite bar not too long ago. When can we meet her, sweetie?”

“Mom! Nozomi wasn’t supposed to tell you about that!”

The older man laughed, “We’re sorry. Nozomi couldn’t keep quiet about it. We heard she was really pretty and had an amazing smile.” He wiggled his eyebrows and winked.

Her blush was deepening and Hinata deeply regretted telling her old-time friend since elementary school about that encounter. “She was nice… I promised to meet her again when I could and I think you’ll like her. She was super kind and very thoughtful about things.” The two parents showed their happiest grins. “I was going to try and find her again and get things going.”

They both laughed, “That’s our girl. Keep up the nice work in Musutafu, sweet pea. Your mom and I love you very much. We’ll come to see you on Friday.”

“Can’t wait! Love you!”

“Love you too, dear.” The two elders waved their goodbyes and the call ended. Hinata felt a bit better knowing that her family was coming to see her soon. She was a bit nervous to tell them that she hasn’t actually seen that red-haired woman since then, though.

Hinata was also a bit dismayed at the fact that nothing fun was happening for the past couple of weeks. Well, that was a lie. She was a bit more saddened to not see that amazing woman she met back at the Capitol. Whenever she went back, her usual bartenders shook their heads, probably knowing full well that her new ‘friend’ whom her parents are excited to meet would never show up again.

Hinata couldn’t recall the woman’s name, but her face was definitely coming back to her. Those eyes and her beautiful red hair. It was like God himself sent an angel to her that night at the Capitol bar, and she tried to bank on everything she could on getting to know more about the woman. Alas, she must have drunk far more alcohol than ever because her memory blanks anytime she tried to recall that night with that babe.

Hinata whined into her cushion as she lazily sat on her couch, putting on a random channel to watch as she tried to think of ‘what-if’ scenarios with that beautiful woman.

What if she asked for her number? What if she asked if the woman had any socials? Hinata could only fantasize about what could’ve been. That woman may have changed her life in the best way possible.

Hinata kicked at the end of her couch more irritably, getting a little frustrated at missing a prime opportunity to meet someone special in her life, and she was doubly sure that woman might have been the one. She was so kind and understanding with her that she sat at her table! Her table out of all the other ones! It made her cheeks darken a little with red and she hid her blush under her couch cushion.

Her doorbell rang and she grunted and pushed herself off her couch, “Coming!”

Was it more of those Mormons who swing by, offering their tales about God and all that stuff? It wasn’t Sunday, so that wasn’t likely to happen. Maybe her neighbors? She wasn’t making any noise…

She peeked into her door viewer, and she had to rub her eyes twice to confirm what she was seeing outside her apartment.

Hinata looked into it again and did another double take. She took several deep breaths, and her heart was racing like never before.

It was that woman whom she saw back at Capitol! What was she doing here?! Oh, jeez, Hinata looked at herself and noticed a distinct lack of pants or a shirt. She had to bolt back to her room and slip on something presentable!

“Is anyone in there? I feel like I may have the wrong house…” Ahh, there was her gorgeous voice again! She cannot waste this chance!

You can’t muck this up, Hinata! Hinata gently opened her door to someone she never thought would show up at her apartment.

She was wearing a white blouse with bright blue jeans and converse shoes and her hair was down this time. The woman looked surprised when Hinata answered the door and did that heart-warming smile once again at her.

“Did I come at a bad time? I can come back later—”

“No!” Hinata raised both her hands up, “I mean, I just was a little shocked that I got a visitor today.” She backed up and gestured for the red-headed wonder to come into her apartment. “Come in! I can make some tea or something! But, uh… what brings you here? How do you know where I live?”

The woman brought out a card in-between her two fingers. “You left your ID with me accidentally and I wanted to stop by to give it back to you. I didn’t have time because of my new job, so I couldn’t come by sooner. My apologies.” She made to bow, but Hinata stopped her.

“No worries! There’s no need to do that! I was the one who lost it and you went through the trouble of coming all the way here and…” Her mind was blanking on what to say at this opportune moment. She was, as her best friend Nozomi called it, choking at the worst moment.

“Can you tell me your name!” She squeaked out and her blush was probably getting more noticeable each second. “I was probably blacked out by that time and I’m so sorry for forgetting it!”

The woman smiled again and asked if she could sit, to which Hinata obliged and made to sit close but not too close to her. Her hands fidgeted with her messy hair as she looked at her and back to the tv.

“Makima. And it is good to see you again, Hinata.”

Ahhhh, she remembers my name. Hinata was in heaven, no she was in heaven and experiencing nirvana at the same time.

“Is that all you came by for? I mean, not in that tone! You know what I mean!” Hinata frantically shook her head, “I didn’t want to sound mean, but I meant that if you want, we could sit and chat more about stuff.  Maybe even go out for coffee or link up again.” Hinata’s face cheered up as she remembered, “Oh, and if you don’t mind, could you add me on social media? I’d like to see you again and hang out.”

Makima nodded, “Yes. But that’s not all I came here for. I came because I really need help with something. Can you do that for me?” She was scootching closer to Hinata and her heart was racing badly. Hinata wouldn’t fault herself for going into cardiac arrest for this. She pinched herself to make sure this wasn’t a dream. It thankfully wasn’t and she was slowly getting a strange fuzzy feeling in the back of her head while Makima started talking to her. Like something was rubbing it gently and kneading the back side of her brain like a massage.

Hinata’s vision started to darken like last time and she couldn’t allow that to happen again! She’ll black out and lose out on this chance! Was she fainting?! She can’t!

Hinata suddenly stood up and stumbled to the floor. Her muscles weren’t reacting to her commands and her eyes really wanted to close for some reason.

“Oh, my. Are you sure you’re feeling all right? Don’t you want to sit with me?”

Hinata waved a hand away, “I’m just feeling a little woozy. I just need some water. Can we talk about that favor later?”

Makima’s beautiful and understanding smile slowly went away, and her face distorted into a glare. No, Hinata was imagining things. That smile returned a second later and Makima said something to her, but she couldn’t remember what it was.

Darkness encroached onto her vision and the last thing she saw was Makima placing a firm grasp on her head as she slumped to the ground.

“I read your email the other day, Hayakawa,” Tsukauchi said in a proud tone as his hands held a firm grip on the steering wheel.

His partner was looking out the window and she nodded. “I’m glad you did. So, are we meeting this young lady, then?”

Tsukauchi grinned, “Yep. If your guess is correct and the lead works, then I owe you a drink or two.”

The drive from the Police Station to the Musutafu Apartment complex wasn’t too far and he was lucky that traffic was pretty small today. If Hayakawa’s lead works out, then this will be a nice way to end the weekend.

They arrived at their destination and had to get to the fifteenth floor to meet Fujiwara. He had hoped that the timing was good and that she wasn’t gone or asleep. They took the elevator up and waited in silence for a while.

“May I ask a question, Detective?”

“Ask away, Hayakawa.”

“Are you wearing perfume?” She was covering her nose with both hands.  

“No, I don’t, oh,” Tsukauchi was sniffing his coat, “I think you probably smell my sister’s perfume on the car. My apologies, I should’ve asked if you could smell it or not while we drove here.”

“No problem, I was just curious. That is interesting, I never knew you had a sibling, Detective.”

“It’s a well-known fact around the station, she’s a bit of a character, I’ll tell you that.”

The music inside the elevator continued its piano tunes, “I imagine you get along with your sister pretty well?”

Tsukauchi laughed, “You could say that. She’s always asking about leaks I can offer her on criminals or a Pro Hero like All-Might, and I staunchly tell her that those are confidential. Can you believe that she supports vigilantes?”

Hayakawa smiled, “I cannot. Vigilantes are criminals, too. Does she not understand?”

Tsukauchi threw his hands in the air, “She doesn’t! I believe we were always born complete opposites to one another, but regardless, she’s my sister. You always got to love your family, at least, that’s what I think.”

The elevator dinged and opened to the floor that they needed to get to, “I guess we can talk more about this later. Let’s get to miss Fujiwara’s room.”

The two detectives walked down the hallway, taking in the view overseeing the rest of Musutafu. It was probably a sight to see at nighttime. Tsukauchi knocked at the door with his right hand and a notepad in his left.

The door opened up to reveal a woman in an oversized t-shirt and blue-patterned pajamas. Her black hair was a mess, and her eyes were narrowing on the two. “Can I help you?

“Sorry for the intrusion, ma’am. We are with the Musutafu Police Force, and we were wondering if you could answer a few questions for us.”

Fujiwara looked around, “This isn’t going to be super long like last time, right? I answered all I could about that bar thing that happened a couple of weeks ago.”

Hayakawa stepped in, “It’s related to something else. I’m sure you’ve heard of the control quirk murderer running around, yes?”

Fujiwara scratched her head, “Yeah. What about it? You guys are still working on that?”

“Yes. We believe you came into contact with an individual matching the user’s description and we want to know if you saw anything suspicious or heard anything this person said to you at that bar.”

“Oh, you mean the woman I was with?” The two detectives nodded their heads in unison. “Uh, yeah, sure. Come on it, I’ll tell you.”

Her apartment stunk of sake and ramen. It was obvious this woman had an interesting lifestyle. There were pictures of the girl looking happy in her graduation gown with a loving older lady and an older man with a nice mustache were probably her parents. A degree in Computer Science hung up right next to it and there were articles of clothing laying around. Next to the couch were more pictures of a happy couple holding a little girl. It was nice to see a glimpse of this girl’s life, even if she lived it a little too casually.

Fujiwara slumped onto the couch and yawned, “So, what do you guys wanna know?”

Tsukauchi sat next to her, a face filled with determination, “Did you see what the person looked like? What did she do prior to meeting you?”

“I remember red hair and she was wearing denim clothes…. Um, oh, I remember her taking a phone call at one point while I was with her.”

Tsukauchi’s eyes widened, “What!?” He yelled before apologizing, “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

Fujiwara sighed, “As I said, she was taking a phone call before she sat down with me. Though, she acted kind of weird afterward. Her eyes looked—”

“Blank? Like she wasn’t all there for a while?” Hayakawa added. “Did she answer it with a reply at all?”

“Yes… How did you—”

Tsukauchi was writing a lot of things down in his notepad in a quick manner, “Do you know if she said a name or anything?”

“No, but I thought I heard a man’s or a young boy’s voice while I was close to her.”

Tsukauchi looked as though he hit a jackpot once more. Eight weeks and finally there was something solid coming up. “Hayakawa, I think we’re done here.” He shut his notepad, “Can you swing by the station for a while? I need you to see one of our quirk specialists who can help sketch out the person’s face for us using their quirk on your memory.”

“I can do that. Can you give me a bit to get showered and dressed?”

“Of course. We’ll meet you down at the lobby.”

The girl nodded her appreciation and the two decided to leave the building, sliding their shoes back on and excusing themselves from the woman’s apartment.

“A proxy then? It must be voice activated or the victim has to reply in order for it to work.” Hayakawa said, looking at Tsukauchi’s notes as they waited for the elevator. The sun was out bright today, and a few crows circled around the building.

“Yes, and did you hear her? She said it was a man or a young boy. So, this murderer is probably a long-distance type of user who uses her as a means of killing people. Though it doesn’t explain how the proxy is able to use the quirk as well.” Tsukauchi was the first inside and pushed the lobby button on the elevator. That same piano tune coming on again.

“Do you think it’s possession quirk maybe? The user perhaps takes over our victim’s body and uses his quirk from afar?” The elevator’s dings sounded off as they slowly reached the first floor.

“It’s possible, we’ll have to ask the forensic team and check out that hair again and search our databases for a quirk that’s similar to this. This is good, we’re making progress.” Tsukauchi patted her on the back, “Thank you for coming along, Hayakawa, and offering your expertise. I really do owe you a drink after all this.”

When they reached the bottom, the lobby was in disarray. People looked shaken and a bearded man with glasses was calling 911 with a look of fear in his eyes.

Kids were crying and holding onto their parents. A large crowd was beginning to form outside.

“What’s going on?” Tsukauchi was the first to ask the receptionist who was trying to not vomit into a bin as they were standing by the receptionist’s desk. “Please, what happened?”

It was an old lady who answered, “It’s the young lass! She… Dear god, she jumped.”

It couldn’t be…. Tsukauchi’s consciousness couldn’t accept it. We were there! We just saw her!

Tsukauchi and Hayakawa rushed outside to where the commotion was and saw a body splattered onto the solid concrete.

It was Hinata Fujiwara. The woman they were just talking to a few minutes ago had suddenly decided to jump off of her balcony while they were probably still in the elevator. Her head was split open and there were bits and pieces of her brain splattered across the window of the main lobby. The rest of her body was elsewhere at the scene.

People’s cars were stained by some of the side splatters that Fujiwara’s corpse left behind and both Tsukauchi and Hayakawa assumed that those people were going to the car wash after this.

“Detective, can we analyze her home phone? Maybe the killer called her?” Hayakawa was the first to ask, “She probably got called while we were waiting in the elevator.”

Tsukauchi fell onto his knees, still unable to accept the fact that the murderer had finally resurfaced and probably made this innocent woman kill herself. He stared at what was left of her corpse. It just wasn't possible. How did this happen? She gave them valuable information and she suddenly decided to do this... It didn't make any sense. Why did this woman, who became their prime suspect and lead, die so suddenly? 

Was it time-based? Did the killer tell her to do this at a certain time of day? Maybe when they met at the bar? He had to pull up any security or camera footage from this apartment complex and take down witnesses who saw it. He had to scrub this place clean and find out when she got put under this quirk. 

He sighed in frustration. It was without a doubt that the media would feed on this like a frenzy and say that he and Hayakawa failed to keep this poor girl safe.

“Detective,” Hayakawa was by his side, trying to shake him out of whatever he was in, “The rest of the team will be here shortly. We got to get this under control.” 

“You’re right," Tsukauchi said. "I’m going to go get the crowd inside while you make that call.”

“Right away, Detective.” Hayakawa pulled out her phone.

Tsukauchi vowed to avenge this poor girl and anyone else under the spell of this wicked human. No, he couldn’t call this person that. They were beyond being called human. They were a monster, just like the animals at the first crime scene had told him and Koda. He began to get off his knees and steadied himself, taking a few deep breaths, and started to wave down the crowd, ushering some of them inside so that they don’t have to see Fujiwara’s corpse.

Hayakawa, on the other hand, tilted her head a bit upwards to the fifteenth floor and back to the remains of Fujiwara, an indifferent smile appearing on her lips.

I really don’t like cutting loose ends like this, but your death was necessary. I’m thankful that you did your part wonderfully to the end. Don’t worry, Hinata. I’ll apologize to your family on your behalf.

It was the least that Makima could do for a useful tool that helped Tsukauchi take the bait. All that was left was her hair sample. Once she dealt with that, all she had to worry about was Giran’s silly little job and getting underneath Tsukauchi's skin. It was nice to know that he had a sister. She assumed at first that he had a lover because his perfume was really messing up her sense of smell, but she struck gold without even trying. The man went ahead and told her about this nosey sibling. She'd have to look into this sister of his. It sounded like he really loved her. 

She looked back to Tsukauchi, who was easing the crowd and calming them down.

How cute. I think I may have found the opening in your impenetrable armor, Tsukauchi. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Six: Whispers of a Devil

A breeze brushed past and the air itself felt dry and frigid.  The scarce few leaves left on trees were still clinging on despite the fall season swooping in and tearing them away, bit by bit.

Cars passed by the sidewalk, briefly stopping at a traffic light before moving on. Most of the people around were dressed for a cold day today. Some wore thicker coats, others had scarves wrapped around them, and a few started to put gloves on to protect their hands from the chilly wind.

The smell of a McRonalds’ fast-food store was nearby, and the waft of burgers and fries filled the air momentarily before being whisked away as a boy with indigo hair and purple eyes strode past it.

Hitoshi Shinso began rubbing his hands together, hoping to get a bit warmer and to find a train station to get himself back home. The coat his family had given him for his sixteenth birthday did wonders to protect his torso and body from the cold, but it didn’t do so hot for his hands. This fall weather somehow found a way to get past his warm clothing. He shivered a bit when another breeze blew by.

It’s been at least a month now at U.A. and he was starting to love it. Though, the only downer is that he didn’t make the cut for either of the school’s hero departments. He was instead delegated to class 1-C’s General Department…

He wouldn’t let that stop him. He just had to wait for the U.A. festival and find a way to get transferred over to the hero course.

And speaking of it, the U.A. high school was beautiful in every way. The pristine gates and shining buildings just emanated a sacred hall of heroic justice.

He stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the sign to switch and allow him to cross. He closed his eyes, dreaming of changing everyone’s perspectives on his quirk. He would show all those nay-sayers that his quirk can be used for good. He promised to never use it to hurt someone or use it for nefarious purposes.

He quickened his pace and sought to take the quickest route to the train station in Musutafu to his home.

The smell of a flowery perfume invaded his nostrils, and he looked around to see if someone was nearby, but it was just him standing alone as he waited. Shinso decided to kill time by sitting down on a bench and looked at his phone, checking the news for what was going on recently.

An article about the increase of people killing themselves from a dangerous quirk came up and he couldn’t help but want to throw his phone onto the tracks. It was linked to that control quirk user that’s been lurking around and his classmates have been whispering that maybe he was the killer.

He hated how this killer was giving the quirks of people like him a bad reputation. The fear of all the students at U.A. increased tenfold when he remembered the fact that Musutafu’s best detective came by to interview him a couple of times. They all started to believe he was the Control Killer and that he was probably a sadistic villain hiding among them. But he wasn’t! He never called or told anyone to kill themselves.

It didn’t help that Detective Tsukauchi’s partner, the one with glasses, kept drilling him with questions non-stop in the private room that his principal offered them to use. Things like where he was at the time of those crimes, if he has been seeing anyone, namely a red-haired woman recently, or if he’d been searching up oddities like how to use a burner phone.

Once the interview was over, the school went into an uproar and started rumors. Their words of gossip involved him being investigated as the Control Killer and his abilities apparently matched this psycho.

Shinso’s knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip on his backpack straps, thinking back on how even his neighbors were beginning to feel wary around him in his own neighborhood. Parents nearby would tell their children to avoid him, and people would lock their doors or refuse to talk to him nowadays.

The questioning from the police didn’t stop either. That detective in glasses thought it was best to interview his family too; since then, things at home have been weird. His father often dozed off and spaced out whenever he asked him what that detective was interviewing him about.

His dad would brush it off and say he shouldn’t worry about it. That by itself sounded off. He never left details out about things. He was, as Shinso put it, a real freak about not leaving out the tiniest detail in a conversation. In fact, his dad was a real social person who loved to talk about conversations that he had with people, so to see him do that was super odd.

The train slowly came to a stop, opening its doors and letting out its passengers. Shinso thought that he’d question his dad about what that detective asked him again when he got home. He stood up and boarded the train.

He noted that he was one of two other people in this train car. Most of its previous passengers had left it, leaving him alone with a single woman boarding it alongside him.

That smell of that perfume invaded his nostrils again and he couldn’t help but take a few glances at the woman – bright blue denim jeans and a brown jacket to go along with it. What really got his attention was her hair. It was a light reddish hue and he remembered that the police and news were warning people that the murderer had that same color…

He laughed a little. There was no feasible way that she was the Control Killer.

Shinso told himself that the chances of that were super low. Only an idiot would believe that the control user would come here and target him. He tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible just in case. He pulled out his phone and pretended to be busy with it.

She was quiet for the most part, but then he saw out of the corner of his eye that the woman was shuffling a little closer to his seat. He moved a bit farther in response. She did the same and got closer.

Okay, he was actually getting a tad bit nervous now… His heart was in his throat, and he was sweating. He pulled at his collar and switched to move over to another seat.

She did it again and this time to his seating area.

The only noise was the occasional bump that came from the tracks.

The woman got closer this time, close enough to rub shoulders with him, and he could swear that his heart was beating like a drum now. He wouldn’t be surprised if this woman could hear it.

He hesitantly took another look. “Can…” Shinso swallowed, “Can I help you?”

The woman said nothing.

The train came to a halt at another station, and he never sat up so fast in his life and speed walked his way out of the train. He glanced back to see that same woman still sitting on that bench.

He’d just have to walk home.

He sighed heavily and began walking down the staircase, passing other strangers who went about their day. He looked at his watch and saw that it was five-thirty. That was weird. He didn’t recall being out that late. Where had the time gone?  He distinctly recalled boarding the train at three in the afternoon. Was he spacing out for a while? 

A familiar silhouette stood at the top of the train station’s staircase.

Not again! Shinso jogged instead and sped up his pace. He decided it was best to get the hell out of there. He didn’t care if people gave him weird looks as he ran. For the first time in forever, he was terrified.

He wouldn’t dare look back because he feared that he’d see that woman right behind him.

Grief.

It was something that every living human being had to deal with at one point in their lives. Some dealt with it as a family; others with friends; and a scarce few grieve alone.

And here she was alongside Detective Tsukauchi in a quiet conference room with a grieving elderly couple of the late Hinata Fujiwara. She sat right next to him as he offered the two warm mugs of coffee. The old woman took it gingerly while the elderly old man refused it and simmered angrily in silence.

“I really am sorry about your loss, Mrs., and Mr. Fujiwara.” He took his hat off and placed it on the table, “We’re doing everything we can.” Tsukauchi said, “If it helps, we have—”

A wrinkled and callused hand slammed down onto the table, and Mr. Fujiwara roared and rushed to grab Tsukauchi’s collar, pulling him close to his face.

“Haito!” Mrs. Fujiwara yelled, pulling on his shoulder, a pained grimace on her tear-stricken face.

The distraught old man wouldn’t have it anymore. He ignored his wife and decided that Tsukauchi was the one who would bear his wrath.

“We’ve been waiting! Waiting for you to get justice for our little sweet pea! Our little girl… Gone!” A sob escaped the old man. “Just tell us how you’re going to get this son of a bitch that did this or are you going to sit around on your ass and do nothing as you have been?!”

“We are doing all we can to find—”

Mr. Fujiwara jerked him around again, “Have you?! We’ve been to the interviews; we gave everything we had on what our daughter was doing; we even let you guys into our phones. What more do you guys need in order to catch this evil monster?!” His eyes had bags under them, and they were red and filled with tears. It was clear that he hadn’t been getting any sort of sleep.

The only response was the silent ticking of a clock again in the conference room at the Musutafu Police Station. The old man’s wife tugged on his shoulder, pleading with him to let go of Tsukauchi with tears in her eyes.

“I assure you that we are doing all we can to catch the murderer. You just have to be patient. Our very best are looking into call histories that your daughter has been making with an unknown individual in the Musutafu area.” He slowly undid the grasp that Haito Fujiwara had on him. “We are taking this very seriously, Mr. Fujiwara. The only reason why we’re being delayed is due to the fact that the killer is committing more murders with their quirk, and we are trying to pick up the pieces of evidence they’re leaving behind. Again, the only reason why it’s taking so long is that we’re looking at every single crime scene that’s been occurring these past few months."

“Haito, please let go of the man.” Mrs. Fujiwara made to put her husband back onto the office chair. “I’m so sorry, Detective. We are just… we’re so lost without our sweet pea. She was our world, and we took care of her so much. We….” She paused. “We always knew that her dream of coming to the city life was never good for her.” She covered her face with her hands and sobbed into them. “We never should have let her come here.”

“Please,” The old woman begged Hayakawa while her husband seethed angrily in silence, “Just bring this monster to justice. That… is all we ask.”

“We will. It will only take time. For the sake of your daughter, get some rest. Her death will not be vain, I assure you of that.” He stood up and gestured for them to get up as well but before that he stopped and got right in front of them and ushered Hayakawa to do the same.

Her eyes were firmly locked on him getting on all fours and proceeding to prostrate before the elderly couple. Tsukauchi expectantly looked at Hayakawa and hoped she’d do the same. It was only natural to apologize profusely like this to the ones who failed to protect their daughter as members of Musutafu’s Police Force.

“Hayakawa…” He said with a whisper. “Come on.” He didn’t get to see the look of confusion on his partner’s face nor the apparent hesitation in her actions as she just stood there.

“Oh, dear, you don’t have to do that for us.” Mrs. Fujiwara waved her hands in a flurry, “It’s okay. We don’t need that.”

“No, no. I insist. Right, Hayakawa?” he looked up from below the surprisingly comfortable texture of the conference carpet to see a face he didn’t think possible on his partner.

A concealed look of abhorrence that only he saw.

Was she a germaphobe? Did she not like that kind of thing? Maybe it was stepping over the bounds for her or something. Either way, he knew that he made her angry. She put on a category 4 – secretly angry - smile on her face.

He quickly brought himself up and dusted off any dust he got on his knees or hands. “Do not worry, Mr. and Mrs. Fujiwara, we will bring justice for your daughter.”

Tsukauchi opened the door and allowed Sansa to come to take the two out of the room and leave the two detectives alone.

It was unnervingly quiet.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to get to work on our case, Detective,” Hayakawa said before briskly leaving the conference room. She left him all by himself in the conference room without a second for him to say anything. 

A gorilla in a police outfit leaned onto the door frame, “Anything troubling, Tsukauchi?” He offered him a cup of coffee which he took.

“No, not at all. It’s just that the Fujiwara couple came by for the third time this month.” He sipped it and tasted that bitter yet invigorating brew on his tongue.

“I see that you didn’t mind the old bugger grabbing onto you.” The gorilla pointed at his scuffed shirt where Mr. Fujiwara had his hands. Tsukauchi nodded and tried to straighten the tie and the collar.

 “I don’t blame him for getting mad like that.” He took a drink and paused for a bit. “The man lost his only child and he’s going through the stages of grief. It’s something we all go through, and we do what we can. We deny the fact that someone was lost; then we start getting angry at something or anyone; and then we start to bargain for it and plead for something to be done in exchange; soon it’s onto being depressed and feeling down; and lastly, it’s acceptance. It is that part which is the hardest and I hope we can ease that for them by catching this villainous demon.”

“I hope so, too.” Tsukauchi went back inside the room and sat down, gently placing his hat back onto his head. “I really hope so, Gori.”

Hayakawa strolled back to her desk, waving to her peers as she did, offering them curt nods or smiles.

Her area and office desk were neatly organized into a stack of binders, notepads, and sticky notes.

She grabbed a pen and started jotting down information about the next potential lead from the notes Tsukauchi sent her via an email.

Tsukauchi… The pen in her hand snapped in half and she couldn’t help but clench both her fists as quietly as possible.

That single moment where he was prostrating himself in front of her and that elderly couple was so nice to watch. It was like a glimpse into the weakness of the strong-willed detective and she enjoyed the sight. However, that was all ruined the moment he had that expectant look in his eye, asking her, of all people, to bow down in the lowliest form possible to Hinata’s pitiful old parents.

The very thought of her doing that felt so repulsive. It almost made her want to just stomp on the detective’s neck right there and then when he was on the floor.  

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t afford to lose her composure; it wasn’t in her nature to do that. Instead, Makima took a deep breath in and exhaled as long as possible.

She almost wanted to give him credit for making her mad. It’s been a long time since someone genuinely made her dislike another living person so much that they were beginning to look more and more like a lowly little flea than a human. But this wasn’t any regular little human. No, it was one with an irritatingly strong will and a tenacious attitude to go along with it.

For now, to take away some of her growing irritation, Makima, or rather Hayakawa, pulled up an email and went back to work.

Time had to be killed and the sun continued to shine its way through the curtains and windows of the station.

“Absolute control of the situation.” That all-too-familiar venomous voice rewound itself and repeated, “Absolute control of the situation.”

Giran continued to survey the recording that he had sent Kurogiri a while back. He replayed it on a silver laptop in his own apartment and watched the recording, which was recorded in high definition from a tiny camera concealed by a ceiling lamp. It showed Makima just waltzing into his bar and somehow managing to control every single man with a gun without even saying anything. She didn’t need to look at them, say anything, or touch them to make them all fall under her control.

Just what was her ability and how could he counter it?  

It went without saying that he was starting to get a little paranoid now because of this one woman. She wasn’t normal by any means. Hell, he was playing a dangerous game by actively avoiding her for the past few weeks. He’d left her a few messages saying that he was going to be out of town for a while, but she insisted on meeting him in person before he left.

Like I’d do that after all the creepy and messed up shit you’ve been pulling behind my back.

Giran opened another tab of an article talking about the recent Control suicides happening around Musutafu. They were getting more rampant and random. Each one more gruesome than the last.

Not too long ago, someone had jumped onto the train tracks at Tatooin station and let themselves get hit by an oncoming train. Another that happened a little over a few days ago was a man who slit his own throat in the middle of a busy street.

She was obviously the one behind these and it didn’t make sense to him. Why was this manipulative devil of a lady committing more murders so blatantly?

What she was doing was garnering the attention of both the Police Force and the Pro Heroes now. If Tsukauchi doesn’t catch on, then people like All-Might and Endeavour will soon enough. If Pro Hero Agencies were going to get involved, then Makima may as well say sayonara to her career and life that he built for her.  

Was her reckless plan to grow more of a bread trail for Detective Tsukauchi? A psychotic roundabout way to demolish him and the police force’s image?

If that was the goal, it was working. The public was starting to clamor over why the Police Force was failing to keep the people safe from this serial killer.

Many would question how she was doing this and actively evading them at the same time. He could answer that with just one thing: hiding in plain sight. No one would dare think that Tsukauchi’s gorgeous and super-likable partner was the one making people kill themselves.

It wasn’t even just the public feeling the effects of the Control Murderer’s presence. Makima’s messed-up stunts were starting to be whispered and talked about in the underworld too.

A lot of criminals and villains were all in agreement that this was more than psychotic behavior. It was just downright evil to the core. There wasn’t anything to be gained from mindless slaughter except fear and paranoia from absolutely everybody.

Of course, there were always going to be a few weirdos that popped up who felt touched by her actions; justifying the horrific suicides as righteous executions, or unbiased assassinations that targeted both the rich and poor. Some of them were hoping that the Control Murderer would target heroes as well. Something that Giran betted would happen very soon after Makima’s upcoming big gig.

He’d need more energy and a shit ton of courage to muster up for the upcoming mental tribulation in a few days. And especially more so than ever for tonight.

The night that he and Makima will meet up at Kurogiri’s bar and prep for their plan on the Unforeseen Simulation Joint.

Not only has it been ten months since their meeting to attack the USJ, but it has also been a while since he’s been in touch with Makima. Though, that was more his fault because of his reluctance to meet her after her recent murders. He’d have to think of some really well-thought-out excuse to tell her for his absence.

But still, these recordings of his bring him no closer to the truth. All it did was give him more questions than answers. If he wanted to find out Makima’s Achilles heel, he’d have to find it fast because the damn woman was getting too comfortable ordering him around. Sooner or later, she’d throw him under the bus to save her own ass. But the only thing that’s changing is that it’ll be him doing the throwing, not her.

Giran stretched and relaxed into his comfortable leather reclining chair. He lit a cigar and inhaled a bit more of that stress-relieving nicotine. He scratched his head and looked at a calendar with a cat hanging from a rope.

The message said, ‘Hang in There!’

I need more than hanging in there, kitty. A lot more. Like a hotline to the nearest therapist and a parachute if I’m going to get through with seeing her.

There was something else that Makima did that made him feel uneasy.

It was about Twice.

He was worried about letting her, a literal monster in human form, meet one of his closest allies. He didn’t know how she found out about him or his quirk, but one of Makima’s last texts to him, before he ghosted her ass, was about how she wanted to be introduced to the crazed man.  

It made him feel uneasy. Not a lot of people knew about Jin, so how on earth did she? Did someone on the inside leak info on him? Or… is she…

He peeked out of the curtains of his windows, checking to see if there were any cars parked outside that he didn’t recognize.

Nothing. Just an empty suburb with the occasional car passing by…

You really sowed a bad seed, Giran… He thought to himself. Shit. He eyed a super old contact’s name on his laptop.

A treasonous and potentially life-threatening idea came to his mind. Something that only he could keep to himself until he was absolutely sure that he could trust someone with his plan.

For now, he’d just have to suck up and be the fearless info broker he always was in front of Makima and Kurogiri…

Makima slowly ascended the staircase leading up to the rooftop of her new apartment. It was a nice upgrade when compared to her tiny hotel room back near the coast. The sun was beginning to set, and she figured it’d be best to leave a bit early on from work for this meeting she was going to attend with Giran and Kurogiri.

The whole place was very urban and lined up neatly next to two other large stone complexes. The rent was fair and the landlady herself was blunt. She never minced her words and always said what was on her mind about Makima’s appearance.

Stuff like how she should try a different hairstyle or visit a manicurist or pedicurist to put on some fancy acrylic or gel nails with fancy gems in them.

It was amusing and the rooms themselves were very spacious. She wasn’t too far from a large public event and could see the bright lights and heroic floats from afar.  

As soon as she got to the top, she snapped her fingers – the black dye in her hair dissipating and revealing her red hair to the only conscious witness on the rooftop with her.

“Welcome home, Miss Makima.”

“Hello, Gyu.” She said, taking off her trench coat and placing it on a cold bench next to a growing rooftop garden, “Did I get any voicemails or anything from those two yet?”

“Yes. Kurogiri said to meet him at a trusted site twenty miles west of here at a bar of his choosing. He says that the place will be secluded and that only you three will be there.”

“Perfect. Could you wake my guest up from his nap?”

The stone golem nodded its head and motioned over to her left and hoisted up someone onto his shoulder, gently sitting him upright into a kneeling position.

“Good. Tune this to the live news broadcast channel for me. I need to grab the list.” She handed him her phone, leaving Gyu and the guest alone while she prepared herself for something.

With what little free will he had left, Gyu tried to look at the features of the person she asked him to nab. It was an old man – no more than fifty-six years at least. He had a nice complexion and was only briefly marred by a snake tattoo on the left half of his upper brow.

He was dressed in a black and yellow suit with matching crocodile loafers.

Gyu’s free will could no longer resist, and he casually turned Makima’s black smartphone onto the news channel for his master.

Makima returned with a list, some white cloth, and a picture of a person. She had a beaming smile on her face the whole time.  She came to the side of the man and started to tie the cloth around his eyes, covering them completely.

Her eyes slowly moved over to the little screen showing the Musutafu Local News channel on a public internet broadcast.

“Good evening, Musutafu. I’m Satsuki Yorozawa, reporting live from downtown’s annual cultural festival. I mean, the decorations and floats this year are absolutely mind-boggling.”

“Is the food good over there, yet?” A female news anchor asked, laughing along the way. “Because if there isn’t any of that delicious curry being served there, I don’t want it.”

“Ha, I’m sure there won’t be any left if I get to it, Yoshinora.” Satsuki jokingly remarked. “And before we start, I want to let the public know that All-Might and Endeavour will be making an appearance here soon. I’ll be right there trying to get an interview out of them. And be sure to bring a coat or two down here, it’s starting to get a lot chillier with this fall weather!”

Makima tuned out the voices of the two talking about the mightiest heroes in Japan and instead focused her attention on her guest.

“Satsuki Yorozawa. Say that name.”

“Satsuki Yorozawa.” He said without hesitation.

Makima smiled and stood up, gesturing for Gyu to come closer. She motioned her head to have him read the paper; a phone number was on it.

“Oh ho, it looks like I’m getting a call from my grandfather.”

“Oooh? Do you mean your old man from Kyoto? I bet he’ll be proud that his grandkid is live in front of a thousand people!” A crowd of people was behind, trying to get a moment of fame in with Satsuki and there was a chef with chopsticks trying to advertise some Takoyaki in front of the camera.

“The very same!” He pulled out a flip phone and made to answer.

As soon as he did, Makima closed her eyes and focused on the news anchor’s name – searching through a myriad of other faces and souls in the grand abyss of nothing. It was like swimming through a murky pond with denim jeans and a cotton shirt on as she waded through them all – finding the correct connection between the scent of one’s soul and their name.

She rarely used this power. The last time she used this, she did it on a grand number of people. But this time will be different. She was going to use a different trick – one that she’s been doing since she got Tsukauchi to think that the killer was calling people through a phone.

Finding his glowing name and soul was a tedious yet simple task. It was like one of those matching card games where you had to find the right one in a certain select amount of time. The only thing that was different was matching a living soul to a word of power, a name to be precise, instead of a measly card.

Makima quickly grabbed Satsuki’s life force with her palms and tied them together like twine. Once that was done with, she placed a hand onto it – grasping both the name and soul – binding them as one until she had a firm grasp on it with her power.

She opened her eyes to see him answering his phone on the broadcast.

What Gyu saw was devilish and it only solidified her as someone with a quirk that wasn’t of this world…

Satsuki shook his flip phone and shrugged after hearing no response come from his grandpa.

“Everything all right there, Satsuki? Did your old man get shy?” Yoshinora asked from the News Station.

He was about to answer until something felt weird. Like something was off… A strange buzzing noise was creeping into his head, and he couldn’t pinpoint it. That was soon accompanied by a fuzzy feeling all around his body and people began noticing that he was starting to lose his balance. They kept a grip on his shoulders so that he wouldn’t fall over.

“I’m fine! Just a little bit under the weather it seems!”

“If you say so! Anyways, back onto the topic of heroes, I think I see—”

Something was bad. Something was wrong. It didn’t feel right. He didn’t feel right. He was breathing hard. Allergic reaction? Impossible. He wasn’t allergic to anything but bee stings and there weren’t any in sight!

Satsuki was breathing badly, and people were beginning to look at him funny.

The loud noises of drums, candy wrappers, and the many conversations of people around him were starting to hurt his head. All the bright lights above them were irritating his aching eyes. Even the smell of delicious food like curry, squid, and meat was nauseating. 

Makima sat down with Gyu on some lawn chairs that he pulled out for the two and had him hold her phone so that she could watch the scene play out before her.

“Are you okay, Satsuki? You’re looking a bit…” Yoshinora said with concern.

“Aargh!” The reporter was screaming at the top of his lungs and snatched that chef’s chopsticks out of his hands and quickly shoved them into his eyes. People tried to stop him and get him to let go of his hands, but he pushed them away and drove the utensils deeper into his sockets by slamming his head against the chef’s little Takoyaki stand until he fell onto the ground. The once lively and energetic reporter started twitching on the floor. Blood spurted from his face until he went deathly still.  

"Oh my god!" Yoshinora screamed, "Satsuki!"

"Someone get an ambulance on the line! Hurry!"

The broadcast caught glimpses of people screaming and the sudden cut-off of the gruesome scene that happened in front of everyone. It ended abruptly with a message saying that they'll be right back after these commercials.  

It’s been a long time since she’s felt power flowing through her veins like boiling water. She could feel the muscles in her arms and legs tending to themselves and strengthening with each literal second.

She could smell a lot better than ever before; her ears could catch even the faintest of sounds like a bat; and her sight doubled in clarity and sharpness as if she were an eagle.

All the while she could hear the distant screams and police sirens wailing from afar.

Makima was in an exceptional mood now. It was far better than her recent buzzkill at the station with Tsukauchi, but that didn’t matter anymore. She was fine now. Way better than fine.

The fear of control occurring within Musutafu, especially now, was her reason for feeling so alive in such a short span of time. If she had any business dealing with an area riddled with Pro Heroes such as the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, then it was only natural to get prepared as much as possible.

And the only way to get prepped was to rely on her own strength and agility against those who could resist her control. She had no doubt in her mind that it’ll take a lot more than a little beatdown to get someone to submit to her in that school, especially a Pro Hero.

She hasn’t gone against one yet, so this will most likely be her introduction to the true heroic strength of the people in this world. If they’re anything like the hybrid devils back home, then she had to have more tricks up her sleeve.

Makima was banking on getting All-Might herself while he was weakened by this supposed mystery weapon that the League had. Once he was at his weakest, she would swoop in and take him somewhere private. She just needed an outlet for some vermin or insects to come along with her so she could teleport away with the mighty hero in tow…

In just one more day, she’d have a Golden Retriever, one way or another.

And now she had to get ready to meet an avoiding little Giran and a well-dressed man covered in purple mist at a bar of their choosing.

Police sirens and countless broadcasts about how to keep oneself safe from the Control Killer were all over the news, newspapers, and social media.

Kurogiri was fixing up a Tom Collins with Empress Gin for Giran at a bar lounge. They were the only two there tonight, and they figured that they should meet a few hours earlier in advance.

Kurogiri knew there were going to be problems with this new addition to their plans. If it wasn’t for her blatant murdering spree like the one she just did on live television half an hour ago, then it was her audacity to be stepping over their only reputable info broker’s toes. He respected Giran greatly, and from what he was told, Makima was starting to get more ambitious.

Far too ambitious, he’d say. The stories of her somehow meeting with the rest of Giran’s contacts without the info broker’s say-so was alarming. And her quirk has shown itself to be a long-distance type.

The info-broker nervously peeked out of the blinds of Kurogiri’s bar for the umpteenth time, “I’m asking you to help me because it appears as though I’ve sown a bad seed without realizing it. Look, once this USJ biz is over with, I think you guys should,” He did a thumb across the neck gesture, “You know… Off the broad while you still can.”

Kurogiri sighed, “I’m afraid we can’t do that just yet. My investor, I should say, is really fascinated with Makima’s progress despite how… uncouth and monstrous it is. She’s stirred up the hornet’s nest with these suicides and it’s causing a chain reaction. A reaction that my investor really desires in this society. A reaction that even young Tomura desires.” Kurogiri cleaned a table spill from Giran with a moist rag.

“So… are you asking me to deal with her even longer? C’mon, Kurogiri.”

Kurogiri grabbed his Tom Collins and refilled it for the third time, “I apologize. But you must bear with it until then.”

“Fuck…” The info broker was massaging his temples, “Can you at least compensate me for anything she asks for? I feel like I’m running out of incentives to keep myself in her good graces.”

“Of course, I will wire you more funds once our task to defeat All-Might is done with.”

A doorbell rang open, and the one person Giran wished he’d never met entered the bar. A fake smile on her face the entire time and he bet his sweet dead ass that there was a glare hidden underneath her mask of deception.

Speak of the devil and she arises… Time to face the music, I suppose. Giran took a big gulp and prepped himself.

Kurogiri knew that there was something different about the way Makima was presenting herself when she sat down next to a half-drunk Giran. Her hair was obviously a red color now, much different than that all too familiar Hayakawa black he’s seen before.

Her posture and stance were far too confident and carefree than usual.

Yes, he knew. He knew that this one was plotting things too. His master had taken a great interest in her ever since he showed that old scientist the footage of her quirk. They were demanding he and Shigaraki capture her with the Nomu's help after the ordeal with the doppelganger was over with at U.A. High. It was obvious that her power was capable of great things. Things that only his master and Shigaraki could properly wield once they had a hold of her.

And yet, the mist-man couldn’t help but feel uneasy around this one. She was more cunning and deadly than she lets on. If she was able to not get detected by even the greatest Detective that Musutafu has to offer, then it only makes sense to stay extra wary.

And with the current events happening like her recent murder today, it only escalated how dangerous she was as a wild card. His master didn’t like those kinds of people. They only sowed chaos in a world that needs order under his rightful rule.

Even the air itself felt heavy with her presence. It was almost choking in a way.

She asked for a draft beer, and he made to go grab that for her, leaving her to talk with Giran alone. Poor soul.  He pitied the man. He carefully eavesdropped on their conversation and made sure to take note of Giran’s face like he told him to. If it at all turned blank, then the info broker was potentially compromised.

“So… Saw your handiwork earlier. Pretty messy, I gotta say.”

Makima ignored him. it was something that she always did with him alone.

This silent treatment he always gets from Makima… It was like a tiny power play between him and her. It was cute for the first few times, but now it was starting to get on his nerves. But he had to hold his tongue. For the sake of this gig and because he knew that she was gonna ask him for something again.

“Here’s your beer.” Kurogiri slid it over to her and she took it with one hand and took a large sip with a happy smirk.  “Now that you’re here, I can go over the plan with you.”

“Where’s the little brat?” Giran asked, “Ain’t he one of your decision-makers?”

“Unfortunately, young Tomura won’t be joining us for this, so I’ll be the one to meet with you both.”

Makima held a hand up, “Before you begin, I must ask for one more favor from Giran.” She turned to her right to face the info-broker. “Can you lend me one of your amazing friends to me? I need him to—”

“No,” Giran said without thinking. Even his own eyes widened at the fact that his mouth let that out. He was half-expecting to see his own arm choke his ass or make him shoot himself in the mouth with his concealed pistol.

He saw Makima just stare at him with a smug look on her face like she knew something he didn’t. “Very well. I won't push further. Please, continue, Kurogiri.”

Giran didn’t like how quickly she took his response. That was not good. Makima never took that word for an answer. He firmly believed that ‘no’ wasn’t in her vocabulary when she was speaking to someone. So, why was she letting it slide now of all times? He wanted to apologize, but he knew it’d be awkward to pull it up now.

“Makima, I’m having you over here.” Kurogiri pulled out a blueprint of the USJ and pointed at the center of the USJ’s plaza where a water fountain was. “You’ll be right behind me and young Tomura. We’ll need you to cover our flanks on the sides and rear with the other men we have if any of U.A.’s faculty or their students try to attack us while we deal with All-Might. “

She hummed at each detail Kurogiri pointed out on the map. The area was a full-on simulator for any kind of disaster. It was a marvel of technical engineering. There were spots where he was going to drop off the students to weed out the problem children from the Pros if they tried to escape.

“If possible, you could use your quirk on one of the students and make them hostages for us. It’ll only make the job for those Pro Heroes and All-Might much harder. Can you do that?”

“Yes. But it’ll take time for me to get back to you with a hostage in tow. Could I get some extra assistance to help me pack them around?”

“Granted. Giran here could select a couple for you. He was the one who recruited some of the more competent members.”

“Hmm. Okay.”

The plan itself wasn’t very solid, but Makima didn’t tell these two that. By the looks of it, if there were any prodigies in this USJ attack, then the number of cannon fodder will soon dissipate to nothing. Someone had to have at least swiped an informational sheet that had the children’s quirks accounted for as well. 

When she asked Kurogiri, he told her that they had no time to get that. The schedule of when All-Might teaches this course was the only priority. 

Makima didn’t approve. They had to be ready for everything. They should never underestimate a troublesome teen with superpowers. The last time she did that, she paid the price with her defeat and life.

I won’t make that mistake again.

“So, are you fully prepared to go through with this? We start at 12’o clock sharp.”

“Yes. I’ll be on standby.”

They looked to Giran, “Yep. I’ll get the guys ready and have them all meet you at the warehouse. Don’t sweat it. I’ll get those idiots to go fight alongside y’all if your brat doesn’t manage to bring more manpower.”

Kurogiri nodded his head. “Good. Tomorrow we shall finally get rid of All-Might.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: The Devil’s Playground

Yellow eyes scanned through a packet of papers; each one had a photo of a troubled individual stapled onto it. She took meticulous and detailed notes, writing them down on a brown leather notepad.

Makima leaned back in her chair. She felt the morning breeze outside on the balcony of her apartment. The sight was gorgeous and overlooked a good section of downtown Musutafu. She could pinpoint individual specks of people from afar who went about their day, the occasional traffic of cars stopped at traffic lights, and much more.

A beautiful sight and she wished to enjoy it for a bit longer, but it was almost time. In a few more hours, she would be among a large group of criminals who will attack one of the most heavily secured areas in the city.

The Unforeseen Simulation Joint – a place catered to help students learn how to handle situations in unexpected disasters. It’d serve as the sole place to eliminate All-Might and show that even the mightiest of heroes can fall if given the right precautions.

But those precautions were too low. This plan that Kurogiri and that young teen had was far too fallible. There were too many inconsistencies that could undermine it all.

Makima questioned whether there were contingencies in place if All-Might didn’t show up, but the arrogant Shigaraki felt that there was no need and claimed the Symbol of Peace would be there. But what if he wasn’t?

She was only met with resistance from the boy, and aside from breaking into the school – the objective of defeating All-Might would be the only priority. That wouldn’t do, so Makima took precautions for herself.

This was the only chance at getting inside the school itself with a lot of expendable manpower while she went about her own plans. It would’ve been a perfect execution had it not been for her lack of information about the young U.A. students in attendance.

U.A. High School’s methods of security are top-of-the-line stuff as Giran had told her, and he stated that it’d be a fool’s errand to try and squeeze any info out of that literal fortress. And he needlessly informed that the cyber-security U.A. had was explicitly made to keep hackers out. To even try something of that measure would warrant a raid on both him and her in their homes.

She had to scratch out that potential route and go in blind on that crucial info about the U.A. kids. But, if Giran was going to play scaredy-cat on that front, then he could at least provide a unique and spectacular human to help keep her Hayakawa identity safe.

Lifting a polaroid photograph with a yellow file, Makima was greeted with the image of a well-built man with a large scar splitting his forehead. This person was a hidden gem with the most useful quirk she’d encountered so far besides All-Might and Kurogiri’s.

Honestly, Makima thought it quite silly that the paranoid info broker thought he could be stingy and keep such useful people like this away from her. She’d have to pay Giran a visit to cordially thank him for such a prize. It’d be the first thing she’d do after this whole thing was said and done. Especially after his sudden outburst from yesterday.

Purple eyes carefully read through a packet of mathematical equations. He brought up a hand to his face and propped an elbow up on a long table.

The Lunch Rush dining hall was as loud as ever too.

The large food court was filled with various venues – every single one bringing a salivating smell to the air. Pizza wafted through when he passed by; juicy hamburgers with fresh and hot fries; curry and rice, and even udon noodles.

Shinso decided that today he’d give the curry a try.

A lot of people here today, Shinso thought as he checked the long tables which had several groups sitting at them. There was a green-haired boy talking animatedly with two others – a boy with glasses and a girl with brown hair. Further up past them was a louder-mouthed blondie who kept yelling at his red-headed buddy.

“Is that him??” A blue-haired girl with a bob cut whispered behind him.

“Yeah… It’s probably best if we stay away from that guy.” Her pink-haired friend said as they warily left the line.

His day was ruined once again. Shinso really didn’t like how this Control Killer situation was giving him a bad reputation. Ever since the traumatic experience witnessed on live television at the Cultural Festival yesterday, a lot of people have been on edge. Students at school, like this dining hall, have actively avoided him and some sat further away at their desks whenever he was in class.

It was only the patronizing attitude of the faculty here that kept him from losing it. They constantly reminded him that those rumors were false and assured Shinso that they didn’t harbor any ill feelings about his quirk.

However, the same couldn’t be said for his fellow classmates. He got his food and sat down at a long table by himself again for the fifth time this week. He did his best to eat in peace and tried to ignore the constant stares of his peers.

All Shinso could do was bear with it and hope that the Pro Heroes and the Police Force would take care of this situation soon so that his life could get back to a bit of normalcy.

Blood.

He could taste it in his mouth and throat, but he had to keep it hidden. It was obvious that he has exerted himself far too much for today.

Toshinori smiled through the aching pain in his side to the cheering crowd who gave him looks of adoration and awe. He waved back as he had a firm hand on a pair of criminals who thought they could rob a convenience store in broad daylight. He escorted them to a police car and ensured the public that nothing will escape the fists of justice.

“Fear not, citizens! For I am here!” He posed and laughed, allowing a few people to take photos of him before he squatted down and prepped for an enhanced jump into the air.

Toshinori had to leave now so that they wouldn’t see the blood slowly seeping from his mouth or the steam rising off of his body. With a single leap, he was up into the air and the soaring, silent sound of rushing air was a much better alternative to adoring fans and camera clicks.

He glided for a while longer and landed on a rooftop to rest for a bit. Shortly upon landing, he experienced another coughing episode. It wracked his lungs and chest again and that searing, dull pain brought itself down upon the mighty hero once more. Toshinori wiped away another mouthful of blood and was greeted by a large billboard pertaining to keeping safe from the Control Killer - a monster that has recently taken residence in Musutafu.

The Number One Hero clenched his spindly fists in anger. The people were wrong to say that he could save everyone. It wasn’t feasibly possible to be everywhere all at once, and this new villain was taking advantage of that through cell phones. He still remembered being on the scene when that incident with the reporter happened yesterday. Toshinori couldn’t do a damn thing to save the man but offer his sincerest condolences as he was carried away on a stretcher while the crowds of people watched on in horror.

After that gruesome event, most of the Pro Hero agencies were beginning to whip up a plan to catch this killer alongside Tsukauchi’s Police Force. This monster of a human being was getting too out of hand with their randomized murders. If left unchecked, he feared that this villain would do something on a much grander scale. It had to be put to an end before that could come to pass.

A faint hiss sizzled out around him as he slowly deflated even more. It didn’t help that his time in this form was running out again. He was supposed to be teaching a class today at the USJ, but that probably won’t be possible now. He’d have to talk to Nezu about this and hope that Thirteen could continue without him.

Still… Toshinori stared at that billboard, hoping that he or Tsukauchi could catch this killer and ensure that it’ll be one less evil that young Midoriya would have to face aside from that man.

Tsukauchi’s office was an absolute mess of complaints, reports, and sticky notes regarding the Control Killer. He’d hoped that he and Hayakawa would’ve gotten a lead on the bastard, but he never expected it to become this bad of a jumbled mess.

There were constant calls from all around the city who claimed or believed that they were contacted by the Control Killer. Of course, he had to put them through a whole roundabout way of securing a line with them through a Pro Hero’s quirk in order to not become a victim himself.

The whole procedure was becoming tedious. Most of the calls they received were pranks by idiots who thought it funny, or by paranoid elders and parents.

It was throwing him through a disorganized loophole of what was a potential lead and what wasn’t. As a result, progress on the case had been super slow and even Hayakawa appeared stumped with it. Speaking of his partner, he peeked outside his office blinds and watched her expressions once more – catching glimpses of who the real Hayakawa was behind that professional attitude.

What he saw was an irritated woman who was talking to another one of his fellow officers. Another confessor who wanted to ask her out for dinner or to see if she was free to watch the newest movie about Star Stripes.

Tsukauchi laughed when he saw the guy’s head droop down in dejection as he was publicly rejected in front of his friends. It was highly unprofessional and should have immediately been talked to by an HR representative. But something kind of felt a little odd with them too; they were enamored with Hayakawa. It was off-putting, but he knew Hayakawa by now. She’d know better than to manipulate her time sheet.

A new email popped up on his computer and it allowed him to refocus his efforts on more important matters than analyzing his partner.

An abandoned blue warehouse came into view as Makima started to approach it. She had no need to check the address to be sure because there was another group of thugs going toward the same destination.

“Who’s the pretty lady?” A pig-faced man said with great effort. His labored breaths and sweaty skin oozed off bad hygiene.

“Don’t know, don’t care.” His scythe-armed friend replied.

“No, no. Pugsie’s got a point, Uta.” A leering man made of paper and eyeballs said, “Gal’s looking out of place. Pretty. Gorgeous. Sexy.” With each compliment, his eyes examined the red head. “What’s this one doing all alone here?”

“I really couldn’t give a damn about the bitch, Kendo. We’re here for All-Might and there are promises of his head on a pike, so let’s get a move on.” Uta pushed them both to the entrance of the warehouse and Makima followed them inside.

“Heh, don’t be a stranger, Red. We don’t bite at all. Maybe I’ll show you around—” One of his eyeballs was poked. “Ouch!”

“I said keep it moving, Kendo! We’re already late!”

 It was loud. Too loud for any chance of hearing any normal semblance of a conversation unless one was smack dab in a person’s face to hear it.

The whole interior of the warehouse smelled horrid. A stench of cigarettes, sweaty body odor, and flatulence pervaded the air with a vengeance.

Hanako Utsuhashi could only cover her nose and gag at the smell of peanut butter-smelling armpits. She was tasked with keeping watch and protecting what her boss, Giran, has said as valuable personnel. She groaned at the word. It was too fancy and sophisticated for a girl like her. All he could’ve said was to guard an important girl. That’s all.

She eyed the entrance and saw a group of low-life thugs enter the warehouse and one of them was sticking out like a sore thumb.

Red hair and golden eyes. Those were the identifiers that Giran had given her. She was gorgeous and eerie in the way she walked so silently like a predator.

Her whole appearance was enthralling; young, beautiful, and with red hair with the most tantalizing eyes she’d ever seen. Some of the criminals next to Hanako tapped each other’s shoulders and made innuendo jokes.

She remembered instructions that were given to her prior to coming to this place.

“Remember: I want you to watch over Makima as discreetly as you can. I’m paying you extra to do that for me, so here.” She glanced at the tiny support-gear camera hidden in the breast pocket of an oversized green parka jacket. “This will be my eyes to the whole thing. Just don’t get too snobby with this one. She’s more perceptive and fucked-up than the Police Force and the media let on. And don’t worry, I’ll wire you the payment beforehand. I’d never want one of Akiyama’s comin’ after me.”

It was good that Giran was still kicking it and not in the slammer. He’s one of the only brokers who still respected the traditions to her boss. Her faction’s a dying breed in this new society with all the heroes and villains taking over the streets. If she does this tiny gig, it’ll make her stand out to the Snapping Turtle of Musutafu’s underground.

A chance at a newer position and all she had to do was chaperone a mass-murdering psychopath that makes people commit suicide. No one else knew who this lady was, and it appeared like only Giran’s new friends – Shigaraki and Kurogiri were the only ones who did.

Whispers came around and remarks were tossed around as Makima – the Control Killer – prowled the warehouse grounds as swiftly as she could towards the staging area where the two League of Villains were at.

“Hanako, you there?” Giran’s voice sounded off in her ear, “Don’t answer me, just fiddle with your fingers. I can see them. Good.” His voice was a little muffled with everyone talking so loudly.

“Listen carefully, there’s a few things that I want you to absolutely avoid while you’re with Makima.”

Again, Hanako crossed her fingers like it was a tiny game of some sort for affirmation.

“First up: Don’t ever mention me at all. I know for a damn fact that she’ll try and prod you for answers, so just dodge them however you can.”

Hanako snapped her fingers.

“Good, glad you understand. Next: Do whatever she asks; if she wants you to help carry dead kids’ bodies, then you damn well better do it. She likes to be in charge and the moment you don’t bark or woof for the broad, then say sayonara to your free will. So, it’s better if you suck up to her smug ass, alright? Good, finally glad to have a competent and reliable person. Then again, you Yakuza are dependable for something like this.”

Hanako’s pride swelled as she was complimented for her actions. She always aimed to please and she’d probably get some good words in from Giran for the Boss. She brought her eyes up to the center stage where Shigaraki was telling the crowd about something, but she ignored it. Her attention was instead locked onto Giran’s final warning.

“Last thing: Makima will not hesitate to leave you behind.”

That part didn’t bring her a lot of confidence… In fact, it dwindled.

Giran sighed and continued his warning through her earpiece. “I don’t know how this thing will go, but when shit hits the fan, you’re expected to escape on your own end. Sorry, kid. I wish I had a way to get you outta there, but I don’t. I’ll be in touch with you later, it looks like they’re getting ready.”

Sure enough, Makima was up on the stage and Kurogiri was right next to her giving a speech. His loud, refined voice boomed throughout the warehouse as it quieted down.

“We are here to do one thing: To kill All-Might. Young Tomura here,” He gestured with his hand, “has gathered you all to help us deal with the Symbol of Peace once and for all.”

A bigger and larger portal slowly appeared behind him and Shigaraki. “Do what you will and kill the children, they matter little to us. But remember to not fight amongst yourselves. We need all the help we can get to defeat All-Might.”

A wave of agreement and cheers roared within the cramped building. The thugs all hyped themselves up; sharpened their blades; loaded their guns or powered up their quirks in preparation for the invasion. All of them had sly or vicious grins plastered onto their faces.

Few of them, herself included, looked up to the mysterious Control Killer. Everyone was interested in why she was up there alongside Kurogiri and Shigaraki. Many assumed she was some sort of bigshot or friend to them. None of them knew like Hanako did, though.

That pretty smile and gentle figure hid a monster. She was, as Giran put it, highly dangerous, elusive, and at all costs meant to be either buried six feet under or locked in the deepest pits of the Tartarus Prison.

Right now, she looked indifferent to the whole announcement. Makima leaned against a metal shelf with her arms crossed and had her eyes closed. Though, the aspiring Yakuza girl kept noting that the Control Killer kept glancing every now and then at the largest brute she’d ever seen standing next to Shigaraki.

The thing looked like a literal bird demon straight from hell – an exposed brain, beady eyes, and an otherworldly physique. This thing definitely looked like something that could go toe-to-toe with the mighty Symbol of Peace. That alone kept her spirits up. It improved morale all around and made the other thugs go into a frenzy; eager to prove their worth and fight the heroic bastard who’d been a pain in every criminal’s ass since the day he debuted in Japan.

Hanako had a lot cut out for her today and she still had to find the other two members who’d be part of her chaperoning team. Though, they weren’t Yakuza. Just upper-level thugs who Giran thought would fit Makima’s needs nicely.

“Are you ready?” Kurogiri asked. “After this, there will be no turning back.” He placed a hand on her shoulder.

Makima leaned off the shelf, “Yes. There’s no need to worry about me.” She had her hands behind her back, staring directly at his giant portal coming to life in the center of the warehouse. A load of thugs was already circling around it, waiting for Kurogiri’s signal.

There it was again – that carefree attitude from yesterday. Kurogiri narrowed his eyes at Makima. Obviously, this woman had her own plans in mind while they were in the USJ. It didn’t help that she didn’t look like the fighting type. A lot of the thugs here took note of that, and he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d get ganged up on as soon as he took his eyes off her.

He saw Makima hop down from the warehouse docking stage and casually walked over to the assembled crowd, waiting for the assigned members that Giran had given her.

Kurogiri could only pity those three unlucky fools who would be paired up with Makima. It went without a doubt in his head that they won’t be having a will of their own when accompanying that unnerving woman.

Makima thoroughly analyzed the group of three that Giran had given her as aides. They didn’t at all look special in any way that piqued her interest. The three appeared bland and boring; a quality that Makima didn’t like in people. She preferred it if they had something unique about them that gave them a reason to be important.

However, all hope wasn’t lost. Out of the three, only one of them appeared slightly interesting. It was the first to warily walk up to her – the girl who had an interesting choice of hairstyle. It was shaved except for a black undercut that she’d likened to what some would call a tomboy. Her attire consisted of a green parka jacket and black denim jeans. She had this angry resting face that made her stand out in Makima’s eyes.

“I’m Hanako, Ma’am. I’m one of the ones that Giran picked out to assist you.”  

The way she spoke reminded her a lot of those stoic yet ridiculous Yakuza. This one obviously stunk like them – fresh cologne mixed with sandalwood. A staple scent for most Yakuza grunts and this girl reeked of it.

A lizard man was the next to introduce himself. He looked spindly in his baggy hoodie and khaki shorts. He looked to be suitable for assassinations with the giant curved blade resting on his hip. “I ammmmm Mugestsuuuu, missssss.” He said in a slithery voice. “I aimmm to serveeeee.”

And the last one was a heteromorphic quirk user – a man with four arms and a stone-like physique with a black mask. He was apparently the muscle of her little group. He’d serve as a nice replacement in place of Gyu. “The name’s Ryutaro. Remember it, little lady.”

The three henchmen she was assigned to looked a little more than irked when she didn’t acknowledge their introductions. There was no need. They were nobodies who only served one purpose.

Dying.

They followed closely behind her as she waited for Kurogiri’s signal.

Seven dark portals materialized, and she saw the visage of the USJ’s interior – a giant dome structure filled with areas of simulated scenarios, just like the blueprints. She saw a large water fountain in the square middle of the USJ’s plaza area. Makima strode into it with confidence.

The feeling of Kurogiri’s warping ability felt like stepping through an air-conditioned house that was set all the way to the max. It was nearly instant too with how fast Makima suddenly found herself inside the Unforeseen Simulation Joint.

A giant dome encased the ceiling, blocking any natural sunlight and the crystal blue sky from view. They appeared to have teleported into the main plaza just as planned.

The rest of the villains also slowly emerged from the portals and made their way to the entrance. Up above on a stupendously long staircase was a group of teenage students alongside two adult individuals. Makima walked beside Kurogiri and tried to get a better view of who was in attendance because the large silhouette of All-Might was nowhere to be found.

“Thirteen and Eraser Head, huh?” Shigaraki said in a disappointed voice.

“The schedule that we received the other day said that All-Might was supposed to be here,” Kurogiri added.

Shigaraki scanned the surroundings around him, “Where is he? I went through all the trouble of bringing in a couple of friends with me.” He spread his arms out and looked up. “All-Might… The Symbol of Peace.” He brought his head back down and stared with a murderous glint in his eyes towards the students. “I wonder if he’ll come if we kill some kids?”

 While the young man stood back and waited for the cannon fodder to do its thing, Makima watched as the scrawny teacher from high above. He pulled at his scarf as it came apart and he daringly jumped all the way down the staircase to face the first wave of thugs.

A trio of villains was the first to approach the oncoming teacher. The man wrapped them in his scarf and fling them at each other, knocking them out effectively.

What truly caught her interest was the fact that they couldn’t activate their quirks.

“Idiots! It’s Eraser Head! He can erase your quirks by just looking at you!” A spider-legged man yelled out as he and the rest of the villains stopped in their tracks.

Eraser Head? Makima’s mind recalled Giran telling her about this man. He was supposedly a bad match if she ever encountered him.

“Erase?!” Ryutaro, one of her assigned minions asked. “Are you gonna erase the quirks of heteromorphic-type villains like us, too?” He rushed forward, leaving his post and ignoring Hanako’s yelling as he sallied on to the Pro Hero.

Ryutaro leaped up into the air with a haymaker punch at the ready.

Eraser Head swiftly dodged Ryutaro’s punch and backed away before charging up one of his own – landing it squarely into the rocky thug’s face. It sent the ‘elite’ member flying and not even a moment sooner was his foot wrapped up by Eraser’s scarf and tossed into a crumbling group of incapacitated villains.

Shigaraki watched with interest alongside Makima. “I see. He’s pretty strong in hand-to-hand combat, and since he’s hiding his eyes with those goggles, you can’t tell whose quirk he’s erasing. When he fights against a group like them, that makes it harder for them to work together.”

As if to prove his point, Eraser Head deftly switched his targets to another pair of twins whose quirks weren’t working, and he dealt with them as swiftly as he did the others.

“I hate Pro Heroes. It really sucks when they live up to all the hype.” He continued, scratching his face. “The masses don’t stand a chance against them.”

Makima agreed, the crowd facing off against Eraser Head was getting wary of facing him head-on. They stood by and waited until he had his guard down, but even then, he quickly recovered and fought with deadly dexterity. They were no match for someone of his caliber.

Her attention slowly drifted over to Kurogiri’s narrowed eyes as he watched the students from up above. They were retreating, just as expected and he took the chance to quickly warp over. This left Makima and the two League of Villains alone.

Shigaraki turned to face Makima with the giant behemoth behind him adjusting its eyes on her. “He’s going to scatter those kids across the place. This is where you come in.” He pointed at the giant swirling dome of Kurogiri’s mist and then moved his finger toward the huge, simulated areas behind them. “Choose a spot to gather a hostage or two and bring them back here. It’ll help give us some power-ups in case anybody tries something stupid.”

Purple portals appeared from the sky, and she saw the students fall from them into different sections of the USJ.

Shigaraki scoffed, noticing that his new colleague was still next to him. “Just go away. Me and Nomu will be right here waiting for All-Might.” He turned away from Makima and watched Eraser Head, waiting for the right moment to jump into the fray.

Hanako didn’t like Makima’s vibe at all. She practically oozed off sketchy shit, and it looked like her other chaperone – Mugestu – knew it too. The young Yakuza girl thought that Ryutaro got off easy by charging in after Eraser Head and getting knocked out.

They followed her to a nearby area called the Squall or Downpour Zone, and sure enough, it was another domed section that had rain pouring down from the inside. The whole thing was a tiny town all on its own with how huge it was. Hanako had to give props to the U.A. staff, this shit was impressive.

“You’re Yakuza, aren’t you?” Makima suddenly asked to break the quiet silence. They had a bit of time to chat as they walked down a long, cement corridor leading into the Squall zone.

Here it is... The questioning.

“Remember: Don’t tell her anything about me or personal about yourself.” Giran’s voice reminded her through her earpiece.

“Y-yeah. You could say that.” She bashfully said, scratching her head and making sure to not make eye contact with the redhead.

“What family are you from?”

“I’m from the Hisanobu family, ma’am.”

“Is that so?” She hummed and brought a finger up to her chin, “The head of your family is Lord Akiyama Hisanobu, is he not?”

“Yes…” Hanako didn’t like the idea of Makima knowing who her boss was already. His name wasn’t a well-known thing to the public or to civilians. It was true… Just as Giran had told her; this woman knows way too much.

They got to the inside of the zone and the pitter-patter of rain could be heard from all around them. Four-story buildings towered sections of this make-believe town. They were right in front of an empty intersection of a road.

A crew of villains was was right behind them, and they had crowbars, guns, or their own monstrous quirks on hand. They all proceeded further down the desolate and pouring streets.

A commotion could be heard by a central plaza and Hanako could make out two of those U.A. kids duking it out against some of the thugs. She let out a little smile, she could perhaps see Makima’s quirk in action maybe.

Before they could get closer, a whole group of more villains blocked their path – each of them looking more pleased with what they were seeing – a defenseless woman who only had a control quirk. However, they weren’t just any regular villains… Hanako recognized the little pins on the breast pockets of their disguises.

C’mon… Why’d you all have to bump in? Hanako groaned to herself. 

“Is that the Chiyo Family?” Giran asked in her earpiece again, “Shit, it is. Looks like our psychopath friend has got a little hit put out on her.”

One of them, a pigface man with a wife-beater tank top and Hawaiian shirt laughed heartily. “Finally got you all to ourselves, Control-Bitch.”

Hanako’s sight turned over to the Control Killer who looked pleased with the situation despite being surrounded. Was she seriously expecting to make it out of this unharmed? It was fourteen to fucking three!

“What would Shigaraki say about you harming one of his companions?” Makima asked. “This isn’t part of the plan.”

The Pig giggled and so did his group of friends. “Shiggie didn’t say anythin’ ‘bout hurtin’ ya a little. Ya sees, ever since you been killin’ people, we had to go into hiding a lot more often. The fuzz is fuckin’ everywhere thanks to your suicide bullshit.” He waddled over to the three a bit closer. “So, the only thing we gon’ do is hurt you a little bit. Teach ya a lesson about being a proper criminal.” His pink skin expanded, and his arms got huger.

“Boys n’ Girls! Let’s put some fuckin’ manners into this psycho-bitch while we still can. We’ll deal with the kids later.”

The fourteen thugs began circling around the three, ensuring that there were no gaps for escape. Some of the thugs from behind stood back warily; most of them were probably still wary about the lady’s quirk.

“It’s just one quirk, ya pussies!” A girl with goggles snarled. “It’s all she’s got going for her! Let’s just rush her!”

“Eh?! I wouldn’t dare count myself among you lot! This is the legend herself! I will join you, Lady Control!” A bulky man with square glasses and a pudgy face brought himself into their little group. “It will be four against thirteen!”

“Oi, Natsumi, what the fuck?!” Goggles said with disbelief.

Hanako watched Makima’s reaction, and she saw the Control Killer’s eyes looking around, possibly counting the number of enemies they’d have to deal with somehow.

The Control Lady had both her hands out, in finger-gun gestures. She simply stared at the offending group of thugs with a smirk on her face.

A quick slice from Mugestu was all Hanako heard and the plop of two hands dropped to the pavement. It was Makima’s.

“Shit. Mugestu’s compromised too with that family.” Giran cursed, “Then again, maybe they could kill her.”

“Downnnnn withhhhh monsterssssss.” He said with pride, holding up the amputated hands into the sky.

The rest of the disguised Yakuza laughed mockingly at Makima, waiting for her to cry out in pain or pass out from the blood loss.

That didn’t happen. She had only a look of calmness and she simply stared at her missing hands which were spurting out blood profusely.

Hanako’s eyes widened when something was emerging from Makima’s bloody stumps. She had a confident smile on her face too…

Long, black chains fell from the red-haired woman’s stumps and clattered to the wet ground with a distinct metallic clang.

“Aww, lookie there, she’s got some chains, y’all.” A green man said and the crowd around them laughed. “I’m so scared—”

The chains suddenly thrust forward like a spear and forced themselves into the green man’s nose and mouth like invasive parasites. With a graceful pirouette and a jerk to the left, the Control Killer pulled off the man’s face like it was a sticker on an orange. A plop of flesh and viscera spewed out of the victim’s face, and he fell with a meaty thud.

“Is that support—” A blonde thug tried to say, but then the chains moved onto her and wrapped themselves around her face and tightened like a python. The cold iron bindings squished her head like a grape. What was left of her head spilled out onto the road.

Mugestu’s fate was horrid too as the hands he was holding as a trophy also dissipated into chains and pierced his face like sewing needles through a thread.

Some of the villains backed away; others hesitated to charge in now; and the majority were thinking of running.

And just as she did before, the Control Killer had an indifferent smile on her face that Hanako thought would suit something like a monster.

“Don’t let her do that! Rush her ass!” One of the villains cried out. The surrounding villains roared and prepared to fire at her with their guns and quirks.

Like a bundle of snakes, more chains began forming beneath Makima’s waist. What Hanako and Giran saw next was horrifying…

Fumikage Tokoyami had hoped he’d been sent to somewhere other than this windy and pouring area as it made Dark Shadow harder to pull out, though thankfully the added darkness helped strengthen his prowess a little. He also didn’t blame his fellow peer who seemed utterly terrified for no apparent reason. He kept holding his head with both hands and went into a fetal position.  The boy wanted to stay in an empty convenience store and wait for help to arrive.

It helped Tokoyami a little to rest here for a bit too, though. That recent bout against those thugs took a bit out of him and Dark Shadow. He winced as he tried to massage his shoulder where a villain managed to land a crowbar hit on him. The lights were flickering and the battering noise of water hitting hard against glass windows was a clear sign that the storm was getting a bit worse.

The two heroes-in-training were by the cash registers, resting behind the counters.

“We cannot sit around any longer while the villains have their way with this place, Koda. Come on. We can do this, we just got to get out of this zone.”

What Tokoyami didn’t know was that the few rats in this simulated area were warning Koda about an impending danger. They kept telling him that something horrible was coming. But what made it more horrifying was the fact that the voices of those tiny little animals soon went blank, like it was cut off by a turn of a button. The animal hero tried calling out to other potential animals that could tell him what was going on, but he was met with nothing.

Just dead silence and the pouring droplets of rain, strong winds, and thunder outside.

Tokoyami’s courage astounded the boy as he instead went to check what the noise was outside by looking out of the windows. He crouched down lower to avoid being seen by a group of villains rushing towards another street.

“Where are they going?” He moved over to another window to look at a large congregation of those villains surrounding something in the middle of an intersection. They were obviously attacking something from the sounds of it with all of them screaming.

Wait… screaming?

Tokoyami’s curiosity got the better of him, but before he could open the door, the young hero was stopped by Koda. The rock boy was shaking his head with tears and a sheer look of terror was evident on his face.

They both heard screams and cries of pain from outside. The two boys were more than a little surprised when a pig-faced man slammed himself onto the locked door of the convenience store they were in.

“PLEASE! I DIDN’T—” A hoarse voice cried out. What came next was another voice saying something and then a large squelching noise that followed soon after. A splatter of red chunks splashed onto the windows.

Koda held a gasp in, and Tokoyami’s mouth was agape at what that red splatter was… Blood. They’d just witnessed a murder.

“A true waste of space on earth! Right, Lady Control?” A young man’s muffled voice sounded out. “Ha! Serves these nay-sayers right for doubting you.”

“Even though you aren’t part of our group, why’re you hanging with us?” A tomboyish voice asked.

“Who wouldn’t want to be paired up with the legend herself?! I didn’t think I’d ever have the chance to meet her in person! I’ve been praying for the day! Who’d thought she’d grace us with her presence!? I could—” His joyful, fanatic voice was stopped by a wave of the main figure’s hand.

Tokoyami couldn’t get a good glimpse of whoever the three thugs were because of the rain and blood splatter distorting them all.

“Tokoyami, look out!” Dark Shadow cried as it shielded both its user and Koda from an explosion that blew apart the entire front half of the store.

He flew back and hit the sharp corner of a frozen food shelf. The young man felt his wind get knocked out of him as he fell onto his face.

Tokoyami was dazed and the ringing in his ears wouldn’t stop. He quickly shook his head and got his second wind, standing back up with Dark Shadow at the ready. The young teen looked left and right, seeing that Koda was luckily unhurt, but unconscious.

His ears picked up the crunching of glass and rubble, and a lone figure appeared from the smoke with a man’s twisted neck in her left hand. She looked displeased. There was the other thug behind her, but she looked a little skittish now.

“I told you that I needed him alive.” She shook a dead man’s corpse which had tiny chain outlines slithering through the flesh of his cheeks and nose. “Hm. Oh well, at least they’re unharmed.” She tossed his corpse to the floor, ripping the chains free from the outside of his face, and knelt to Tokoyami.

The smell of blissful flowers replaced everything else.

“Grab the unconscious one for me. We’re heading back outside.”

“No!” Tokoyami roared as he let out Dark Shadow’s fists, punching both the tomboy and the red-headed woman as hard as he could – launching them outside of the ruined store. He fell forward on his hands and knees with heavy breaths.

The only problem was that it didn’t blow away the main one who was talking. She was still standing, unfazed by Dark Shadow’s power. Her soft fingers were caressing his quirk’s body and he felt some sort of numbing coldness enveloping him.

Dark Shadow yelped and a sharp stabbing pain started to set in. He tried to pull away from the woman’s grip, but it was so strong. It wasn’t like a human’s at all. It felt like a gorilla, or a literal machine had him in her grasp.

She looked back to the defeated henchwoman she had, who probably had a caved-in ribcage or worse. Clearly, the woman wasn’t at all bothered by it. “That’s fine. I think your unconscious friend here will do nicely.” She grabbed Koda with one hand, easily lifting him off the ground, and dragged him away.

She placed a hand on his forehead, and she made him say something, a word of some sort. Tokoyami’s ears picked up squeaks and the skittering of tiny creatures coming from all around him, and he soon found out that she’d made Koda use his quirk. Realization dawned on him as he got a better look at her – red hair, eerie-looking eyes, and a black denim outfit. She wasn’t at all paying attention to him while she had her hand firmly on Koda’s head.

He gulped and prepared to be in for a grueling battle. Was this woman the Control Killer? Here of all places? As long as he doesn’t respond or say anything to her, he should be safe; that’s what the warnings from the police had given to the public.

Tiny rats of all sizes and shapes poured out from the ruins of the store and somehow managed to get inside the USJ as well – no doubt answering the call of Koda’s quirk. The swarm of rats wrapped itself around the two and then it quickly tumbled down in a pile, leaving Tokoyami by himself.

Little legs and squeaks surrounded her entire being and she could reminisce about using this ability a while ago to deal with a problematic hybrid. It was nostalgic and it was only amplified by a whole swarm of these rats coming to her call. It wasn’t at all comfortable like Kurogiri’s though.

The rats found an easier exit and squeezed through the grates and ventilation systems of this elaborate Squall Zone, allowing her and this young kid to escape back out into the open plaza.

A group of villains was waiting outside, meandering about, and watching something going on at the Flood Zone where a deserted, though cut-in-half, yacht sank very slowly.

They turned around and saw the rats piling upon each other and slowly taking the form of two silhouettes. It took only a few seconds for them to dissipate and reveal both her and the hostage to the gaggle of men waiting.

“I thought you said she was going to be ganged up on?!” A man with five eyes asked.

“Don’t look at me! I thought Yamato’s boys were handling it!”

Makima’s eyes focused on the last remaining members of an attempted assassination. It was obvious that someone wanted her dead and gone. She wouldn’t fall for it; Makima expected this months ago. Though, the only question was who would put a hit on her.

Was it Giran? No, that was improbable. The fool seems too cowardly to play that card too soon when she’s already got her claws so deep into his confidants and contacts. To do so now would only mean certain death for the broker. She’d still have to pay him a visit and perhaps ‘re-educate’ him on some things.

It may as well have been the League of Villains, too. However, it was obvious that their benefactor, whoever that was, had an interest in her doppelganger scheme. So, they’d be crossed out for now… The only other option had to be an outside party. It left a sour taste in her mouth as she’d have to find out who was bold enough to try and deal with her here.

She coined a strange tag that was present on most of the goons that attacked her in that rainy city. A metallic pin with an image of a panther on it; a faint smell of sea salt and amber oak wafted from it like a signature scent. It was present on all the tags. Only one type of organization would like to keep some sort of cohesion in outfits or tags like this.

Yakuza.   

“Fuckin get—” He couldn’t say anymore before noticing the swarm of rats rush the group of men and climb upon their legs, into their pants, and claw at their faces or eyes. Like a wave of water, it splashed onto them all until the hungry pests swallowed up their bodies.

“HELP!” A man screamed before the rats went for his tongue and chewed at it as they dove into his mouth, eating up whatever flesh they could. More of the thugs tried to do the same but suffered the same fate.

A jogging group of villains ran over to see what was going on, but soon dropped their guards and waved their hands in a flurry. Most of them saw the fates of those who tried to lay a hand on her. The sounds of flesh being chewed and gnawed on could be heard faintly.

“W-we’re n-not with them! We just wanted to see what was going on…” A woman with a scythe said, “The boss is currently fighting that Pro Hero right now. We’ll let him know that you got a hostage.” They ran in a hurry, eager to leave her alone.

She watched them jog away and she shifted her focus back onto her captured target. A really nice coincidence landed itself on her lap. Makima’s eyes looked over the unconscious state of this young boy. She remembered his rocky-like face at the police station a couple of times. His scent was largely covered in animal dander and occasionally the smell of fresh bread.

The screams of men and women who tried to get rid of the ravenous rats continued while she dragged the young, rock-like boy to rest up on a wooden bench next to the Flood Zone.

But then, only known to her, an audacious and familiar scent wafted into her nose.

A fruity note of kiwi and a bizarre dash of peppermint. She could never forget it. However, her nose picked up something strange about it. The previous smells were faint, and another odor greatly overshadowed it. A fragrance of citrus-like musk tainted it alongside a gross stench of mucus.

‘Don’t bottle up your emotions.’ The note that man wrote her came into Makima’s mind, and the image of a humble-looking skeletal being appeared in her memories. The scent was coming from over the protective orange railing and towards the lake to three distant figures flying up into the air.

Makima dragged the boy with her to where those three were landing. She had to confirm something.

The three students trudged through the shallow parts of the Flood Zone.

“We were lucky that was all of them. I took a huge gamble.” He muttered continuously to himself about the possibilities of his plan going horribly wrong. “Normally, they would’ve kept some people underwater in reserve.”

“Midoriya, stop that. It’s creeping me out.” His frog peer said. “Rather than reflecting on what happened, shouldn’t you be thinking about what we should be doing next?”

Midoriya relaxed, “Y-you’re right. Sorry.” He winced at the pain from his index and middle finger coming back to haunt him. “Right now, we should be finding a way to get help.” He pointed with his other hand. “It would be best if we follow the shore and avoid the central plaza as we head toward the exit.”

“That’s true. Mr. Aizawa has drawn a large number of villains to the plaza.” Tsu added.

“H-hey… Guys…” Mineta was tugging at Midoriya’s shirt, but his attempts were ignored as both he and Tsu were busy looking at Aizawa. They were lost in their conversation about him overexerting himself for fighting those villains that they weren’t paying attention to what Mineta was trying to point out.

“Guys!” He slapped both of their backs and tried to quietly whisper to them; it got their attention, but it was too late. The littlest of them tried to sink under the water to hide his presence from the villain’s shadow towering over them.

“What is it, Mineta—” He turned to see what Mineta was pointing to, and he was met with a woman that was drenched in blood from head to toe. She had a disappointed look on her face and the smile she had was slowly turning into a frown.

“You’re not him…”

Chapter Text

“You’re not him…” Makima said with a frown. 

Green, puppy-like eyes welling up with fear locked their sights on her and the helpful tool called Koda. 

It was this boy; he was the one tainting the peppermint scent with that citrus smell.

A great wave of disappointment filled her entire being. It was like when Chainsaw Man reverted into Denji despite all her efforts of snuffing out any semblance of that disagreeable human. She sighed heavily, expressing her displeasure to the one in front of her.

Denji was unworthy of Chainsaw Man – his antics, words, everything. It didn’t make sense why her idol chose Earth's most random, unqualified human being to receive his power. And somehow, yet again, another human in a whole different world had managed to fill her with similar disappointed feelings.

There wasn’t any other emotion in her heart besides discontent. Just pure, unfiltered disappointment that escaped and showed itself on her face. She never much cared for this boy, not remembering his scent did attest to it, and she honestly tried to remember. But he was so uninteresting at the time compared to his teacher.

A few questions began to swirl in Makima’s mind.

Was the boy some sort of vessel? Why did he have that man’s scent lingering about him like an errant fly? Why did this child have to be here to make things so…. Unnecessary.

“M-Midoriya… W-what do we do?” A little purple boy asked, hiding behind the frog girl who looked just as terrified as he did. 

The now-named Midoriya teen stood ramrod straight, placing himself between the two as a hero would with his arms stretched out. It was cute and she could see why that man was training him. He had a look of innocence and valor not quite seen in a lot of other humans. 

“Y-you can have me; just leave them alone… A-and l-let K-koda go.” He set his demands with his eyes closed, waiting for her to strike him or do something horrendous. 

“Midoriya, what are you doing?!” The purple toddler shrieked out with snot and tears.

Yes, what are you doing? She thought. He probably didn’t know these two very well at all, but here he was, offering himself up on a silver platter to let his friends try to escape. Makima thought it so noble and heroic of the supposedly ‘uninteresting’ child. If she were any other devil, they’d want to gobble him up or twist that pure innocence in all manners of ways. 

Like a newborn pup that particularly stood out from its litter, this ‘Midoriya’ finally garnered her interest now. As she knelt to come face to face with the child, that awful feeling swimming around in her bosom resurfaced. 

Makima ignored it and she'd have to meddle with this boy’s mind, keep going with the plan, and create a new contingency as she’d done with that bird student. Besides, Makima’s curiosity was getting the better of her, and she wanted answers. 

She looked around, checking to see if anyone would interfere. Behind her, Shigaraki’s gigantic minion was currently manhandling Eraser Head. When Makima had confirmed that no one would be waltzing in uninvited to her conversation with these three, she got closer and gave them a reassuring smile.

“I don’t want to have you, or your little friends there. I just want to know where All-Might is.”

The frightened teens didn’t answer her.

“Is he away? Maybe in one of the other buildings here at your school?”

When they didn’t answer her and just gawked at her in silence, her eyes narrowed.

Without a moment’s notice to the frightened teens, she shot out a trio of chains from her index, middle, and ring fingers. 

The boy dodged it briefly by ducking down, but she wouldn’t allow further disruptions. Another chain wrapped itself around his torso and dragged him through the shallow water. The other chains found their marks in those other two and were currently sifting through a whole range of unusable knowledge.

Memories of frog-like creatures dressed in clothing; birthdays; school crushes; an excruciating number of lewd fantasies about boobs and asses; all of it was useless.

Like browsing through an art gallery of stained-glass panes, Makima tried to find anything pertaining to the one close to that man or to All-Might’s whereabouts in this USJ facility or the school itself.

Makima perused through them all, ordering their minds to release whatever info related to Midoriya. Her lips turned into a smirk upon seeing similar panes of memories of a sports-like test of their individual quirks.

A young, strict glasses-wearing teen with motors installed into his calves; a boy that had a much more useful version of Gyu’s hardening ability; an energetic and loud-mouthed one with an explosion quirk launching a baseball high into the sky, and lastly…

The boy she wanted to know a bit more about.

Midoriya watched as those chains hooked deeply into Asui and Mineta’s heads. Their eyes appeared blank and, thankfully, they were breathing, which alleviated one of his concerns. Another one of his problems arose directly from the woman in front of him.

He briefly remembered the red hair which All-Might regularly brought up when they used to train at the beach. There was always a need for him to bring out a third foldable chair anytime they went out so that this mystery lady could sit and chat with his teacher about stuff. Though, it seemed as though she never came back after that one singular visit.

All-Might never gave up on her returning, so he always kept that extra chair free for whenever the woman ever decided to drop in. When Midoriya had asked All-Might why he’d do this for someone he’d met only once, the proud man simply brushed it off or dodged the topic altogether with a smile.

How would his teacher feel knowing that someone, whom he’d never given up on, was here attacking U.A. students? After so many painful months of All-Might waiting on this lady, she decides to show up now as a villain?! She didn’t look at all sorry with how she was treating his classmates…

Anger swelled up in his chest as he wanted to yell at this woman. He was slowly dragged like a ragdoll to her. He twirled in the air as the chains aligned themselves to make him be up right in front of her, and then he came face-to-face with this horrible person.

“W-what are you--” He said, trying to shake off the chains and get a better look. Her eyes were going to the left and right as if she was scrolling through social media posts, or like there was some invisible VR headset on her. She was looking at something that he couldn’t see.

“Midoriya.” She said with a satisfied look on her face. “Izuku Midoriya. You’ve got the most impressive quirk for someone of your age.” She paused to focus her attention on him with a super-pleased smile. “You really are fascinating.” 

Those invasive chains that were in his classmates soon unhooked themselves out of their heads and they looked a little spaced out. Like they were catatonic.

The chain wrapped around his body slithered closer to his neck and around his face, aligning itself to perfectly get inside his head. 

Is it mind-reading? She must be trying to find out where All-Might is! Midoriya tried to wriggle free and grip the chains in hopes of hurting the woman somehow, but nothing worked. 

“Please relax.” She said in such a calming voice. “I only want to know where All-Might may be located. He seems rather attached to someone like you judging from what those two have seen. A teacher’s pet perhaps? Or…” The woman paused, likely pondering with her new stolen knowledge. “Is it something else?”

Like a persistent earthworm, the chain slowly pushed its way into his own forehead. The oncoming freezing sensation didn’t hurt; it felt as if his brain was in a murky fog and a fuzzy feeling slithered all around his skull.

“Where is All-Might? How do you know him? And who is that skeletal man you’re always with?” Her voice was echoing in his mind now. And… the last question sounded more curious than the first two.

 No! I won’t show you anything! He thought of irrelevant things like his favorite action figures, movie scenes, or annoying music that, if even given thought of, will keep replaying in his head.

He noted that the woman didn’t like that. “This is an order: Tell me who that man is, or where All-Might is at.” 

Gah! Get out of my head! I won’t let you… Argh!

Midoriya was fainting. He couldn’t hold onto his consciousness anymore. Whatever kind of quirk this was, it was making him feel at ease…. The pain from his fingers was receding away… His eyes widened. Her quirk!

All-Might….

Something was blocking her access to Midoriya’s memories. She commended him for his powerful willpower. Makima had only managed to breach the doorway into his mind and was in a conundrum with what stood before her power.

A bright wall of shining stars of various colors was draped over certain iridescent glass panes of memories that were this boy’s life. Something or someone from deep within his living soul was keeping her out of anything related to the mysterious blonde man or All-Might.

His quirk was getting even more interesting by the minute. She’d have to remember Midoriya’s citrus smell for later reference. If she couldn’t get to the one human who truly intrigued her since she arrived in this world, then the next…

Makima crossed that idea out. She was getting too carried away with wanting to know more about something irrelevant to her current mission.

Shigaraki watched Eraser Head get pinned down by his powerful Nomu. It was really satisfying to see a Pro Hero be brought down low like that. He squinted his eyes past his greatest trump card to see Makima dealing with a couple of brats by herself. In her hand was a rocky hostage, just like he’d asked, and potentially three more.

A purple portal appeared to his left and Kurogiri swiftly came out of it. 

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

“Kurogiri, did you kill Thirteen?”

“I put Thirteen out of action, but there were students that I was unable to disperse, and one of them was able to get away.”

“Huh?” Disbelief threw itself onto his face as he turned to his companion.

Got away? One of them got away?! Shigaraki’s irritation grew and the itchiness in his neck got worse. He lifted one hand up to scratch at it lightly. 

When that didn’t soothe the irritation, he raised his other hand and began scratching as much as he could with his nails. Shigaraki felt a maddening urge to strangle the life out of his partner. 

A seething rage was bubbling up within him as he let out a frustrated growl. 

“Kurogiri, you…” Not feeling at all happy or satisfied, Shigaraki continued to claw at his neck and stare down at the floor in anger. “If you weren’t our only way out of here, I would’ve disintegrated you here right now.” 

There was no feasible way that they’d get All-Might now with the rest of those hero reinforcements coming along. He stopped scratching and let out a defeated sigh. “We can’t win against dozens of pros. It’s game over.” He looked over at Kurogiri.” Let’s go home.” 

"If we're going, we should notify Makima." Kurogiri looked over to the lady that Shigaraki barely tolerated. "You know that she is too valuable an asset to leave behind in this place, Tomura." 

Shigaraki scoffed and agreed reluctantly. 

But before that… A nasty thought came into his head. He reared his head back to where Makima had been keeping all those brats hostage. He saw that she was doing something to them all; black chains of some sort were pierced straight into their heads. He’d assumed she was killing them, but that went out of the window as they quickly came back to life after her weird quirk left their heads. Though, she was taking an awful lot of time with the green boy.

All-Might isn’t here and they were going to be surrounded by a load of those pros pretty soon. He may as well take his anger out on one of those helpless kids. It’d help him feel a bit better about himself. Plus, it’d allow him to shatter that golden bastard’s pride in some way.

A sharp tug suddenly brought Midoriya to his senses, and he saw a chain quickly disintegrate from his line of vision.

Mineta was the first to awake from his stupor and point at their attacker with wide eyes. “Isn’t that—” He got cut off by Asui who grabbed his mouth to try and keep the attention off them.

The strange lady did something to him and the others… He didn’t know how else to put it, but he distinctly remembered seeing chains. Before he could even recoup and check if the others were okay, another villain suddenly appeared with his hand outstretched, ready to grasp Asui. 

Midoriya imagined Asui disintegrating into dust as he’d seen with Aizawa’s elbow, but it didn’t happen. She was safe. 

“Damn it. You really are cool… Eraser Head.” The villain turned around alongside the red-haired one to see Aizawa using the last of his strength to nullify the villain’s quirk. 

“What are you doing? I wasn’t finished.” The red villain asked, turning her head to the teen, clearly not happy with her ally’s decision. 

“What does it look like? The plan’s all ruined because of Kurogiri and some brat who escaped. We’re leaving soon, but I figured I’d at least shatter some of All-Might’s pride before we left.” He still had his hand floating inches away from Asui. 

“We could still draw--” 

“Let me remind you that you’re not the boss.” The teen interrupted the woman. “Remember that before you even think of suggesting something.”

They were disagreeing with each other. This gave Midoriya some time to contemplate what to do next. He weighed the odds of using his entire arm to use One For All at its fullest to blow both of them away. It would render him completely useless after a single hit, so he’d have to make it count. But if it didn’t…

He imagined either of them using their powers on him. He shook his head; there was no more time to analyze things. Deal with this first then, if he was still alive, ponder on it later. 

Within barely a second, he jumped up and raised his fist, ignoring the pain, and aimed his punch right between the two villains who were still talking with each other.

“Let go of her!” Midoriya cried out and he landed it squarely between the two.

“SMASH!” A gust of a strong wind blew out from his fist, shaking the very air and world around him. 

The lake’s water parted, and it blew away some of the nearby thugs into the air as well. Glass shattered from above.

All that was left was smoke. 

He was waiting for the greatest amount of pain to run up his arm and expected it to be shattered beyond repair. However, that wasn’t the case. Midoriya opened his eyes to see that his arm was completely fine. 

My arm’s not broken? I’m finally able to control my power at a time like this? A proud smile beamed on his face. I did it! I was able to get in a good smash! All right!

When the smoke cleared, it revealed the villains’ giant brawler who somehow managed to take All For One at full power. 

When in the world… Wait, it didn’t… hurt him?

His mind flashed back to what Asui had told him. “Don’t you think they are trying so hard because they found a way to kill him?”

No way…Midoriya’s body trembled with realization. He looked up and saw this thing -- the Anti-All Might villain. 

“You’re fast.” The teen villain said. “Your ‘smash’ -- are you one of All-Might’s disciples? Oh well, I’m done with you.”

As if on mental command, the bird monster grabbed Midoriya and prepared to crush him with a single slam of its hand. 

Death. Death. That was the word repeating in his mind. His heart was pounding. He was on the verge of tears. He was going to die.

At least he thought he was until an unlikely someone interfered. 

He opened his eyes to see the giant’s hands an inch away from his face. It appeared motionless and stuck in a statuesque manner.

“Nomu, what’re you doing? I told you to kill him.” The teen asked. “Don’t just stan—” His eyes widened as he reeled on the woman. “You…” He quickly grabbed her wrist with odd finger placement. He only used three or four fingers to grab it and left his pinkie out. The villain suddenly jerked her to his side. “Just what do you think you’re doing, huh?”

The woman gave him a condescending smile. “My plan becomes obsolete if you continue this unnecessary act of violence. You and your friends will find it quite unfavorable if it falls apart here because of what this thing was about to do.” She casually explained.

The teen scoffed, not happy that his attempts to scare his fellow villain weren’t working and let go of her hand. “Since when did a psycho like you go soft?”

The woman was about to answer him, but the loud sound of heavy doors being slammed open and smoke arising from the top of the entrance garnered the attention of everybody. 

Behind Midoriya, the two behind him had sparkling eyes of hope.

“All-Might!” Mineta cried out tears of joy.

“Ribbit…”

“All-Might…” Midoriya caught the look on the Number One Hero’s face. “He’s not smiling…”

It was here again, that man’s smell – peppermint and kiwi in its purest form. She scanned everywhere for where it was.

Shigaraki stopped his glaring at Makima from their argument and turned to face the main attraction. “I’ll deal with you later.” He pushed past her and to the main attraction. “So, he finally showed up. I’ve been waiting for this. You trash of society.” 

Various thugs looked frightened at the sudden entrance of the one they were supposed to kill. 

“That’s All-Might…?” 

“It’s my first time seeing him in person…”

“He looks pretty scary…” 

One of the braver thugs, a shirtless man with one eye, turned back towards his comrades. “Ya idiots, don’t hold back now!” He turned fully to face them all, not caring to notice the Pro in question squatting down and getting prepared to lunge at them. “If we kill him, we’ll--” 

A yellow blur swept by him, striking the man towards the floor as it left. More villains tried to bring their guns, fists, or quirks up, but they too were suddenly lifted off the ground and punched so quickly that they immediately fell in one attack. All of them appeared to have been knocked unconscious.

Gusts of wind exploded out from the Pro’s speedy takedowns as he managed to recover Eraser Head. He held the defeated hero in his arms bridal style and quickly over at the man’s injuries.

He was ridiculously fast for the human eye to track, but not to Makima. Thanks to her improved abilities, she was able to notice a few things about him.

He appeared to have been straining with great difficulty whenever he had to crouch down. His face hid a tiny wince of pain. Something was off about it. Was he injured already prior to this?

And his moves… Boisterous yet full of strength. If he wasn’t holding back, any of those strikes could easily kill a person with ease – destroying their jaws, muscles, and entire skeletons with ease. Was All-Might just like Midoriya? They both smelled like that man.

The binding to this boy’s soul was almost complete as well. She looked down to see her chains finishing their assimilation into the U.A. child known as Koda. Makima’s chains were firmly hooked deep into his being. He’d soon no longer have a say in this battle. His quirk, mind, and body -- it all belonged to her now. Her own little agent, unaware, would soon be under Makima’s control. There was no need to be cautious about losing him anymore.  But something gnawed at Makima’s curiosity now that her nose was confirming this familiar scent.

Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the heroic Pro with great detail. 

Is All-Might…. 

Toshinori grimaced at the sight of what had happened to his friend.

Aizawa’s injuries were bad. Toshinori caught a glimpse of his friend’s disintegrated elbow and broken body. It hurt his heart to see and even more so knowing that this all could’ve been avoided had he been here instead of him. 

“Sorry, Aizawa.” He uttered with a voice of regret. Toshinori turned to face the villains responsible for this mess. 

A giant bird-thing that looked like the one who did this to Aizawa; a mist-like villain with yellow eyes; and lastly, a scrawny teenager confidently standing beside it. They appeared to be the ring leaders.

But the final one… His eyes couldn’t accept what they were seeing. Toshinori took a step back, his fists unclenching at who was directly in front of him.

Red hair and a unique set of eyes. He’d never forget them anywhere in Musutafu. Toshinori's heroic spirit wavered at seeing the woman he shared close topics with, covered head-to-toe in blood, and looking like an accomplice to this all. What made it worse was the chains coming from her hands that wrapped themselves tightly around one of his students like a tied-up hog.

For a small moment, he could’ve sworn he saw something change in the woman’s indifferent yet familiar expression that he saw all those months ago. Those apathetic eyes which possessed a myriad of hidden emotions lit up like the faintest spark of an ember upon seeing him.

Whatever pitiful expression that was, it had immediately been snuffed out and replaced with a smug smirk. A façade he knew all too well; a mask to put on in front of other people. Underneath it, he could still see that same weeping and lost woman from the beach who seemed to have enjoyed his company. Seeing her here really hurt.

The Symbol of Peace hardened his resolve and focused on the task at hand: defeating these villains and saving the children. Dealing with the woman and questioning her had to come later.

Dashing forward with great speed, Toshinori sailed toward the four villains, delivering punishing blows to them. A powered-up uppercut to the giant’s chin; a swift jab to the mist-man’s ethereal body, if it even hurt him; a gut punch into the woman, and a quick backhand to the teen’s face, knocking his mask off in the process. At the same time, while they recoiled from his attacks, All-Might weaved past them to retrieve his students. 

Young Mineta looked confused at the sudden relocation of Toshinori’s speed.

“Take Aizawa and young Koda. Get to the entrance. I’m leaving him to you.” Toshinori ordered, never taking his sight off the villains. 

“Y-yes, sir!” 

“Ribbit…”

Why are you here….? Toshinori couldn’t take his eyes off the woman he’d met so long ago. He finally found her after all this time, and it had to be in the USJ as one of his opponents…

The Symbol of Peace wanted nothing more than to meet her once more at that beach and ask why she’d gone down this path. Was this her way of dealing with her bottled-up emotions? By actively hurting people? It wasn’t right… This despicable path is never the final option.

Even if I must take you down, I’ll still visit you in Tartarus… Just so I can ask why you’re doing all this.

Makima was surprised at All-Might’s – no, that man’s strength. It felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer and swung the thing directly into her stomach. She was on all fours, recovering from the blow and steadily standing back up.

He was here. The one who made her question many things the last time they met. And to top it all off, it had to be All-Might of all people. How he looked at her with his own sudden realization had only confirmed Makima’s suspicions.

“I’m just a retired hero getting past his prime. I was thinking of doing him this one favor and hope to pass my knowledge and advice onto him once I whip him into shape.”

Makima recalled those words that he’d told her on that beach so long ago. It made sense now. No wonder she smelled that peppermint scent on that Midoriya boy.

There was more to All-Might’s quirk than meets the eye, it would seem. Her eyes shifted toward Midoriya who flinched upon noticing that she was staring at him. All-Might took a step forward to block her view.

Meanwhile, Shigaraki looked to have been breaking down as he scrambled to look for his mask, hiding his face and sounding like a frightened child.

Makima took note of something about the punch she received from the supposed almighty number one hero. It wasn’t as strong as she’d thought it’d be. She’d have expected the blow to have at least put her down for a few minutes, leaving her incapacitated from the sheer brunt of the mighty punches she’d heard from Tsukauchi and the roaring praises online.

Was he taking it easy on them, so that he wouldn’t kill them accidentally? Or was he just far too weak?

Regardless, her current target had taken away her useful tool's quirk that goes quite well with her own power. She had to get it back. 

That Koda boy's mind is so malleable. So susceptible. Musutafu's animal kingdom would no longer have a chance to say the truth anymore to Tsukauchi and his ridiculous usage of questioning animals on crime scenes using this boy's quirk. 

She could manipulate him to work for her under the Hayakawa identity. He could be employed under Tsukauchi and make lies about what the animals would apparently say about the murders. 

Makima liked that idea quite a lot. It was one less loose end of many to plug up. She just had to make sure to get him back from those teens. 

All-Might didn’t relent and went straight for the biggest target out of them; a Carolina Smash was the name of his attack. She watched briefly, seeing the brute taking the brutal slash and barrage of punches like it was nothing.

Makima took her eyes off the fight and tried to scan for where the kids went.  She still needed to bind his quirk to her so that she could utilize it at will.

She tried to walk away, tailing after the trio as silently as she could.

All-Might stood in her way as he blurred into her path. “You’re not going—argh!” He got tackled by Shigaraki’s Nomu, allowing her to slip away momentarily.

She followed them to a pathway leading back up to the entrance and exit of the USJ. They got slightly farther and Makima picked up the pace by walking at a faster pace.

Makima smiled and was pleasantly surprised to see Midoriya all by himself as he ran toward her; only stopping in his tracks when he noticed her standing in his way. He must’ve broke away from the group to try and assist All-Might.  

He had a look of shock on his face and readied his fists, thinking that he was going to be in a battle. She had no time for something like that, however. The sooner she could get the animal-calling quirk back in her possession, the sooner she could jump back into that brawl between those two giants.

“You and All-Might get more interesting the more I think about it, you know.” She said to him, slowly waltzing up to him without a care. Her eyes didn’t once miss the bead of nervous sweat on his brow or the hitch in his breathing.

She circled him like prey, and he didn’t fight back yet. “Your quirk… Is it limited to only one or two of those humongous punches?” she pointed at his wrapped-up hand.

When she’d pointed at his bandaged hand, he hid it behind his back and gave her a stern look. He aimed up his right hand and was making a flicking motion with his fingers.

“I-I remember you… sort of…” He said and it made her stop. “Y-you’re the one from the b-beach. The one who my teacher was speaking to…”

Makima halted her advance.

Before she was able to speak to Midoriya, the air got cold, and her skin felt a freezing chill run up her whole body. Not long after, a layer of thick ice spread out onto the floor and climbed up her leg and lower midriff. It began creeping up towards her chest.  

Todoroki waited until the red-haired villain was fully encased in his ice before he considered her defeated. Once he saw the woman’s figure not move at all in his icy prison, he sighed in relief.

“You know if I wasn’t here, you’d probably be dead. Why’d you just stand there despite that? Are you asking to get killed by a villain?”

His classmate was about to answer, but he held up his hand. “Never mind, I’ll ask you later." 

Seriously, he couldn’t fathom why this kid was being so reckless. Todoroki wouldn’t have been surprised if this boy did other ridiculous things. Todoroki was about to start jogging back along with the green-haired classmate known as Midoriya to go assist All-Might, but the sound of his ice being broken in half caused him to turn around.

“Bang.”

“Bang.”

“Bang.”

He didn’t know how, but the woman was sort of… shooting her way out of the ice. Her upper half was already free, and she was starting to shoot at her legs. Chiseling, or rather blowing off the pieces until she could escape.

More chunks began falling off as she used her quirk to get out.

“Hey, what’s the deal with this one?” He asked his peer, never letting her escape his sight.

“I don’t know… She’s just adamant about getting Koda, though.”

“I meant her quirk. What’s the deal with her breaking out of my ice?”

“Huh? I… don’t…” Even his peer looked to be stumped. Was the way she was getting out a support item? A hidden gun quirk of some sort? It was the only reasonable explanation.

Todoroki weighed the odds of focusing on this villain or getting back to All-Might. He looked to be handling it pretty well so far, the last time he checked.

“Guess I ought to cover you in a whole iceberg, then.” He stomped his right foot down, willing up a giant wall of bone-chilling ice to swallow this troublesome woman whole.

“Bang!” She said as her finger came up like a quick draw; an invisible force suddenly struck his quickly raised wall of ice that came out of reflex. A wave of adrenaline shot through his system. It came dangerously close to striking his exposed side that wasn’t covered by his makeshift armor. If it had hit him…

“Bang!” More of his prison was being dismantled by her invisible support item or quirk. Whatever it was, it was just bad news. She was almost out.

“Midoriya, go and help All-Might. I’ll deal with her.” He said, never taking his eyes off his new opponent.

“But—”

“Just go. I’ll handle it.”

“Todoroki…” He heard him say, briefly taking his eyes off to see Midoriya sprinting off to where their teacher was.

The half-hot and half-cold student turned back to see his opponent weigh her options before running to the entrance of the USJ. She was definitely not like the lower thugs he’d dealt with earlier. This had to be the mysterious red VIP lieutenant that he’d heard the thugs and criminal idiots from earlier blabbing about now that he saw her more clearly.

The more disturbing thing those incapacitated goons from the landslide zone had told him though, was how they managed to get inside undetected into the school itself. He’d have to bring up that new, if not scandalizing, information to the U.A. staff.

Right now, though, he had a stubborn villain to deal with.

“And where do you think you’re going?” He stomped his foot down once more, creating a gigantic wall of ice that stopped the villain in her tracks. “If you think for even a second that you’re making it out of here, or doing something to one of our classmates, think again.”

She turned around to face him, probably accepting that there was no possible way of scaling that wall in time or getting around it. 

Todoroki readied himself for anything she was gonna throw at him. From the looks of it, all she had going for her was an invisible long-range quirk. He could end this in a few moves.

“Not coming to me, huh? Suit yourself. Don’t say I didn’t warn you about the blistering cold ice—”

“Bang!” Her finger-gun shot off another section of his protective layer of ice armor. As he tried to make another set, she bolted off to him, hand outstretched to grasp his arm. The sheer speed at which she sprinted was insane. She was probably banking on seeing if he didn’t fare so well in close quarters.

“Nice try.” He grabbed her arm first and enshrouded it entirely into a block of the thickest ice. If she was screaming in pain, it wasn’t showing. The lady’s surprise looked more like one reacting to a small prank than one of pure, freezing agony.

He grabbed her other arm and hoped to have finished this fight quickly by encasing her in another icy prison that was going to be impossible to escape this time. The thick blocks of ice would weigh her down to the floor.

Though, the lady wasn’t acting like the other criminals who gave up after the first blow. She wasted no time in reacting to his quirk’s abilities. She used her frozen arm as a club and slammed it against the side of his torso – shattering the block in the process. The brute force behind it was unlike any normal thug and knocked him back.

Being in close combat with someone with this amount of strength was bad. He had to get get back further using his ice! 

Not being allowed to think, the woman continued her assault and latched her fingers into the collar of his shirt, bringing him close for her to knee him in the stomach. The air in his lungs escaped him as he tried to suck in some air. She pulled him close to her face.   

“Make an opening for me.” She pointed toward the barricade he made.

Somehow, he felt a little inclined to do so for her. Like an intrusive thought that one would get from wanting to crash into a car when driving on a highway. His arm was reaching up to create an opening for his opponent to go through. However, he slapped that idea out of his head as quickly as possible.

“That’s an order: make an opening for me.” 

Todoroki didn't say anything; he gave her a fierce glare. 

She was about to say something, but something green collided with her.

“SMASH!” A powerful strike connected with the woman’s face; a gigantic gust of wind accompanied the blow.  He was saved… He, Todoroki Shoto, was saved by his classmate he’d told to help All-Might, who had jumped into the fray. His attack had sent the villain flying into his barricaded wall, probably putting her out of commission for good. He could see a gaping hole in the iceberg he’d created to stop that villain.

His classmate’s arm was basically purple-incarnate with how bruised and swollen it looked. He must’ve put everything he had into that punch…

“Todo—”

“No time. We—argh…” He winced at the bruises forming on his body. “We got to help All-Might,” Todoroki said, clambering back up and heading directly into the next fight.

“But—” Midoriya was looking at the hole where the villain had been blown away. Todoroki had assumed that blow would put her out of commission.

“No time. Come on.”

Asui and Mineta both jumped at the loud crashing and shattering noise from where they saw a gigantic wall of ice materialize. Neither of them could see what had done that, or what made the giant gaping hole in the makeshift iceberg barricade. The two continued with their journey until they got to the entrance of USJ.

“Hey! We’re all up here!” Asui could hear Uraraka yelling out to her and Mineta. The rest of their classmates were still by the entrance! It was a relief. They were both a little shocked to see Midoriya go and run off like that and no sooner did a fight break out between that Todoroki guy and another villain.

“It’s Ochaco!” She said with hope.

“Hey, can you come help us out? These two are heavy and Aizawa’s bleeding all over the place.” Mineta replied, dragging Aizawa alongside his classmate by his shirt while their other unconscious classmate was glued to their teacher’s legs via Mineta’s quirk.  “Jeez, I’m so thankful that All-Might’s here. It’s a walk in the park, right?”

“Oi!”

“Run!”

“Behind you!”

The two heard their classmates yelling at them and pointing at something. Asui and Mineta saw Sero, Shoji, and Sato booking it down the long staircases, waving at them and doing their best to get to them in a hurry.

“What are they—hmph!” Mineta cried out as the villain from before clamped their hand onto his mouth.

“I only need your friend here, don't—Oh?” The woman’s voice said gently with a surprised tone of voice.

Asui turned to see the villain’s chains extending out from her slender fingers and wrapping around Koda’s body once more. It was different than before too. They were actively sinking into his chest. She tried to lift him up, but as she did, so did Aizawa as they were effectively stuck together. The woman's creepy stare roamed over to Mineta who was shaking. 

"These are in the way. How do I get rid of them?" 

“T-they’re s-sticky balls, and they vary in strength on how I’m feeling…”

The woman looked utterly disappointed with the answer.

“I-it’s the truth! I swear—” He was interrupted by a harsh jab to the face. His nose broke and he began bleeding.

The woman returned to look at the sticky balls and noticed that they got less adhesive, enough so for the villain to viciously pull off Koda from Aizawa, ripping off their teacher’s pants and some of his skin from his legs in the process.

Asui was frozen in fear. She couldn’t do anything but just sit there and watch.

The woman smiled as whatever she was doing to Koda was complete. The chains had completely disappeared into his body and were directly linked to the woman’s waist.

If Asui could describe the woman’s happy expression, she’d say it was as if she’d found a two-for-one deal at a supermarket. Some chains began to come out of her fingers and were beginning to sink into…. Asui’s eyes widened as she realized that the villain was going to do something to Aizawa’s weakened body next!

Asui summoned up whatever courage she could and thought of how to land a roundhouse kick or an attack of some sort on the woman. Asui tried to motivate herself out of the fear she had to fight back until her three combat-capable classmates got to the scene. She felt relief at some backup.

“Hey! Leave Aizawa alone!” Sero said.

“Just back away, lady!” Sato readied his fists.

Shoji joined them and got into a fighting stance.

They charged at her. Sero preparing to tie her up with his tape; Sato readying himself to try to land a haymaker with a knockout blow; Shoji going for a whirlwind of punches; Mineta frustratingly trying to toss one ball onto her back; and lastly, Asui looking for an opening to land a kick onto the woman’s head.  

All it took was just one word to make them helpless.

“Fall.” The villain said, still having her attention entirely on their teacher.

Soon as that word was uttered by her, Sato, Sero, Mineta, Shoji, and herself fell to the floor; their bodies betraying them as they landed helplessly on their faces. 

Asui was the only fortunate one to fall on her side and see whatever the villain was doing. She lifted her head up to see Makima kneel next to Aizawa’s head.  

The villain was caressing his face and resting him on her lap with a motherly smile. 

"In all honesty, I didn't think I'd ever have thought that I'd meet you looking like this, Eraser Head." She paused for a while and let out a little laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm still not used to saying your 'hero' names. Can I call you Aizawa instead? That is what your students call you, yes?" She was talking to herself and to their critically injured teacher. 

She couldn't tell if Aizawa was able to hear her or not, but the woman kept talking. 

"A lot of things have gone wrong since I've gotten here. However, there are at least some positives to this, Aizawa." She patted his head. "I, at first, thought that it was going to be impossible to get All-Might all to myself because of many interferences. But then, I stumbled upon you being dragged by your loving students. I was only coming for someone else, and I saw you. Cutely helpless and in critical condition." She let out a little smile and touched the exposed muscles on his elbow. It caused him to wince and groan in a faint moan. She leaned down close to his face. "Your quirk will do nicely." 

“Aizawa.” Her fingers pushed his bangs away and she wiped some blood off his forehead. Her hands cupped his cheeks and she looked him directly into his eyes. “This is an order: Say that you’ll give me all of you.”

Chapter Text

“This is an order: Say that you’ll give me all of you,” Makima said to Aizawa as he lay there in her lap. “Do this and I will give you all of the power you need to aid your students.”

She made sure to comfort him and say a sweet little enticing lie so that she’d appear like a consoling angel in his dreary vision if he could even see her at all. His eyes kept trying to keep themselves open as he looked up at her.

The injured Pro Hero looked like he was on the brink of death, and she wanted to take advantage of that. He seemed like the type who would do anything to protect his students. Even if it meant giving up his very being through a contract. Should he resist, there was no stopping Makima from simply just making him form a contract between himself and her. It was a win-win situation no matter what.

In her time as a high-ranking Public Safety Devil Hunter, she’s seen countless amateur Devil Hunters and civilians alike get to that point – that near-death experience where they lose all hope. They’ll cry; they’ll mewl; they’ll whine; they’ll beg. It’s adorable, really. But the best part is how fragile their willpower is when they’re on the cusp of dying. It was so brittle to the point that they’d do anything to ensure it wasn’t completely shattered.  

The human mind becomes vulnerable as they experience a multitude of emotions. Like a malleable putty, she could mold it into almost anything she’d want.

Makima couldn’t wait to change him into something preferable to her needs.

She was, however, a bit dismayed that there wasn’t any semblance of a Devil in this world. If they did exist, she’d let them possess this man’s weakened body. What a joy it’d be to have a Devil and a Quirk combined into one distinct hybrid to control at her whim. It would be instantly far better than Gyu or Koda as a useful guard dog. 

She pulled herself out of her thoughts and looked down, expecting to see an obedient Aizawa. Only after she saw his obedience would she alter the contract to her liking.

Her ears picked up the slightest sounds from his raspy and weak voice.

“I…Give…All…Of…Me…” Aizawa’s lips formed the words she needed.

Makima let a satisfied smile show itself on her lips. “Good boy.” She placed an open palm onto his chest and let the contract complete itself. The ethereal feeling of his soul slowly binding to her was a welcoming sensation. “If only you had a Devil inside you; I could’ve healed your wounds.” Makima let out a content sigh. “That’s fine, though. I’ll use your quirk for you when the time comes.”

She tried to move him off her lap, but Aizawa’s feeble and bloody hand latched onto her wrist as his irritated and bloodshot eye stared at her. “Please…. My students…. Help….” He whispered out.

A chain linked to his chest was attached to her waist like a dog leash. The same one was applied to Koda. Their eyes remained closed as they began to float in the air behind her.

Even if things didn’t go her way, Makima felt this was more than an acceptable outcome. She got two new dogs at her disposal. She disregarded Aizawa’s final plead as his words meant nothing. The contract was already written the moment he uttered the words Makima needed. With a few altercations onto the devilish pact courtesy of her powers, Makima ensured that everything of his entire being belonged to her. She owed him nothing.   

The students on the floor remained still from her power. But she could feel the fear coming from them.

Ability activation: Anivoice. She said in her head as she clapped her hands together – utilizing Koda’s quirk to the fullest to call for an abundance of birds to circle around the outside of USJ’s rooftop.

Her eyes closed as she took control of their weak wills – borrowing their hearing as she sought to see if U.A.’s reinforcements were on their way.

The stampede of shoes, heels, and boots from afar could be heard on U.A.’s grounds and Makima frowned. It was too soon…. She’d hoped they’d been slower in their reaction time to the intrusion.

Everything that’s been happening since she arrived at this place had changed her plans in a big way.

First, the attempted assassination by a Yakuza group. If it wasn’t for their interference, she’d have swiftly dealt with the plan of subduing and taking control of a student here without anyone seeing. It really would’ve been perfect to have someone provoke Shinso to better sell the angle she was looking for in a scapegoat when the time came. She’d have to run the pin she had through the Police Force’s database and find out what family or branch it belonged to.

Next, there was the Midoriya child. Not only could she not manipulate his memories, but he had a quirk that was something of an anomaly to her control. She’d already seen him as an inferior little puppy and yet…. He resisted because of something deep inside his very being. She’d have to investigate this boy and figure out why he’s an exception.

There was also that ice-quirk child who briefly resisted her powers and almost let her go, but that resolve of his hardened, as if he had something to deal with. She didn’t like the prospect of another human besides Tsukauchi being able to resist her so easily. The boy would be put at the top of her list to deal with in the future.

Time was not on her side anymore. The rest of those Pro Heroes will be here soon. There was no possible way of snatching up All-Might in her time limit.

And yet…. That was totally fine with her. She had something much more useful than unparalleled raw strength.

Her eyes cast their gaze over to look upon Aizawa. The idea of shutting down a person’s abilities was priceless.

Ever since Makima had arrived in this city, she noticed that almost all quirk users depended on those abilities. Taking that away from a troublesome hero or villain would make things much easier for her.

Having been reminded of a prime catch, Makima began to make her way over to the Squall Zone once more with two new pups in her possession.

The Nomu wasn’t doing so great.

With Kurogiri down and captured by that loudmouth brat, Shigaraki had to wait until his trump card regenerated from the waist down. The event of it being cut in half by Kurogiri’s portal certainly was a spectacle to the children, but it left him physically useless.

Speaking of useless…

“Where’s that damn woman at?” He scratched his neck furiously.  He last remembered seeing Makima slipping away when things weren’t going their way. She was following that green kid with the ‘smash’ ability.

That enigmatic piece of trash does whatever she pleases, doesn’t she?

Makima, to him, was basically a useless party member who contributed nothing to the team. He’d have to tell the Master about her and say that her quirk wasn’t what it was cracked up to be. From what his other thugs had told him, she even committed some friendly fire too in one of the zones she went to. It made him so mad he scratched his neck with anger.

It didn’t help that the kid she was following was coming out from the entrance where she was last seen. His eyes squinted at the brat upon seeing him look unscathed. Another kid was with him too.

The lady probably got bested.  He let out a little snicker at that. He wished he could see her smug expression turn into the look of a beaten fool from being kicked around by a couple of idiotic kids.

Right now, he had a dying symbol to eradicate, and his forces were dwindling by the second.

Her shoes clicked against the concrete floor as she waltzed past the gawking stares of the villainous thugs. Their eyes never left the two floating bodies that hovered behind her. To them, the creepy idea of a Hero being subdued like that was a sight to behold. It showed visual proof that the Pro Heroes weren’t unbeatable. They weren’t invincible.

The remaining thugs rallied behind Makima as she made her way towards the battle between the Nomu and All-Might himself.

“Dude… She’s beaten Eraser head! And she’s got a student with her!” One of the thugs said in a whisper to his friend.

“H-hey…. Does that mean we got this in the bag? S-she’s on our side, yeah…?”

“Probably! We can still win this!” The thugs roared and regained their second wind as they marched behind her. Makima tuned out the rising excitement of the expendable thugs and kept walking.

The mob began scratching their heads in unison as soon as they realized that she wasn’t heading towards the battle between Shigaraki’s monster and All-Might. They collectively stopped when they saw that she was heading towards the Squall Zone.

“U-uh…. M-miss….?” A cyclops girl asked in a meek tone. “The fight is over there….” She pointed over to the scene of the two giants duking it out and creating shockwaves with their punches.

The battle alone made the morale of the previously confident thugs falter as they began to back away. That wouldn’t do. She needed manpower to get rid of the attention of all the students that are watching the fight as well so that she could make her escape.

It was a hopeless battle that Shigaraki or Kurogiri hadn’t taken notice of yet. The heroes will be here in a minute or two soon…. Her attention gazed upwards to the walls and ceilings to see that the cameras up above were still tilted down and appeared jammed from the electric quirk user. That won’t last for long. She had to leave.

While wanting to test her luck and swoop in to whisk away All-Might sounded nice, Makima had to turn the opportunity down. She’d get another chance now that she has something else that could tie up loose ends.

Makima turned to face the bewildered criminals who were following her with a smirk on her face. “This is an order: Throw your lives away and keep the students and anyone else occupied.” Makima turned to face the nervous-looking thugs who all stood still and blankly accepted her orders.

She took note of the ice-quirk boy who seemed to have noticed her still walking around. He immediately raised his foot to try and stomp – most likely attempting to wipe out the expendable force in one giant iceberg.

Makima raised her hand and directed Aizawa’s body forward – willing the man’s quirk to stop the oncoming burst of ice coming their way.

Ability activation: Erasure. Makima said in her mind, forcing Aizawa to use his quirk to stop the ice from ever forming.

The iceberg stopped in its tracks – instantly falling apart as the young boy looked confused from the sudden loss of his quirk. Not a second sooner did the thugs all charge into the zone, ignoring the shockwaves of All-Might’s punches and any of their lighter comrades who flew away because of said shockwaves. The remaining waves of thugs were beelining towards the students who only noticed it a minute too late as they were being swarmed.

Explosions and the sounds of fighting broke out from behind. Makima turned her back on the chaotic battle royale of thugs versus students and a wounded All-Might.

She proceeded until she found a nice little bench to place Aizawa and Koda on. She lightly patted the unconscious teacher’s head like she would a dog. This is where she’d have to leave her newest pups to be groomed and taken care of for a while.

“I’ll be back for you, Aizawa. We have a lot to talk about concerning your co-worker All-Might once I find you again.”

Makima sighed as soon as she saw what she assumed was Shigaraki’s Nomu being thrown into ceiling. There was no doubt that the thugs she sent off as a distraction were easily dispatched. The students and All-Might himself, were simply too much of a physical factor to overpower without the right instruments.

They would soon corner her and capture her alive, if possible, and then throw her into some sort of maximum-security prison called Tartarus.

Makima’s eyes checked over Aizawa more importantly as she sees his wounds are fatal. With the right treatment and time, he’d survive. She had no use for a broken tool right now. He had to be fixed in a professional hospital environment. The only possible option was if he’d stay here to be tended to by Pro-Heroes who may have medical-related quirks.

There was no other choice. She’d have to abandon the two and let their wounds heal. She’ll have all the time in the world to come back once they’ve licked their wounds and recuperated.

The squeaking and scuttling of rats swarmed her entire body as she took one last glance at the two whom she had captured. They were useful tools, even if for a short while, but she really wanted to test Aizawa’s quirk as soon as possible. But she’d have to wait. Like she always does.

She closed her eyes and soon collapsed as the transportation via rats took Makima to safety.

The blaring sirens of cop cars and the muffled thrumming of helicopter blades were all that could be heard as Tsukauchi swerved and sped past vehicles on the road to U.A. Academy.

Right under our noses. What the hell….?

He firmly squeezed the driving wheel as he kept on going, awaiting the mess and headache that would most likely ensue if he didn’t get there in time.

Getting an urgent call from their staff out of nowhere was not on his list at all today.

How could it have been possible that they broke in? That’s one of the most secured buildings in all of Japan next to Tartarus….

When he had arrived at the USJ, it was chaos as there were countless reporters already outside once again, even after their little attempts earlier in the day. They were all clamoring for his attention to answer any questions.

“Detective Tsukauchi! Is it true that villains had managed to break into the illustrious U.A.?”

“Detective! Please tell the public if you’re more concerned about U.A. than the rampaging Control Killer still on the loose!”

“No comment! Out of the way! You’re interfering with Musutafu Police business!” He squeezed past the hungry journalists and reporters, shaking their heads, and turning down the mics pushed into his mouth.

Upon reaching the campus there were stretchers, teachers, and students still going back and forth between one of their larger facilities: the Unforeseen Simulation Joint. A ridiculously sized building that he likened to the shape of a Football Stadium.

His eyes looked further up to see a gaping hole in the building’s glass-like dome. It’s as if something or someone flew right out of it at a significant speed. Shards of glass were scattered about on the concrete grounds.

“Sir! There you are!” The familiar feline officer of the station – Sansa – jogged over to Tsukauchi, handing him a clipboard with paper on it as well as offering a salute.

“Tell me the details you and others know of so far.” Tsukauchi looked over the clipboard and pulled out his own notebook to write down anything of interest. “Be quick; I need to interview the staff that aren’t in critical condition.”

Tsukauchi scratched his head and began brainstorming over the possibilities of what happened in this mess. He walked with Sansa as they tried to look over the evidence so far.

“What of the CCTV’s or cameras that this school has? Anything on them that we can scrub through? Please give me something good, Sansa.”

“Nothing sir….” Sansa’s ears went low and stuck outwards. “From what I’ve heard, there was an EMP-like quirk deactivating all manner of communication going in and out of the USJ facility. The poor kids inside were trapped without being able to contact anybody.”

“And sir…” Sansa continued with a grimace. “We have some disturbing news concerning one of U. A’s students…. It’s something that the staff themselves have asked to keep under wraps until they can think of a proper way of dealing with it….”

“We’ll get to that later, Sansa. Just tell me something good. Please tell me we got something.”

The feline’s ears perked up, thankful for the change of topic of whatever he’s heard about as he readily handed him another report. “The staff present at the scene, all of whom are in critical condition, will be fine as long as they’re taken care of by a medical team. The same goes for most of the students who are somewhat unscathed scratch a few bruises here and there from an all-out brawl between them and a large group of criminals.” Sansa pointed at the clipboard Tsukauchi was holding to which paper kept the report on injuries.  

Tsukauchi walked beside Sansa, going over as they made their way to finally find Hayakawa on the scene taking notes down and talking with the principal of the school. He seemed amicable with just about anybody in how he spoke to them, and it didn’t seem to have changed despite the situation. Though it looked like Hayakawa was really putting him through the works as she appeared to be speaking with an impatient look on her face.

“Could you direct to me who oversees your security? I’d like to—” Hayakawa saw Tsukauchi and politely smiled at him and taking her attention off U.A.’s neighboring intelligent principal. “Detective, you’ve arrived. I’ve just gotten to the scene myself.” He noticed that her hair and attire was disheveled, as if she’d gotten out of bed after hearing about the incident. Tsuakuchi didn’t blame her appearance and thought nothing of it.

A frog-girl called out to him from the crowd of students who were talking amongst each other.

“Hey Detective! How’s Aizawa?” She looked concerned about her teacher’s health, as did her fellow peers who awaited his answer.

“Well…. From what I’ve heard and read, your teacher’s going to be all right. His arms are riddled with comminuted fractures and he’s suffering from facial fractures too.” He gave them the whole spiel about the potential of their teacher possibly having some adverse effects to his orbital floor of his eye and the conditions of Thirteen and a student by the name of ‘Deku’.

“A-and the villains…? Are you guys gonna catch them….?” A purple boy who still seemed on edge asked. His peers nodded in agreement, hoping that they would deal with this issue.

“Y-yeah… especially that lady….” A boy with a tape-quirk on his elbows added.

“Lady?” Tsukauchi’s interest peaked as he narrowed his eyes and approached them closer. “What lady?”

The students – those who seemed to have encountered this mystery figure all had faces of hesitation and fear. It was the frog girl who stepped up. “S-she was the one who tried to take Aizawa and Koda…. Ribbit.”

“And what did she look like?” He had hoped it wasn’t who he thought it was, but he had a feeling it was who he and his whole team had been after for months now.

“Red hair and yellow eyes….”

Before he could inquire further, a loud voice yelled out to him as they ran over in a hurry.

“Detective Tsukauchi! Word came in, Sir! We’ve caught the suspect thought to be the villain at the USJ facility around 400 meters from here!”

“What’s the condition of the villain?” He turned to look at the officer.

“No external injuries, sir! He’s not showing any signs of resisting arrest either. Moreover, he’s not responding to any stimuli. And he hasn’t said anything to us.”

“Thank you, get him back to the station and we’ll see if we can make him talk later. As for your description….” He glanced back at the student. “Tell me about it once I finish up my investigation. I must talk to the principal if you don’t mind, kids.” He tipped his hat to the students and walked to the principal who was still talking to Hayakawa.

“Oh, Detective! You’ve arrived! You certainly have a most excellent partner here.” He gestured to Hayakawa. “She’s really a great addition to your team for sure. Now what can I help you with?”

Hayakawa raised a hand, “Excuse me, Detective. I’ll let you talk with the principal on these matters. May I talk to the person in charge of your security, principal Nezu?”.

“Of course! If you ask for Power Loader, he’ll direct you to the people in charge.” He waved her farewell as he walked with Tsukauchi.

“Mr. Principal, if you wouldn’t mind,” Tsukauchi resumed the conversation as he followed the short and intelligent mammal to the entrance of the USJ building. “I’d like to investigate every nook and cranny of this campus of yours.”

The principal clapped his hands and spoke. “Oh yes, yes, by all means! I understand that your police force is under some heavy fire concerning the Control Killer with less than civil remarks, but we recognize your jurisdiction over matters like these. Please conduct yourselves as usual! Let us know if you need anything.”

“There is something that I need you to do, mainly for your staff and students…. Have them on suicide watch.” Tsukauchi said in a stern tone.

“W-wha—” The small principal’s face appeared surprised at the sudden comment.

“It’s just a precaution, Mr. Principal. I’ve just got a feeling….”

“I will keep your suggestion in mind, Detective.” Principal Nezu relented with the odd suggestion.

Kendo Tanaka felt a bit nervous at having to perform his duties in front of someone else. While he was confident in his abilities, he hated having to perform under pressure while someone watched from behind. Such was the case when Power Loader – Higari Maijima – directed Musutafu’s newest detective – some of whom call her Tsukauchi’s side kick – to him of all people. Her piercing gaze didn’t help one bit with his anxiety…

He adjusted his tie and dress shirt as he kept his pace. Detective Hayakawa’s steps echoed throughout the empty pristine white corridors while she followed him to the control center of U.A.’s security needs. They kept walking for a few minutes until they got past the support gear section of the school’s tech area.  

“It’s finally good that you’re here, ma’am.” He pushed up his steel-frame glasses nervously with sweaty palms. “I’ve been scrambling trying to figure this out. I think I might be getting onto something for you and your Police Force to get into, so just give me a moment.”

She didn’t say anything to his words as she simply kept quiet, so he just continued. “Luckily for us, we’re prepared for that type of thing. You see,” He opened the door and let her into a room filled to the brim with electronic equipment as each wall had various terminals and gadgets embedded into them. “We always keep backups in case something like this ever happened. We had a similar incident with an electric quirk kid who came a couple years back who accidentally did the same thing to our systems after he…” Kendo paused as he saw that Detective Hayakawa wasn’t really paying attention to his words and more towards the 8K monitors that displayed various codes.

“T-those are just some coding bits I’ve been trying to figure out in my spare time. N-nothing special…” Again, Detective Hayakawa didn’t seem to answer him or say anything as she continued her stroll around the room while waiting for Kendo to do his job.

Uh-oh, crap… She probably thinks I’m wasting time! I shouldn’t be doing that when she needs something concrete! C’mon, Kendo! Do something!  

Kendo quickly plopped down onto a rolling chair as he scooched up to a monitor to which he quickly entered a complicated password into a black keyboard. “I’m sorry for taking up your time, Detective…. It’s just a lotta pressure to get this all working on such a tight timeframe. I hope you understand.” Kendo’s cheeks turned a dark shade of red. He felt a pair of soft hands place themselves onto his shoulders.

Detective Hayakawa leaned in and whispered into his ear; her breath tickled his skin as he shivered. “Is it possible to delete certain aspects of the recovered files?”

“I…. umm…”

When he didn’t answer her question, she twirled the chair he was in to face her as she looked at him with her golden eyes.

Kendo’s heart was in his throat….

Detective Hayakawa – Tsukauchi’s newest partner, Kendo thought, was alluring in a professional way. “It is possible…. B-but d-don’t you want them recovered?”

Detective Hayakawa shook her head as she twirled the chair back towards his desk and made him face the monitor screen which showed a black and green screen with recovered files. She gently squeezed his shoulders and leaned in again – a sweet scent of a flowery perfume filled his nostrils.

The black-haired beauty with steel-frame glasses peered over his shoulder as she looked at the files with the names of certain areas of the USJ building.

Her fingers pointed at the files containing certain cameras in the Squall Zone; the Flood Zone; and the Central Plaza. “Delete those.”

“B-but—” His blush deepened as he felt the detective’s chest press against his back.

“And these,” She pointed at a few files which were in the Squall Zone – ones titled ‘Market District’. “Make a backup copy and put it on this flash drive for me.” Detective Hayakawa placed a small black flash drive with a cat sticker on it.

His head felt oddly fuzzy….

“This isn’t a request either, Mr.…” She looked at his name tag, hinting at a hurtful prospect that she’d already forgotten his name upon meeting him. “Tanaka. It’s an order.” Her eyes stared into him until all he saw was darkness closing in on his vision.

Tsukauchi sighed and rubbed his temples. From what he’s gathered so far – Tsukauchi’s leads led him to the fact that these thugs were united by someone to try and eliminate All-Might for good. Such a thing seemed almost likely given the poor man’s health condition. It concerned him with how close they were given All-Might’s weak point which sustained a deep injury.

Tsukauchi would have to give thanks to the Number One Hero’s protégé who helped keep his ailment under wraps from the other students. If they knew then anyone else would as well. Leaks like that can’t be afforded to happen to Musutafu’s greatest upkeep of morale.  

Hayakawa joined him as they strolled through the USJ’s premises – checking each crime scene where various brawls between the students and low-life thugs duked it out. Though the area that seemed the worst was the Squall Zone. There was a ton of body bags littered across the empty streets of this prop city which previously had a rainstorm going on.

They kept walking, taking in all the damage and allowing the forensic teams to analyze each important scene first and foremost. His mind went to his old friend Toshinori… He’d have to go and visit him soon – preferably without Hayakawa. She has no reason to talk about the man’s secret identity, but Tsukauchi knew it’d be best if she didn’t know. The less that anyone knows about his condition the better.  

He decided to change the topic. “How’d the visit go with the security footage? Find anything we could use?” Tsukauchi felt slightly frustrated upon seeing Hayakawa shake her head, handing him her notepad so he could look it over. This was not a great start….

“I’ve gone over everything, but the one whose quirk disabled the cameras had completely fried their systems somehow. The man in charge of the security footage said that a big portion of the incident is gone completely.”

“What about the backups?”

“Only a few backups, but most of them involve disturbing capturing of that young Tokoyami Fumikage going berserk on dead corpses; the onslaught of a few students fighting in the other areas; and the end of the USJ incident following the defeat of the one who disabled communications and electronics by some of the students.”

Tsuakuchi sighed and felt another migraine coming along.

It’s going to be a long day…

Chapter Text

A purple portal briefly opened and laid Shigaraki as carefully as it could onto the hard wood floor of Kurogiri’s bar.

“Oww…” He groaned out as he laid still, trying to collect his thoughts and anger. “They shot me… We were annihilated… Even Nomu was done for!” Shigaraki snarled out. “My men were beaten down like trash… Even those damn students were strong….”

The young and angry teen glared up at a monitor screen situated on the bar counter. “You were wrong, Master…. The Symbol of Peace wasn’t weakened at all!”

A voice with the tone of authority spoke out. “No, I wasn’t. I was simply too optimistic. Hmmm.” The voice sounded as if it was giving thought to the outcome. “You know, it seems as though they have underestimated us. I’m glad the ‘Villain Alliance’ name is still so cheap. But more importantly…” It paused for a moment.

“What has become of the Nomu? Has it not been retrieved?”

Kurogiri stepped in with a sigh, “I’m afraid he was sent flying. And we don’t know of his whereabouts. I would not be able to search for him no matter how many times I warped. We didn’t have time.”

“And what of your newest addition?”

“She retreated like a coward!” Shigaraki snarled as he glared down at the floor. “She’s just some two-bit wannabe, that’s all. Attacked my own men and disregarded our plan!”

“Hmmm, is this true, Kurogiri?”

Kurogiri nodded. “I’m afraid so. We last saw Makima trying to go after a few of the students for an unknown reason. From there on, we were too preoccupied trying to defeat All-Might to notice her gone. It is safe to say that she has either retreated, like young Tomura says, or she’s been defeated by the heroes. It’s hard to say which.”

Shigaraki spat. “I hope she was beaten. We don’t need a useless member like her around. But that reminds me…. She was after some kids and one of them…. There was one whose speed was like All-Might’s….”

The voice on the monitor sounded intrigued. “Oh?”

“It was that kid…. If he hadn’t interfered, we could’ve killed All-Might!”

“There’s no use crying over spilt milk. After all, it’s not as though today was entirely in vain. With the eyes of Musutafu glued closely on our missing friend’s-controlled suicides, we have a slight veil on ourselves. It wouldn’t be a surprise if she gets partial blame for what happened there. Besides, those children you speak of saw her, did they not?”

Shigaraki grunted his answer. “Yeah….”

“Then all’s well ends well. We’ll gather a new group that’s hand-picked for efficient teamwork. We’ll take all the time we need. And Kurogiri,” The misty villain looked over to the monitor. “See to it that you and young Tomura here avoid our new friend’s goals if she is still out there.”

“But—” Shigaraki was about to protest.

“Do not worry, Young Tomura. This is merely a precaution. Besides, we will deal with her desertion on our operations later. Let her wreak havoc for now. We’ll slither in the shadows until it is our time.”

Shigaraki glared up at the monitor, hell-bent on exacting revenge on the world and those who have wronged him.

Toshinori was the first to wake up after finally his long overdue nap from enduring hell at USJ. He looked to his left to see young Midoriya resting peacefully. The weary hero let his protégé enjoy his rest as he reflected on the battle.

I feel so stupid…. If I hadn’t pushed myself earlier, I could’ve prevented this.

Everything from the intrusion of the villains to allowing them to hurt Aizawa and Thirteen. All of that, Toshinori considered, was his fault for not being there.

His thoughts soon began swarming with guilt and regret as Toshinori thought of what-ifs, and it didn’t help his consciousness. Toshinori closed his eyes, and he couldn’t help but bring up an image of a somber looking woman with red hair. He tore that image away as his trust in her fell abysmally after their encounter.

His fists clenched against the sheets of his bed at his lap as he looked down. He still recalled how young Midoriya and Tsuyu had told him that she had laid a hand on the others, especially Aizawa… He’d hoped that she hadn’t left permanent damage to him.

The quiet room of the infirmary and young Midoriya’s snores were all that could be an answer to his questions.

He heard a quiet and tired old sigh from an old colleague of his. “Given the circumstances of what you and that young boy went through, I won’t say anything.”

Toshinori looked up to the ceiling and replied back. “Yeah… I was being reckless with my time limit. If I had just one more hour in me…” He slowly rose from his bed with shaky arms as they did their utmost at lifting him. “Well, there’s nothing to do about it. I have to accept that this sort of thing happens.”

The entrance doorway to the infirmary suddenly opened. “Pardon me.”

A familiar and well-trusted face entered in with a polite smile. Toshinori couldn’t have been more relieved. “Tsukauchi! You showed up, huh?” Toshinori waved away young Midoriya’s concerns for his identity as the trusty Detective of Musutafu strode in, taking his signature hat off.   

“Don’t worry about it, Midoriya. He’s one of my long-time old friends.”

“Apologies for the sudden intrusion on your rest, but I had to get your testimony about the villains, especially—”

“Now hold on, before we get into any of that… Are all of the kids doing alright? And Aizawa and Thirteen?” He asked with a concerned tone. His conscious created the worst possible outcomes.

Tuskauchi said nothing for as solid moment and that terrified Toshinori.

And then, he spoke with that all too and friendly professional tone. “Apart from that boy next to you, most of the students are fine for the most part. They had a few scratches and bruises from the all-out brawl that went out between you and the swarming mob of thugs. And the two teachers are not in any life-threatening conditions. “

Toshinori’s shoulders sagged with relief as he let out a sigh. “That’s good to know. Thanks, Tsuakuchi.”

“No problem, old friend. But, you know, if you and those two didn’t hold down the line and fought so bravely… then it probably would’ve been a whole different story for the kids. You and I both know that.” The Detective’s slight warning in his eyes told Toshinori more than the man could even say.

“Reports like that aside, I really do need your testimony. Especially after hearing some disturbing correlations with a certain red-headed figure.” Tsukauchi sat down on a rolling chair and scooched closer with his notepad – a serious look on his face that awaited any answers.

Toshinori noticed young Midoriya’s hesitation and shiver of slight fear at the mention. Toshinori sighed. “Yeah, yeah… I’ll tell you all of what I know about her. Midoriya, you’ll have to answer some of Tsukauchi’s questions too.”

“R-right…” Midoriya said as he waited patiently.

Tsukauchi nodded to them “Good. We’ll be here for a while.”

His window was open, and he could hear the blaring traffic outside and the constant sound of cars, busses, and other busy bodies roaming the streets of downtown Musutafu.

Giran paced back and forth in his apartment safehouse as he wracked his brain at the remaining footage, which he snatched off what was left on Hanako’s crippled corpse. He’d have to properly apologize to Lord Akiyama Hisanobu for the loss of one of his own.

Fuck, I wasn’t expecting that shit…. The damn Chiyo family had to go and get involved in this.

That family hasn’t been the most favored of the Yakuza families still scurrying around in Musutafu’s underworld in his opinion. They were impatient and quick to temper when it came to problems that ruined their operations. It wasn’t a surprise that Makima’s actions would echo out and cause ripples that would disturb the sleeping beasts of a bygone criminal era.

Due to her random killings the Police Force have been scouring every nook and cranny for her. That extra attention on the shadows made a lot of the nocturnal crime-doers upset. So upset that they’d risk sneaking in a few of their men to try and whack her amidst Kurogiri and Shigaraki’s attempt at killing All-Might They were desperate it seems. Although he’d hoped they’d have done her in by sheer numbers, he was proven wrong.

That brief footage of what he saw on Hanako’s camera all but confirmed yet confused Giran even more: Makima was an anomaly of a person. She was far more dangerous than he thought. The god damn broad had more than one quirk it looked like. And he’s the only one who knows about it…. Was it wise to keep it to himself? Should he tell someone and reveal her ace?

This was forbidden knowledge that could very well get him killed. Makima most likely keeps stuff like this under lock and key, and as it would seem, a precautionary measure to those who see her hidden powers by killing any who see her hidden card.

Right now, he didn’t have to worry about her showing up on his front door as she’s apparently working with Tsukauchi at the school. And yet… He still couldn’t shake off the feeling off her creepy vibe. How in the hells did she pull of escaping and putting on her disguise in the midst of all that chaos? Did she have someone helping her that he doesn’t know about? Another one of her hidden quirks? How many did she have?

Giran had too many questions and not enough answers to solve this riddle that is Makima.

“And you’re certain that these villainous menaces will be put to justice?” A reporter’s voice asked.

“Of course.” The voice of the devil spoke on his box television as he reluctantly upped the volume to hear it better. “Rest assured, Detective Tsukauchi and I will find these villains and bring them to heel.” Makima's eyes stared directly into the camera, as if taunting Giran himself. “It’s only just a matter of time is all.”

“And if I may be so bold, Detective, can you tell us—” Giran turned off the channel and threw the remote at the screen. His head fell downwards as he scratched his head.

Fuck…

He had to tighten his security – if that even mattered now – and to get some favors in… His eyes slowly drifted over to his old phonebook which had several dubious names in it. Some that he hadn’t contacted in a while, and many of them who weren’t especially on good terms with him anymore. Nevertheless, it wouldn’t hurt to talk to them nor would it be frowned upon to ask for a truce.

Reluctantly, Giran picked up his flip phone and began dialing some numbers.

Cigarette smoke filled the air like oxygen itself – its fumes wafting towards the center of a large black and white marble table. Several groups of men and women dressed in varying outfits ranging from black suits; yukatas and kimonos; leather jackets and jeans; and even casual clothing sat collectively. They were all sitting in unison despite their differing attires and attitudes.

Their posture was immaculate, as if trained to do so for a long time, and their feet were tucked underneath them as they had folded their legs while sitting around a spacious traditional room fitted with straw matting and a somber wilted tree situated outside of the multipurpose room.

“You’re certain that’s her?” a gruff voice asked. “First time I’m seeing a really good photo of her.” A photo got tossed around the table. “What makes this damn broad so dang special? Other than looking fine, I don’t see anything worthwhile.”

“That’s what makes her special, Kazuma. You’ve not been impacted by her yet since you and your family are all the way over in the Kamino Ward. She’s completely ordinary and goes under our radar here in Musutafu. It’s like our old friend Giran said - she’s a ghost we don’t pay attention to, and if we continue to do that, it’ll fester and become an irritating cancer. One that we can all agree cannot be allowed to spread to other parts of our territory.” The voice scoffed. “I wasn’t surprised that the Chiyo Family went ahead and tried to take care of this issue by themselves.” The dignified elderly voice replied with a huff. “The fools.”

At the forefront of the table was Kazuma Hisashi – The Golden Blade and head of the Hisashi family. He handled anything and everything related to narcotics in Kamino. He had slicked-back blonde hair and gaunt cheekbones.  His pale and weathered skin spoke of someone who has been in the Yakuza business for a long time. A golden blade was sheathed and strapped to the back of his black and gold two-piece suit, and it was famous for taking the life of a Pro Hero back in Kazuma’s prime.

“Is it important to bring us all here to your pompous estate? Jesus, ya old geezer, it’s been twenty years since we had a gatherin’ of this scale. This red-head surely can’t be that serious.”

“Tch. As expected of you to not think of something that could affect us long-term, Kaz.” A younger and more haughty voice retorted.

On Kazuma’s right was a tiny girl. She had black pigtails and wore a crop top and leather shorts. The upper half of her body was lathered in detailed tattoos and a blue kitsune marked in ink swirled its way across her neck and face. She was the leading member in all things related to cyber-trafficking and hacking. A young prodigy who was essential to the oncoming times, especially now more than ever with Pro Heroes and Villains slowly making the Yakuza wane away. If anyone had hope that the Yakuza could live on, then Asuka Oozoru – The Gadget Fox of Musutafu, was one of the few who kept them going in this day and age.

Kazuma shook his head at the brat, offering her a glare. “I’m just saying that we all got things to worry about ourselves, ya know?” The older man sighed when he saw the same haughty pout of Asuka when he realized she wasn’t buying it. “You know I’m serious, brat; I’ve got a psychopath on the loose in my district slaughtering my boys and gals like nothing – leaving nothing without a trace ‘cept their entrails.”

“Sure, sure, Kaz. It’s nothing a few good punches can’t solve, I’m sure of it.” A deeper and more masculine voice bumped in.”

Seated right next to Asuka was a brute of a woman – The Steel Fists of Musutafu. She was often called Big Sis, and no one quite knew her name. What everyone did know was that she was the one who oversaw Musutafu’s hidden fighting rings across the city. She was unparalleled in terms of fighting someone with her fists and, if one were to face her, then they would walk out with more than a concussion. Boxing tape was wrapped haphazardly around her knuckles and her forearms. Her mane of white hair flowed like a wildfire.

“Don’t even start with me, muscles.” He pointed a finger at her. “You wouldn’t be saying shit like that if you’d seen what I seen. Whatever’s been slaughtering my people won’t be put down by punches or even fuckin’ bullets.” Kazuma placed his hands onto the marble table and earnestly looked at each of the Yakuza family heads. “I was sort of hoping that by coming to this meeting, I’d get somebody here to help me deal with it – preferably with military grade guns or explosives. This beast’s got some fucked up quirk ‘cause it shakes off whatever my boys throw at it.”

“That, or you’re just making more excuses to have extra firepower, huh?” Asuka butted in. “You’ve always been looking for more and more, Kaz. Wouldn’t be surprised if this is some elaborate scheme to whisk away some of our goodies that we got from that convoy going to Tartarus a couple weeks back.”

Kazuma’s hand slammed onto the table – almost cracking it. “Listen here, ya little shit and listen well; I ain’t playin’ games. I’ve got a seven-foot-tall monstrosity jumpin’ and runnin’ around slicing and dicin’ through my boys like nothin’. Shit doesn’t help that it looks like a fuckin’ demon straight outta hell.”

The memory of it was still burned into Kazuma’s head like it was yesterday; he was walking back to check on one of his warehouses where he’d stored a variety of narcotic contraband from a shipment originating from Cuba. The first thing that seemed off was that there was always someone posted at these warehouses to ensure no one went poking their noses in where they didn’t belong.

When he’d arrived – the lights were off, and it looked as though someone massive had broken in – or rather… carved their way in. After walking around in the dark, he heard the distinct noises of squelching and slurping. He hurried to flip a breaker and get the lights back on and that’s when he saw it….  

A devilish looking creature that appeared more monster than human was caught feasting on the remains of his fallen men in the middle of the warehouse.

If there was ever a title given to the vilest person in the world - it belonged to the monster with the purest black skin he’d ever seen. Hellish yellow glowing eyes peered into his soul when he walked in on it slurping up the blood of a man’s torso ripped in half. Infernal looking chainsaw blades sunk back into its face and arms before it looked at him – smiling with its needle-sharp teeth before taking the torso and jumping out of the ceiling of his warehouse.

Of course, nobody believes him about what he saw. There was no such thing as monsters. But Kazuma knew that thing wasn’t human; no sane person would cannibalize another living human being and slurp out their innards like their body was a juice pack.  

The dignified voice from earlier cleared their throat to change the subject of Kazuma’s outburst and took his mind off that horrific memory.

Across from the three notable Yakuza heads was an old man with facial tattoos and wide-rimmed glasses. Akiyama Hisanobu – The Turtle of Musutafu. He was an old-timer who has long since resided in Musutafu’s underworld. He had a black-lacquered cane that had an iron handle with his family crest on it. He was the overseer of both the Yakuza meetings and protection rings. A literal legend whom many of the Yakuza held with great respect. His neatly wrapped green and black kimono showed much of his appreciation for a bygone era. His wrinkles showed off how long he’s been in this dark business.

“We will discuss your issue after this, Kazuma. And before you ask why I requested you to come all this way, I’ll get to it in a moment, so be patient. Right now, we must talk about the matter I gathered you here for. We didn’t come to this meeting to bicker with one another, isn’t that right?” Akiyama’s words commanded respect and the rest of the intruding conversations came to a halt.

He spoke with a calm tone. “We gathered here because Giran told us that this woman may be getting a bit too out of hand. Her rampant killings have been putting everyone in our beloved city on edge.”

They all agreed. This Makima was bad for business and has been driving up more and more surveillance and trouble from both the Pro Heroes and the Police Force. There are more eyes in the sky nowadays. More patrols cover their dealing spots. More heroes sticking their noses where they didn’t belong.

It was because of this Makima that they’ve been losing out on a ton of money and time. She had to learn her place if she wanted to operate in the underworld, that much was clear. She had to be taught a lesson either peacefully, or if necessary, forcefully.

A lot of the members of the table of the various Yakuza families laughed. They all collectively agreed that whomever this woman was, she was a rookie in the field, and it was up to them to show her what it meant to fuck with the Yakuza.

“Now, I sent one of Kazuma’s up and coming pupils to gather information on this ‘Makima’ during her little stint with one of Giran’s contacts recently.”

“Ah, you mean the shit-show that was the USJ Attack?” Many whispers and jokes went around the room. “It’s all over the news. Bunch of rookies who thought they could take down All-Might. Pft. What a joke.” Kazuma said in a dismissive tone. “Ya gotta know when to pick your fights carefully, and whoever organized that – didn’t understand that.”

“My thoughts exactly. However, word is that we’ve lost young Hanako. I apologize for the loss, Kazuma. That is my mistake for allowing her to go onto that mission. I know she meant a lot to your family.”

Kazuma scoffed. “I know. Proud little sapling that little shit was. What a waste to see her go out like that. And where’s the fuckers who ruined it? The Chiyo Family. Where the fuck are they? You mentioned the shits earlier; they need to answer for their transgressions.”

“Unfortunately, that is where I bring irritating news. Asuka – if you would.”

The youngest of the Yakuza threw a gadget onto the marble table which quickly projected a hologram of the head of Chiyo Family. It was a younger and smug looking character that many of the families present weren’t accustomed to. Many laughs, grunts of disapproval, and negative words were tossed around at the sight of the newest head of the Chiyo Family – Nagato Chiyo.

“The previous head – Suzuki Chiyo – who went under the name ‘Suzuki Yorozawa’ had died due to one of our target’s ‘suicides’ alongside Nagato’s cousin…. Eh…. What’s his name…?” The young girl pondered before saying with a smile. “Oh, yeah! Some dumb reporter who gouged his eyes out with chopsticks. What a stupid way to die.” Asuka let out a slight chuckle before clearing her throat. “Anyways, Nagato blames this ‘Makima’ gal for it and basically wants her head on a spike. He’s gone completely radio-quiet on us and believes its his duty to kill her himself.”

Kazuma rubbed his temples. “Jesus, and I’m guessing any leads he has on her whereabouts are kept close to his fuckin’ chest?”

“Yep.”

“Fuckin’ hell. Alright, what do you need me to do?” Kazuma looked towards Akiyama. “Want us to collect together a hit-squad?”

The elder nodded with a grimace. “That is the plan and why I asked you to come along, however considering your issue with this… what do you call it?”

“A fuckin’ monster, that’s what it is. Plain and simple. I still got a few more of my boys with me – two of ‘em at least who are good at hits. Though, I’ll feel pretty on edge without em.”

“Understandable; I’m sure Big Sis could lend you some of her best and sturdiest to replace a few of the men—”

“Few?” Kazuma barked out a laugh. “You’ve not been up to date on the news goin’ on in Kamino have ya, old man? It’s not just a few – it’s a lot. I’ve lost at least twenty-four men so far tryna’ deal with this batshit case of mine since it popped up a few weeks ago. All of them were in a similar manner – blood and guts spewed everywhere, and their innards sliced open with some kinda chainsaw or serrated blade.”

“Point taken, Kazuma, but I need you calm. Will that be doable, Big Sis? Would be so kind as to aid our friend from Kamino?”

The muscular woman sighed and crossed her arms before picking out some earwax. “I guess… As long as he doesn’t keep his panties in a twist about me and my own gettin’ a share for the protection.”  

“Tch, ‘course you’re in it for the money, muscles.”

Big Sis shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one who needs backup, not me. It’s just business after all.”

Kazuma scoffed and pointed at Asuka. “And what about short-stack over there? Is she just twiddling her thumbs and flickin’ her bean watchin’ porno on her laptops while we work hard on the ground?”

“Fuck you, Kaz! I’m doing the most out of all of us! If it weren’t for me, you’d be having several cops on your tail before you came here. Luckily for you, I know how to deal with their scrying little cameras. Besides, I’m the one that’s going to be finding where this red-head’s staying. So keep your stupid trap shut!”

“Fuck off, shortie.”

“No, fuck you, Kaz!”

“Now, now, let’s—”

“Don’t butt in, muscles! I need to cuss this little shit out—"

A cane struck the ground – ceasing the commotion and bringing the anger to a halt.

“Now that you’ve all calmed down, we must discuss the plan on how to properly deal with this ‘Control Killer’. I’d rather not have us all sacrifice ourselves trying to figure out how her quirk works, so let us all brainstorm some ideas. I want Kazuma’s best and discreet to take her out. But… if possible….” His wrinkly old hands intertwined with each other as a glint shone in his eyes.

“Ah, fuck, you’re not thinking what I think—”

“Subdue her and bring her back to here. Perhaps instead of lying six feet under in a coffin, she could persuaded to use that quirk for us instead. It’d make—”

“Hell to the damn no, ya old geezer. A fucked-up quirk like that should stay buried with her carcass in the deepest pits of hell, I say.” Kazuma stood up and looked at Akiyama. “I should’ve known ya would want something like that. Quirks are what screwed us over in the first place. We’d lose all our honor using shit like that.”

“And if it succeeds? We’d be feared again, Kazuma. Come on, you two. Surely you’d like a taste of the glory days.” Akiyama’s eyes went over to the two girls. “Does it not sound intoxicating? To be feared by both the Police Force and the Public?”

The two looked as though they were thinking it over, so too did the other minor families who looked at each other.

Kazuma decided it was best to change the subject. “And what of the Shie Hassaikai? Where’s their old wrinkly fuck at? Ain’t he supposed to be here to be making these types of decisions? You’re not the only elder in this, ya know.” Kazuma slammed a hand down onto the table. “Old fuck could have at least left a message.”

“Hmph. Don’t know, don’t care.” Asuka said with a pout as she considered Lord Akiyama’s idea.

“I think they’re undergoing a change in leadership. Something to do with the old man’s successor – the one who’s a real germ freak may take over, apparently.” Big Sis said with a shake of her head. “Too scrawny in my opinion.”

“So? Is he—”

“Nah, you wouldn’t like him, Kaz. He’s one of the newer-gen type of Yakuza. Too progressive for your ‘refined’ tastes, whatever those are.”

“Oh, fuck off, muscles.”

“Heh, sure, sure, you’d like to fuck off with something, wouldn’t ya? Too bad you’re past your prime. I’d give you one last ride if you weren’t pale as a damn corpse.”

Kazuma flipped off the muscular woman as he pushed away from the table. “Tch. Meeting adjourned, yeah? I’m already getting in a foul mood with these two youngsters you brought into this, Akiyama. I’ll scrounge up my two best men, but if I get the chance – I’m icing the broad, ya hear? It’s bad enough I got a man-eating psycho back home to deal with; I don’t wanna worry about some bitch who could make me kill myself with a snap of her fingers.”

The elderly yakuza sighed as he stood up, using his cane as support. “If you do; know that you’ll make an enemy of me and everyone else here. That woman is becoming more valuable by the minute.” His weary eyes spoke the truth as some of the more bloodthirsty members were already reaching for their weapons. It was a cramped room with too much darkness to see any of the other members who may be lurking in the shadows with a gun.

Kazuma narrowed his eyes at Akiyama. “You’re going too deep into a weird ass pussy you don’t want your wrinkly dick in.”

Akiyama laughed as he approached Kazuma with a smug grin. “Perhaps I am, but you and I both know that this is the chance of a lifetime. Think on it. We’ll be real Yakuza again with that kind of power. I’ve got plans to ensure she’s captured. I just need your strong men to pin her down when she least expects it. That is all.”

Kazuma barked out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh yeah? And what’ll happen if I get controlled? I don’t wanna go out like half of the people in our city are doing. Slitting their throats, jumping into busy traffic. I’d rather we kill her and be done with it. If we capture her – there’s no telling what she’ll do in the heart of our strongholds.” He looked over to the hesitant family leaders in attendance as well.

Soon the various Yakuza heads began arguing about why they should or shouldn’t kill the Control Killer. Kazuma was amid it all, berating Big Sis and Asuka about why they should change their minds.

A cane struck the ground, and it again silenced the room which began getting more quieter with each passing second. “Enough. We are here,” Akiyama’s wrinkled hand gestured to Asuka slapping away Kazuma’s hand and setting up a larger hologram of their target. “To talk about this ‘Makima’. Are we all in agreement to try and capture her? Or do you all wish to follow in Kazuma’s idiotic plan of killing what could be our redemption?”

After seeing all their heads nod begrudgingly, he continued. “Good. Our chances are abysmal, yes. That much I know. We only have a few with somewhat useful gadgets and weapons in our families, and I know it must be difficult to try and pull those aces out. However,” Akiyama made a pause. “Our goal isn’t out of reach.” His wrinkled smile got wider as he saw that he got their attention. Even the reluctant Kazuma who looked as though he was about to walk out the doors stopped to hear his words.

“I have an idea – one that requires the utmost patience and cooperation amongst all of you.” Kazuma had never seen Akiyama smile so fervently before. It was as if the old geezer had won the lottery and he was ready to tell everyone how much he’d won.

Chapter Text

Tsukauchi waited for everyone to sit in their seats as he pulled out his notebook, readying himself to explain what he’d found so far from the USJ incident.

Several of the U.A. Staff were seated in black leather chairs at a U-shaped table with himself and Hayakawa standing at the end. The Principal and Toshinori were on the left; Snipe and Midnight at the forefront; and Vlad King on the right.

“Apologies for gathering you all here so late to discuss my findings. I figured a Friday would be better to discuss this than on an early Monday morning or evening.” He straightened the papers in his hands and cleared his throat. “Our investigators, alongside my newest colleague, Hayakawa here,” Tsukauchi gestured to the black-haired woman who had her hands behind her back. “Are doing all we can to find out about this ‘League of Villains.’ We’ve made some progress, but we can’t find anything on this Shigaraki so far. We’ve dug deep into our records for any man in their early twenties or thirties who are registered as having a disintegration quirk.”

Tsukauchi sighed. “But so far, we’ve come up empty on the results. Same goes for the Warp Gate villain, Kurogiri. So, they’re not citizens or they’re using aliases. Hard to find, either way.”

Vlad King scowled and looked down at the table with his arms crossed. The muscular white-haired man’s brows furrowed. “What you’re saying is that we really don’t know anything.”

“We’ve gotta track ‘em down. I shot their ringleader, but once he’s back in shape he’ll probably try pullin’ somethin’ like this again.” Snipe shook his head. “What a pain.”

Toshinori’s face twisted into a grimace as he looked to have recalled something; Tsukauchi was quick on pulling out his notepad to write down anything. He nodded to Hayakawa to do the same.

“The attack on the USJ was too foolish and bold to even attempt. No same man or woman would even risk something like that.” Toshinori continued after shaking his head in disapproval. “The leader just kept talking about the reasons he was there. He kept bragging about the Nomu’s quirks, but he never really said much about his own powers. And when things didn’t go his way, he was visibly upset. Like the guy was gonna throw a tantrum.”

The talks kept going on about Shigaraki for a while – mainly describing the man as some man-child or a spoiled brat who’s too much out of his league for attempting this crime.

“Still, it’s incredible that someone like that has such a powerful quirk.” Vlad King added.

“Maybe it’s possible the kid hadn’t received quirk counseling like kids normally do in elementary school.” Midnight replied.

“Maybe so, but it doesn’t really matter now.” Snipe said.

Tsukauchi decided it was best to shift the conversation. “There were fifty-nine villains arrested in the aftermath of the USJ attack.”

The heroes all closed their eyes at the other number coming up. “And thirteen of whom are currently wrapped up in body bags at the morgue. Almost all these guys were small-time thugs; ones you’d typically see lurking around in back-alleys and such. What worries me is the fact that these thugs all followed through to his plan and saw this ‘man-child’ as a real leader. But there had to be some sort of rallying power to encourage them as such to go through with it. This ‘Nomu’ character isn’t saying much back at the station, so we could only assume that he was the motivation for it. Criminals nowadays are obviously feeling a lot of pressure from both our increased watch on the streets due to our friendly neighborhood Control Killer out on the loose still and from this world’s abundance of heroes. These factors could’ve been a deciding variable for them to back such a simple-minded goal.”

“Guess that makes sense…” Vlad King said.

“I agree; there are plenty a’ people out there lookin’ for a cause to get behind.” Snipe nodded.

“What can we do to help?” Midnight added as she looked toward Tsukauchi.

“We’ll expand our investigations and continue with our search for these villains. But, moving on from this, I want to discuss your student’s involvement with the thirteen dead bodies we found in the Squall Zone.”

“And you’re certain that they’re all a result from our student’s rage in the Squall Zone? Are you sure that’s your conclusion, Detective?” Principal Nezu said as the whole group turned to look at Tsukauchi. “Now I understand the grisly scene at hand here in our school, but I must give young Tokoyami the benefit of the doubt.”

Tsukauchi sighed. “I understand that you’d think that every kid deserves a chance, especially in your guys’ line of work. Heroes shouldn’t be questioned about their decisions but…” He gave the sign for Hayakawa to step forward.

She laid a folder on the table with a great deal of information on it as the staff passed it around and grimaced at the photos held inside. Hayakawa spoke as soon as they stopped looking at the info.

“The thirteen thugs who were viciously pummeled to death were a result of Tokoyami Fumikage’s quirk going berserk. I understand that it was a life-or-death situation that he was put in, but it still doesn’t negate the fact that he’s killed people in your institution. There will be no slap on the wrist given here. I personally think that he should be sent off to a juvenile corrections facility.”

“Even still, miss Hayakawa, I think that you’re blowing this out of proportion. The footage could’ve been tampered with, or only showed a small snippet of what really happened.” Principal Nezu said with a slight scowl at the thought of one of his students being locked up. He turned his attention to the more reasonable sounding Detective. “Are you certain that you’d take this action towards our students who we vowed to protect, Tsukauchi? This is a blatant accusation that your partner is insinuating here.”

“If word got out that your institution harbors a student who’s murdered thirteen thugs and allowed him to get away with it, then I doubt it’ll go well with the public or our city.”

Vlad King glared at Hayakawa as he clenched his fists. “That a threat or something?”

His partner merely shook her head and kept steady. “No, I am merely stating fact. An info leak is bound to happen if you try to sweep an issue like this under the rug. The whole city of Musutafu -- civilians, parents, and other students included will clamor for him to be behind bars or sent to Tartarus.” Hayakawa laid out the facts harshly and the room went deathly quiet at her words. Tsukauchi felt as though she was too cold, and he placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her away from Principal Nezu.

“My apologies for my colleague. She is just stating the obvious. But yes, I highly recommend that you allow us to keep him at our station, at least for the time being.” He raised his hands before any of the staff could protest. “I promise that we’ll let him speak to his parents and see that he gets a lawyer - do not worry about that. But… I think you all know what is best for your school, I’m afraid.”

“And what of our security footage?” Snipe asked with an indignant sigh.

“It is jumbled beyond too much repair. We were lucky that it captured some remnants of the Squall Zone and a few others where the students fought valiantly against the villains in question.” Tsukauchi said as he checked over his notes and shifted his eyes toward Toshinori. “Which brings us to Toshinori’s statements that I thought would be best if shared with you all.”

The table all looked at the Symbol of Peace. “I think that…. We may have encountered the Control Killer during our fight at the USJ.” He continued with a deep and exhausted sigh at everyone’s look of concern. “I don’t feel any strange compulsions, nor do I wish to harm myself or others. When I first arrived at the scene, there was another person among the two villains we know of – a red-haired woman to be exact. She had a hold of a few other students – young Midoriya among them and she did something to their heads. My student was able to resist her quirk somehow, but the others couldn’t.”

“We believe that we may have a found a limit on the Control Killer’s quirk – it’s not much, but it’s a start. We’ve also swept the whole area and discovered more traces of this ‘woman’ at the scene. There was a pair of dismembered hands that gave us zero results – much like our League of Villains’ suspects.”

“So, is she possibly in critical condition herself? Losing a pair of hands is a lot of blood. Would we be looking out for a potential villain with no hands or perhaps bionic support ones as a replacement? Hiding a visible wound like that is no easy feat.” Snipe said as he leaned in, more interested in the topic of the elusive Control Killer.

They all agreed on that and Tsuakuchi jotted that nugget of info down.

“So, she’s in cohorts with the League then? It’d make sense of why the other various thugs would be behind the attack.” Vlad King said with a scowl.

Tsukauchi nodded and pointed at him with his pencil. “We believe so. What else could inspire a crowd of low lives if not one of the most feared villains on the streets right now?”

“A nigh-untouchable villain that’s evaded both the police and the heroes with their powerful quirk….” Vlad King said as he realized the grave meaning. “Should we even keep on with the upcoming Sport Festival?”

“I agree; I don’t think we should hold it if the Control Killer is involved with this League of Villains. There’s no doubt in my mind that they’d attempt something of horrific scale if it were to continue.” Midnight said.

“Well… I understand the situation, but it’s not as simple as cancelling it, I’m afraid. The entire world comes to this event annually and we’re supposed to keep going with it… But if we increase security—”

“You can’t seriously be considering keeping the event going, Principal…” Toshinori said with an exasperated sigh. His fellow staff members shared the same reactions.

“I know, but if we show that we can keep ourselves upright and that the threat at hand here has been handled – the public will calm down. They will be assured, as will the students and parents, that our school will be safer than ever before. Security will be triple that of last year. If Tsukauchi’s chief allows it, we can have officers and Pro Heroes on standby this time around. We will confiscate phones and anything of importance that would allow this Control Killer to use their quirk from a distance. Only our cameras and such will be there to broadcast it. Everything will be kept on a watchful eye.” Principal Nezu said with a confident smirk.

Everyone in the room grumbled but relented and agreed, as did Tsukauchi and Hayakawa.

Would it still be enough, though? Tsukauchi wondered to himself.

She looked at the small metallic earbud with a white silicone tip with a discerning eye. It was surprisingly light given its techy-appearance, and when slotted into the ear, a sense of ease washed over her body.

“So, these things supposedly will keep us from hearing the Control Killer’s commands, Daisuke? You’re absolutely, one-hundred-percent sure that this works?” Her skittish and low voice asked.

A thick, meaty hand waved away her concerns as it placed itself on a steering wheel. “Relax, Sakura. The boss said that these are some of the most reliable support items on the market. It’s got some stolen tech that comes from the I-Island nerds. They’re one of the most reliable bunch of virgins to pump out shit like this.” Daisuke’s carefree voice replied.

Sakura fidgeted around in the brown leather seat as they took a left, following the instructions that were given to them to find the Control Killer’s home.

“S-still…. Isn’t it kind of messed up that the boss is basically sending us into a lion’s den? W-what if she’s waiting for us?”

“Keep whining, why don’t you? This is why I hate being paired up with you; you’re always skittish for no reason. Only reason I do bring you along is because you got a quirk that can render us invisible in case shit goes south.”

“B-but—”

“No more ‘ifs’ or ‘buts’, Sakura. Boss wants the dumb bitch alive, and I’ll be damned if I don’t fulfill his request. The extra bonus pay-out will be mine!” He giggled as he took another sharp right into a serene parking lot to a magnanimous apartment building. Twenty stories tall with balconies, a pristine grey and white color scheme, and a concrete rectangular welcoming sign with blue lettering that said: Miyamoto Haven.

Sakura got out in a hurry and gently closed the door to Daisuke’s white car. “Y-you’re sure this is the place. It doesn’t look like—”

“Shut your trap, Sakura. I know where we are.” He whistled at the sight. “The damn broad is living like one of those fancy CEO’s or something. Definitely giving me points on my theory that she’s a paid killer. Can’t wait to shove this in Masakazu’s face when we get her back to the estate.”

Sakura followed behind Daisuke’s burly back as they entered a quiet lobby area.

“Boss’ info says that our target is on the twentieth floor; we’ll take the elevator, and I’ll pick the lock to her apartment.” He pushed his pudgy finger into her chest. “Better keep watch. We can’t be seen, otherwise it’s all fucked.”

“Y-yeah…. O-of course. I-I’ll do that….” She fidgeted with her fingers and kept thinking of all the scenarios that could go wrong with this job. They both entered the fancy elevator that politely played some tunes as they rose to the twentieth floor.

He passed her a green canister – something that someone would typically associate with a gas container. “It’s the sleeping agent that our reliable I-Island Nerds happily let us borrow.  We’ll toss it inside and wait for the broad to be knocked out cold.”

“A-and if she isn’t? What then….?” Her question earned her a smack across the forehead. “Ow….”

“This Control Killer may be a psycho, but a psycho still must rest at some point, right? We’ll just bide our time and wait for her to come back.

Daisuke’s hands quickly went to pick the apartment door’s lock – a feat that seemed impossible for Sakura who kept constantly thinking that they’d be caught. Within a few minutes, he got it opened and Sakura immediately activated her quirk to make them invisible to the eye. Though, anything they bump into might ruin the concentration of it all. For her power to essentially work, she had to constantly think that they were invisible, and it would work.

They snooped around the area and quickly hid behind a kitchen counter to see a humongous man made of stone. He was wearing a black tank top and dark blue jeans with white socks. He was tending to seven little husky pups – feeding them dog kibble and petting them gently. He was eerily quiet and did nothing else before sitting down next to the pups on the carpet.

Luckily for them, the puppies were too busy chomping down their meal for the night to even notice Sakura and Daisuke slinking into the apartment’s short corridor to find a hiding spot.

They saw a room with a large whiteboard and a wall riddled with sticky notes – naturally their curiosity got the better of them as they tip-toed inside.

Sakura walked up to the white board to see odd symbols she’d never seen before, as well as notes that go along with it. Most of it reminded her of pentagrams.

Was the Control Killer a Satanist or a messed-up cultist? She looked at a set of books that was laid on the mahogany table in the room. Each of them had been riddled with a plethora of colored sticky notes in their pages – signaling that it’s been researched and analyzed thoroughly. Most of the books were in English and other languages she didn’t seem to know of.

Devils, Demons, and Men by Godrick F. Barnaby; Demonic Records and Events by Reginald A. Whitford; The Four Horseman: A Compendium of Lore by Natalie Comstock; Are Devils Real by Geneva Fae.

Looking further, she looked at the whiteboard. The Control Killer’s handwriting was so refined and delicate. Sakura’s eyes read a tiny portion of the writing.

Sought to bring out any low-level Devil to come to being – none were successful. How do contracts work if they do not exist here?

Sakura’s head titled at what this meant. Contracts? Was the Control Killer an Assassin then? Were these code words for something? She looked over the single worded titles involving devils that were outlined, highlighted, and given various annotations.  

The woman was a Satanist - that much Sakura concluded. Her pink eyes slowly shifted to the final part of the board that had three names written in bold lettering, but before she could tap Daisuke’s shoulder to let him know, he shushed her.

One of the little pups was in a crouched position – growling at them and barking. Loudly.

“Fuck…” Daisuke whispered. “Stay still. Keep your quirk up.” He said, but she wasn’t listening. Her heart was racing at what else she was reading off the whiteboard. It was cruel; she had to take a photo to share with someone. Screw the god damn kidnapping at this point; someone had to know what was being planned.

But before she knew it, Daisuke had the stone giant towering over him with its fists at the ready.

Makima was quite pleased with the outcome of that meeting. It went surprisingly well, and the staff seemed to have been none the wiser about what had truly transpired. They really did believe every little detail that Tsukauchi was giving to them. Even if the details were slightly warped because of her slight little changes.

She took a taxi back home and was waiting leisurely in the back seat. Her eyes glanced over the passing buildings and bright neon lights of bars and stores that occasionally shined by in a flash. 

There were various factors that she still couldn’t cover up fully and that made planning more complicated.

The Midoriya boy and his immunity – an issue that had to become a priority in the near future. His words may lead to Tsukauchi snooping around, and she didn’t need the Detective hot on her tail again so soon. It took months to throw him off; having it all undone by a smart little boy was an irksome scenario.

There was also the annoying Yakuza family that butted in. Another trivial issue that she thought would be the first on her to-do list. Tomorrow morning she’d run the Yakuza pin through the Police Force’s database to find out who and where this family operates. Of course, many of her fellow officers wouldn’t wish to jump onto the Yakuza hunt at all. There would be no doubt that they’re all too inclined to focus on the USJ incident and trying to find leads to her ‘Control Killer’ alias.

She’d have to take care of this matter personally with the help of Gyu – her stone-faced lap dog. He’s been useful so far as a watchdog for her apartment. She’s not had much of a chance at using his brute strength in anything else.

The taxi slowly pulled into her parking lot and gently came to a stop to allow Makima to exit. She gingerly passed the man the fare money and bid farewell as she began walking towards her apartment complex.

The quiet sounds of cars and people talking could be heard all around in the parking lot. She paid no attention to the other residents who amicably talked with one another this late.

She entered the quiet lobby and made her way to the elevator. She stepped inside and pushed the button for the twentieth floor. The calming piano tone of a tune played as she waited in the spacious elevator. It took a few minutes and Makima spent the time waiting patiently before exiting the elevator.

She slipped past a couple talking about some news out of town and kept walking down the hallway – its quiet serenity quickly snuffed out as shoes clicked, making an echo.

When she got to her apartment her eyes got slightly suspicious of how the door seemed to have been wrenched open with brute force of some kind.

As she entered the ruined room of her home, she took note of the fact that her furniture was overturned; the walls were covered in tears and dents; the kitchen looked as though someone was slammed through it, and the contents of her groceries tossed, crushed, and smeared over the floor.

A fight occurred in her own home.

Seven of her recently adopted husky pups appeared to have been stomped on or kicked repeatedly. It was no doubt in her mind that they died painfully. Their blood stained the floor in a thick pool. Their lifeless little bodies weren’t a pleasant sight at all, and the only thing she could do was sigh.

Sprawled out onto the leather couch was Gyu’s corpse. She shook her head at the pawn’s mangled body.

“You know, I just got those pups a week ago, and you went and killed them.” She patted the bloodied head of a black and white husky pup before turning around to face her invader.

“Not concerned for your bodyguard’s life?” A woman’s voice shakily asked.

“Not really. He was replaceable; his only useful quality was to be the one who watches over my dogs whenever I was gone.” Again, Makima sighed and shook her head at the sight of one of her favorite pups’ body. She really liked its brown and white fur most especially. It was also the first to have looked at her with such obedient loyalty in its eyes when she got it.

“So, you’re the one’s who’s been causing a ruckus, all this time?” A second, manly voice said with disappointment. “Your bodyguard made us have to go and waste two really good military grade items in order to put his ass down. We were sort of hoping to save it for you.” The man chuckled. “Poor bastard actually started crying in relief at dying too, almost made me feel a slight bit of pity.”

Makima ignored the two home-invaders and kept peering at the bodies of her pups.

“I was going to give each of the seven dogs of mine interesting names, and now I’ll have to scour all of Musutafu, maybe even farther, to find the breed I want again.”

“Still going on about some shitty little puppies? Maybe I should talk about how I stomped their—”

“Drop your weapons and kneel.” Makima said in a casual tone as the two people wearing black hoodies and jeans knelt in a sudden manner. They couldn’t comprehend what was going on. Their handguns fell to the carpet floor with a small clatter.

“D-Daisuke…. The earbuds…! They aren’t working…” Sakura’s voice trembled with fear as Makima approached the two.

“Shut up, Sakura!”

Makima’s head tilted as she knelt in front of the frightened woman and pulled off her balaclava mask. A pair of purple eyes on the brisk of tearing up stared at her – a freckled face scrunched up in absolute dread.

“Earbuds?” Her fingers plucked out an electronic looking-earbud with a thick cushion for the inner ear canal. “Interesting. Who are you with?”

“T-the C-chiyo Family….”

“Oi, Sakura!” The man’s eyes widened when he realized that his partner was succumbing to Makima’s power.

“And what was the purpose of your visit? Surely you weren’t here to crush my loyal little dogs.”

“O-Our boss wanted you personally…. T-to kill you himself! W-we were going to capture you….”

“And where is your boss now? In an estate, perhaps?”

“Don’t fucking answer that question, Sakura!”

Makima simply smiled as she turned her attention to the foul-mouthed man. “You two saved me a lot of trouble by coming here.” Makima’s fingers pulled at the man’s mask to reveal a scarred and chiseled face. “You really did inconvenience me by killing my pups. It’ll take weeks, maybe even months before I can find, buy, and train a group of them again.” Her fingers caressed the man’s chin. “I had them already able to comprehend the notion of sitting when ordered to, you know. And now, I’ll have to start over.”

Makima’s smile fell as she looked at the two like they were insignificant cockroaches who spoilt a fine hobby of hers.

“Any word on the duo that I sent?” Nagato’s spindly fingers reached for another grape on a plate. He shooed away the maid in an old-Victorian era outfit to leave him in his gaudy room filled to the brim with prized historical artifacts from Europe.

“Not a word, boss. You sure it was wise to send those two? They were some of the best break-in specialists we had; they ain’t meant for kidnapping jobs.”

“Same thing, Masakazu. Just keep me posted on when those two’ll nab her. It took a lotta money to find out where this bitch lives.” He scratched his crotch and looked out the window, staring at the koi pound near the entrance to his estate.

“Will do, boss.” The call ended.

He rested his spindly legs on his former Patriarch’s old red wood desk imported from an American company. It’s U-shaped exterior and shelves housing countless books of ancient colonialism, nationalism, and more littered the room like a miniature library.

His baggy eyes rested on a photo of his Patriarch’s killer – a very grainy yet visible shot of the red-headed bitch on a rooftop with her arms behind her back. If it wasn’t for her, the boss would’ve been alive still. He wouldn’t have gone out like that through suicide. That wasn’t the Yakuza way, and this ‘Control Killer’ broad had to go and ruin his boss’ honorable end. It was also annoying how patronizing or outright hostile the other Yakuza families were to him. They didn’t respect him enough yet. Not like the old boss did.

His grip on the leather office chair’s armrest tightened. He eyed the trusty pistol the boss gave him when he became Captain of the Chiyo Family a couple years ago. Nagato couldn’t wait to put a bullet in the head of the psycho when he had the chance.

His plan of having the Control Killer sedated and brought back here had to work, so he could show off to the other Yakuza families that he was the one who managed to deal with this issue. It’d gain respect and much more possibly.

Still, the only issue was trying to capture her. He glared at the photo and impatiently tapped his foot.

“Damn you…”

Daisuke and Sakura are still a no-show. Masakazu thought to himself, scratching his stubble. Those two idiots would’ve been here by now for our swap.

The night was approaching fast, and the suburbs were getting quiet around these parts of Musutafu’s more serene districts. Crickets and the occasional car driving by were heard as the moonlight was slowly being shrouded by the clouds.

Masakazu wasn’t entirely happy with the change in leadership of the Chiyo Family, but it was a lot more profitable with the new head in charge. The little shit-for-brains Nagato was practically afraid of a coup happening in the family, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the lieutenants had his balls in a tight grip.

He was being paid, alongside the two supposed break-in experts Daisuke and Sakura, to capture, hide, and escort their target back to the estate. From there, the boss will arrive in the front yard and do whatever the fuck he wants with the psycho.  

He flicked away his half-used cigarette and smushed it under the heel of his leather dress shoe. He recognized the white, if not dated, car of Daisuke’s pulling up to the driveway of the dummy house where they’ll switch vehicles. The two idiots were surprisingly quiet as they got out of the car quickly and went to the trunk to retrieve a body covered in a black bag.

“What took you so long? Shouldn’t take that much to make the broad faint with the gas the boss gave you two.” He said as he went to look at the body bag. “Whatever, just load it into the van and we go our separate ways, like usual.”

They nodded and did as they were told, surprisingly. “What crawled up your asses and died? Was the job that bad?” He laughed as they remained quiet but ignored it as he slammed the door and started the van up.

He noticed Sakura getting into the van with him and he looked at her with a confused raise of his brow. “The fuck you think—”

A sharp pain suddenly entered his stomach as he took note of the sharp knife firmly planted to the base. He looked to see Sakura continuously stab him in the same area, sometimes twisting it, and he tried to scream, but Daisuke’s thick hands covered his mouth, preventing him from doing so.

From the outside, the van shook violently for a few minutes before coming to a painfully slow halt.

Makima waited patiently in the back of the van with her hands clasped together on her lap. The ride was tediously long as it went through several blocks of suburban homes until it stopped shortly just outside of a fancy, traditional Japanese estate. It had a large, black iron gate with a golden crest much like the pins she’d found on the men in the USJ.

Though, it was surprisingly smaller than most estates she’d seen in the past. There were several guards posted outside – all of them wearing formal black suits with their collars opened.

“Pull into the estate.” She said to Daisuke as he did what was told and slowly parked in front of the large gate. Two men casually walked up to it, waving for someone to open the gates for the van to slowly drive in, parking into a cobblestone driveway further upward.

She got into position, making sure to drag the girl with the invisible quirk with her.

A blank-faced maid with a hime cut walked towards Nagato, bowing low with a tired, monotonous tone of voice. “Mr. Chiyo, sir.”

He sighed, eating another grape, and petting a cat in his lap. “What is it?”

“Mr. Daisuke and Miss Sakura have arrived from their trip. Your men are securing the woman now.”

His amber eyes lit up like it was Christmas.

The damn bastards did it?! It worked?!

He pushed the cat off his lap and quickly slipped on his sports coat and leather loafers. “Thank you for notifying me! Dismissed!” He waved her away and paced down the stairs, smiling happily at the other maids as he dreamt of this moment.

The Control Killer is in my hands! I can’t wait to see the looks on Akiyama’s stupid face when he realizes that I, a younger generation Yakuza, had done what he and the others couldn’t!

Nagato let out a giggle underneath his breath as he pushed open the wooden doors to his estate and proudly walked out to the front porch – a wide array of his smug Yakuza in awe at Daisuke.

“Where’s Sakura and Masakazu? Thought that he was gonna be the one to deliver her to me?” He asked, though Daisuke shrugged and threw the black-body bag onto the floor with a heavy groan. Nagato narrowed his eyes at the man before he pulled out a revolver and aimed it at the man. “Don’t fuck me, Daisuke; I asked you a question: Where’s Sakura and Masakazu? You weren’t supposed to be the one to deliver her to me.”

He waved at the other loitering Yakuza standing by to circle the man – all of them pulled knives, guns, or their fists out, ready for a confrontation.

Nagato shot the ground near Daisuke who didn’t flinch as he proceeded to unzip the bag, revealing its contents.

Several of the Yakuza gasped or almost gagged at the sight of a mutilated corpse inside. It was what was left of Masakazu. His decapitated head rolled across the cobblestone pavement.

It wasn’t until he heard his men gasp in front of him that he realized someone was behind him with a knife to his throat.

“S-sakura… The fuck you doing?!” He hissed out at the familiar tanto pressed firmly to his jugular.

The woman didn’t answer but someone else did – a more serene voice that made him go into goosebumps.

“She’s simply following my orders. So, you’re a Yakuza? Perhaps the ones who interrupted something of mine not too long ago?” She turned around to face him, a face of indifference and a slight smirk that pissed him off.

“Hmm… How many men are here?” She looked around, counting off each individual frozen member of his family with a pleased expression. “This will do. Twenty-five in total – a perfect amount for your new assignment.”

“A-and what’s that huh?”

“It’s quite better if I tell you when you’re in a more obedient state.” The Control Killer made them all kneel with just a word. That made his heart sink. The support items he paid so much for weren’t working to suppress what many would’ve considered the Control Killer’s ace. Her quirk bypassed them like it was nothing.

She got closer and grabbed his chin with two fingers.

“Y-you know that if you kill me here, it’ll make all the Yakuza families rest their eyes on you! I-I’m not joking either! I’m part of—”

“Who said anything about dying?” She smiled at him. “No, you’re too useful to die just yet.”

Nagato’s vision went black as a fuzzy feeling encapsulated his entire head.

She smiled as his resistance faded instantly as it was replaced with an all-loving smile. “Now then, you’re going to tell me everything—”

Makima stopped and reared her head back to the main entrance to see several black SUV’s and a van pull up and smash through Nagato’s gated entrance and stone walls. They drove onto the gravel and some just straight up ran over the men she subdued with her control.

Soon enough, a dozen men and women dressed in all-black suits and wearing metal masks with guns surrounded the entire area. It didn’t stop there, one of them was calling or texting something on a phone and then quickly put the phone away.

She sighed, knowing that there was other elements of these gangsters still lurking in every shadow. No doubt they wanted a piece of the pie in her death.

Before she could speak, several of the armed Yakuza aimed their pistols or sub-machine guns into the air and shot wildly, releasing a torret of bullets that were really, really loud.

What were they hoping to achieve? Was it a signal of some sort to call for backup?

Her nose sniffed the air, and it recognized a lot of scents – all of them muddied by their signature cologne. It was irritating. There was one more scent coming in a thick aroma; it was heavy. Strong. Musky.

“O-oi… y-you’re sure this is gonna work….? I-I really don’t wanna be a punching bag for this… We’re in her usual patrol zone too…” A shaky man’s voice said as he kept firing off his pistol.

“Shut up, asshole.” Another voice hissed as they all aimed their guns into the air, causing as much as a racket as they can. “I-If we keep making a ruckus, we’ll—” The masked Yakuza’s voice was immediately silenced as a large foot connected with his neck. His body flailed and collided with the stone wall of Nagato’s estate and went clear through the stonework.

More and more of the Yakuza were being quickly dispatched through harsh roundhouse kicks and punches with merciless fury.

Makima’s eyes caught the barest glimpses of a white and purple blur and a lean muscular body colliding and knocking away several more of the gun-shooting Yakuza.

“You bastards! Keep spraying and praying those loud things and you’ll be eating through a straw!” Her voice roared as she crouched low in a pouncing position.

A feral grin and dark red eyes adorned this amazon of a woman. She was clad in a sleeveless white leotard with dark purple trim around her shoulders and waist. Her revealing and lewd costume wasn’t what garnered Makima’s attention.

It was the set of albino rabbit ears situated at the top of this woman whose eyes never left hers. There was a raging fire burning in them.

One of the Yakuza yelped and backed away. “I-it’s working! L-let the boss know s-she’s here! Tell them phase two—” He couldn’t say more before he got a mouthful of a rabbit’s foot landing straight across the jaw and knocking him to the gravel with a harsh thud.

Makima knew a Pro Hero when she saw one.

Kick by ferocious kick, combined with a roar of pure adrenaline, the agile rabbit woman swept through the crowd of Yakuza like a knife through hot butter.

Many of the poor men and women dropped their guns and tried to make a run for it, but it was no use. They were easily dispatched and beaten black and blue by this one.

Makima realized what those Yakuza were shooting those guns for - to attract whoever this is as well as any other hero. No doubt they’d hoped to whittle her down with a swarm of Pro Heroes coming this way.

Smart. She would have to give credit where it’s due to whoever thought of it.

But it was very inconvenient. If there were a swarm of people like this woman’s skill coming, it was time to bail. Tsukauchi and the Police Force would no doubt be on their way too.

Makima grabbed the Sakura girl and forced her to activate her invisibility quirk. Though it was put to an abrupt end as Sakura’s stomach got a whole muscular leg pushed into it, causing the poor girl to let out some spittle and be knocked out cold.

“And where do you think you’re goin’ Ms. Enigmatic?!” The woman’s voice yelled out with a energetic voice. Again, the woman got into a pouncing position, clearly poised to strike. She flashed another feral grin and looked her up and down. “I gotcha for at least a couple of minutes, and I’ll be damned if I can’t get a rush of fun out of you!”

Before Makima could react, the rabbit-woman charged head on with an insanely quick roundhouse kick.

Chapter Text

The diner’s interior was a beautiful blend of modernity and nostalgia to Shinji Nishiya. He’d recall the many times he and his family would have come to this place when he was a child.

He sighed in relief as he took a sip of some coffee for the oncoming late-night patrol. Things were going to be mellow and boring since a lot of crime has gone down recently. No doubt it was due to the scares of the new Control Killer.

Nishiya hated the idea of a cowardly quirk-user that used their quirks like that for evil purposes. It’s just not a humane thing to make someone take their lives away. He shook his head to get rid of that vile person from his mind, instead focusing on a band of youth coming his way.

Several children and their parents waved at him in adoration. Nishiya chuckled heartily as he gladly signed a few autographs here and there to the little tykes who beamed with joy at seeing him.

Many of them proudly declared that they’d take on the role of a hero one day, and the only thing he could do was just encourage them on their desired paths in life.

But Nishiya’s moment of bliss of being a hero was swiftly stolen. His companion seated across from him at the red dining table, had various men and a few women drooling all over her.

Nishiya groaned in disappointment as Yu Takeyama, otherwise known as Mountain Lady to all, selfishly managed to get free deserts from her adoring fans.  

“Why thank you all so much for the generous donations!” She flicked her hair dramatically and struck a pose that showed off her cleavage. Several of the fans swooned, and a few others fainted at the sight. Takeyama continued to bask in the praise and spoke with a purr in her voice. “Now, don’t mind Kamui here, just focus all on me. And keep a few gifts coming! A hero needs her reprieve every now and then~” She gingerly took a large soda from another fan who squealed in delight at having their soda taken, not even aware of the sloth-like truth of this woman.

If only they met the real Takeyama…

Nishiya ignored everything of degenerate origin happening across from him and continued to sip at his coffee. He rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone and it immediately vibrated with emergency notifications like crazy.

Takeyama’s went abuzz as well and she immediately took it out, going into a serious mode.

“Any and all available heroes in the Shinjuku Suburbs, please head there immediately!” The text said in all capital letters. Their phones sent off another loud buzz. “This message will repeat: Any and all available heroes make your way to Shinjuku Suburbs!”

The two heroes nodded at each other and dashed out of the diner, eager to see what is happening next.

“Any info on—” Takeyama was cut off as a police helicopter flew overhead with a spotlight. It’s loud blades whirred into the distance of the night sky. Not long after, several armored vans sped by straight to the west of the city. “Well… I guess that means whatever’s happening must be serious business.”

“Indeed. Let’s go!” Nishiya extended forward, using his branches for mobility while Takeyama began to grow exponentially.

Mirko wasted no time in wanting to deal with this issue as quickly as possible. She twisted her body to get the most energy transferred to her foot – to ensure that the impact was going to hurt and knock the woman out cold.

It connected so fast that even Mirko was proud of the kick herself. Her ears could hear the bones of this woman’s ribs crack under the immense pressure as she sent the red head flying further into the Yakuza estate.

Her ears picked up the sounds of the remaining Yakuza fleeing the scene, and she scoffed. As much as she wanted to pick on the small fry, she had a bigger fish to catch.

She knew exactly what she was up against. The whole city was in uproars about some woman with the power to make people commit suicide. In her mind, this was the ultimate coward – a psychopath that deserved the full brunt of her strength.

So what if this messed-up woman comes out of this with a couple of broken bones? Mirko thought that she was doing the victims who died a little favor in her mind.

“Heh, all that confidence for that?” She jogged forward, ready to go and check what the damage was on this girl.

Piles of concrete debris, wooden splinters, and books were splayed out all over the pristine wood flooring of the main hall. She saw the woman picking herself up out of it without a scratch and with an indifferent smirk on her face.

Mirko narrowed her eyes at that; she was sure that should’ve at least crippled the woman.

“I could’ve died from that. Aren’t you heroes all about saving lives and justice?” The Control Killer said with a nonchalant voice as she dusted off her white business shirt.

Mirko didn’t answer; she sprinted towards the villain with the intent of beating her down.

The Red-headed psycho chuckled. “Arrogant and absurdly quick to your feet.” A bundle of chains pooled around her back and waist as they extended to the rooms of the hallway. The sounds of guns clicking and triggering put her instincts to the test as she bounced from wall to wall, to the ceiling and to the floor in a flurry of graceful dodges.

The prestigious hallway became a kill room as gunfire erupted from both sides. The damned psycho thought that she’d won with this trick, but Mirko was quicker as she spun like a circular saw with her foot extended out. She used the momentum to deal with the first hallway of gunmen under this woman’s control. She burst through, dodging, hopping, and clinging onto the bodies of the Yakuza as springboards.

“Like that’d stop me!” She was smiling through it all – her blood pumping and boiling with adrenaline.

Mirko figured that once she got into proximity, the gunmen on the other side would stop, lest they shoot her and the Control Killer at the same time; something she doubt the psycho would do.

The blank faced Yakuza reloaded and turned towards the two at the end of the hallway.

Mirko widened her eyes as the gunmen took aim and sprayed a bullet storm their way. “The hell?!” She dashed away, but not without feeling two bullets lodge themselves into her left thigh. Mirko quickly leapt forward, charging into the mindless Yakuza, and delivering a flurry of axe kicks to the first three.

She brought her heel down into the top head of the first man with a piggish face; spittle and blood coming out of his mouth as he was struck into the ground. Reeling behind her, Mirko leapt up into the air and delivered a tooth-shattering reverse-axe kick into a scrawny Yakuza’s jaw.

The third Yakuza stalked forward with no words, a blank expression on his face like all the others. He shoved his pistol into Mirko’s abs and tried to shoot her point blank; she retaliated with a headbutt. More spit and blood came out of his mouth as she backed away before winding up a knee into his groin.

Mirko’s ears picked up another one trying to get the surprise on her.

Her foot connected with the jaw of another blank-faced Yakuza and knocked him out cold, preventing him from firing at her with his sub-machine gun. She swept the feet out from the last one and thrusted a well-placed knee into his nose before sprinting off towards the Control Killer.

“You’re quite the adrenaline junky, aren’t you?” The Control Killer smiled, still at the very end of the hallway – a fine piece of calligraphy art behind her. “Can you hop through more of the hoops that I throw at you?” She raised her right hand and pointed her index finger at her.

Barely even a second went by did a swarm of chains spew out from the woman’s waist like coiled snakes. They all stretched across the hallway in a flash, and Mirko ducked down fast, barely managing to evade the chains. She sprinted off down the hallway littered with unconscious Yakuza towards the Control Killer, dodging the many chains filling up the small room as they attempted to pierce her head.

Mirko smirked as she noticed the Control Killer lose her indifferent smug smile as it was replaced with an annoyed frown.

Good. Get mad. Get pissed off that I’m dodging your weak quirk!

Another hand of hers went up and did a finger-gun gesture this time just as Mirko was about to lunge at the freak.

Mirko’s instincts screamed at her to jump away as soon as possible.

“Bang.” One word was said and the sound of an invisible cannon of some sort came out of the woman’s finger.  The Rabbit Hero ducked down onto the floor with both hands and knees at the last second.

The loud boom that her sensitive ears picked up heard the condensed shockwave go over her head, leaving behind a giant gaping hole in the Estate’s structure.

The Control Killer seemed surprised. “Huh… Usually most can’t dodge that.”

Mirko barked out a laugh, flashing another smile, completely trying to get the thought out of her head that she almost died - an absolute thrill to her, and the fact that this woman has more than one quirk. Things were getting more interesting by the minute!

“Except I ain’t most people! Now c’mon, show me what else tricks you got up your sleeve!” Mirko charged forward again, getting off her hands and knees, her thighs flexing to a fuller proportion, preparing for a combo of attacks.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!” The Control Killer took aim and proceeded to unleash more of those air-bullets. Mirko ran to the left of the hallway, narrowly dodging each one as she felt the air pressurize behind her and leave a giant gaping hole like before.

Her heart was beating rapidly as the excitement was reaching its record peak. Mirko pounced at her, preparing a high-heel kick; she smirked as the red-head fell for the feint as she was about to shoot another air-bullet.

Mirko dropped down low, her palms on the ground as she went for a low spinning kick instead – knocking the Control Killer to the floor. Not wasting the opportunity, Mirko pushed off from her palms and brought her knee downwards like a sledgehammer, aiming directly at the woman’s gut to knock the air outta her.

As she brought it down, the sound of something crack satisfied her a little. “Hah! How’s that, huh?!” Mirko immediately straddled the incapacitated woman and gripped both of her wrists – pinning them above the Control Killer’s head. She rested her entire weight onto the lithe woman’s lap, her muscular thighs wrapped on either side of the red-head’s sides.

Mirko leaned into the Control Killer’s face with a smug grin, basking in the ever-present frown on the woman’s face. “Stay still, or else I just might crack another rib of yours an’ call it an accident.”

Her ears picked up the tell-tale sounds of police sirens and she smirked victoriously. “Looks like your ride’s almost here. Can’t say that you didn’t’ give me a rush; I suppose I’ll thank ya—”

The loud crack of a pistol rang out and she grunted as she felt the bullet hit her shoulder. Mirko reared her head back to see the unconscious Yakuza she beaten to an inch of their lives get back up with blank expressions. All of them reloading their guns and taking aim like a firing squad at both her and the Control Killer.

“Damn it! You’re making this too much of a thrill for me, you know that?” Mirko smiled at the sight and prepared for some extreme dodging maneuvers.

There was no way in hell that she was going to let this Control Killer kill them both with this cheap trick!

Tsukauchi’s grip on the wheel tightened and he glared at the road ahead of him, following closely behind the seven armored police vans that sped past traffic towards Shinjuku Suburbs. 

It was a big response for what could be a shootout between rivaling Yakuza families. He knew about their attempts at trying to maintain their hold on the criminal underworld, but most of them have died out or defected to becoming law-abiding citizens.

The very notion of a Yakuza was dying out to the ever-growing presence of villains. There was too much of a power dynamic between the two, with quirks tipping the scales in favor of all sorts of vile villains.

But to have Yakuza suddenly slinking back to something like this? Something was fishy about it all. Tsukauchi had a hunch that they were connected to the USJ attack due to some members of a Yakuza family being present there. Though, all of them were dead of either suffocation by rats stuffed down their esophagus or by gaping holes in their stomachs.

Regardless of those disturbing facts, Tsukauchi kept his mind open to any possibilities as this case had kept spiraling into a deeper rabbit hole.

As soon as he and Sansa heard on the police scanner that a shootout was happening in the suburbs, they immediately jumped into their car and put the pedal to the metal.

“You get a hold of Hayakawa yet, sir?” Sansa inquired.

Tsukauchi sighed and shook his head. “No. I tried calling her several times and she isn’t answering. She’s not one to shy away from something like this… Can you try ringing her up?”

“On it, sir.” The feline quickly pulled out his trusty-old flip phone, something that Tsukauchi momentarily chuckled at. It was an odd piece of tech, but something that the cat-officer insisted on, saying that it was a memento from his family.

The ringing on Sansa’s phone buzzed for minutes until he eventually gave up. “I don’t think she’s answering, sir…”

“That’s fine…. Maybe she’s already on the scene and taking notes.” He shook his head and kept driving. “I just hope that woman isn’t doing a solo operation right now.”

They were closing in on the location as some of the lesser-known heroes that were called in began to usher in the neighborhood citizens back into their homes for safety. Tsuakuchi and the rest of the armored Police Force began pulling into the driveway of a fancy estate.

He parked behind the armored cars and got out with a megaphone and addressed any more people who wanted to be nosey.

“I need everyone to stay back. This is a Police investigation. Go back into your homes—” A loud burst of gunfire sounded off and the crowd of people screamed and began to run. Tsukauchi and Sansa both ducked out of reflex as they look behind them to see the various police officers dodging for cover.

“Sir!” An officer with a bulletproof vest on asked. “We’ve got reports that the shooting is going on inside the building!”

“Good, and be sure—”

“We will assist as well, detective!” A familiar voice said behind him. Tsuakuchi turned around and smiled, “Kamui Woods. Good to have you here. We’ll need your quirk to detain whoever’s in that building.”

“On it sir! Make way!”

“Aww, what about me, detective? Can’t I have a scoop of the fun?” A woman’s voice whined, and Tsukauchi sighed.

“Of course, Ms. Takeyama. Can you be our additional lookout? I don’t want anyone leaving that building unless they’re a civilian or another officer!”

Takeyama, in all her glee, did a mocking salute and grew exponentially and peered over the giant estate as if it were a doll house.

“Thankfully we have heroes on the side, right, sir?” Sansa asked, walking alongside Tsukauchi as they got into cover.

Kamui Woods was determined to do his part to help the neighborhood. He crept forward to the estate that crackled with gunfire. He extended his quirk Arbor into a binding shape, ready to detain whoever is firing off in this building.

The hero winced as more loud cracks of pistols and the occasional sub-machine gun burst went off loudly. Amping up his courage, Kamui Woods wrenched open the door and extended his branches to the nearest gunshot, ready to wrap up some villain or criminal in its clutches.

But it never came.

All he caught was a whimpering and scrawny brunette woman with tears going down her face. She was huddled up in a corner next to a box of plastic-looking canisters. She threw another one with a shaky hand and it crackled and shook, emitting sounds like a gun.

Decoy grenades… Was this the wrong house? Where’s the shooters? The criminals?

“P-please… T-they made me do it. I-If I didn’t, they’d…” The woman sobbed between words. “They’d kill my daughter! P-please… I-I didn’t mean for this.” She crawled over on her hands and knees to him.

“It’s alright, ma’am. We have this handled…” Kamui’s eyes widened at the intricate looking vest duct-taped to the woman’s chest. Four bundles of what he only assumed were bombs were shoddily jury-rigged together and were currently stuck to this poor woman. 

He gazed around to see more of those bombs attached to the beams and walls of this building. They littered the place like immobile termites. 

Her hands gripped the shoulders of Kamui Woods with fear and she looked up to him with snot coming down her nose. “P-please! H-help me! I-I need help….” She latched onto his chest, nuzzling her face into it and began pleading with all her might.

Kamui Woods patted her head gently. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Just stay calm. Allow me to get the authorities, they’re right outside.” He assured her while gently trying to pry her off him. However, that was no longer possible as the ticking sound buzzed loudly.

“NOOOOO!!!!” The woman screeched and clutched at her hair as the timer on her vest went from an easy-going hour and thirty minutes to an immediate zero. “PLEASE—”

The last thing Kamui Woods saw before he encased himself into a wooden cage was a bright flash.

Mirko heard a loud boom resound and the sinking feeling that the police weren’t coming was forming in the bottom of her stomach.

It didn’t help that those sirens she heard earlier were heading the wrong way….

Pah! Like I need their help anyway!

Mirko began to pummel her fists into the woman’s chest. The many sounds of her fists pounding into the lithe frame of this lady had her go into a frenzy! Mirko was grinning from ear to ear and she used that barrage of blows to ease into a different position.

The Rabbit Hero used her immense strength to flip the Control Killer over onto her stomach and wrapped her left arm around the side of the pale woman’s neck and locked her right one behind the red-head’s noggin.

Mirko began to test her bicep’s strength against this woman’s twig of a neck. She was sure that this would work!

Her left foot had caught a bullet and every time she put some weight on it, that alone hurt like hell. But she didn’t care. It was just another motivator to keep pushing forward. Mirko was adamant on defeating this woman.

“I really prefer dogs over rabbits.” The red head spoke with a calm tone despite being a chokehold. She continued with her monologue. “They’re more inclined to actually remember their training when compared to one another. I hear it isn’t as tedious either to instill an obedient mindset into them.” The Control Killer said as she pressed her finger into Mirko’s thigh directly and suddenly spoke with that same dumb word like before. “Bang.”

Immense pain shot up her leg and thigh as it disappeared into a bloody stump. Mirko had no choice but to let go of the grapple she had on the woman and leapt away with a grimace and a fierce glare.

She was sure that this would’ve been the end of it.

Tch, she just won’t let up.

The Control Killer sat up from where Mirko had straddled her on the wooden flooring and relaxing her back onto the wall for support. She began gently massaging her neck and letting out a few small coughs. Those yellow eyes of her shifting from the floor back up to gaze at Mirko.

“I was hoping that you’d be able to shrug that off, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. No matter how much you hide your pain behind that façade of a smile, it all but proves you’re of no use to me. A shame. You’re no All-Might, that’s for sure.”

“Oh yeah?” Mirko hopped around on one leg while her right was barely held together by a thin strand of tendon. “What are you, his fangirl?”

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose so. But that won’t matter much to you soon. I’ve no need for a rabbit, after all.” She pointed her finger-gun at Mirko once more with a smile.

Can’t stand that weird quirk of hers. Is it air-pressure manipulation? There has got be a limit to how many she could shoot.

Mirko thought heavily on how this secondary quirk works. It keeps her at bay from another grapple and she was sure that this woman was using that to her advantage. However, the question remained: Why wasn’t she being controlled yet?

Mirko was a little bit hesitant at first, but she was beginning to come up with a few theories.

Again, she leapt from the wall and to the floor on all fours, though minus a leg, and pranced around the room – narrowly dodging the air bullets.

It has to do with her chains. No… that can’t be it. Maybe some internal process of some sort? She’s been trying to get one of those things to go into my forehead, but if that’s the case, how come it didn’t apply for those goons outside and her previous victims?

The gears in Mirko’s head began to turn and crank out various hypothetical situations.

There had to be some sort of prerequisite involved in order for her control to take over. That’s the only thing she could come up with right now, and her not being turned into a suicidal victim yet is proof of that.

If only she had a bit more time to analyze it. However, time wasn’t on her side. Her red eyes peered down at her missing leg. It was a substantial amount of blood being lost on her part, sooner or later she’ll have to call it quits.

“Wherever will you go, Hero? There’s only so much room that you can jump to. And even if you manage to keep this up, you might just pass out from the blood loss instead.”

She’s not wrong… Shit. I’m feeling a little bit light-headed. Must be the blood loss. Pah! This alone won’t stop me. I’m not coming out of this dead or anything! Screw it, all or nothing, Rumi!

Mirko let out a roar and lunged at the Control Killer, bracing her self for the pain that’s about to come.

“Bang!”

She put her left arm up to take the brunt of it and, like her leg, it disappeared into nothingness. The pain was over-whelming and combined with the blood loss, Mirko was close to fainting.

Not yet! Not now, not ever, Rumi!

The crippled Rabbit Hero managed to tackle the Control Killer down and she immediately slammed her right fist into the woman’s face, smashing her nose in.

Keep going! Keep at it, Rumi! Don’t faint now!

“Rargh!” She screamed and kept up the assault.

The Control Killer tried to take aim, but Mirko slapped the offending finger aside and jerked her wrist to an odd angle, snapping it.

Before she could deliver a blow to the woman’s trachea, a loud noise erupted from across the room. It was high-pitched and Mirko fell to the ground, clutching her albino ears with a bloody stump and her only remaining hand.

“Gah! Damn it…. The hell’s that noise!?” She looked to see the Control Killer in a daze. The blows to her jaw no doubt sent her consciousness into a brief reeling episode. Nobody could withstand her tiger punches.

“Oi, oi, oi.” A gruff voice called out. “Y’know, that’s our prize yer jerkin’ ‘round.” The sight of a man dressed in a black and golden trimmed two-piece suit approached. He was smoking a cigarette and had a smug grin on his face. “Drop the broad an’ we don’t gotta make this any harder than it needs to be.” He had a small gadget in his hand and turned the dial up and that offensive, high-pitched noise came from it again.

Mirko winced at the irritating noise and barked out a laugh. “And then what?! Damn…” She tried to stand, but her body was beginning to reach its limits. The sides of her peripheral vision fading to black. “You think I’d let you extinct Dinosaurs go free with one of the most dangerous villains this city’s ever seen? Over my dead body!” She jerked around the dazed Control Killer in her grasp.

The man chuckled darkly and took one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it away. “That can be arranged, toots. This broad’s Yakuza business, and I suggest ya scram before it gets ugly.” He clicked his fingers and one of his lackeys shoved a young brunette girl into his arms.

He pulled out a katana from his back and pressed it against the girl’s throat. “Maybe ya need some encouragement, little rabbit?”

Mirko snarled at the man and gave him a deadly stare. The hostage gave her a second wind and she was ready to risk it all and pounce on him. “COWARD!”

“Oi, oi. I’m just a lowly man who ain’t got quirks for shit. In a way, this is fair game. So, what’s it gonna be? This little shit’s life, or are ya gonna hand over the red-headed broad?” He pressed the golden blade against the young girl’s throat enough so to draw blood. She let out a whimper and looked at Mirko with helpless brown eyes.

Mirko continued to simmer with rage and was almost going to drop the Control Killer and go straight for the Yakuza’s throat.

She roared and lunged at him, ready to snap his neck in two with her bare hand. However, as she pounced, Mirko felt something sharp pinprick her arm and she peered at it to see a dart. Further below, the same had occurred to the Control Killer who got a similar dart straight to the thigh.

The infuriating Yakuza laughed. “And just like that, yer gonna take a nice, super long overdue nap! Nighty-night, itty-bitty rabbit.” He swaggered on over to Mirko’s lethargic body as she collapsed onto the ground. “And by the way, thanks fer weakenin’ up our prize for us.” He patted and tugged on her ears. “Couldn’t have done it without ya!” He sauntered over and ordered his men to come and pry the sleeping red-head from her arm.

Her eyes grew heavy with fatigue as the last thing she saw was men in black with masks pick up the unconscious Control Killer and carry her off to an unmarked black van.

Kazuma’s heart was pumping with adrenaline. He didn’t wanna admit to his boys n’ gals that he was so close to shitting his pants when he came face to face with Mirko the Rabbit Hero. The man was extremely worried that the hero wasn’t gonna fall for the hostage situation he had for a second.

It didn’t help that the Chiyo Family’s goons all fell to the ground like their strings were cut when Makima finally went to sleep. Her quirk was so damn freaky now that he saw it in person.

And I got the most dangerous woman in the van with me…. Fuck my life.

He shakily put another cigarette into his mouth and lit it aflame to calm his nerves. He had very little faith in Akiyama’s meticulously crafted plan and to actually see it sort of working is astounding to him.

They had the entire police force and a majority of the heroes all charging up on an abandoned estate with a bomb and some decoy grenades. No doubt that’ll keep them occupied for an hour or two. It was enough to quickly extract the sleeping dragon that was Makima out of the Chiyo Family’s ruined estate and into a van.

They had several similar ones which all drove off in differing directions in case Mirko somehow managed to shake off that tranquilizer dart. But he doubted very much that someone like her could do that. Still, he worried and occasionally peered out the passenger window, just in case he saw the rabbit woman following closely behind.

There were tons of horror stories of how she’s able to shrug off most debilitating injuries and keep pushing on, and Kazuma hoped that this wouldn’t be the case.

The adrenaline junky was missing an arm and leg for crying out loud, and somehow, she was still kickin’. Even at death’s door, Mirko the infamous Rabbit Hero was almost beating in the Control Killer’s face in, and he was so close to just letting her do just that.

But he couldn’t without having the entire nest of Yakuza stab him in the back for such heresy.

His fellow Yakuza peers had a much more stupid plan instead of his…

Oh yeah, let’s just nab the most vile and psychotic killer that Musutafu’s ever seen and pray to God that she’ll consider working with us. The fuck do we have to offer in exchange for that?! Undying loyalty and a free pass to use our services?! God damn it, Akiyama, we all know that won’t work.

Kazuma took a deep, long drag of his cigarette. He stared ahead at the road.

Sucking off the Prime Minister seems more likely to happen than whatever Akiyama’s cookin….

He got a call on his phone, and he answered it quietly. Kazuma feared for his own life if he ever woke up this monster sitting in the back of his van. Hell, even the four men seated in the back didn’t wanna touch the broad. They had their guns at the ready.

“Hah, scared you’ll wake her, old man?” Asuka’s annoying voice came out and he, as well as his men, almost shit themselves from how loud her voice was.

The idiotic brat didn’t’ take the threat seriously and laughed at their scared faces. “Don’t even bother turning the volume down. That bitch is out colder than a hibernating bear at the moment, so don’t have your panties in a twist. Be loud as you want.” She laughed. “Anyways, Akiyama wants her back at his estate. Be sure to tell your boys to strap her to gurney and double tape her mouth and eyes shut!”

“Fuckin’ hell, I got it, I got it. Sheesh, ya sure this ain’t gonna backfire—”

Asuka cut him off with a sharp tone. “Nope! This plan’s supposed to be foolproof! Just do what I told you and we’ll be smooth sailing from here on out!”

The call hung up and he looked to his boys, handing them five rolls of the heavy-duty Orangutan duct-tape that was in the glove box. “One of ya idiots has to do it, and it ain’t gonna be me.”

Akiyama, when this is all said an’ done, I’mma push your old shit in, I swear it.

“I need to be absolutely sure that you’re not ever gonna mention me ever. You got that?” Giran’s worried voice whined and whined over the phone.

Asuka could only sigh and scratch her head on what to do with this man. He wasn’t acting so high and mighty whenever this Makima woman was involved. She must’ve really gotten his balls in a tight grip to have him act this way.

She was sort of hoping he’d not call her while she was gaming in her room. With the funding she got from the old fart’s savings account, Asuka had managed to upgrade a lot of things in her humble apartment in downtown Musutafu.

The LED lights were in perfect array on the corners of the off-white wall; the RGB keyboard shone brilliantly; a cute pink wireless mouse with quiet clicking was pairing with the custom-built desktop; and a curved monitor to boot! Life was gonna be so good.

She had a nice setup and everything! Asuka intended to take full advantage of the wifi hot-spot she snatched off some loser on I-Island a few weeks ago. It was her time to unwind, and this info goober had to go and muck it all up with a call…

“I heard you the first time, Giran. Have some faith.” Asuka winced as the voice suddenly screeched into her ear.

“Faith?! You think faith’s gonna win over whatever that monster’s got up her sleeve?! You guys didn’t tell me you were gonna act out this plan so soon! I was told you were putting in through the works still.”

Asuka shrugged and rolled around in her leather gaming chair she personally and proudly assembled all by herself. It even had a custom embroidered emblem!

Asuka shifted her focus back onto the program she had loaded up. The Gadget Dragon needed her own break every now and then, and she’d be damned if this out-of-date bastard was gonna ruin it.

Nonchalantly, she unzipped her fly and shifted aside her underwear for some…. Personal tuning, she liked to call it. She grunted and let out a few pleased sighs as she played her favorite hentai game which mainly involved a ton of pixel-art heroes scantily clad in iron armor.

“Are you seriously doing that while you’re talking to me about this?!”

Asuka had a tinge of a blush on her cheeks as she continued playing the game with interest. “No…?”

“I can hear the sounds of a video game character moaning for crying out loud! I’m talking life and death situations over here and you’re just flicking the bean as if this isn’t a big deal!”

The Gadget Dragon of Musutafu sighed and closed out the tab. She spun around to check her camera feed on the vans approaching Akiyama’s estate. “Just chill out, Giran! Jeez… We have it all under control. The plan went off without a hitch, see?”

The man’s voice was silent for a few seconds as he was no doubt checking through her drones’ camera footage. It mainly caught the altercation between Makima and her battle against the Chiyo Family, as well as the duel between her and Mirko.

“So, you guys actually have her….?”

Asuka rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yes, Giran. We have her. Man, you’re acting so much like a little bitch. What would the others in the underworld think?”

“Just tell me when you’re gonna kill her! Shoot her, decapitate her, tie some cinder blocks on her feet and toss her into the ocean. Anything that ensures she stays dead.” Giran’s voice sounded super desperate, enough to not be riled up by her insult.

Asuka chuckled nervously and checked the feeds to see Kazuma’s men rolling in Makima’s unconscious body on a gurney into Akiyama’s illustrious mansion. “About that….”

“Y-you guys are gonna kill her, right? T-that’s the whole reason why I gave you guys the info on where she lives!” The short stack that was the infamous Gadget Dragon slunk back into her chair with each word that Giran said. “Asuka, please, for the love of God, tell me you guys are going to kill her. You guys are the only reason why I gave you this because you all told me you were gonna kill her.” When she didn’t reply, Giran continued with a pleading tone. “I wanted you guys to remove her permanently. No prison could hold her; not even Tartarus could. I know that for a fact. So please, Asuka. Please tell me that you’re gonna kill her soon.”

“Look, dude, Akiyama promised all of us that we could really benefit from Makima’s quirk. And I always wanted a taste of the glory days, I mean, you can’t blame me for wanting to get a better opportunity--”

“You fool!” Giran’s voice roared, and the sound of a desk being slammed down by a hand was heard. “What the hell are you thinking?! You and your lot think you could all control her?! For fuck sakes, Asuka, I thought you were the smart one!”

Asuka huffed. “I-I am! Akiyama assured us—”

“That old fuck has no idea what he’s dealing with! Do you hear me, child?! He’s dragging you all to hell with him. Get the fuck out of Musutafu if you know what’s good for—”

“No! Fuck you, Giran!” Asuka scoffed and hung up on him before he could berate her further. His words made her feel like shit and she groaned at having this queasy feeling well up in her chest. Was it fear? Anxiety? Maybe both? She didn’t know and she hated how it wasn’t there until Giran brought up that type of scaredy-cat shit.

“Big Sis will handle her if she escapes, I know it!” Asuka said to herself as she hopped off her gaming chair and zipped up her jeans’ fly and slipped on a wind-breaker jacket.

She didn’t have to deal with that info broker’s words. She’s The Gadget Dragon, nothing could hurt her, not even some bitch with an overpowered quirk. People had their limits, and Asuka knew for sure that this Makima did too.

Chapter Text

Tsukauchi was still trying to keep his head from spinning; his ears and sight were all a blur from the explosion.

The entire building erupted into flames and several booms came from the house as it blew apart into smithereens.

It was only thanks to Mtn. Lady’s quick covering of her arms that she protected the crowd of officers and bystanders from the flying debris. Without her aid, they would’ve been injured or worse.

He looked up to see the giantess tending to herself; she was busy picking out the various wooden splinters from her forearms and her chest with a wince.

A firetruck and an ambulance were already on the scene; firefighters dousing the flames of the two-story estate with a hose; several paramedics searching and checking the wounded for any injuries.

The Shinjuku Suburbs was lit up with a combination of red and blue lights, as well as the natural, yet dying flame of the burning estate.

There were bits and pieces of the home scattered across the road, street, and sidewalks. It was too humongous for a singular explosive. It must’ve had dozens or more planted.

The Detective shook himself out of his stupor and paid attention to the feline next to him.

“Sansa…” Tsuakuchi asked with a pained groan. “Status report; how is everyone?”

The feline’s fur was covered in soot as he coughed. “Only fourteen casualties from the explosion, sir.”

“Ours?”

“Yes. No civilians were harmed, but our officers, and the SWAT, were mostly hurt by the shockwave. Some sustained injuries from the flying debris, but thanks to Mtn. Lady, it’s not too critical.” His friend showed a brief face of a grimace as he spoke again. “Though, Kamui Woods has suffered great injuries and requires an airlift to the nearest hospital. It’s unfortunate that he was the first to get caught up in the blast.”

Tsukauchi rubbed his face and sighed heavily. “Can’t believe we were too careless with this…” He got off his ass and stood up, stumbling halfway before steadying himself into a proper standing posture. “Any word from Hayakawa?”

“No, sir. In fact, I don’t think she’s here. None of the officers saw her at the scene. Perhaps she’s not feeling too well?”

Tsukauchi shook his head. “It’s unlike her to not be here.” He sighed once more before pulling out his notebook. “Whatever. Let’s just deal with that later. Right now, I need a forensic team here, stat.”

He knew that this was going to be a long night filled with headaches and coffee.

In fact, he needed a lot of it to ensure he can get through this without falling over.

“What the fuck do ya mean ya assholes ain’t comin?!” Kazuma asked with a rude tone. “Ya guys better come an’ help out! We’re all workin’ towards—”

A louder, annoying, and equally rude voice yelled back into his ear on the phone. “We don’t give two fucks, you hear me!? Like I said before and many damn times earlier, the boss is busy now! Too busy to deal with whatever you gaggle of idiots are planning. Leave us out of it!” The call hung up and Kazuma growled.

“God damn it!” He threw the burner flip-phone onto the fine carpet in anger. “Fuckin’ Shie Hassakai dogs.” He begrudgingly sat onto a couch and crossed his arms, heaving heavy breaths in anger.

They were all currently at the old Geezer’s estate waiting for the rest of the other family heads to come and watch this supposed show of dominance that Akiyama’s been cooking up.

More like him pulling his wrinkly old dick an’ balls out, flopping ‘em onto that fancy marble table he has – just to show off that his plan went perfectly.

“They tell you to fuck off too, huh?” Big Sis said, bringing him out of his thoughts. She was sitting on a comfy leather couch in Akiyama’s lounge room, complete with a bar and home theater. She was busy adjusting her boxing tape on her knuckles and hands.

“Yeah, and this time it was that short-tempered asshole, Irinaka. Tall fuck’s gotten really comfortable being the new general manager of the Hassakai family now.” He scoffed and lit another cigarette. “The one damn time we got the entirety of the Yakuza coming together for this plan of Akiyama’s an’ they’re the only ones not botherin’ to show up.”

“It’s not like we really need them in attendance; this ain’t some mandatory meeting, Kaz.” She let out a soft and deep chuckle. “Don’t you remember that this new boss of theirs is a newer-gen type of Yakuza?”

“And you aren’t, muscles?” Kazuma scoffed. “You were probably still shittin’ diapers when me, the old Geezer, and Shie-Hassaikai’s old boss were runnin’ ‘round in our prime.”

Big Sis let out a smug chuckle. “What can I say~? I must be an old soul.” She relaxed into the couch and placed her hands behind her head.

“I ain’t even gonna argue with ya, right now.” Kazuma massaged his temples. “Look, I’m just a bit skeptical on the whole thing.”

Big Sis rolled her eyes and yawned. “Still on about that? If Asuka heard you moaning and whining about—”

Kazuma slammed his fist into the wall at her words with a snarl. “I. Ain’t. Scared.”

“Sure, ya aren’t~!” Big Sis snorted, obviously not afraid of his attempt at intimidation.

“Go fuck yourself, muscles.” He said with a glare.

“Heh, fuck me yourself, old man.” She retorted with a smug, carefree grin.

Kazuma threw his hands up in the air in frustration. If it wasn’t Asuka’s bratty attitude that he had to deal with 24/7, then it was always the other gorilla in the room. Big Sis knew what buttons to press, and he often thought of wanting to slice her in two right then and there.

But… the old Geezer wouldn’t want that. No point in fighting amongst one another if they had much better enemies to fight: The Heroes and the villains. Once this plan of his works, they’d be back on the radar.

It didn’t’ ease Kazuma’s nerves one bit to have a sleeping monster in the Estate at all. He was never one to tangle with Quirks. He avoided any direct confrontation with them.

They were unfair, cowardly, and not honorable in the least. He hated the fact that they existed, and that they provided an unfair advantage to their enemies.

Kazuma took several deep breaths in.

In and out. Zen mode activate…

Peace and tranquility. Just like those online videos said to do if he ever lost his temper again.

“Ya know, a fight’s always a good way to release tension—”

“Shut the fuck up, muscles. I ain’t dealin’ with your shit right now.”

He continued his anger-management exercises for the next five minutes, though every few seconds, Big Sis snuck in some stupid ass remark.

Kazuma hated this generation.

They had no respect for their elders and sometimes pervaded the legacy of their code. Asuka pissed him off due to her child-like attitude. If it wasn’t for the fact that they all needed someone really knowledgeable on technology, hacking, and all that other geek shit, he’d have kicked her to the curb a long time ago.

Fuckin’ brat. I brought ya into this fold and suddenly yer thinkin’ ya could flop yer pussy onto the table and act superior.

Kazuma grumbled at how easily Asuka got drunk with the power that the Geezer had given her. At first, she was shy, adorable in her own way, and seemed to be the quiet type. Always wore over-sized hoodies to cover her face and some jogging shoes, but now she’s wearin’ top brand sports-clothing and other snazzy shit that makes her stand out. He’d never seen a complete metamorphosis before, but with Asuka, it was damn clear she was going the opposite route.

He still remembered pulling her aside at some convenience store where he’d caught her hackin’ into the atm outside. She’d made a lot of money by swiping people’s credit card information with just the tap of her tablet. When he questioned her on why she needed so much, she just said it was for funding to buy new games and gacha-rolls. Something whaling or another she called it back then.

When he invited her into the fold, everyone was skeptical. Nobody could respect some kid, let alone a hikikomori who no doubt stayed inside all damn day. She was pale as a vampire when he first met her. But, soon that shy attitude of hers diminished and something more awful bloomed in its place.

Ever since she caught the attention of Akiyama, she began her descent into becoming a rude, bratty, and selfish Yakuza. Didn’t help one bit that the Geezer’s been putting her on his payroll with how useful she’s been with the gadgets, blackmailing, and hacking of surveillance footage to keep the fuzz off their backs. And now she’s somehow in the inner circle as one of his most trusted lieutenants.

His eyes slowly shifted over to the walking mass of muscle that pervaded the very air with her stinking shit.

He couldn’t do much to Big Sis; he knew that she was the stronger one. Her speed, strength, and quick-thinking will undoubtedly come out on top when compared to him. Kazuma was getting old – too old, even. Every fuckin’ night, he’d wake up five times in a row just to take a piss; every damn morning, he’d have to deal with his back and hip aching with sharp pains; every afternoon, he’d get unusually tired.

It pained him to admit that he couldn’t wield his blade as properly when he was twenty-years younger. Every swing and slice almost put him out of breath.

Getting old dulled the Golden Blade, and everybody damn well knew it. They just didn’t wanna admit it to his face. Only Asuka and Big Sis so far had the fuckin’ balls to say it.

Back in my day, a single punch would’ve sorted out punks and bitches like you, Big Sis.

Kazuma shook his head as Big Sis caught him staring. The wild-maned woman playfully winked and flipped him off as she sat back in the chair, crossing her legs and closing her eyes to relax.

She was also brought into the fold at the same time as Asuka was. Big Sis, or as he knew her, Reina Mishima.

He was scouting for new recruits in Osaka when he was told about a certain underground arena beneath the city. Nobody but him knew of her actual name because she used to parade her first name around in the Underground Masquerade.

The White-Flame Reina, she used to be called.

Kazuma snickered at the old image of her. So scrawny, lean, and yet weaker at the time. She had a voracious appetite for blood and fighting. Something she became well known for in that bloodbath of an arena that she’d later emulate and bring to Musutafu.

“Oi, take a picture, old man. I hear it lasts longer.” She said with a snicker as she gave him another stupid wink and a rude gesture with her elbow and other arm.

He groaned and stood up, leaving the comfortable confines of the leather chair to pour himself some Izanami-Kami whiskey at the bar-counter. His eyes found its familiar logo and sleek bottle design amidst the other spirits and mixers.

Still can’t get behind this idea, though. Ain’t one to mess with quirks and never have; they were never our poison. Should’ve stuck with killin’ the broad in my opinion.

He took a quick whiff of the enticing aroma of the malt whiskey. Green apple with some white wine dashed in; green apple soon collaborated with watermelon candies to create a mixture of a sweet scent.

Kazuma took a nice sip and swished it around in his mouth, enjoying his moment of respite of tasting the whiskey. It was tart as it mellowed out to the green-apple flavor with the signature strong maltiness. The finish wasn’t anything special, but he loved it most especially – fruity and drying at a nice medium length.

It’s been a day since they caught Makima and Asuka’s been druggin’ her up with more of those wacky tranquilizers they give to the psychos that go to the Tartarus prison or from those I-Island virgins. Either way, it was a lot.

Enough to kill an elephant several times over… And yet she’s still somehow kickin’. That ain’t right.

He shook his head at how meticulous the old Geezer wanted this plan to go.

Old man wanted to show-off his prize to the other families while bringin’ ‘em together. It was something of a unifier as they all witnessed Makima’s eventual cooperation to aid their rise to power once more.

He took another swig and tried to shake the unsettling feeling in his body.

“Hmm….” Her boss, the old man, circled the bound Makima like a hawk. He occasionally poked and prodded at Makima’s body with his cane. “How long did you say those tranquilizers will last? She’s been asleep for almost the whole day now.”

“About twelve hours, give or take. These are experimental drugs, y’know. I don’t know the deets, but this dosage is an absurd amount. We’ve stolen these off those I-Island nerds and they’re obviously meant for animals. Big ones. Not humans. Besides, you wanted her kept asleep until we got everyone in attendance for this.” Asuka said casually, not at all looking at Akiyama as she typed away at her keyboard.

Asuka was currently debating with some idiot on Webbit about why she was right, and they were wrong. Why couldn’t this loser see how much karma she had? Don’t they know who they’re dealing with?!

She typed away furiously, adding in factual evidence from online databases and peer-reviewed articles that she personally researched on why rodents are more inclined to get quirks than any other animal on this planet.

Asuka’s face hardened into a glare as the idiot she’s been arguing with just replied with dog-water retorts.

The nerve of them!

She was about to bring in the fat meat of her argument, certifying her victory until…

“Asuka!” Akiyama’s cane slammed onto the ground, shaking her out of one of many hobbies that she had. “Focus!”

“R-right! Sorry, pops. Just young people stuff.” She closed her laptop and hopped off the beanbag she brought to the interrogation room – it just being Akiyama’s study.

It was ridiculously spacious. There were a variety of bookshelves filled to the brim with stuff from the old tortoise’s prime and some even beyond that. He was a collector, she figured. A wealthy, dangerous one at that.

The deep red rug she was on smelled of carpet fresher; her nose scrunched up at the smell of linen. It was odd to have that in a study room if she was being honest. She much preferred lavender, but to each their own, she supposed.

Akiyama had Makima’s unconscious body placed in the center of the room facing his redwood work desk. He used his cane for support to walk over to it and sit down in a fanciful brown leather chair.

“Give me the report on what you’ve seen. You said you had your drones capture some footage?” He continued when Asuka nodded. “Show it to me.”

Asuka threw out a small, circular gadget made of metal onto Akiyama’s desk. It opened up slowly like a claw unfurling itself, and a holographic video displayed in front of the old man’s face – the blue light reflecting off his glasses as he watched.

“Hm… interesting.” He glanced down at Makima with a dangerous glean in his eyes. “Giran never told us that she had a second quirk.” He turned his attention to the young girl. “What’s the meaning of this?” He pointed at the crystal-clear image of Makima pointing her finger at Mirko in their fight.

Asuka shrugged. “I really wish I had an answer to that. Best I can come up with is that she’s a rare case like Endeavour’s son.”

Akiyama hummed and nodded. “I see. This is valuable information. I doubt anybody besides us have any knowledge that our captive here is a really special case.”

“That she is, pops. If that League of Villains had their way, they’d have a top contender for a member.”

The old man barked out a dry laugh, shaking his head and circling the unconscious woman while he spoke. “The League of Villains.” He grunted with disapproval of that title. “They’re just children who think they know what they’re doing. They bemoan, whine, and complain about how society has dealt them an unfair hand. They’re not some isolated case. We’ve all been pushed around by this world, but we didn’t go and harass the entire public because of it. Remember this well, Asuka: We have standards.”

Asuka rolled her eyes. She knew a lecture was coming and she had to mentally prepare herself with understanding nods, a few ‘yeah’ answers, and a firm visibility that she was paying attention.

“We’re a chivalrous sort, and I really wish that your fellow youth Big Sis would see that.”

Asuka wilted just a bit at the mentioning of her over-protective senior. She loved Big Sis’ loving attitude to her. It’s as if the macho-built woman saw Asuka as one of her own, and she had to admit… it was a good feeling.

She still remembered when the two first met as they were recruited by Kazuma. She was a lot leaner then – still in the early process of her body-building journey, and once they locked eyes, Big Sis took Asuka under her wing.

No words were said, but she had a protective aura around her. It was comforting, in a weird way.

From then on, anybody that messed with Asuka had to mess with Big Sis. Nobody dared to lay a finger on her ever since.

Asuka sighed, knowing that her senior’s more violent habits were frowned upon by the old man. And, in a way, Asuka did too.

She hated the idea of being in a physical altercation and… well, dishing it out. Her physical strength was comparable to a six-year-old, and God forbid if she got into a fistfight with anyone because they’d most likely come out on top.

Big Sis often tried to encourage her to train and build muscle, but Asuka always told her no.

Most of those training sessions involved using human bodies, who were still alive, as punching bags. She still shivered at the thought of the time she was dragged to Big Sis’ fighting arenas underneath the metro station of Tatooin.

The stench of blood, piss, and shit permeated the whole arena.

And gods… the screams of desperate clients in debt, forced to fight for their loans to be forgiven. Asuka shook that horrible memory out of her head. She liked Big Sis, she really does. But she had to admit that her senior was more than mentally unstable when it came to fighting.

The Yakuza, to her, were more vicious than villains because they were able to enact all that cruelty without quirks. Everyone had their limits, and the Yakuza specialized in exploiting it through blackmail, extortion, and protection rings. They were bonafide masters in their craft until the eruption of heroes and villains came along.

Asuka got really lucky on being recommended by Kazuma. As much as she despised that man, she had to give him props for seeing actual talent. She’s been the main one carrying the Yakuza due to her specialization in modern tech. Without her, they’d have their entire operations already ransacked and dealt with.

She shook her head out of memory lane and her eyes trailed to Makima’s sleeping body.

So many think of you as the next coming of the boogeyman, but I don’t. You’re just some lucky bitch that won the lottery with those unfair quirks. And now look at you: tied up by the best restraints money and research can buy and surrounded in an almost unescapable estate filled with the meanest, strongest Yakuza Musutafu had to offer.

She huffed at the sight of Makima’s blissful smile in her sleep. The nerve of the bitch to be dreaming soundly in this kind of situation!

She was so close to wanting to ruin that smile with a high-voltage shock via the metal bindings on Makima’s wrists. They were intricate things she modified and tinkered with.

She’d stolen them off a supply convoy a few weeks back that was supposed to have gone to Tartarus. The metal bindings were more box than they were handcuffs.

They were specifically made for villains that had quirks imbedded into their hands, and Asuka figured this would fit for Makima. The prevention of her using that air-bullet quirk kept her at ease.

If the woman had ever tried something else, she’d be met with a rude awakening of bullets.

Asuka peered around to see in the corners of the old man’s study a handful of meaner looking Yakuza with rifles in their hands on standby.

The old man wasn’t planning on messing around with this whole scheme of his.

“Asuka…? Will you—"

She quickly focused her attention back onto the old man, answering his concern with a sigh.

“Look, I’ll relay that she needs to lay back on the protection rings until we get the heat off us. Just don’t expect her to immediately agree with it.”

 “Be sure that you do.” He said with a stern stare. “And tell the others that it’s almost time. I want this one awake and ready when we put your new gadget to use.”

Asuka understood and reached behind her where her backpack was placed near the beanbag she was sitting on. She unzipped the large black duffle bag with a glee.

She hefted the giant hand-held contraption with a grunt. She admired its sleek appearance and simple design.

“And have the incentives brought out too. It won’t do if we overwhelm her with that without offering some sort of package to sway her.”

Asuka nodded and turned her gaze to the obscene amount of money on a dolly. It was a lot of yen – more than she’s seen in her life. There were ten briefcases stacked atop each other. Each one of them could set a person for more than one’s own lifetime.

She had to pull a lot of funds out from under wealthy corporations’ bank accounts in hush-hush manners and favors. Not that they’d mind, of course. They’d always make back this amount in a matter of days.

This first method of controlling the Control Killer was by buying her loyalty. This stupid amount of money is the first to sway her to their side. With her quirk, they could hold ransom fees; protection fees; extortion fees; any type of fee while holding the fear of death over the heroes and villains’ heads! They’d be feared, just like Akiyama had promised. It was gonna be so damn incredible.

If that didn’t work, Akiyama had thought of using honeytraps and the services of the Yakuza’s best to satiate whatever desire Makima had. Everyone had their vices, and Akiyama seemed to be sure that this Makima had some desire that they could use to their advantage.

If all else fails though, it’ll be kablooey for this freak’s cranial cavity. Or maybe render her perpetually paralyzed? Either way, she couldn’t wait to see that stupid smirk on this woman’s face be wiped away with fear.  

Asuka then looked at the holographic image of Makima’s face. It was an unblemished sort, ordinary almost.

She moved her sight to the actual Makima who was tied up; thick, orange duct tape was wrapped around her eyes and mouth. A countermeasure to what she thought was how the woman’s quirk worked.

After getting the footage that Giran had sent her months ago when she first appeared, Asuka analyzed it thoroughly.

The way her control subjugated every single goon of Giran’s in his bar with no words or fancy display. They just became her pawns immediately.

She theorized it had to do with her eyes or with her words. There also had to be some stupid restriction on how it works. After witnessing the fight between her and Mirko, that much was clear.

It’s no wonder she didn’t have the top dogs under her beck and call yet.

She can’t control them without some sort of prerequisite. Gah…. I just can’t figure out what it is though.

Again, Asuka’s eyes trailed up and down Makima’s sleeping form. She had to admit… the woman was good-looking. Absurdly so… There was just some kind of allure to her.

This was the Control Killer that cowed the entirety of Musutafu into fear: Makima.

So many speculations were going around online about her, and Asuka was interested in the many sub-webbits that included theories on what she looked like: if she was a man or woman; if she was a foreigner sent to demolish Japan’s society; or if she was a proxy, like the Police Force was suggesting.

But the Yakuza knew now. All that proxy stuff was a load of crap. There is nobody under her control as a puppet.

This was the real deal, snoring away peacefully on the carpet with thick duct-tape covering her mouth and eyes. They left an opening for her nose and ears so she could hear and breathe.

And her name… Makima. It is such an odd one. Asuka searched through all of Japan’s hospital records and even overseas for any birth certificates of some sort. Nothing came up.

What Giran had said was true: She’s like a ghost that popped up out of nowhere.

Like that even matters anymore; we got the bitch tied up, subdued, and handicapped. Nothing scary about her. She’s only human.

The door to Akiyama’s study opened and Big Sis, alongside Kazuma and a few other nobodies Asuka couldn’t remember the names of were in attendance.

“So, did the Shie-Hassaikai—"

“Nope.” Kazuma cut him off, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Told us to fuck off and to not bother ‘em. Their new boss was ‘busy’ as Irinaka put it.”.

Akiyama sighed disappointedly. “A shame. Oh well, no matter. We’ll be fine with all of us here. Wake her up.” He urged Asuka to do so, but she shook her head and pointed at a young lackey of hers. She delegated it to the young guy, handing him a smelling-salt packet.

Kazuma waited with bated breath as one of the brat’s morons was waking up the damn broad. He was sure the others were too; they were just hiding it well.

The young man in the two-piece suit knelt and opened the packet, coughing at the strong-smelling salt and quickly shoved it to the woman’s nose. She jerked around in her tied up state before letting out a muffled cough. She got to her knees and stayed still for a long minute.

Kazuma’s hand was twitching to his katana, ready to end her life if she did anything sketchy.

His breath, along with the other Yakuza hitched as they saw their elder, Akiyama, knelt to Makima’s level. He adjusted his glasses and smiled.

Old bastard’s got some balls - I’ll give him that.

“Can you hear me, child?” Akiyama asked, narrowing his eyes at the monster as he waited for her to shake her head up and down.

Makima did so, she bobbed her head up.

“Good, good. Now, you may be startled and that’s completely fine. Anyone would if they were in your shoes.” He pulled away, taking great effort to stand back up and he leaned on his cane for support.

“You’ve gone and stirred the hornet’s nest. You’ve dipped your toes into the underworld.” He circled her, jabbing and prodding at her as if he were lecturing the psycho like a child. “Don’t you know that you need to respect your betters? Giran may have been lenient with you stepping on his toes, but not us. We have codes, morals, and chivalry. It differentiates us from the animals that call themselves villains. And you, are nothing more than a savage running amok, leaving chaos in its wake.” He slapped her head with the end of his cane.

The Yakuza all snickered at the sight.

The old Tortoise of Musutafu was coming out of his measly old shell, berating, and abusing the villain as if he were twenty years younger. He continued with his monologue and the Yakuza all listened in.

“We’ve ruled the underworld for generations.” The Yakuza all agreed and cheered with that sentence. “We are the shadows that lurk in the dark to keep things from falling apart. We’re a necessary evil that keeps the vilest of things at bay that the Police Force nor the Heroes can’t see.”

More Yakuza and even Kazuma hummed in agreement.

“But when annoying children that don’t know how to play the game dip their toes into our business, things go awry.” He yanked on the woman’s braid and pulled her face close to his.

Kazuma and Big Sis almost stepped forward, ready to protect their elder, but Akiyama stopped them. He held his hand up and continued to talk to Makima.

“Because of you, we’re more closer to extinction than ever. More heroes are snooping around what little remnants of territory we possess. That fool Detective you’re hanging around with, Tsukauchi, is beginning to find out more and more about things he shouldn’t be. We’ll need to take care of him soon enough.”

The mention of the Detective gained a reaction from her finally. Her head titled upwards a bit as if she was listening more actively.

“Got your attention, eh? Someone’s got a soft spot for her detective. I see, I see.” He leaned in more to her ear. “We know of your alias, Detective Hayakawa. You may have fooled the Police Force and this city, but not our dear Gadget Fox Asuka.”

Asuka stepped forward with a smug grin and laughed. “Yeah, yeah! That’s right. Just a little digging here and there, and I figured out who you were, bitch. That’s right. Your sneaky shit couldn’t sneak past me.”

Akiyama let out another dry chuckle before continuing. “What would happen if such information like that was to leak out? It’ll no doubt thwart some big plan of yours, that’s for sure.”

Again, that earned a more visible reaction. Makima’s shoulders drooped down lower.

“Blackmail is a possibility you know. We dabble in it a lot to get what we want.” He sighed tiredly but stared back at Makima with a glare. “It’s villains like you that disrupt the natural order of this world.” Akiyama let go of her and used his cane to push her to the carpet.

She was surprisingly docile… That alone disturbed Kazuma. He had his katana unsheathed, just for safety measures.

“However, I, like my colleagues here,” Akiyama’s wrinkled hand gestured to all the Yakuza in the study, “Have decided to change your fate. Instead of killing you like originally planned, we’re generous enough to give you a second chance.”

He ordered his men to lift her up back into a kneeling position. “We’re offering money and a new home for you to stay in exchange for your loyalty. Now, we can’t let you leave.” Akiyama’s dry laughter filled the room. “No, if we just gave you the freedom to leave whenever you wanted to, it just means you’ll run off if given the chance. No, you’ll be under strict surveillance, using your quirk like you have before at a distance in a room specially made for you. And just for insurance purposes, Asuka, if you would?”

Asuka nodded and ordered her men to hold Makima steady as she loaded the weaponized gadget in her hand. She hefted the thing up to have a muscular man wield. Ordering him to apply the over-sized stapler to rest on Makima’s nape.

With a hiss and click, the weapon snapped suddenly, causing her to jolt as the weapon implanted something inside.

“If you refuse, this little machine, as I’m told, will cripple you. Permanently. Now, I imagine this must be of great worry to you. The other option, if you continue to rebel, is… More morbid than I care to admit. In other words, Asuka…?”

She made an explosion gesture with her hands. “Your head will explode into bits and pieces.”

He let out another dry chuckle. “We’re a very persuadable organization when we need to be.”

Akiyama twirled his cane and slammed it down before pulling the handle free.

Kazuma let out a smirk.

Old fuck’s bringing out the blade, huh? Didn’t—Wait…

“Geezer what are you—”

His words were stunted as the old Geezer sliced away the duct tape covering the psycho’s eyes in a refined fashion before quickly sheathing the hidden blade back into his cane.

“Be quiet, old friend. I merely wanted to be the first to look the Devil in its eyes. I wanted to let her know that I am not afraid.”

“F-fuckin’ hell, geezer. Y-you’re gonna give me a heart attack.” He circled around to stand next to Akiyama and he almost jumped at the sight of Makima’s eyes.

“Mmmm… yes.” The old man hummed. “I know the eyes of a monster when I see one. You’re something else entirely, aren’t you?” The geezer asked as he knelt once more to see eye-to-eye with the Control Killer.

“You can’t control me, can you? Do I not meet the criteria of your previous victims? Why, I don’t feel ill. I don’t have the sudden urge to slice my throat open. Is it because you’re bound to a certain extent? You are, aren’t you? It’s proof why we all aren’t dead yet.” He gestured to the Yakuza in the room who got cockier.

While they all laughed their asses off on how docile she is, Kazuma gulped as he saw her eyes; there was a silent fury brewing behind those red swirls. They stared directly into Akiyama’s own.

It was almost like a silent battle between the two until Akiyama broke the silence.

“Tell me: Do I anger you, child? Do I create a burning rage deep within your bosom?” The geezer took off his glasses and stared at this monster without worry.

When she made no gesture to answer, he spoke once more.

Akiyama placed a hand on her shoulder and those fucked up looking eyes trailed to his hand before shifting her focus back to the old geezer. “Accept my offer. Become more than just a misguided lunatic. With you, we can herald back a new era for the Yakuza. Continue to be my loyal hound and eventually that chip in your neck will be removed. But that won’t happen soon. No, not by a long mile, child.”

He grinned, just like he did when the old Geezer proposed this idea to them all a couple weeks ago.

Controlling the Control Killer… That sounds so fucked, Geezer. You know that as much as I do. We shouldn’t even be messing with a monster, let alone one that seems competent enough to mastermind the horrific shit she’s cooked up.

Kazuma’s thoughts struggled with this plan of the old Geezer. It just seemed like it was on brittle legs.

The old man continued speaking to Makima with, his refined, gravelly voice getting louder. “You need to understand that we’re this city’s saviors. Before the villains and heroes came, we were there to tend to its needs. We kept it safe from foreigners like the Russians and the Chinese Mafia. We were the ones who kept communities thriving with business. We are a necessary evil that keeps Musutafu safe.”

If a stare could kill, then Makima’s certainly could. She looked displeased with what the old Geezer had said.

Chapter Text

The room was deathly quiet as the old Geezer was still looking Makima in the eyes. It was as if the old man was looking death in its eyes.

He and the others were waiting for Akiyama to suddenly slit his throat or gouge his eyes out, but it never came.

Kazuma knew that his own men were on edge; he was glad they did. They had the guts to know that this was something else.

This wasn’t some simple fuck they could scare into a corner and hope that all goes okay. Given Makima’s track-record, she’d somehow snap her way out using their bodies as meat shields. But she wasn’t doing that; she just sat there non-threatening-like. The whole room eventually thought of her as any other bitch who was out of good cards.

Kazuma’s expectations were flipped upside down, and he couldn’t wrap his noggin around it.

Why the hell are you docile…? I saw how brutal you were back at the Chiyo estate. Just break a rule and have your head blown off already.

The Golden Blade turned his head over to look at the others. They were all on high horses with their attitudes. It sort of pissed him off with how everyone wasn’t on edge anymore.

He peered around the room to still see the rest of the Yakuza families all smug and smirking, finally relaxing after realizing that the vicious predator in the room has been declawed.

The Wakaba family were all grinnin’ ear-to-ear with their fancy-schmancy two-piece suits as they sat around with their fingers up their ass, hoping to get some praise for being the ones who thought up the decoy estate idea.

Kazuma reared his head to the far left of the room to the Sakai family. They had a haughty air to them with their cigars and simple chuckles, standing around as if they contributed anything meaningful to the operation. The only thing that Kazuma saw them doing was twiddling their thumbs in their limos and cars while he was out there bustin’ his ass!

Then there was the Ito family - they were quiet fucks who adjusted their ties and sunglasses as if they were hot shit. Kazuma didn’t see them do anything either.

They were here in hopes of riding on their coattails to a new era for the Yakuza.

Kazuma sighed and placed a hand onto Akiyama’s shoulder, hoping to pull him away before he gets cockier.

“Alright, old man, let’s put the duct-tape back on her eyes; ya proved your point that ’cha got the biggest balls here.” Kazuma pointed at a pair of Yakuza to bring back that remaining roll of Orangutan duct-tape that they used up on her from earlier.

The two men kept her shoulders straight as they wrapped it slowly, blinding the weird-eyed broad once more.

“Think on my offer, child. It’s really in your best interest to say yes. If not…?” The old geezer pursed his lips and looked around for some dramatic effect. “Well, the chip in your neck ought to be the best mind-changer. Literally and figuratively if you get my meaning.” Akiyama let out another dry chuckle as he struggled to stand, leaning on his cane as he addressed the other Yakuza families in the room.

“This is just one of our momentous victories. We have done what the Pro Heroes nor the Police Force could not. We’ve caged the beast that was once thought ‘unbeatable’!”

The Yakuza roared with approval and Kazuma was the only one that didn’t really cheer. He backed off and sat down with the rest of his lackeys on the far right of the room.

For the next hour the old Geezer rounded up all the giddy Yakuza family heads to discuss plans on how to best utilize Makima’s quirk. All of them wanting to get rid of high-tiered Pro Heroes scrounging around on their old turfs and get a foothold again.

Like flies to rancid meat, they swarmed Akiyama and asked when they’d be able to put Makima to work. Of course, the old Geezer waved them away and stated that it’ll take time to make the psycho comply with their demands.

It didn’t take long before their prize was carted off downstairs on a dolly where she’ll be kept somewhere in confinement. When asked where she was going, the old Geezer just chucked and said that was his secret to keep.

Kazuma thought that she’d most likely be in some underground cell or basement. No doubt locked there for as long as the old man deemed fit for her.

She had a whole entourage of guards surrounding her on all sides as she was slowly escorted, or rather rolled, out of the study room.

Kazuma shook his head and just sat back, keeping to himself. He was already planning to head back to the Kamino Ward now that the hard work was over. Now, he had to figure out how to properly deal with his own problem concerning the Chainsaw freak.

Majority of the time it appeared at night, and even some of the local Pro’s patrolling the area don’t bother with the whole case – treating the monster like some local boogey man that’s been made up by some idiot online.

The Golden Blade growled at having been reminded of that issue and stood back up. He was going to remind Muscles that she owed him a lot of manpower.

He walked over with purpose and put his hands in pockets. He hated how casual Muscles was – talking and blushing like some stupid schoolgirl over the little nerd. “Oi, Muscles, gotta talk to ya.”

Her eyes gave him a quick look before continuing with a conversation with Asuka.

You’re not just gonna ignore me, you damn gorilla…

He put a hand on her shoulder and forcibly turned her to face him. “I’m here to remind ya that I need men. A lot of men, ya hear me?”

Muscles glared at him, and Asuka had the nerve to butt in as well. Her voice already gave him a migraine. “Can’t you see we’re busy, Kaz? Why don’t you go and talk with the other old fossils over there?” She jerked a thumb behind her at Akiyama’s group of decrepit old Yakuza. “You belong there, don’t you?”

Stupid little brat… If Muscles wasn’t there to be your shield, I’d slap the shit outta ya.

As if on cue, Muscles noticed his stare and stood in front of him with her arms crossed under her chest. “Got somethin’ to say?” She glared and was just darin’ him to belittle her little nerdy munchkin that hid behind her like a shield.

He grunted in annoyance and let them be. Kazuma would just have to ask Akiyama instead. The old Geezer would make these two lovebirds listen. Still, wouldn’t hurt them to respect their seniors!

Kazuma huffed and sauntered back on over to sit with his men in the back of the room – at least they respected him.

They were all huddled together, yappin’ about something related to the red-headed psycho being strolled off.

“Where do you think they’re takin’ the broad, boss?” One of his younger men, Haruto, asked as he scratched his stubbly soul patch.

“Couldn’t care less where they’re taking the bitch.” He leaned down to wait for one of them to light his cigarette. “All I know is that we’re stuck here until the pleasantries are all sorted and done with.”

Haruto and the others groaned. “The old boss really preening for all the compliments and buttered up words, ain’t he?”

“Tch, tell me about it. He’ll bask in it till the end of this night.”

The so-called pleasantries soon turned into a mini celebration get-together, which, much to Kazuma’s discontent, lasted a couple of hours.

Akiyama had managed to further quell any worries, complaints, and other issues that arose with the capture of Makima. It solidified the fact that he had a proper plan in place, and Kazuma was likely the only one who could glean a tiny bit of it.

Everything was beginning to wrap up and the other patriarchs were heading back to their own turfs after the old Geezer had promised them a lot of things. Lots of them left with pleased smiles.

They all were leaving the Estate in droves, talking animatedly about future plans, eventual regained glory, and expansion into downtown Musutafu, and even further beyond.

The clouds above looked ready to weep in joy at their combined happiness.

Loads of praise from all the Yakuza patriarchs were heaped onto Akiyama as he shook their hands and bid them all farewell as they climbed into their SUV’s, limos, and black cars.

Kazuma scoffed and began heading towards his own car that was waiting out in the driveway. He knew that all of Akiyama’s promises were loads of horse shit. All those idiots, save for himself, Muscles, and the brat, were eating it up like porridge.

The Geezer would’ve rather scrape his wrinkly balls across a pile of glass shards than give any of these waning leeches a smidgen of territory. The only ones he’d deem fit for those territories were obviously the promising youth – Big Sis and Asuka.

Out with the old and in with the new, but that wouldn’t apply to Akiyama. No, he’d still be pulling the strings and start plottin’ other devious kinds of plans.

That chivalrous code of theirs only applied to Akiyama when it benefited him. The power he had in his hands was already gonna get him drunk with power.

Kazuma already had the hunch that he’d not be able to get in on the slice of pie that was expanding to new territories in Musutafu. He wasn’t stupid; he knew the old Geezer would eventually tell him that he couldn’t expand.

He lit his cigarette and hopped into the passenger side of his car, waiting for his captain, Rikiya, to start it up so he could get the hell out of there.

Tch, fuckin’ old bastard. I know you.

That man is more cunning than he lets on. This was a familiar pattern he’d seen decades ago when they used to be in their prime. The Turtle of Musutafu loved to rule with fear and elegance.

And what better way to regain that status quo than hanging the fear of death over someone’s head with Makima’s quirk in his hands?

Akiyama, after finishing some shady whispering with his other lapdogs, strolled over to his window and leaned in to pat his shoulder with a smile. “Don’t worry, old friend. I’ve not forgotten your call for aid. I’ll see to it that Big Sis sends her best to help you with your…. What did you say it was again?”

Kazuma sighed and took a drag of his cigarette. “Told ya already, Geezer; I got a monster problem. Tell Big Sis I want her men strapped to the fuckin’ teeth with the biggest toys they got in their little secret warehouse. I mean it too.”

He pointed at woman in question who was behind Akiyama. She rolled her eyes and flashed him the finger. “Tell Muscles back there to share her toys for this. I want high-end explosives, AP guns, Dragon’s Breath shotguns, all of them. I’ve a feelin’ that I’ll need a lot more than peashooters to deal with my monster.”

The old Geezer let out a dry chuckle. “I’ll be sure to relay that to her. But, before you go…” He reached into his pocket to grab a polaroid photo.

Kazuma groaned. “Really, Geezer? I’m sort of lying low right now thanks to the shit show that was capturing your red-headed broad.”

“I just have one last favor to ask of you is all, old friend.” His wrinkled smile shone as Kazuma sighed, grabbing the photo and looking at it.

“Who’s the little shit supposed to be?” He looked at a young boy, about fifteen or sixteen years old. His messy, indigo hair and dull eyes stared blankly back at him.

“A very valuable and much-needed negotiation piece. Bring him to me, alive. Not dead, Kazuma. Alive.” The Geezer emphasized the part with a sterner tone.

“Shit’s not gonna be easy since the kid’s wearin’ U.A. colors, Geezer. Might take me a while to find a good spot to nab him. And even if I do, I can’t guarantee I won’t be put on a watchlist or something. Kidnapping kids ain’t exactly my thing, you know. That’s also accountin’ for the fact that U.A. actually gives a fuck about their own. Might not even be able to, even with my skillset or my boys’ skills. Sounds impossible.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You always had a way of doing the impossible. You fought the infamous Mirko Hero and don’t even have a scratch on your body.” He let out another dry chuckl before giving him a focused stare. “Find your useful contacts, whoever can abduct him without a trace. And bring him back here, to my own estate.”

“Urgh… I expect you to honor your word about helping me with my issue if I do this. This counts as at least ten favors, by the way.”

“I’ll make it fifteen favors should you pull it off without issue. Goodbye, old friend. I’ll be seeing you. You’re the only one I can trust with this—"

“Yeah, yeah. ‘This pivotal’ mission bullshit.” Kazuma cut him off with a shake of his hand. “See ya, Geezer.” He waved the old man away and rolled his window up, eager to get out of there as soon as possible. There’s no telling what’s already happened back in Kamino without his supervision. Kazuma could only hope that another one of his warehouses weren’t raided and carved up into an all you can eat cannibal buffet when he got back.

He pulled out his phone and dialed in a number. It picked up and a gravelly, if not ugly voice, answered back. “Hello…?”

Kazuma sighed, as he loathed the fact that he knew these triplets of human trash. But, they were perfect for this job. So perfect that they were the first to come into mind.

“Kendo, gather Uta and Pugsie. I got a job for ya three. A high-paying one. Meet me back at my spot in the Kamino Ward.”

“Kamino…?” The voice hummed and made a click of their tongue. “That’s pretty far, Kazuma. Not sure if I or Pugsie’s fatass even have the energy—”

Kazuma pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Just get there, alright? I’ll pay ya fucks upfront too. Ya know I’m good for it.”

“Hehe, glad to hear it~! We’ll be there. Uta will be happy to see you again, I’m sure of it.”

“Fuckin’ Geezer… I hate your last-minute plans.” Kazuma said to himself as he hung up the phone and peered outside the car window.

The sky outside was beginning to darken with grey, thunderous clouds. It was going to be another night filled with pouring rain. The pitter-patter and heavy winds already beginning to pick up as the droplets of rain lightly battered against his windows.

He gave the sight of Musutafu one more look before closing the blinds to lock him in an off-white luxurious living room.

The television flicked through various channels of food advertisements, B-roll films, and the usual news Giran listened to.

He plopped down onto his leather couch with a glass of Kuroyoshi whiskey and stared at it with a defeated sigh. After the declaration from his Yakuza contact that they’d rather keep that devil than kill her, he’d lost plenty of sleep and sanity.

The beauty that was the news anchor Ai Yume, in her white business coat and matching skirt, began explaining some breaking news about an explosion in the Shinjuku suburbs.

It left the Pro Heroes Kamui Woods in critical condition and Mtn. Lady suffering from minimal injuries. The slow pan from the Okinawa beauty shifted to Tsukauchi’s tired mug as he provided some context of what happened, as well as a few brave words from some heroes on how they’ll crack down on criminal activities to ensure this doesn’t happen again.

Lies, all of it. He knew better than anyone that they’d most likely rather focus on the Control Killer situation and the USJ attack.

Though what caught his attention was the announcement that a top player in Hero society, Mirko the Rabbit Hero, was later found in a comatose state at an estate farther away from the scene. She had to be air-lifted to a nearby hospital apparently and there’s already a gathering of concerned fans praying for her well-being.

His eyes then lost interest at the 54 in plasma screen television and glanced over to a thin sticky note with a phone number and all too familiar set of initials slapped onto his coffee table in front of him.

I could still try that approach, but that’ll no doubt land me in her sights immediately.

He resisted the urge to grab the burner phone and dial it. His hand reached out before pulling away and falling into defeat beside him. Instead, Giran just sat in his couch and stared into the glass cup, watching the amber liquid swirl about.

Giran already had an inkling that Makima was planning something big. Something on a scale that’ll put her previous suicide missions to shame. Whatever it was though, he had no clue.

Before he’d cut all contact with Makima, he kept tabs on her whereabouts, and she often paid visits to a lot of different areas in Musutafu. Most of them involved high altitudes, like the tall skyscrapers here and there near the downtown areas of the city.

He scanned through a couple folders of pictures he’d received from one of his sneakier contacts that had access to CCTV footage that had cameras where she’d be found.

“What exactly are you up to?” He grabbed one picture of Makima resting against a railing that overlooked the cityscape.

Her eerie disinterested expressions in these photos always gave him the creeps. It was like a mask she could perfectly morph into at a moment’s notice.

The information broker shook his head and rubbed his eyes. There was a lot going on and he knew that it was a matter of time until Makima put two and two together about his involvement with the Yakuza.

He’d have to crack up an escape plan – maybe skip town or seek refuge with Kurogiri’s buds. Anything to have some form of protection against Makima’s eventual wrath for his betrayal.

Never should have got in touch with those idiots….

Giran took another swig and set the whiskey glass down with a sigh.

Her entrapment in the old Yakuza’s pitiable excuse of an underground cell turned into a full week.

The smell of the cell was horrid – it was perpetually dank inside and the smell of mildew mixed with dirt and human body odor from the guards wasn’t doing so well for her nose.

The black burlap sack combined with the duct-tape on her eyes and mouth were also uncomfortable, and weren’t at all changed regularly.

A whole week’s worth of work, time, and planning gone to waste because of these roaches that skitter and prowl around, hoping she’ll cave into their demands of using her power for their glory.

Worthless and selfish. They had no purpose here or in the outside world for that matter. They just took up space and wasted precious oxygen and resources. The only thing they were good for is dying and feeding the dirt that they lay in by becoming fertilizer.

Even literal earthworms would’ve served a better purpose than them.

Their attempts at threats didn’t work. She knew they wouldn’t dare try to kill her; her ‘quirk’ was too valuable to lose. The old man, Akiyama, adamantly refused to let her.

Because of the daily injections to keep her sedated, Akiyama saw to it to get Makima a specialized, if not blackmailed doctor, to come in and ensure she’s taken care of every Sunday.

From the sounds of him, he seemed like a prime target to help her escape. Though, her plan of using him was shot down as this doctor was always accompanied by a pair of guards.

The Doctor, Shinji Nakaoka, sounded genuinely kind yet skittish. He was obviously a greenhorn by the sounds of how he reacted to the guards’ provocations of being scrawny and pencil-armed.

“P-please, I-I have to work.” He said firmly as he fixed Makima’s IV bag.

“Pah, no use tending to this one, Doc. She’s a lost cause. Don’t see why the boss even wants her, to be honest. She’s practically not done a single thing since we nabbed her.”

The doctor ignored them and continued to work on her. He whispered in, obviously distraught and uneased by her current predicament.

“I-I don’t like what they’re doing to you, whoever you are. As a doctor, it is my duty first and foremost to serve and protect my patients. What they do to you is simply atrocious.”

“Oi! No talking to the bitch, Doc.” The guard slapped the back of his head and knocked him to the ground. The two laugh and joke about how weak the man is and go back to talking to each other.

Again, the doctor leaned in, testing his luck and apologizing in her ear that she’ll be alright. He almost reached up to tug on the burlap sack, obviously curious to see what her face looked like, but his hand was soon slapped away.

“Oi! I fucking said no talkin’ to the bitch!” The doctor was grabbed and tossed outside of the cell. “Yer endangerin’ our lives by trying to be buds with her. Ain’t you got a brain in that head of yers? That’s the Control Killer, ya hear?” He spat on the man and scoffed. “Fuckin’ civvie ain’t got a fuckin’ clue.”

“Right? Asshole, know your place.” His friend added in and also spat onto the man’s lab-coat.

The doctor left in a hurry and it left her back to her own thoughts and the random conversations between these two guards.

She picked up simple banter from the men, saying that they’d rather be upstairs meandering about, heading home to relax, or anything other than guard duty.

The only thing she did hear every now and then when she regained consciousness was the sound of those two useless guards who bantered and kept watch outside her makeshift cell.

“And then I told her that the kid ain’t mine, but she was like, ‘you know dang well it is!’, and I was like, nah, you’re batshit insane.” He groaned and shook his head as if reliving whatever domestic dispute he’d experienced. “But she just didn’t listen, man.” A lean man with thick sideburns said to his overweight and balding friend.

“No way…! You ought to man up and just tell her how it is, dude.” The fat one chortled and tried to offer his own input, even if it looked like he was not actively listening to the man.

Other conversations were meaningless to her. Nothing was useful here. She’d hoped they’d slip up some of their plans that she could use to her advantage, but before she could even try to muster up strength, another does of sedatives flooded into her blood, making her lose consciousness.

It was like being trapped in your own body and your only chance of reprieve was through dreams. And even dreams began to blur and turn to mute darkness.

The entire situation was repeated every day to ensure that she wouldn’t fight back. Only when she was extremely drowsy and weakened did Akiyama and his other lackeys come down to try and make demands and offers.

Torture, death threats, and honey-traps were all involved, and nothing enticed her. Money was never really a problem, neither was finding a sexual partner.

Everything that these Yakuza tried didn’t work. She applauded them for their capture of her, but she had no praise for their attempts in swaying her to do their bidding.

But, every Sunday, a sliver of a chance of escaping this was possible. With each visit from Dr. Nakaoka, her smile widened under the duct-tape and burlap sack.

And her eyes… Her eyes saw opportunity.

Makima just had to play the waiting game. She just needed to have the patience of a saint.

Chapter Text

“That’s all for class.” The mustached teacher said with authority, setting down a stack of folders with their daily quizzes tucked away. “Be sure to go over the readings through the weekend, and don’t forget to comment on each other’s discussions on Kanvas!”

Chairs pushed out from desks and the class collectively groaned or whined quietly to themselves. Most of his fellow peers rolled their eyes or huffed their annoyance at Mr. Hisashi’s assignments that were constantly given out. Many of which were so dull and bland that it made watching grass grow more exciting.

The more studious, like him, gave their own silent affirmations to the teacher. It was far better to take care of things such as homework sooner rather than later. If he wanted to show off that he was well-prepared and organized; his records ought to reflect it.

Wasn’t a better way than by breezing through essays and quizzes like they were trivial tasks. At least, that’s what Shinso thought.

His classmates on the other hand…?

He peered over his shoulder to see a handful of them already yapping on about procrastinating and heading on over to the mall downtown.

It was painfully obvious that they didn’t take the General Studies course really seriously… Who wouldn’t? All around him were unfortunate souls who couldn’t get into the Hero Course. Unlike them, however, he adamantly refused to stay in this field.

Two girls sitting behind him, which he likened to loud harpies, began their daily yapping.

“Did you hear about Mirko…?” Harpy number one said with a deflated tone.

“Oof…” Harpy number two took a deep breath. “Yeah. Really sucks what happened to her. Hope she makes it through surgery.”

Shinso couldn’t help but eavesdrop more on their conversation about the incident involving the infamous Mirko hero which happened last week. Articles and rumors kept the whole situation afloat.

Even the more vocal of Musutafu citizens, as well as those here in the U.A., called the Police Force’s attendance in the matter a complete and colossal failure.

Some blamed Mirko for finally getting what she deserved for being too arrogant in her patrols – others defended her, saying something along the lines that she fought valiantly against some crooks who had the upper hand.

He still shook his head at the ridiculous claims that he was somehow helping or aiding the villains who attacked the USJ facility.

How could he? He had an alibi; Shinso was in class the day that was happening, so it was cleared.

Still didn’t stop the other idiots who wanted to spread fear by claiming he wasn’t in class. The fucking assholes.

His eyes shifted over to the usual suspects of girls and boys in their groups, whispering about whatever pointless thing was happening now.

His posture drooped lower at the thought of when the whole debacle happened. His classmates still occasionally passing around the usual rumor or two that he was secretly in cahoots with the Control Killer. All of it just idiotic talk.

“How else do you think those villains got into USJ? He must’ve handed them the keys and map!”

“Doesn’t make sense why they didn’t lock his creepy ass with the other criminals who got caught. I mean, didn’t they say that the Control Killer was there? What’s to say they weren’t given advice by someone on the inside…?”

But now their attention entirely focused on the whole Mirko situation, which left him temporarily free of most harassment. It was a breath of fresh air, to say the least.

The bell for lunch rang and everyone quickly left the classroom, many of them eager to go check out the ‘survivors’ of the USJ attack.

At first Shinso thought it was a waste of time, but then again… He needed to get his motive out there. That he wanted to be a hero. To get away and solidify that he isn’t some closeted psychopath that people think he is.

He followed closely behind the herd of varying students making their way down the hall to get to class 1-A.

“Woah… so that’s them?”

“You think they’re tough? T-that they beat those villains?”

“They don’t look like much.”

Shinso wanted to get past the giant congregation of students peering into class 1-A’s classroom, but instead of getting by – they all whispered and parted for him, their eyes narrowing into suspicion and fear.

Tch… Really hoped they’d not focus on me.

“It’s him….”

“C’mon… let’s go; we don’t wanna kill ourselves.”

“Look who it is!”

As much as he wanted to retort back to their claims, Shinso figured it’d be better to not engage in their stupid rumors and suspicions. He wanted to see what the competition was like, that’s all.

In and out.

He pushed past a few of the other students that were too reluctant or not afraid of him, trying to get a look in at the supposed all-mighty Class 1-A – the very class that tussled with the villains during the USJ attack not too long ago.

Shinso’s eyes locked with a loud-mouthed ass that kept calling the other students extras and background characters. He was cocky, egotistical, and had too much of a potty mouth on him.

He continued to scan around the room, taking note of the students inside to see if any of them seemed interesting enough to keep an eye out for when the festival began.

“Out of my way, Control Killer Jr.” The loudmouth demanded.

“That’s not my name. Besides, I’m just here to—”

“Don’t care; out of my way.” He jostled against him, rudely pushing past while giving him a light shove as he walked away.”

This was his chance; his moment to get out and transfer onto the Hero course. This wasn’t a scouting mission for him. It was simply his own personal declaration of war to those who didn’t deserve to be in that course – like that one. That wasn’t a future Pro; it was a future egomaniac in the making.

If he could prove to the world that he had what it takes to be a hero, then that’s all that mattered. There was no way in hell he was going to keep having this negative reputation plastered over his name.

He finished up his little declaration and left, content with getting his presence out there. It was time to get out of this ridiculous fad of rumors and suspicions. No more ghost stories of him somehow working with the villains. No more speculations of him begin in cahoots with the Control Killer of all people.

Just two weeks…. Two weeks until I can achieve my dream.

His usual commute to and from the U.A. High School was often filled with common banter, random hero entrances, and the day-to-day life of people here in downtown Musutafu.

The air was hot and humid today due to the oncoming season of Spring. Trees and bushes regained their usual shrubs and leaves.

Cars, bicycles, and joggers were all out and about, doing their daily routines of life itself.

Shinso sighed and scratched his head as he peered down at the news on his phone. Most of what he saw while walking down the sidewalk were articles of the recent attacks that happened last week.

Others were click-bait articles attempting to paint the picture that it was the Control Killer’s doing – that they managed to wound one of the most powerful heroes, that being Mirko, and putting her out of commission for a while so another vile machination could happen.

It’s been a whole week since that incident, and people are still trying to milk the idea for what it’s worth. At least until something else juicy comes along for those types of internet vultures.

“Idiots, all of them…” He mumbled to himself as he stashed his phone away and continued to walk back home.

He’d really hoped that the hype and gossip around the Control Killer would be done with by now considering that the U.A. Sports Festival is coming up in a few weeks. Everybody was talking about how they wanted to show off their abilities and whatnot.

It’d make complete sense to hype yourself and those around you for such a spectacular and annual event.

Shinso glared at the ground.

There were always a couple of people who kept passing around the idea that it’d be a perfect spot for the Control Killer to attack once again.

What complete nonsense; it was so damn stupid. No sane person, villain or not, would have the mental capacity to think that the most heavily guarded, and most anticipated event of all time, would be a prime target.

It was gonna be his biggest chance at getting into the Hero course, and if something like that happened? All hell would break lose, and people would lose even more trust with him.

If there was any to even begin with…

There were more memories of his classmates’ conversations that he eavesdropped in on swirling around in his head, and it further dampened his mood.

He just wanted to head home and forget about that nonsense. He was going to prove to them and to everyone else that he has what it takes to be a genuine, good Hero. The Sports Festival was his one and only chance at that, and more.

He looked upward to see a billboard playing a short clip of All-Might saving the day once again, and looking damn right heroic doing it…

Another ad played for Endeavour and a little message soon afterwards talking about suicide and mental health, with the flaming Pro giving advice.

The sight of their abilities almost sent him into a downer mood, but Shinso shook himself out of his thoughts. He stopped at a crosswalk – waiting for the cars to pass on by.

A pair of teens jostled past him as the green light signaled go, and he grunted in annoyance.

“Watch where you’re going.” He said nonchalantly, but like any middle-school kid, the young boys ignored his words and kept on running. “Tch…”

He had a lot of things on his plate – writing a twelve-page paper; drudging up a slide show for a project; going over history lessons on quirks and their respective effects on society and the economy; and contacting his group members on when to meet up to practice for presenting.

More headaches and work for me….

He sighed dejectedly and continued his way – moving to take a left from the busy downtown area towards the street leading further up to his neighborhood.

The two-story suburban buildings on each side of the street became clearer, and the fatigue from his commute was starting to settle into his bones.

Shinso couldn’t wait to get into those U.A. dorms that were being paraded around for a while. It’d make this whole commute non-existent and save him some extra hours studying.

The bright sun glared down onto his back and made it a little unbearable with his school uniform. Sooner or later, U.A. ought to be switching the uniform dress code to suit a warmer climate.

He hated the restrictive feeling of so many layers in such a jacket. He unbuttoned it and swung it over his shoulder – feeling the cool breeze finally brushing against his skin, sending a slight shiver up his arm and shoulders. Shinso sighed in relief and felt a little freer.

The foul and sour smell of body odor soon invaded his nostrils as a man, ten-times larger than an obese person ought to be, struggled to walk on over to his spot at a stop-sign and stand beside him.

Even though he wasn’t too close, Shinso could hear the odd gurgle coming from the man’s bloated belly.

“Do you got the time…?” The man said laboriously as he pointed at Shinso’s phone.

Shinso quickly averted his eyes from the man’s stomach. “Three thirty in the afternoon.” He said, scrunching up his nose.

“Hah…. Thanks, thought I was gonna be late.” He walked off and, as he did, the man passed gassed, and left a foul odor which lingered in Shinso’s nose.

A mixture of feces, eggs, and milk permeated the area as others tried to waft the smell away or walk off entirely.

He gagged and coughed with the other pedestrians as it was getting worse.

“W-what the fuck did that pig eat….? A corpse?!” A bystander said aloud, voicing what everyone was thinking.

The bile was beginning to rise up into his throat at the horrific taste forming in the back of his throat.

“Fix your hygiene….” He mumbled but the smell just kept getting even more foul.

When the fat man left, his odor remained. Even nearby pedestrians were walking away, trying to evade the smell.

It was at that point that he had to rush on over to the nearby park across the street, holding his mouth, trying his best to not vomit in public.

Shinso slammed the door to the bathroom and dashed on to a stall. He heaved into the ceramic bowl’s contents as the smell began to leave and fade off…

He puked again, and hell it made his stomach churn and hurt as he kept emptying the contents of his breakfast and lunch.

He’d never puked this much… It was making him feel weak and light-headed.

“What the hell…?” He coughed and looked up at the bowl – pieces of it getting damp and collapsing in on itself.

Shinso peered closer to see that it was neatly folded to look like paper…. Almost like an origami version of a toilet. His eyes looked upward to see the stall around him beginning to fold in on itself.

Countless eyes popped up around the stall as the whole entire bathroom began to shift and change.

Before he could cry out, the entire thing clammed shut on him, trapping him in a tightly packed wrapping of paper.

“Mmmbll?!” He tried to scream or yell for help, but his voice was muffled by the paper as it continued to shape and keep him restrained.

He heard voices talking as they grabbed him by his head and ankles, taking him somewhere.

Shinso’s heart was racing at the fact of being kidnapped. The teen squirmed and jerked around until his captors threw him in the back of some van.

No, not like this…. Not like this. I can’t die. I refuse to.

He reaffirmed himself that he’d be saved, whether by the police or by a Pro Hero. This wasn’t how he was going to die. His goals weren’t achieved. He had to live!

Shinso felt something hard hit the back of his head before he saw darkness.

Shinso’s body shook as icy water splashed against him. The ice cubes from bucket of water slipped into his shirt and slid down his chest, chilling him further. He coughed and sputtered out some water that got into his mouth. “W-what the hell…...?”

His eyes tried to look around to gain a better grasp of where he was, and he briefly saw expensive furnishings of a home. His eyes finally acclimated, and he got the visage of an elderly looking man dressed in a fine old-fashioned kimono and hakama. Alongside the elder was a buff-looking woman with a wild mane of white hair.

He was sitting in a metal chair with his hands tied behind his back. Looking down, Shinso saw his mouth was taped off, but how did they know about his quirk?

“Ahh, you’re finally awake. Good. Good.” The old man spoke with kindness.

Shinso’s eyes wandered to the left to see that fat pig man from earlier, who made him so nauseous earlier, disemboweled – his enlarged intestines hanging out over his belly as he was slumped over in a corner.

The stench was foul still, and it was beginning to waft on over to him. His body looked fresh and likely died only moments ago.

On each side of the fat man were two others – a lithe woman with a scythe for an arm had a similar situation. Her entire upper midsection had been sliced by something – likely a sword or a machete. Beside her, a man riddled with bruises, a broken neck, and some origami littered around his bent legs.

The old man in front of Shinso moved his chin back to face him. “Don’t worry about them. They won’t be harming you any longer. I made sure of it.” A dry chuckle came from his throat.

“Honestly, what was my old friend thinking – trusting a ragtag band of crooks to bring you to me.” He shook his head in disappointment and clicked his tongue. “A shame we had to kill that origami one, though. His transportation quirk would’ve come in handy for smuggling lots of things. I mean…. He got you to me in a tiny little paper crane!” He barked out a laugh before settling back into a serious expression. “Still, if I’d known it was this easy to get you, I’d have not gone through the hassle of using their ilk. Ah, no matter.”

Shinso was sweating at what was possibly going on here; he saw the giant Yakuza-like crest behind the old man. He was in an office of sorts. On each side of the elder were men dressed in fine suits with mean glares.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking; I’m not going to kill you. Quite the opposite in fact, dear boy. You see, if it weren’t for me, that piggish brute over there was going to eat you.” He gestured again to the corpses and limped around him with a cane, circling him like prey. “I prevented that thanks to my quick thinking.”

What do they want… money?

The old man stopped in front of him, bending down to his eye level. “I’m going to undo the tape around your mouth, and I trust you won’t attempt to use that quirk of yours on me.”

Shinso’s eyes watched as the man’s wrinkly fingers ripped away the tape and he gasped for air. He was about to order him to do something, but he felt the cold iron of a barrel pressed into the back of his head.

His heart began pumping in his chest and he was beginning to sweat more profusely. Shinso was starting to get nervous.

“Ahh, you see, I knew you were going to try something like that. But… I’m a very civil and generous man. All I want is your aid with a particular someone. It’s all I ask, really. Nothing too major, I assure you.” His wrinkled hands reached out to take a photo from the muscular woman and he placed it in his lap.

“I’m assuming you know who this is?”

Shinso’s eyes scanned over the picture of a red-headed woman. She was wearing an office shirt, black slacks, and a tie.

Nothing too special or meaningful to him other than the fact she looked normal. “I don’t know who this is… Look, let me go. I don’t know why you have me here, or what you’re doing. Just leave me out of it. I don’t have any issue with you at all.” Shinso pleaded and even gave him a panicked look.

The gun cocking back its hammer didn’t ease his worries one bit.

With that, the old man frowned and sighed heavily. “Are you sure?”

What’s with you? I don’t know!

Shinso glared and wanted desperately to command the guy behind him to help him, but this wasn’t possible. There were too many people here. Two guards beside the old man; one behind him; the muscular woman; and potentially even more outside this study room.

“I-I really don’t know who that is.”

“You’re lying, and I was hoping we weren’t going to go down this path.”

“I-I’m telling you! “I never met—” Another polaroid photo was tossed into his lap and Shinso’s eyes widened at it. His heart dropped and rose to his throat at the same time.

T-that’s impossible…. I-I would’ve….

There he was at a train-station, in one of the cars, looking awfully comfortable talking to that very same red-headed woman. He was handing her something and she had her hand on his shoulder, looking at him with a smile.

His head was reeling at the photo. It took all his effort to skim through his head when that interaction happened, and nothing came up. He drew blanks.

“T-that’s…. obviously photo shopped.”

Again, the elder sighed disappointingly. “You’re denying the truth, boy. You’re working with her.”

“Her?! Who is that?!” Shinso cried out. He attempted to scooch up closer to try and plead his case. “I don’t know who that is—” He was smacked across the face by the muscular woman.

“Mind your tone, kid. Speak with respect to the Boss.” She said with a piercing glare as she kept her hand poised to strike him again.

“The Control Killer, who else, boy?” The elder was losing his kind tone as it was slowly being replaced with an indignant tone. “Speak honestly now.”

Shinso couldn’t wrap his head around what was being told to him.

Him… being in cohorts with the Control Killer? The idea and notion were foreign to him. He’d never willingly team up with the very thing that’s giving him such a terrible reputation.

And the photo, where had he seen that train-station and woman before?  

Shinso struggled to search his brain for answers, and just like before, nothing came.

“I-I’m being honest! I really don’t know what is going on. This is all some sort of misunderstanding. You must’ve gotten the wrong kid!”

Another incriminating picture was tossed into his lap, and it further sank his heart.

“Still denying what is true, boy?”

Again, he denied and tried to tell them that he had no recollection of meeting this woman, let alone plotting with her.

“Tch, I think we’re going to have to do it my way, boss. He’s not caving in to peer-pressure by your photos. Let me take over.” She snapped her fingers at one of her lackeys that he couldn’t see. “Oi, go get the pliers. We’ll just have to rip the information out of him bit by bit.”

Shinso’s eyebrows shot up and shook his head as the woman was handed a rusty pair of pliers. He felt dread continue to form in the bottom of his stomach.

His mouth was beginning to dry up and a shivering cold shot down his back.

“Start with his fingernails first and, if he still doesn’t cooperate, move onto his toes.” The old man gave him a pitied look. “I really didn’t want to do this to you, boy, but you leave me no choice. This isn’t personal by any means.” The old man said, leaving him alone in the study room with the woman.

She knelt and spoke to him with a semi-half pitied look.

“Sorry, kid. I don’t take much pleasure in doing this.” Her masculine voice tried to quell and ease his growing anxiety and dread, but it didn’t work. Not when the cold metal of pliers pressed against his left index finger and latched onto its nail.

She pulled and tugged at it slowly.

He gritted his teeth as he could do nothing but try and shake in the chair he was tied to.

His eyes watched as the pliers gripped and pulled his nail from the nail bed. The small little flesh from his nail tore away and the pain was ridiculously excruciating. It hurt like hell, and he cursed, trying to activate his quirk to get out of it, and yet the gun pressed into his head prevented him…

“Sorry, kid. This is just business. Tell us what we need to know, and ya can keep nine of your fingernails.” She waved the remnants of his nail in front of him with the pliers. “We can stop here if you cooperate.” The muscular woman said as she latched onto the next fingernail.

“W-wait!”

She stopped and looked up at him.

“A-all….” He gulped; his face drenched in sweat. “I know is…. That I might’ve met her on that train! That’s all I remember! S-she…”

His eyes widened at what he was possibly going to say, and his throat was going dry at the mention of it. “She must’ve controlled me! I-I might be under her control without knowing! I swear!”

The woman’s eyes didn’t look like she was buying it as she continued onto the next fingernail. “Sorry, but those photos of you speakin’ with her say otherwise. We’re gonna keep goin’ till you say something useful.” Again, the same pain wracked his senses as he felt his middle fingernail get wretched from its roots.

Shinso continued to scream as he went through hell. The pain was beginning to darken the edges of his vision as he began to pass out from the excruciating torture.

The doors to a train car opened slowly and an all-too familiar scent of a flowery perfume invaded his nostrils. A gust of wind from the outside rushed into the car as a woman sat beside him.  

Her bright blue denim jeans and brown jacket were the first things he noticed about her. Though, his eyes shifted upward to see a light reddish hue of red hair on her head.

She spotted his gaze and smiled before briskly walking on over to sit beside him. “Hello there. Do you mind if I take this seat?”

“No. Not at all.” He scooched on over to give her room as her perfume continued to slip into his nose. The scent a hint of white jasmine mixed with something more pleasant. It made him feel at ease as his nervousness began to waver into a serene calmness.

“Can I help you?” Shinso asked politely, as he looked into her eyes – their color a unique type he’d never seen before.

She didn’t answer for a while and waited a few minutes to process his question, it seemed. She giggled into her hand and placed a hand onto his shoulder. “You definitely can, Shinso. You see that woman over there?” She pointed over to a middle-aged woman in an office dress on the phone with someone.

Shinso’s heart began pumping fast. Like it was urging him to not listen for whatever reason. However, his mouth spoke for him. “Yeah. I see her.”

Again, the woman gave him a heart-warming smile that eased his anxiousness into relaxation. “Good. I want to see how your quirk works. Tell that woman, when you and her get off this train, to kill herself. Make it an accident for me.”

The whole train-car dissipated into nothingness as he suddenly found himself outside of the train. He looked up to see he was at the train station that led to his home.

People were recording something grizzly on the tracks and an ambulance siren wailed in the distance. Beside him, the same woman from before smiled and placed her hand on his shoulder, offering him a reassuring nod. “You have a really, really useful quirk, Shinso. You did a good job. It looked natural.” She patted him on the back as he backed off.

His eyes peered down to see the mangled body of the innocent woman he used his quirk on. Her body’s many parts littered down the track as it dragged her corpse along for a long time.

“I’ll talk to you again soon, Shinso.” She spoke to him with such odd familiarity.

Shinso awoke in a cold sweat, still finding himself strapped to a metal chair with all of his nails plucked out. He looked around to see he was locked in a damp, cold room somewhere with the lights out.

His torturers have long since gone and likely will return tomorrow. He wept and tried to make sense of the odd dream he had. It was the only thing that could take his mind off the pain he still felt all around his body.

Chapter Text

Something was off, and she knew it. Makima frowned under the burlap sack covering her face. She angled her head upwards, ignoring the pinching sensation in her neck from the little gadget they had installed into her nape.

Her nose picked up a scent that wasn’t supposed to be here. It’s very smell wafting gently through the air amidst the mildew and earthen stench in this basement.

The very notion was improbable – everything was accounted for in case of capture, and yet… why was her prized pawn’s scent lingering around in a place like this?

 And what’s more…. Her ears were picking up the faint sounds of screaming from the aid of the crows lingering about the Yakuza estate – the voice all too familiar and her eyebrows furrowed into disappointment.

So that’s how it is…

A meticulous plan that was supposed to let her marinate in here for a while until she could get her hands on two particularly interesting Yakuza is likely never going to bear any fruit now. 

The little fox I wanted hasn’t come here in the slightest to gloat about her victory over me. Usually most of her ilk would’ve done the same, like that old man and his little lapdogs. Must’ve scurried off into a crack I’ll have to find later…. A shame.

The girl was a loose end; she had information she wasn’t supposed to have. Makima needed to snip it in the bud, or rather in this case, snap the girl’s neck. But not before sifting through where she got info on her identity, location, and such.

Someone leaked it. Someone who wasn’t supposed to.

The girl’s whereabouts, as well as that blonde one, were the main reasons she stayed and entertained their little game.

Her annoyance was quickly quelled as her expression returned to neutral under the burlap sack. It was good timing, really. She was going to save this moment for when Akiyama came down so she could sap all the info from the source, but time was of the essence now. No point in trying to extract information when a main pawn was on the line.

The door to her cell opened and in came Dr. Nakaoka with his cart of various medical instruments. He meekly apologized to the guards outside and began his usual work. Her body was getting better and better at acclimating to whatever was being pumped into her. It kept her conscious for a few seconds longer, and those precious few seconds were all she needed.

Her nose picked up the Doctor’s familiar scent of bergamot cologne mixed in with sweat. He was easy pickings.

“A-ah… S-sorry for the delay, Miss.” Dr. Nakaoka spoke quietly, wheeling in his cart of many medical apparatuses, syringes, and vials. He halted and began pulling her sleeve up to gain access to her upper arm.

Doctor Nakaoka then administered another dose of drugs into her system while also replacing her IV bag. She felt the cooling sensation of IV shooting up into her arm. “I had hoped that by doing these—Haugh… I…” Slowly, she felt his willpower lessen and give in to her control.

A meek little man had no chance of resisting her, and he was the key to her escape.

He knelt, quickly using a pair of scissors to cut the thick tape covering her eyes and mouth. He then used his own hands to pry the needles stuck in her arms that had been sedating her for so long.

She heaved a sigh of relief, shaking out the fatigue and brain fog that cluttered her head and senses for a week straight.

Makima peered over her shoulder a little to see the box-cuffs firmly locked onto her hands. It felt like a thick gelatinous blob was crammed into the box alongside her precious hands. They prevented any kind of finger-movement and were ridiculously heavy. Every time she tried to move them a jolt of electricity shocked her arms.

Annoying and restricting is what they were.

She needed the key, but there was no time to play treasure-hunt. Makima eyed the guards’ assault rifles as they entered in to see why the doctor was taking so long.

“O-oi! What the fuck, Doc! What’s gotten into you?! Light her ass up!” The fat guard’s eyes widened in surprise as he aimed his rifle at her, but her little minion was faster.

Doctor Nakaoka jumped in the line of fire, taking the full brunt of a point-blank barrage from two heavily powered rifles. His thin frame erupting in a mist of blood and bullet holes. He flopped over dead, and the guards attempted to reload to try again, but they were too late.

Their entire postures slacked forward. They had contented smiles on their faces as they walked on over to her, the skinnier guard helping to pry off the duct-tape on her mouth.

She stood up from her chair and faced the wall, straightening her wrists out for them. “Shoot my arms.” Makima ordered calmly.

“Of course!”

“A-anything for you!”

They stood at the ready and began unloading their bullets into Makima’s wrists and forearms. The incredibly loud bullets echoed out through the basement’s walls as she closed her eyes, awaiting the brief pain that ensued.

It wasn’t pretty or clean by any means. It took a while, and a few reloads to get it at the way she so desired.

Quirk related handcuffs like these were finnicky yet impressive, even to her. But, as luck would have it, they didn’t at all account for her healing factor.

By the time they were finished, her arms were hanging on by threads of tendon and meat. She looked over to Dr. Nakaoka’s medical cart and ordered the men to finish off their work by sawing off what was left.

She hummed and waited for the bloody stumps where the box-cuffs once were, begin to heal and re-build themselves in an orderly fashion – starting from the bone, blood, tendons, muscles, and skin.

“Ah, much better.” She held her hands up to inspect them before standing up.

Makima and her crew turned around at the slightest sound of whimpering as her eyes caught the glimpse of another Yakuza guard scrambling to grab a radio, his eyes filled with terror.

“B-boss! I need—”

“Bang.” A loud crack echoed throughout the basement as the man’s midriff disappeared into nothingness, as his upper half fell into a meaty plop onto the ground.

“Hey, what’s the god damn noise down here for?! Thought I said no goofing around—” A stocky Yakuza dressed in a similar suit to the others gasped at the sight. “W-what the fuck?!” He shouted to someone upstairs. “O-oi! Get down here! Need back up!”

More came downstairs to see the commotion and they took cover in the stair well, the numerous dusty boxes littering the hallway, and even in adjacent cells.

She stepped past the man’s corpse and scanned how many of them there were.

“Yo… how the hell she get them cuffs off? Thought them shits supposed to be anti-quirk proof!” One of them nervously asked.

“The fuck should I know? Just keep shootin’ the bitch. It’s obvious she’s tryna escape!”

“But the boss said—”

“Just shoot her!”

The entire hallway erupted into a cacophony of bullet fire as her new minions gladly dashed forward, being her meat shields and soaking up a majority of the attack.

A Yakuza with bushy sides burns began reloading and he sneered. “C’mon! She’s just one girl! Shoot—E-eh…?” He looked behind him to see why his fellow men stopped shooting, only to see that they were instead aiming the barrels of their guns into their mouths. “O-oi… W-what’s gotten into you lot! I—Wah….W-wait!”

He his knees in flash. “P-please! D-don’t do this! I-I was just following orders!” The Yakuza’s own arms gave way as his arms aimed the barrel into his mouth. “PWAHEASE! DUNN’T—"

Multiple shots rang out - blood splattered from behind their heads and plastered the dirty walls of the basement. Their bodies fell to the floor.

Makima began heading up the stairs, the mildew stench combined with the smell of gunpowder dissipating as she took each step higher to the exit.

When she opened the door, a wave of fresh air hit her face, as well as the orange hues of the evening sky. It was refreshing after being cooped up in a basement all week long. She left the little shack she was apparently trapped in, and her eyes rested onto the fine estate of what she assumed was her captor’s home.

Its appearance is more traditional and gaudier than the one she had been to previously. What lay inside was a den of pests that were walking dinosaurs from a bygone era, and all she had to do was squander it under her heel.

And what made it more of a nuisance is that those pests had her prized pawn in their hands – thinking as if they had the upper hand.

The main fossil leading this whole operation had been playing in candy-land this whole time. Nothing about it was noteworthy besides getting the surprise on her.

Hitoshi Shinso was hers and she wasn’t going to allow him to die here.

He had a much bigger role to play after all.

Makima stepped past more corpses as she made her way to the estate’s front door.

“Hah!”

“Yeah, keep gruntin’ ya little shit. Fuckin’ tell me what I need to know.” She slapped his face hard.

“Gllk!!”

“Fuckin’ brat. Still goin’ on about that bullshit?” Another sharp pain struck his chin from her hand. “Huh?!” The muscular woman, who he’s come to know as Big Sis, continued to pummel his bruised and battered stomach as he was hanging from a ceiling – his wrists being held up by tightly bound rope that dug into his skin.

“I-I….” He barely gasped, trying to suck in any air he could. “I told you…. I don’t know--GAH!!!!” Shinso screamed out as the woman’s callused finger pressed against an open wound on his side, effectively digging into his flesh.

Her meaty finger dug and twisted around before she pulled it away with a sudden tug, making the air leave his body again.

“Old man’s getting’ real tired of your bullshit, kid.” She wiped the bloody finger on a tanned apron she had on – his blood faded and prominent on it from all the times she wiped her hands clean of the previous torture sessions. “Hell, even I’m gettin tired of this farce you keep on playing!”

She laughed and pushed him away, letting him dangle around for a few seconds as she took a drag of her cigarette, blowing the smoke into his face with a dark chuckle. “Felt a bit sorry for you at first before I found out you sent them poor kids to death, ya know.”

“I-I told you… that wasn’t me….”

“Ain’t the way I or the world sees it, kid. You’re a psychopath is what’cha are. The sooner you cooperate the sooner you can leave.”

Hypocrite… you’re the psychopath here… torturing a kid.

That’s what he wanted to say, but he knew it’d only enrage her further.

Just as she was about to put out her cigarette on his arm and add another burn-scar to his collection, she got a call on her phone.

The big woman groaned and pulled it out with a hiss. “What? I’m busy here—huh?” Her face immediately turned into a furrowed frown. “How…?!” The voice on the phone was faint, but it sounded frantic. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck! I’ll be down soon. Bring that gadget Asuka had set up for us; tell the old man to use that gadget in case shit gets dicey. And don’t let her get to the boss!”

She stomped out of the torture room and shouted at some people outside of his cell. “Guard the kid. I don’t want that bitch anywhere near her little junior. He’s our negotiation piece. Got it?!”

“Y-yeah, course, boss.”

Her…? The Control Killer…? She’s here?

Shinso didn’t know to be terrified or relieved. Maybe both. He looked to the left and right and saw the other two guards that were in this cell with him. He’d hoped to use his quirk on one of them, but it was useless. Any time he tried; he’d be met with a rifle butt struck into his midsection again.

The thunderous roar of bullet fire echoed from outside, and it startled him a bit. He tried to dangle himself to the sound, but it was hard when his entire body ached. Still, if gunshots were being fired, the police or a hero is bound to start coming soon.

Still, he had to get out of here. Before he’s swooped off by either these Yakuza again, or worse, by the Control Killer herself. He had to get out of here. Maybe go to the authorities and tell them what he knows. He’d have to grab the polaroids – maybe burn them or keep them for evidence….

His eyes moved upwards to the guards. He’d have to provoke them somehow. Get them to respond to his quirk.

They were dressed in matching business suits with black sunglasses. Typical Yakuza attire. They were sitting on stools, twiddling their thumbs, or browsing through their phones as they kept their rifles holstered.

“S-so… you two Big Sis’ lapdogs? Her little bitches?” He said weakly, though his smug expression was quickly soured as they didn’t answer him. In fact, they just outright ignored him.

Damn it….

“What…? Afraid of a little boy? Thought you gangsters didn’t take shit from nobody…”

Again, they didn’t answer, continuing to browse through their phones as if he wasn’t all that special.

He was beginning to sweat. This was likely his only chance of escaping with whatever was causing the commotion outside. He had to think of something to anger these guys. Anything that would tarnish their pride….

He grinned and looked at them again. “You know… If I didn’t know any better, ain’t you guys supposed to be top shit? Why’re you serving Big Sis anyway? She beat you two black and blue and you two just let her?” He licked his bruised lip, scrambling his brain for more insults. “Maybe she wears the pants in your relationship? Is that why you two guys are glued to her ass all the time? Always see you to with her in here with me.”

A twitch from the broad-shoulder Yakuza.

Good, good. Get mad.

“Oh, hit a nerve? Heh… You’re probably the bottom bitch, aren’t you? Bet you ask Big Sis for the strap-on, I bet.” He looked over to the Yakuza’s buddy beside him. “And I bet you clean off the shit-stained strap-on once she’s done with his ass.”

The other one, a lankier guy with a rat-tail of a hairstyle scowled as he stopped looking at his phone.

“Guess that confirms it if you’re not denying it. Guess your guys’ chocolate starfishes must be sore from all the dick-riding, huh?”

Mr. Broad shoulders stood up from his stool with a heavy breath as he stomped on over. “Fuckin’ brat! I’ll show you!”

“We’re gonna beat your ass!” His little buddy joined him, his expression full of fury as he spat spittle onto his face.

Shinso’s heart soared as his quirk finally activated – their eyes turning blank as their expressions faded. “Finally…”

He looked between the two and smiled. “Help me down and carry me to safety. Get me as far away from this place as possible.” He ordered with a relieved sigh as they began undoing his bindings and wrapped his arms around their shoulders. He winced as the various wounds riddled over his body stung and reminded him of the fact that he needed medical attention. Everything hurt. 

Almost out of here….

All he had to do now was navigate through the chaos. 

“N-no…! Please! Don’t kill me—”

“Bang.” She didn’t care for the Yakuza’s pleading as his head disappeared into nothingness. She kicked his lifeless body aside and pushed open the front doors, her eyes narrowed into slits as they scanned the audacious vestibule of this gaudy estate.

A giant golden chandler hung above with crystalline droplets shone brightly above. More Yakuza took up spots in the vestibule’s reception desk, the stairwells, and hiding behind the marble pillars upholding the ceiling.

Her shoes clicked against the marble flooring as she used her nose to try and find where Shinso was, but she was soon halted by a line-up of Yakuza, followed by that arrogant old man no less. He swaggered on through the place with his case, confident and pleased.

“I didn’t think you’d escape.” He leaned on his cane and flashed her a toothy grin. “You just get more interesting by the minute, child.”

She lowered her finger and titled her head. “I believe you have something of mine. I’d ask that you return him to me, or else.”

The Yakuza all guffawed and snickered. “Or else what, dear? I think you have the situation entirely confused with something. It should be the other way around. So, why don’t you stand down and go back to your cell.” Akiyama’s voice got sterner as he slammed his cane down onto the floor.

“I refuse.”

“Tch… Maybe this will persuade you.” He held up a rectangular device with several nobs and glowing buttons.

“And what is that supposed to be?” She titled her head forward, her eyes narrowing again as she began counting the number of Yakuza in this open space.

28… No, there’s bound to be more upstairs. Possible more than thirty then.

He fiddled with a few buttons and Makima felt a sharp pain reverberate throughout her body as her legs gave way.

The Yakuza all relaxed as soon as they saw her on her knees.

“It’s what will make you bend to my will, child. You’ve only brought this upon yourself by escaping.”

The Yakuza all laughed, and Akiyama had the audacity to smugly hobble on over and kneel to her level. “Look what you’ve made us do.” He used his cane to push and prod her numb legs. “Hah. Maimed like a disobedient pup. Oh well,” Akiyama placed a hand on her shoulder. “You won’t be needing them anytime soon for my ambitions. All I need is your quirks. Its all we ask of you really. Big Sis,” He tore his attention away from her gaze.

The wild-maned woman scratched her head and looked at him. “Yeah?”

Makima ignored the man’s words as he was giving orders to his subordinates in front of her. She focused her power, putting pressure into his cranial cavity. The very idea of having this roach continue to persist disgusted her. He and his ilk had no place in this world, or any for that matter.

“—And make sure you take her back to her cell, and ensure she stays there. We’ll just have to kill the boy—” The man stopped mid-sentence, noticing blood trickling down his nose. He pressed two fingers to confirm what was happening and barely got a look at her. “Gueh… Heuh….” Akiyama stumbled back quickly, trying to make distance between him and herself.

But the old fool was too late. He fell to his knees and slumped forward – his cane falling and clanging loudly against the floor. The corners of his eyes and ears leaked blood as it dripped down and stained his kimono and white shirt.

Gasps and curses were all she heard from all around her. She felt the room beginning to fill up with a collective emotion that empowered her: fear.

Shinso’s eyes couldn’t believe what he was seeing – the Control Killer – the one responsible for his ruined reputation, here in the flesh. He peered through the off-white balustrade as he hid behind it – watching the scene from above on the second floor.

The woman, Makima they called her, covered head to toe in blood. Her shirt’s sleeves torn and bloodied heavily as she squared off against the roomful of armed maniacs.

Before the devil could speak, Shinso jumped a bit as they all opened fire. The room turned into a loud cacophonous choir of gunfire. The rain of bullets came from all corners of the vestibule. Pistols and small submachine guns shot wildly at Makima. Each shot pierced though her guts, legs, and face. She fell to the floor next to the old man – who Shinso assumed was that old man from yesterday.

His own heart was racing, likely just as much as those Yakuza down there, each of them, himself included, praying that was the end of her.

They all reloaded and fired again at her corpse – a plume of blood kept coming off her body as the last few shots echoed throughout the estate.

Shinso almost retched at the grisly sight of the woman’s body that the Yakuza just unloaded their entire clips into. Half her face, from what he could see from this far away, was missing. Bullet holes littered her body from head to toe.

“Fuckin’ hell… Oi, what’s the damage for our old man? Is he…?” Shinso caught the voice of Big Sis as she ordered a grunt to check on the corpse, who shook his head in dismay.

“Damn… Don’t know how the bitch did it but guess that’s it for the revival of the Yakuza, I guess. Fuck. Them old farts the boss made promises to ain’t gonna be too happy.” She sighed and placed her hands on her hips. “Flew too close to the sun, boss. Sorry ya ended up that way. I’ll have to let Kaz and Asuka know about this… Hah… fuck.” She cursed loudly and shouted at some of her men. “Well, don’t just stand there! We gotta do some cleanup before the police come knocking!”

Shinso’s eyes widened.

Big Sis groaned. “Y’all go deaf or something!?” She stomped on over to one of her men and slapped him hard. “Didn’t ya hear me, or you got a death wish?!”

Impossible… That’s…

Several more Yakuza downstairs all dropped their guns and backed away.

“What the fuck are you lookin—”

There she was, standing back up like a living zombie. The upper half of her forehead was dripping with blood as it trailed down her face as she looked at them all. Her white shirt and black slacks drenched in the crimson liquid.

The bullet holes in her clothing were all there, but… the wounds they left were gone. It’s as if it never happened.

I saw you die… you died… How….?

Shinso’s brain was scrambled, and he couldn’t make sense of it. There was no way he was gonna try and figure that out right now; he had to get out of there. He had to let people know.

“D-demon…” One of the Yakuza screamed out loudly. “Demon!”

More Yakuza dropped their guns and began fleeing.

“Hieeee!!!!”

“M-monster!!!”

Again, the somewhat braver Yakuza that stayed behind, all unloaded their guns into the woman from what he could hear. The choir of bullets beginning anew in the gunpowder-reeking room.

Shinso ordered his two new minions to carry him off to safety. He didn’t dare look back as his dread surged higher as the screams intensified from downstairs.

This was something out of a nightmare. Shinso hadn’t ever seen someone get up from a hail of bullets and look completely fine.

What he just saw was someone who literally defied death; a thing that he firmly believed came for everyone, himself included. But to see her alive and well… it was horrifying. Nerve-wracking.

He didn’t dare look over his shoulder in fear of seeing her right behind him.

The Yakuza had all run out of bullets and soon charged at her in a final stand under the muscular woman’s orders. She must’ve been a family leader, or maybe one of the lieutenants to the old man who tried to lecture her.

She smiled at the thought of him slowly succumbing to death in the most anti-climactic way. He had the audacity to tell her about the notion of being a necessary evil, but he was wrong. They all were with their pitiful excuses that this world doesn’t need nor want.

Makima assumed a fighting stance and looked more than willing to oblige their last stand. She needed to stamp out this infestation after all. If they wanted to be exterminated like the extinct dinosaurs they were, Makima would happily give them that.

The first to touch her and grab her shoulder was treated to a jab to the throat.

Makima didn’t relent and struck the offending Yakuza’s throat again, pushing and breaking his larynx, feeling, and hearing a distinct crack. Another popped up behind her and she swiftly dodged an overhead strike and ducked down to sweep the legs out from her attacker.

They flopped down and Makima wasted no time and shoved her fingers into the man’s eyes, gouging them till blood spurted out. This action made a few hesitantly back away, but Makima rushed another – a woman with an eye patch and she tried to keep a hold of Makima.

Though once she held a firm grasp on her, blood began to seep from her nose and eyes, much like that old man.

She felt a bit of nostalgia for using her bare hands against a living opponent. It’s been a while since she’s gotten up close and personal.

Not since Chainsaw Man…

Makima pouted at that memory and shook it off by continuing her fight.

A man with a wooden table leg pushed forward and swung with all his might, hoping to strike Makima in the head. She instead kept dodging each swing.

She weaved through another uppercut by Big Sis and kept her focus on the brave soul with the table leg. He swung left and Makima ducked down and got into his guard, she grabbed his neck and squeezed, tearing away the flesh from his neck with a violent spray of blood splashing onto her face.

More Yakuza manned up and poured through.

Makima parried a blow from Big Sis who kept wailing on her with strong punches.

It was clear to her that this muscular lady had been the elite trooper here. To any normal person, their arms would shatter as they tried to block or misdirect her punches, but Makima wasn’t any normal being.

It was her chance to test out her own personal strength that’s been amplified by the great amount of fear she’s received from everyone so far.

She threw her own jabs, and the woman visibly winced as she blocked each one and weaved as a boxer would toward her.

The woman got into her guard and Makima danced between two more yakuza who attempted to overwhelm her.

Makima moved quickly to the left, misdirecting Big Sis’s haymaker to hit one of her own. The muscular woman growled, “Stay still!”

Makima was cornered into a wall and four people thought it’d be best to try and pile onto her. Makima caught a fistful of a man’s long hair and slammed his face into the wall behind, watching his well-handsome face turn to mush as she slammed it again, breaking every part of his skull as she let go.

One man tried to throw a punch but accidentally let his arm get grabbed by her. “W-wait! P-please—”

She didn’t give him time to beg -- she responded by twirling like a gator would with its prey, ripping off his arm in one graceful action.

She pushed the one-armed casualty into Big Sis and continued with the next victim.

Even more Yakuza got into the fray, and the muscular woman smirked as if in victory.

“Guess ya time’s up, bitch. We’ll just keep pouring on in until you get exhausted. We can do this all day.”

Makima watched as they all ran into the vestibule, all coming from outside or from upstairs, with brass-knuckles, guns, and knives with eager looks on their faces. Some tried to rush into the fight and dogpile onto her.

They were likely being encouraged and motivated by this Big Sis. That had to change.

She focused her power on their feeble wills to gain their quick obedience.

“This is an order: Kill yourselves.” She asked.

They all smiled with blushes on their faces as they pressed the barrels of their guns below their jaws.

“Y-yes, Miss Makima!” A man said as he pressed his large machete to his neck.

“A-anything for you!” A tall woman with braids shouted as she put the barrel of her revolver into her mouth.

“No problem! I’d die to make you happy!” A young man uttered as he angled his katana towards his gut.

The cracks of guns and bodies hitting the floor terrified many of the Yakuza who wanted to attack. They all hesitated and had doubts.

“Don’t give up now! She can’t control all of us, ya pussies!” The muscular woman cried out as she rallied their weakened morale.

Makima slithered behind one and quickly caught hold of his neck and spun it like a corkscrew, tearing it off and throwing the severed head at another combatant.

“Come here!” The leading woman finally got back to Makima and made for a barrage of punches, each one a flurry of speed and power. Makima blocked each one and pushed her away and got hold of a metal bat from an unfortunate Yakuza who tried to hit her from behind.

She twirled it like a toy and ran towards her, “You’re really getting in my way.”

“Hah, good! I’mma beat you black ‘n blue.”

The woman finally landed a good blow on Makima by feinting an uppercut and attacking her chest instead.

“You’re not untouchable. I just gotta switch things up.” She jumped around on her toes, getting more amped up with a bloodthirsty grin. “Heh, good to know that you’re pretty fragile. Was that a rib I cracked?”

Makima suddenly got up in her face and tried to jab her throat like she did the first man.

“Oh no, you don’t!” The muscled woman cried out as put her arms up in front of her face, effectively blocking the jab.  “That trick won’t work on me! I’ve seen that shit before, and I know how to—”

Makima was behind her in an instant and she slammed both palms onto the woman’s delicate ears in unison. She yelped and fell onto her knees. This stunned her long enough for Makima to grab a fistful of that white wild hair and pull her head back.

Makima noticed that her opponent’s mouth was wide open, trying desperately to breathe, and she got an idea.

She grabbed the end of the bat and angled it towards the woman’s gaping maw of a mouth. Her pearly white teeth shining.

The woman widened her eyes as Makima took a hold of her jaw with one hand. She began to forcefully push the bottom end of the bat down her mouth.

The wild woman struggled and bit down on the bat, trying to stop its entry, all the while trying to push away. However, Makima’s grip was otherworldly when compared to this pathetic bug’s excuse of muscles.

Makima continued to push it further down the offending pest’s throat, watching as tears of fear were beginning to form on the edges of the muscled woman’s eyes.

“Puhlsss….stahhpppp…glrk….” She groaned out, gagging and trying to keep a firm grip on the bat.

This wouldn’t do. She needed to make an example out of one of the remaining big shots that are still in this room. Makima narrowed her eyes at the woman’s pleas, and she endured several shots to her back and head from the other Yakuza trying to save their leader.

With one final move, she lodged the bat further down until half of it was buried into the woman’s throat.

“GRLK…. HRK…….” There was a noticeable bulge in her throat as she tried to pull it out, gagging and suffocating all together.

Many of her lackeys all stopped and succumbed to Makima’s control, looking at the scene with apathy.

“Where will I find the boy?” She asked one of the broken Yakuza who had a face of adoration.

“He should be upstairs for you…. Y-you’re incredible, miss.” The man said with a blush.

“Thank you. Be a dear and gather a group to find those that weren’t here. Like the blonde man and the little girl. What were their names?”

“Ah… Kazuma Hisashi and Asuka Oozoru… They don’t reside here with Lord Akiyama or Big Sis.”

“Oh? And where would I find them?”

“Kazuma went back to his turf back in the Kamino Ward, and Asuka’s slicked back to hers near the downtown area.”

“Mm… Gather up a crew and bring Asuka to me as soon as possible. And for Kazuma….” She hummed in thought. “Find out where he’s located and kill him if you can. If not, just let me know where I can find him. As for the rest of the Yakuza… Scrouge up your patriarchs and get them to provide me with their names. All of them that are currently in Musutafu.”

“Anything for you, ma’am!” The scraggly man said with an uncharacteristic smile. “You heard her! Let’s go!” A large, sizable group of the remaining Yakuza all unified with grins and happy smiles as they left the two alone in the room filled with blood, bodies, and death itself.

She let out a light chuckle and knelt to the woman known as Big Sis. She was currently on the floor, crying, gagging, and trying her best to pull the bat’s length out of her.

Makima looked down at the woman with a frown. “This should be the fate of all you; groveling on the floor, suffocating under the weight of your errors of pretending to be something you’re not.”

“Hrk…. hrk………”

Slowly, Big Sis crawled over, grabbing onto Makima’s ankle with a pleading expression on her face.  She had the most primal look of fear plastered onto her face with a mouthful of metal.

“It is quite the sight to see an untrained mutt act as if it needs help.” She gently parted Big Sis’ bangs to see her eyes. “But you don’t. You deserve this. You’re not part of the ideal setting that I desire. You have no place here. Not in this world or the next.”

She stood up, leaving Big Sis to die there slowly and painfully.

Makima’s hand went to her nape as she dug around into it as she searched for the odd thing they planted into her.

With a fleshy tear, she pulled it out and hummed – staring at it before tossing it to the side. Her eyes looked up to the second floor, her nose still picking up the scent of Shinso nearby.

She began to ascend upwards to the stairs with a smile on her face. She had to make sure her prized dog was okay.

“Damn it… Another dead end.” Shinso groaned as he ordered his minions to try and carry him elsewhere that had an alternate exit.  He’d hoped that one of these doors upstairs would lead to a room that had a another set of stairs leading to another place. Anywhere that didn’t lead back to the hell zone happening downstairs.

He ruffled through his pockets and stared at the polaroids in his possession. Each one contained incriminating evidence of him working alongside Makima.

It hurt his heart as he shuffled through a few of the pictures to find one of her in his own house no less – sitting at a dinner table with his parents.

How long has this been going on?

If he showed these to someone on the side of the law, what would happen?

He already had an answer for that; he’d be tossed into Tartarus the moment someone sees these.

Still, should he keep them? Or burn them?

He had no idea if he could trust the law at this point.

What if she’s got people on the inside? She’ll find me no matter what I do. Should I turn myself in? But then what about my dream of being a Hero…?

He shook his head off the dilemma and just focused on escaping right now. He struggled to stand and had his two controlled Yakuza grunts help him up.

“C’mon. C’mon…” He had the two guys carry him off to the next maze of stairs, hoping it’d lead to another exit somewhere. But by the looks of it, he’d have to sneak downstairs to where he came from. “Alright, let’s get going.” He latched his arms onto their shoulders for support.

“Oh, so soon?” The voice of the devil said with a soothing tone.

Shinso’s heart rate skyrocketed as he turned around and saw the one responsible for all this suffering at the end of the hallway with the most reassuring smile he’d ever seen.

Chapter Text

At the end of the hallway leading to his escape was the sole reason for his suffering.

Everything that he’d endured thus far – the rumors; the suspicions; the torture; the anger; all of it caused by this sole woman as she smiled at him so casually as if they were friends.

“L-let’s go. Now!” His minions quickly tightened their grip on him as they tried to haul him away. “Downstairs!”

He and his entourage were soon met with a blockade of Yakuza – their eyes filled with nothing as they ascended the stairway.

“Damn it…” He looked back to see the woman, who by all accounts should’ve been dead striding on over to him with that smile that made his heart waver.

“Shinso, dear, why are you—” She paused with a sigh. “Ah, you remember, don’t you?”

He nudged his minions to pull back, to try and create space as she kept walking toward him.

“You know, it is very impressive that you’ve managed to break free. Not a lot can say that.” The woman, Makima was her name, gently strode forward as he moved backwards. “I was really hoping that your mind wouldn’t have to reveal any nasty details to you. Blissful ignorance is much better in your case.”

Her little chuckle made his stomach twist.

“Blissful ignorance…? Is that what you call letting a teen murder in your name?”

“So, you remember one of my orders?” Makima cupped her chin and tapped it with her index finger. “Interesting. I wonder which one it was - there’s so many I’ve had you do that I’ve lost count.”

Lost count….?

The thought that there were still more repressed memories of being an accessory to murder. No, Shinso shook his head, and it only made the disgust and dread in his body worsen. He contributed to mass murder with this woman.

The only question was: how long has it been going on?

His eyes peered past Makima’s shoulder to see the Yakuza carrying jerry cans, splashing gasoline onto the walls. They were coating the entire floor downstairs too.

“Don’t mind them. I’m just cleaning up a mess. It wouldn’t do if people were to ask questions. Especially those of the Police Force, or the Pro Heroes.”

Shinso couldn’t get his mind off those repressed memories, the evidence of him and Makima together…

“Y-you made me… kill people...” He said with a whisper – the memory of what happened to that woman at the train station still lingering in his head. “How can you just…” He clenched his fists. His voice was hoarse. Just speaking hurt as his mouth still tasted of a tangy iron.

Her expression at his accusation made his body shiver – it was not one of empathy or remorse at all.

“I don’t recall such information.” She lied with a shake of her head before letting out a little bit of a condescending chuckle. “I didn’t make you do that. I told you to do it and you happily did so. Surprisingly well, even.”

“But why me…? Why not someone else more capable? I’m just trying to make a name for myself…”

Makima let out a small chuckle. “I did it so I could have you stockpile all sorts of lovely memories till the very end.”

“W-what…?”

She smiled and leaned forward. “I’ve been reading things. Researching. Looking into who you are, what you do, anything pertaining to you, I know about it.” She shrugged. “Oh well, I’m sure a nice hearty serving of udon noodles and some dessert will soften your mood either way--”

He cut her off before she could spout more of those twisted words. “S-stop treating me like I’m your friend.”

She laughed with such mirth that it made him sick. “You’re correct with that; I’m not your friend.” Makima closed the gap between them so effortlessly and cupped his chin with her delicate fingers. “You’re just a faithful little dog that simply does as he’s told.”

Her hands, smooth as they were, ran through his hair as she sighed deeply, her eyes locking with his own. “And right now, I’m telling you to come with me.”

Shinso’s face was slick with sweat; his heart continued to pound as he gulped down a wad of saliva.

How does her quirk work…?

His eyes darted to her own which weren’t that all-familiar blank he’s accustomed to seeing when his quirk activates.

Can I counter it with mine? No, I tried already and she’s not responding to my commands. Are there conditions to hers?

It felt awful knowing his quirk won’t at all have an effect here. Nervously speaking, he stood his ground, not at all wanting to depart with wherever she goes. “I’m not going with you.”

Makima’s face darkened with his words. “It wasn’t a request.” She reached out with her hand. “Say—"

Whatever she was about to tell him wasn’t good, that much he knew. Shinso’s legs used what little strength they had to kick her midsection to gain some distance between them. His head snapped to the left. “Aim the gun at me.”

With that order, the controlled Yakuza aimed the barrel into the side of his temple – that alone lost even more of Makima’s fading smile as she began to glare at him.

She took a deep breath of air before sighing very disappointedly. Somehow, that hurt his heart. It felt like an overwhelming guilt was beginning to well up in his stomach. The whole feeling reminding him of the time he accidentally deleted his mother’s email – Makima’s disappointment felt so… hurtful.

He shook that aside and matched her scowl with his own. “I-I want answers… Clearly you have some sort of plan for me. Too important enough for me to die, right?”

She didn’t answer him, her eyes narrowed to very thin slits as she walked closer.

“Stay back!” Shinso’s voice said quickly. “I’m warning you!”

When he saw that she wasn’t really buying his bluff, he shouted. “Y-you two! Shoot her!” He ordered, hoping they’d draw their weapons in time to at least give him an opening to slip past her.

“Rescind that order. Bring him to me.” She said with a kind expression as his controlled men stopped, carrying him towards her – their grip on his arms tight.

“N-no… don’t listen to her. Shoot her! Hit her! Something! Please!” He barked out another order, hoping to regain control, but whatever her quirk was, it was too much.

She let out a light chuckle. “It’s no use, Shinso.” Her fingers gently brushed against his face, and she frowned at his current state. “Hmm, looks like they did quite the number on you.”

Those eerie eyes of hers looked all over his bruised body with analytic precision. “That’s going to be quite difficult to explain when I need you looking presentable.” She poked and prodded at his wounds from Big Sis’ torture.

He got more questions than answers, and he was hoping if he stalled long enough, maybe, just maybe the Police would be arriving soon, or a Pro Hero…. Anyone. Anyone to save him from this monster.

“You’ll lose, you know… All-Might, or the Police Force will catch onto you. You can’t run and continue this forever!” He said, hoping she’d be riled up from that till help arrived. “C’mon….”

She didn’t answer him, all she did was continue to scan over his wounds like an owner would to a pet. Her smooth, delicate fingers brushed over his as her mouth frowned deeper at the sight of his missing fingernails.

Changing tactics, he tried to pull the obedient card. She seemed like the type…

“L-look… if you can just let me go; I won’t tell anyone what you made me do. We’ll all just forget about it. In fact, I can swear that I won’t tell a single soul!”

Makima’s smile faded as she got closer to his face, pulling his chin taut as she leaned in, her breath touching his skin, making his entire body shiver. “Don’t worry; you won’t be telling anything after I fix a few things about you.”

He couldn’t help but stare into her eyes again as they bore into his soul – his breathing escalated as a chain began to slither up around his neck, tightening itself like a collar – creeping its way toward his forehead.

Her fingers squeezed his cheek bones as she kept peering over his body.

“Answer me….” He gasped out, “One question, please…!” He had to stall. He just had to. There was no way in hell she’s going to let him live. She was going to kill him. He couldn’t let that happen!

Fear was beginning to pool into his stomach and up to his throat as dread continued to spread throughout his body. “Why are you doing this? W-why am I doing that—”

She pulled the chain-like collar taut and jerked his face forward to her as she caught wind of his attempt.

“You poor thing; do I terrify you that much?” She cooed, rubbing his cheek gently. “Don’t worry. You’re not dying. Not yet. Not ever. You’re too good to toss away. Besides, you’re so close to the edge. I just have to figure out how to push you over it.”

She gave him a brief hug, one that soothed his entire being, as if it’s been trained to do so.

All his anxiety; all his dread; all his worries, practically everything he’d endured thus far, evaporated as her warmth enveloped him – her flowery perfume putting Shinso at ease.

“See, I care for you, don’t I?” She said, cooing and saying gently into his ear as she pulled him closer.

No… you don’t!

“Yeah…. You do.” Shinso’s eyes widened; his words weren’t his own. His body and his lips began to flap and talk for him.

Her laughter soon made his heart swell with assurance and joy. “Good boy.”  

Again, that alone made him feel giddy, like it scratched another itch in his brain. “And I always do care for you. At home, at your school, and I even care for your lofty dreams.”

My dreams…?

“With everything I do for you, I ask of nothing in return. But now, I need your help more than ever.” She leaned in even closer till her face was just inches from his own. “There’s a big, gigantic favor I’d really like to ask if that’s fine with you.”

W-what…?

“A-anything… for you.” Once again, his mouth spoke for him. He tried to grit his teeth to stop saying these words. They weren’t his.

She beamed at him and pulled away. “Wonderful. But first, let’s tend to you. I need to make sure I censor and delete anything in that head of yours that you aren’t supposed to know. I can’t have my dog trying to break its leash - let alone having you say ‘no’ again to me. I thought I told you months ago that word is no longer in your vocabulary when talking to me.”

She tutted, looking content with her inspection, petting him so soothingly. “Now then… Say you’ll give me all of you.”

Instantly, his entire body went limp – his own consciousness slipping away as his vision blurred.

“I… give you all of me.”

“Good boy. We’ll put this whole thing behind us, don’t you worry.” Her voice began to fade as he fell into a deep, relaxing sleep.

Shinso awoke in a cold sweat, throwing off his blanket and panting heavily. He looked around to find himself back in his comfortable bed. The nightstand and the black digital clock were to his right, and the ceiling above was his own.

He looked at the clock to see that it was only 8:37 in the evening.

A dream…? Was that all it was?

He got out of bed, stretching his limbs. The nap he took did wonders as he felt so refreshed. Though, he instinctively looked at his fingers for some odd reason. Shinso didn’t know why he wanted to, it just… came to him.

He put a shirt on and opened the door from his room to head downstairs.

What a horrible nightmare.

Shinso tried to recollect what happened in it, but… he just couldn’t place his finger on it. Like all dreams, any semblance of it was whisked away by his brain.

His parents were downstairs by the sounds of it, their voices filling the kitchen as he went to go check out what they were doing.

He passed through the foyer, pictures of him as a baby in a cute cat-eared onesie being held up by his mother littered the walls.

Some involved his father as he held him up highly on his broad shoulders, smiling at the camera with some mountains in the background.

“Right, and then I said—Oh, Shinso, you’re awake.” His father, an older man with sunken eyes and a noticeable five o’clock shadow, smiled tiredly, and patted him on the back. “Glad you’re doing alright now. You healed like nothing thanks to that…. What was her name again, that old woman with the healing quirk?”

His voice was gruff as he turned his attention to his mother, her indigo hair tied up in a bun as she tended to the stove.

“I think you’re talking about Recover Girl, hun.” His mother added in a sing-song voice.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He nodded and sighed heavily, face-palming as if he’d remembered something foul. “I just wish your school wasn’t so lenient on those delinquents who harassed and hurt you, son.”

Harassed…? Oh, that’s right.

Memories of being pummeled by several boys his age flooded into his head like a burst dam. The dirty alleyway; the painful punches that bruised his body; the way his finger-nails were pulled off.

Wait… what?

Shinso’s head hurt – that memory didn’t feel right. The base of it seemed fine, but it felt… off to him.

He chose to sit down at the table, a headache coming on again as he massaged his temples with his fingers.

The smell of his mother’s cooking took away his attention as she placed two plates full of nutritious home-cooked goodness for Dad and him.

He rubbed his eyes, his vision adjusting to the usual brightness of the lights in the kitchen. They were so unnecessarily bright. “Hey, Dad, Mom can we not have all the—”

Shinso’s eyes widened upon seeing a third person seated at the white-kitchen table, thanking his mother with a nod and smile as she took a plate.

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Hitoshi.”

“Oh, think nothing of it, Detective! I’m just glad you found our son when you did. Lord knows what would’ve happened if he stayed in that alley any longer.” His mother said with such gratitude. “Please, help yourself.”

“I will.” The Detective, one Mashiro Hayakawa, smiled as she took a bite. Her black hair was tied up into a braid he swore he’d seen before. And that smile…

Something about that smile made him shiver.

Something felt…. Familiar with the detective. He’d remembered her – time and time again she visited and asked him all sorts of questions at U.A. It sort of irked him as her presence at the school gave him a bad rep.

They ate in silence, laughing at random quips from one another as they exchanged what they did today.

People still harbored thoughts and beliefs that he was the Control Killer! Him? Impossible. The idea was disgusting as it was inhumane. His hands clenched into fists at the thought. Still… Her eyes, he’d seen them somewhere. He just couldn’t place where though.

It didn’t help that Detective Hayakawa kept her eyes on him the entire time during dinner. He fiddled with his food and peered up from his plate to see her still staring…

What’s her deal….? Can’t Dad just tell her it’s time for her to leave? C’mon….

Trying to shift away from the odd atmosphere, his father laughed a bit nervously, “Anyways, I’ve heard a lot about you, Detective. Your work in taking down some of the villains of late surely have—”

“Shinso, dear,” Hayakawa ignored his father, simply staring at him. “Can I ask you a favor?”  Her silken voice commanded.

“I…” He gulped and looked right at her. “Yeah…?”

She was resting her elbow on the table with her chin propped up on her palm. A kind smile graced her lips. “Can you tell your mother to kill herself for me?”

His chopsticks dropped as did his parents’ own utensils.

“Ha-ha… T-that’s some odd humor you got there, Detective.” His mother said, her eyes scrunched up in that usual expression that showed she was ready to tell Hayakawa to leave.

“I asked you for a favor, Shinso. It’s rude to not answer when I’m talking to you.” She said, her face deadpan as she continued to look at him.

He tried to look over to his parents for aid, but her voice stopped him. “Don’t look at them, Shinso. Look at me.”

Warily he did so, and she had a frown that twisted his gut.

“Who are you more loyal to?” She leaned closer. “Me or your parents?”

He couldn’t swallow…. His whole body was shaking; his breathing got quicker.

His father stood up suddenly, slamming a fist in order to intimidate the woman. “That’s it. Leave. Now before I remove you myself—”

She casually aimed her finger at him. “Bang.”

In that instant, his father’s upper half disappeared into nothingness as his legs and midriff slacked forward, falling onto the table’s end, knocking it and the contents on it over. A loud clatter filled the room as his mom cried out and fell onto her knees.

Shinso backed up against the wall, shocked and utterly mortified.

Shinso’s cry was hoarse and quiet, like he couldn’t get a sound out. When he managed to finally get a sound, what came out was a squeak, a mewl, and a whimper.

He looked up at her as she began walking toward him, kneeling to be at his eye-level. Tears fell down his face as he tried to think of how this was a dream. It had to be. There was no other way.

Behind Hayakawa, his mother quickly scrambled to grab her phone.

“If you don’t tell her to kill herself, we’ll both be in a lot of trouble. You wouldn’t want that, would you? What about your dreams? It’ll all go down the drain once the Police come and find you.”

She pulled something out of her jacket, wagging a polaroid of them together.

The image immediately made him remember.

The torture; the kidnapping; the Control Killer; the Yakuza estate…. It was all coming back.

“ARGH!!!” He gripped his head in pain as more memories came flooding back. Images of him using his quirk to kill so many people. In all sorts of brutal, disgusting, suicidal ways.

Visions of him watching people leap to their deaths off roofs; onto train tracks; slicing their throats or wrists; all of it came crashing down into his mind like a roaring tidal wave.

N-no! I-I didn’t do those! That wasn’t me! It wasn’t!

“M-mom!” He tried to stand up, but she shoved him back into the wall with a palm. “Glrk…”

“I see now. How odd. You are really becoming more and more interesting, Shinso. It appears you remember everything… Again.” Hayakawa, no… Makima, said with a deep frown. “Even after I thought I fixed all those memories in your head a week ago. I even gave them all neat little coat jobs like bullies, teenage drama, that sort of thing.”

He memorized a chain going into his head, sinking in deep as it did something before it all went black…

“It’s like I must reapply a band-aid on an open gash every single time. But then again, that’s what I like about you. You’re special, Shinso. More special than you can even imagine. You’re so close. So very close.” She cupped his chin and leaned closer, her face inches away from his. “I’ll ask again: Can you tell your mother to kill herself for me?”

“I…”

“You’re my dog, remember? You can’t say no. It’s not in your nature. It’ll never be. So, I’ll ask for the last time, Shinso: Can you tell your mother to kill herself?”

He desperately wanted to tell her no, but when he tried to voice the word, no sound came out of his mouth. It was like his breath was stolen from him with each attempt.

“Remember your dreams? Didn’t you tell me you wanted to disprove all those naysayers? All those doubters who think you’re a villain?”

Meekly, he nodded, her voice soothing his sobs as she patted and rubbed his back lovingly.

“Mmm, and you still want to achieve that dream, don’t you?”

Shinso sniffled, still shaking as he nodded quietly once more.

“Then I can make those dreams come true. I’ll help you. I’ll give you everything you need to prove that you are a hero. All you have to do is do as you’re told. Understand?”

Shinso’s body stopped shaking, as his reluctant acquiescence to Makima’s words showed itself on his semi-relaxed face.

I…I… There’s nothing I can do…. M-my dreams….

He hesitantly opened his mouth and took a deep breath. “Mom….?”

“Don’t worry, hun! I got 9—” His mother cried out, sniffling and crying still.

His heart sank as he felt his quirk take effect. Her sobbing in the other room came to an abrupt end.

“Good boy.” She patted his head. “Tell her to come in here. I need you to watch.”

“Can you come back into the kitchen….?”

Shinso’s heart pounded in his chest as he stared at his mom. The woman he’d known all his life.

She looked so peaceful despite the blank look on her face. “M-mom….” Shinso’s voice choked again. Tears began flowing down his face as he sobbed and shut his eyes closed. He opened them briefly, his gaze darting to the floor, but he averted it – not wanting to look at what was left of his dad that bled across the tiled kitchen floor.

Makima helped him up, got behind him and massaged his shoulders. “Shhh…” She cooed into his ear, speaking to him in a tender whisper. “Go on. Show me how you always do it. You remember, don’t you?” She gripped the back of his head, ensuring he didn’t look away.

“P-pick up the knife you were using to chop the peppers, Mom….” He grit his teeth, watching with pain as his mother heeded his command. She held it in her hand and looked at him, awaiting another order.

“K-kill….” Shinso paused, trying to not say the next order, but his lips began to speak for him. “Kill…. yourself…. Mom.” He muttered, too weak to say it loudly.

The next few seconds truly destroyed him. The sound of his mom’s body soon dropping to the floor did it in for him. He fell to his knees and wailed loudly, falling to the floor.

She had the grace to let him wail and call out to his parents. He crawled on over to his mother’s body, cradling her lifeless corpse in his arms as he rested his back against the kitchen cupboard. “I-I’m so sorry… I’m sorry… I-I didn’t do it… It wasn’t me…. Mom… Dad…. It wasn’t me.”

Makima’s shoes clicked against the tile floor as she knelt by him, patting and rubbing his back again. “It was the only way, Shinso.”

The only way…? The only way for what?! He wanted to snap at her, but he had no energy. Nothing at all but to just lay there with his mom in his arms.

Shinso didn’t have it in him to swat Makima’s soothing hand as she cupped his cheek. “You performed so well, Shinso. Like always, you never cease to impress. I imagine it’s only a matter of time until you awaken for me.”

Somehow, her words of comfort began to calm him down.... immensely. His parents' deaths no longer troubled him. 

The guilt, anxiety, and dread had all dissipated with a wave of Makima's hand. 

“Awaken…?”

“Curious? I imagine it’s not something that often happens in this world – only a rare few cases ever truly awaken their quirks in their lifetimes. Sometimes its in a life-or-death situation, others a truly traumatic event or repressed memory withheld deep in their subconscious.” She continued her lesson.

“I’ve been reading a lot on quirks lately, all of it contained so much knowledge about their origins, how they came to be, and much more.” She paused, humming. “But what really caught my interest was quirk awakenings. You see Shinso, I’ve been really looking into you when someone recommended you to me.”

Someone recommended me to a monster…?

“You true purpose was only ever to be a scapegoat. Someone whose only mission was to take the blame for my many atrocities. But… after finding out about you; your past; your life; and your ever-so-useful quirk, I just had to tend to you. To nourish that talent. You were like my own personal bonsai tree that I took care of for a while.”

Makima’s lips curled up. “You’re looking to redeem yourself by becoming a Hero. That is your dream: You want to prove to everyone that even a person with a quirk like yours can still be in the leagues with the Pros.”

She held his head up lovingly, making him look up at her in the eyes, tossing his mother’s corpse aside and taking its place in his personal space. “With my influence, you will outshine the rest.”

“W-what….?”

Makima laughed and smiled. “You’re going to help me do something truly extraordinary at the U.A. Sports Festival.”

“But, before that… I’d like to see how well your quirk has truly manifested. You’ll show me, won’t you, Shinso?”

He nodded, knowing he wouldn’t have a say, and she practically beamed at him. “Thank you; I think the best way to show it to me is by giving me some assistance. I want to see how your awakened quirk will handle helping me squash the last dredges of an infestation in the city.”

Giran stared at the television with a look of no surprise as he saw the beautiful News Anchor, Ai Yume, giving her report of a massacre that happened last week at a suburban neighborhood. Her face, unmarred by any blemishes, spoke of the tragedies that had occurred in what he assumed what had been left of Akiyama’s estate.

I told you idiots… but they didn’t listen. No one listens.

Some of his sources had told him that the Yakuza all went quiet shortly after whatever happened at that old turtle’s home. When he’d ask that surely there had to be something, but no, they’d told him that they all just went quiet.

Not a blip or a mouse fart from anybody. It made him teeter on the edge of a breakdown himself for fear that Makima would come knocking any moment now.

He tried calling for that Kazuma fellow, and all he got was a babbling of curses and a formal ‘fuck you’ by the man. Well, at least he was fine.

Makima probably had no use for the guy; too far away in Kamino Ward to be much of a nuisance. Still, didn’t stop him from wanting to see what made the infamous Golden Blade ditch the operation and head home in a hurry.

He flicked through the channel once his favorite News Anchor got switched to some fat oaf.

The first was some wacky guy dressed in a circus outfit, promoting his event with a reward. “Get a trip to I-Island through our—”

Boring…

Next was a semi-serious ad with a pair of women doing yoga while showing off a green package. “Are you experiencing menstrual pains? Try our newest medication—”

No thanks…

The third was some breaking news of some sort that he didn’t really bother with. If it didn’t have a good reporter or news anchor, count him out! Next!

He gave the last one a chance since it was good-looking reporter with a nice rack interviewing some scraggly guy. In the back, Giran could see that there were sirens and police blocking off a public park behind him. “--And then I was like, woah! What happened to the guy!? He just went--”

Giran almost got intrigued but decided to just shut the TV off.

The heavy knocks on his door only meant one thing as he begrudgingly got up from his chair and peeked through the peephole to see one paranoid and distraught looking Asuka.

He opened it and watched as the short stack scurried in like a frightened goblin, quickly running off to his guest room and setting up shop.

He sighed as he watched her pull several gadgets, and two laptops out of her large duffle bag.

“And what exactly are you doing here?”

“W-what’s the wifi—screw it, I got it. Hacked it.” She said, not taking her eyes off her blue laptop’s screen as she began opening several tabs to security cameras, drone footage, and more with heavy sweat on her face.

He rolled his eyes and swirled his whiskey around in his shot glass. “Didn’t answer my question, Asuka.”

She didn’t answer him and just kept tapping away at her keyboard, messaging whoever she could.

“Asuka…. Answer me—"

“I-it’s fucked, Giran!” She squawked out, pulling at her hair after seeing no reply from anyone on her laptop. “Completely and totally fucked!” She screamed at him before whirling around to face her many gadgets, tinkering with them, and loading up a pistol, and stashing it into her holster underneath her thigh.

“I told you, but you didn’t listen. You just had to buy into Akiyama’s promises of glory.”

“I know…! I’m just a young Yakuza though! I don’t know any better!” She jumped out of her chair and latched onto him with pleading eyes. “Help me!” She pointed a finger into his chest painfully.

Gira wanted to just tell her to leave, but the girl’s disheveled appearance might’ve implied that she didn’t have anywhere else to turn to…. That alone made him worried. Not for Asuka per se, but rather how quickly Makima cleaned up these Yakuza types…. Something was off.

The short stack took him out of his thoughts and pressed her acrylic blue nail into his chest again. “You know people! Y-yeah…” The gears in her head were likely turning, hoping to find some way out of this mess. “You can get me outta the country!” Her face was all smiles, if not a little creepy.

She pushed off him and shoved her laptop’s screen into his face, puppy-dog like eyes trying to win any form of sympathy. “L-look, I’m already transferring and wiring twenty million yen to your accounts.”

“Wait, how did—”

She cut him off before he could ask how in the hell she had access to that kind of information. “I’ve pulled funds from all the Yakuza Patriarchs over the years, and I’m giving it all to you. I’ve been embezzling here and there, okay! Just hel—”

He cut off her babbling. “And do what exactly?” Giran scoffed, “What’s got you all worked up? What happened to your men?”

“Gone. Dead, probably. I don’t know. S-she came to my place with Akiyama’s goons, and they gunned down everybody. I-I tried fighting back, b-but I…” The girl paused, trying to recount what happened – her words on the tip of her tongue as she scratched her head. “…don’t know…. I can’t remember…! T-that’s the shitty part, Giran! I can’t…. fucking…. remember.” She cradled her head like it was in pain.

She waved off his words and ran her finger through her tangled, bloody-looking matted hair. “Gah… Look, let’s forget about that right now. Help me, dude. Please. I’ll do anything!” He noticed that her eyeliner was all messed up.

She’d likely been crying earlier or having several breakdowns before somehow finding one of his safe houses.

Not seeing him budge, she got closer, pulling out all the stops to try and convince him to help her sorry ass.

“Please! Help me, Giran! I-I can suck your cock! W-we can fuck! Anything!” She pushed him into the bed, already straddling onto his lap, trying to tug on his pants with pure desperation.

“Damn it, get a hold of yourself, Asuka!” He yelled, shoving her off and standing up with wariness. “I fucking told you that this wasn’t going to work!”

She was on the floor, curling up into a ball, crying into her palms and mumbling things. “Grk.. I-I—” Tears were forming at the edge of her eyes. She wailed loudly and rocked herself back and forth in a ball pathetically.

Giran sighed, knowing full well that Asuka’s Gadget Fox Yakuza persona was just a façade. She may have put up a tough exterior and cussed like a sailor, but she was all bark and no bite when it came to actually facing the consequences of her actions.

It probably didn’t help that one of her close friends, that buff woman, had likely died during Makima’s escape. He didn’t really want to add into the fire of telling Asuka off or forcing her to leave.

He wasn’t that cruel.

“I-I…” She dry heaved and began retching, crying nonsense about not wanting to die a horrific death. “Hueh…. Help me please…”

He sighed and face-palmed himself at the distraught girl. He sat down on the bed and stared at all her gadgets. “I’ll think of something, alright? Can you at least just try and calm down? Can’t really help you if you at least tell me what happened.”

Hearing her still not respond to him, he sighed and spoke with a heavy sigh. “I’ll get you a boat or a plane to the Americas. Maybe set you up in New York or something. Doubt Makima would bother with you then.”

“I-I…Hrk….” She couldn’t say anything for a bit before finally calming down after being reassured of her safety. She sniffled and huddled up against the corner of the room. “I-I don’t know how she did it… b-but she’s killing us, Giran.”

Giran rolled his eyes at that but kept listening.

“T-the other families… t-they’ve reported finding their estates empty. J-just gone. Nobody remaining but blood splatters and clothes splayed out onto the floors.”

Giran narrowed his eyes at that. It had to have been one of Makima’s special tricks. It was probably that ‘air’ gun Asuka had told him about a while back.

“Okay…” He drawled out, hoping to get this girl out of his apartment before she draws in the shark that was Makima. “And why’s that got you all terrified?”

“Y-you don’t understand! I-I—” She paused, hyperventilating as she looked around the room in pure terror. “You feel that?!” Asuka cradled her own shoulders, backing away like a shaken chicken.

“Feel what?”

“S-something’s wrong!” The girl was clutching her head tightly scratched her face.

He tensed up and looked around to the ceiling to see what she was staring at, but all he saw was nothing. Giran stared back at Asuka to see her eyes shaking in pure dread as she kept sweating and breathing quickly.

“I-I’m telling you… something’s bad! Somethings wrong!” Asuka cried in fear, running back to him, latching onto the lapels of his shirt, and wailing in his face. “SAVE ME! PLEASE! DO SOMETHING—"

He barely got a glimpse of her face being twisted and contorted before her entire body exploded.

Blood splattered all over him like a giant red balloon as it splashed against the walls, bed, and floor.

Giran fell back onto his ass as he stared at the blood puddle that was once Asuka. Her tank top and denim shorts all that remained where she had once stood.

There was no sign of viscera, guts, or anything of the sort as he stood back up to look at what the hell had just happened. He waited for his end, closing his eyes, and praying to whatever God was listening to spare him.

But nothing came. It was just silence.

Silence and the sound of Asuka’s blood dripping off the ceiling onto his nose and head.

“A-asuka…?” He muttered, trying to make sense of the whole damn clusterfuck that just happened.

Chapter Text

Showering and scrubbing a former terrified Yakuza off his body was less than fine for Giran. Matter of fact, it was worse than that! The damned girl’s blood got in his eyes, into his mouth, everywhere! 

Not to mention he’d have to hire a cleaner to make the whole guest room not look like murder room with how much blood splattered everywhere… Gah! He’d have to deal with that later! He had bigger things to worry about - namely his eventual demise at the hands of a psychopath. 

He gazed about in pure paranoia of his bathroom walls with each scrub of his skin as he lathered up copious amounts of soap into a yellow, coarse, exfoliating sponge. The crimson remnants of Asuka drizzled down his face, shoulders, and legs and into the drain below - the last dredge of the girl forever disappearing into a pipe filled with soap, scum, and gunk.

Finishing up, he dried himself quickly, throwing on a towel and marching out with purpose to the living room to close the door on the balcony, wanting to have some privacy while he planned out how to go about his current situation. 

“Stupid flying pest, go on! Shoo!” He chided and made away gestures towards the same, ridiculous crow that came to perch on his balcony.  “Damn it, scram!” 

Giran had no idea what attracted this dumb bird, but he just about had it with the thing. Always sitting there, doing absolutely nothing better with its insignificant life. Can’t the thing tell he was stressed out of his mind?!

He got closer, shooing it away further as it hobbled over to the edge. Not a moment sooner that, with a retaliatory caw, the feathered beast flew away slowly, off to find another bozo’s balcony to perch upon and annoy. He slammed the sliding door shut and closed the curtains. 

With an annoying creature removed, he paced back to the bloodied guest room where Asuka’s blood began to seep into the carpet and walls - staining the once white wallpaper with a deep crimson paintjob. The info-broker, in his comfy slippers and bathing robe on, tip-toed past the blood-stains and snatched Asuka’s laptop.

It didn’t take long for him to break into the thing, but with the speed of the computer, it made him a little more than impatient - with impending death soon upon him.

“C’mon, damn it! C’mon!” Giran’s finger’s tapped away at Asuka’s laptop with loud clacks. There had to have been something on her hard drive that could help him solve what the hell just happened.

The mere sight of the green-loading circle going around and around almost made him tear his hair out. His life was on the line, damn it! He shouldn’t have to wait for it to fucking load! He looked up from the computer, expecting Makima to have already snuck into the room with her finger pointed at him - blowing his entire being into smithereens with her quirk. 

His heart pounded in his ears as he felt like any moment could soon be his last; his chest tightened up and could feel his entire stomach turning into a knot at the cruel situation he found himself in.

Giran’s terrified eyes looked to and fro every few seconds around the blood stained white room, fearful that Makima had already figured him out. 

Copying so many files off Asuka’s hard drive felt like an eternity to him. Each of them were encrypted and he’d have to run them through a program later, but the fact that the former Gadget Fox had a semi-decent pile of ‘info’ he could go through on Makima was a blessing. He’d pat her dumb head if she wasn’t… spread all over his walls.

He flicked through the news on another tab in the computer seeing that what happened to the Yakuza girl had also happened to her fellows too.

However it happened - whether it was another of Makima’s endless list of new quirks - or the aid of a brain-washed psycho - was undoubtedly going to garner the attention of all sorts of law enforcement. It did little to soothe his poor heart though…

She’s likely sunk her claws deep into Musutafu’s Police Force…  

He wished he’d have thought of some reason as to why he couldn’t forge her fake transcripts, letters of recommendations, and a degree that helped her get into that detective position…

If only I’d known!

And now Giran’s likely going to have to lay in the bed that he made of his own accord. His heart ached with nervousness and guilt. Things were going to shit and sooner or later, and Makima would catch the smell of a traitor on his ass eventually.

But there was a silver-lining to the whole situation: Makima could be beaten. She wasn’t entirely untouchable; the Yakuza’s little sting against her proved as much. The fact of it alone soothed a bit of his ever-growing anxiety. All was not lost! 

Sedatives, thinking outside what was logical, and a lot of grit should, hypothetically, defeat the elusive red-haired menace. 

Only thing Giran was lacking right now was the aforementioned grit and balls to go full-on offensive against such a staggering monster. He’d have to bide his time, plan out something doable, and pray to any omniscient being out there that he’d make it out of this shit-hole alive.

Deep breathes, Giran. Deep breaths…

But how could he calm down?! There was a literal walking psychopath roaming the streets of Musutafu untouched and hidden so deep like a tapeworm in a bear’s guts! He highly doubted the police would catch her in time, or at all if this keeps up. 

He’d have to tell someone who’d take action - anyone who could truly unravel the mysteries of an elusive figure.

It’d have to be Tsukauchi… But how could I trust such a fella?  

Going to a man who’s probably got Makima’s ear pressed right up to his lips would be a sure-fire way to ring the dinner bell to his brutal death. No, he couldn’t go to the man; he was compromised already. 

Who else could operate under that creepy watching eye of Makima’s…?

Wait… Eye…

His grin doubled into a Cheshire grin. 

“Ha-ha! You fucking genius, Giran!” He said to himself with glee. 

Of course! How could he not have thought of that spindly bastard sooner? 

If Detective Tsukauchi couldn’t figure out the sheer-mindfuckery that Makima was up to - a guy with a spot-on quirk - literal embodiment of all-seeing through bullshit - could likely do it.

Only issue was trying to get a hold of the cold Pro without sounding suspicious as hell. 

Giran couldn’t just send the man a letter telling him ‘Hey, I need help unraveling the plot of a murdering psychopath with multiple quirks,’ as a simple gesture of goodwill. No, he’d have to figure out how to get the guy to come out of his agency situated near Jakku and make a beeline straight to Musutafu.

Something to ring up the alarm for the spindly guy to sniff around. The likelihood of it was low, yet it was Giran’s only other option. 

In that meantime he’d have to study and look through the hours of CCTV footage off of Asuka’s laptop. There had to be something in there that could give him hints on how to beat Makima--

The phone ringing in his pocket nearly sent his entire soul to heaven as his heart stopped. He hesitantly picked up the flip-phone and sighed in relief upon seeing the caller ID. Opening it with a lesser-scared-shitless heart-rate, he placed it onto his ear.

“Kurogiri!” He blurted out with relief and a shaky voice. “Just the guy I needed to speak to!”

“Oh? Well, I was actually hoping to ask the same of you, Giran. My benefactor has need of your expertise again in finding elite and formidable individuals.”

Giran laughed, shaking his head as he paced back and forth. “Funny… It took a lot of contacts to get you and your brat a whole slew of criminals and villains to sally behind that USJ plot. Wasn’t easy convincing those dunderheads to agree to it either, you know.” This was good though, he could call in a favor right now. 

Kurogiri was nice like that - the man seemed cool-headed enough to not deny him such a simple request of being put under protection. 

“I’ll think about that if you can let me hold up in your bar, or wherever you stay these days.”

“May I ask why?” Kurogiri’s voice sounded a bit guarded. 

Giran wanted to slap the man through the phone for asking such a ridiculous question. Instead of berating his only get-out-of-death card, he took a reassuring breath.

“Let’s just say our red-headed friend might be more than angry with me soon. I’ve had a few run-ins with ambitious Yakuza down here at Musutafu, and… it didn’t go well. You get me out of here, and I can get you some fine diamonds out of the rough sludge that is Musutafu as soon as I’m able.” Giran fidgeted in his own couch as he sat down, tapping his foot, praying he was given this one bail-out.

The call was silent for a bit as it sounded like Kurogiri was talking to someone else - Giran prayed to whatever God was out there that it wasn’t the brat. That little teenage ball of pent-up rage was less than stellar when it came to decision-making. 

“Hm… After some thought, I’ve been given the go-ahead to allow you to hunker down here in Kamino. You’re not the only one who’s been put off by our red-haired friend’s recent antics. We’ve assembled some plans to deal with her in due time. For now, the chaos of her actions have worked to our benefit to work in the shadows. ” 

Giran took some deep breaths, trying to calm his surging heart of crying out in joy. He scrambled out of the guest room and began to pack a few essentials. There was no time to fold anything as he tossed a few electronics haphazardly into a duffle bag alongside Asuka’s laptop. 

If there was anything that could give a clue to how Makima’s multiple quirks work, it’d have to be inside of Asuka’s recordings. 

Makima could be beaten. She wasn’t invincible. Things were going to be okay once he solved the skewed Rubik's cube that was this enigmatic psychopath.

“It’s gonna be alright…” Giran took a few deep breaths to calm his jumpy nerves. “One step at a time, Giran. One step at a damn time.” He hastily lit a cigarette, taking a few drags before he felt the cool-humidity of Kurogiri’s portal swirling into existence into his living room.

Stepping through the portal and being enveloped in it was always so weird to him. It reminded Giran of being constantly hit in the face by those mist-sprayers that would rest on top of canopy bars when you go under them, or being outside on a cold winter night.

When he’d arrived at the shady-ass bar, Giran half expected it to be a trap. His eyes darted around, making sure Makima wasn’t skulking around to make an entrance with an old, ‘well, well, well,’ type of monologue.

But, thankfully, to his luck, the only person he saw come into view was Kurogiri. The man, nonchalant and serene as ever, was finishing up wiping down the bar counter with a damp rag. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to cash-in your favor so soon, you know.” He said tiredly with a spray bottle in the other hand. “And I understand your… unease considering your current situation.”

Giran could only let out a chuckle, his nerves steadying as he plopped down onto the bar stool across from him. “You don’t know the half of it… It didn’t work, Kurogiri. I’m sure you and your ‘benefactor’ are well aware of what I’m talking about.”

Kurogiri sighed. “Indeed we do. As I said on the phone earlier, we have contingencies in place to take care of her.”

Giran barked out a laugh, his palms outstretched onto the semi-wet counter. “In due time, huh? And when is that by the way? I’m just really curious because the longer you wait, the more likely that psycho will turn her eyes on you guys.” 

“She has no reason to; it is clear she has a goal in mind and we aren’t part of it, at least, for now we think.”

“Oh? And you just happen to know it?”

“No. If we had known what it was, my master would’ve gladly dangled it over her head like a carrot on a stick. Until then, we remain neutral.” 

Again, Giran laughed. “You’re underestimating her is what you’re doing.” He leaned in closer. “If you were a wise guy, you’d know when to pull the right card out.”

“Even if she became too chaotic, I’d reckon All-Might or another Pro Hero will finally catch wind of it, or, like with all wild cards, the HPSC will.” 

“The Hero Public Safety Commission?” His expression was in annoyed disbelief. “Bullshit.” Giran mumbled, lighting up a cigarette and taking a long drag. “They’d rather kiss ass to whoever is higher up in the world than come and deal with Makima.”

“Not unless they deem her quirk useful, which in our case, it is a highly sought after ability.” Kurogiri countered. “It won’t take long for other countries or international heroes and lowlives to come crawling out of the nooks and crannies for a bite.” 

“But enough of our rather unhinged colleague; you did promise me you’d find elites worthy of the League.” 

Tch, it was like that, was it? Not even give him time to drown his sorrows in a bottle and get some much needed sleep. Then again…. He couldn’t really argue against the man after being given valuable time and safety. “When do you need them and what exactly are you looking for in these ‘elites’?” 

Giran took another drag as he listened to Kurogiri’s explanations of needing able bodied people who, in good conscience and reason, could lend their aid to the cause. People who’d been dumped out into a puddle of mud by society that wish to make a name for themselves, or lash out with retribution. 

Yet the info-broker couldn’t fully commit his entire attention to the matter at hand. He was more worried about Makima - what she was doing right now and what she had planned. His eyes glanced down to the duffle bag where Asuka’s laptop hides. 

In there somewhere is the answer to his questions about the woman, her quirks, and its weaknesses. Anything to put down that monster.

He never should have convened with her in the first place. She’d have been bothering some other crook if he hadn’t been cowed so easily by that quirk of hers. 

“You’re certain?” Tsukauchi asked skeptically to a frizzy-haired forensic scientist, who bobbed her head up in quick response. 

“Most certainly, sir! We’ve searched everywhere for any semblance of viscera, but all we’ve found was blood.” She scratched her head too at the oddity of this. “Whatever happened to these guys wasn’t natural or man-made.” She said, her voice certain of the findings. 

“So what you’re saying is that we can scratch out the potential of a weapon being used.” Again, the scientist nodded as she continued to waltz around the scene with him. “So this is undoubtedly some sort of… quirk?” The mere thought of someone having the ability to do that to a person made his stomach churn. It was just another power in the wrong hands. 

Moving away from the idea for now, he looked at the girl and pointed upwards toward the ceiling. “Have we pulled the CCTV’s for any footage? Maybe our perp was nearby.” 

At the shake of her head, Tsukauchi let out a groan. “Damn it… What did you find?’

“Well, we ruled out the possibility that the person was nearby. The boys and I think this is likely a long-range type of quirk from the looks of it. Not to fret though; we have some of our best running through nearby buildings and the upper floors of this mall.” 

  “Good. You get to that.” He waved the girl off and walked about the scene, pulling his notepad out, eyes scanning like a robot to find any discrepancies that might’ve been missed. Not too far from the scene was another news crew slinking around, trying to find the money-shot backdrop - eager to squeeze dry a new story out of this whole horrific debacle.

“Is the camera rolling?” A woman in a beige overcoat and black office skirt asked,  a microphone held close to her chin as she waited for her crew to give her a thumbs up.

It took mere seconds for the crew to adjust the camera, give her the go ahead, and she beamed at the camera. “Wonderful!” Her entire body shifted into a professional posture alongside a trademark reporter expression.

“Good evening, Musutafu! I’m Fumi Nakamura, reporting live from Takoba Mall!” She paused, gesturing to a backdrop of the mall’s main plaza. “ This is where a grim scene straight out of a horror flick occurred not even an hour ago.”

Tsukauchi could tell that this Fumi was clearly no stranger to the game of journalism, and she played it very well given how good and confident she looked. The reporter zipped her head over to a couple anxious bystanders - shoving a microphone into their faces. “Standing next to me are several witnesses who’ve claimed to have seen the disaster unfold before their very eyes.” 

Tsukauchi shook his head at how the woman began to question the nervous looking people whom he himself just interviewed not too long ago. They fumbled their words, repeated themselves, or got quiet after suddenly being told they were on live television.

He couldn’t blame them. That kind of pressure after being cornered by authorities like him would usually do that to someone. 

Behind the detective, cameras clicked as the forensics team began taking more photos of the grisly scene within a blood-splattered mall plaza. More hazard tape was being sectioned out by two officers to keep the crime scene under a secure location. 

Laid out across the once pristine marbled flooring of the mall were two pairs of men’s clothes which were in large puddles of blood. Four forensic scientists were glued to the site like ticks, carefully analyzing the area for clues.

It was the fifth case that he’d made a trip to today; all of it playing out in a similar manner. People reported seeing a person panicking, trying to run, scream, or howl before suddenly turning into a mist of blood.  

Previous CCTV footage he’d looked at from other victims all ended in the same, horrific demise. Squished like some sort of bug under a hydraulic press… And they were aware of it somehow. Each one panicking and saying something along the lines of ‘something’s wrong’ or a mixture of hyperventilating and jumbled mercy pleas. 

Tsukauchi rubbed at his temples; it was like a reflex these days. A way to soften the blow of the rising headache which dared to make itself known.  

First he’d have to drum up a report on what was found; go do rounds around the mall to find possible vantage points with those who went scurrying off; answer varying questions from so many journalists….

The list went on and on. It was getting a tad bit tedious with everything coming in now that the Sports' Festival is set to happen soon.  

Beside him, a feline hand touched his shoulder to get his attention.“Sir, what do we do about the reporters?” Sansa asked, his fur askew as he’d been pushing past the large crowd being barricaded off by the police. “They’ve been clamoring to get an answer from you.” 

Right…. The reporters. As if his day couldn’t get any worse. People demanded to know about the various sudden explosions of people that happened all across the city. It didn’t make any sense to him as there was not even a shred of their body parts in the vicinity.

Tsukauchi sighed and stepped forward, putting on a reassuring smile for the public. “People, please. Calm down. I need you all to calm down.” 

He waited for the crowd to simmer down while a few of the usual journalists and reporters pushed past their peers to get a question. 

“Detective!” 

“Over here, Detective!” 

“Tsukauchi!” 

He pointed over to a young woman with big glasses who had a notepad and pen in her hands. “Do you think this is a ploy by the League of Villains? Have they finally skulked out of the shadows?” 

People hummed and nodded, waiting for Tsukauchi to answer, and all he could do was shake his head. “I can neither confirm nor deny that.” 

He continued to answer other trivial questions, some irrelevant, others too sensitive to the case, and a few that were just stupid.  

People wanted to know, and he knew that their worries were justified. You can’t just go about your day now knowing that you saw a person explode in a mall of all places.  

Whether this was a terrorist attack or something by the League of Villains left much to be desired. He didn’t deign to tell these people that this appeared to be the work of a quirk yet. It would no doubt cause immense panic than necessary.

One thing he did connect the dots to with all the subsequent explosions so far was that of the people who had died - all had connections to the Yakuza.  

Some were high-ranking lieutenants, others mere grunts, and a select few were infamous patriarchs. Now, the only legacy of these types of crooks was their very blood seeping into the dirt or, in this case, the mall’s flooring.  

Was this the work of a twisted vigilante? Maybe some blood-feud between rivaling families?

No, he shook his head. Most Yakuza despised the ideas of quirks. This had to be the work of an outsider then, but who? 

More questions than answers for the detective as he waved off the forensic team goodbye. Today will no doubt be filled with reports to write, people to talk to, and more dots to connect.  

The two pushed past the crowd of bystanders and reporters to the mall’s main exit. They walked with a quick stride to find the underground parking lot. 

“Ah, sir, I was going to let you know earlier, but Hayakawa clocked back in, and asked to see you.” 

“At the station?” He asked, seeing his feline comrade nod. “Good… I’d like to ask where she’s been; I’ve been swamped with too much.” Tsukauchi knew he was going to give a firm scolding and a warning to her about taking an unexpected leave of absence without telling him.  

Focusing off from that, Tsukauchi and Sansa found their car, unlocking the doors and sitting inside with a tired groan. 

“Where to next, sir?” 

“Take us to this Hospital.” He watched as his feline friend began tapping some directions into a GPS without question and shifting the parked police car to drive. 

 “I’ve got word that Mirko’s finally conscious not too long ago.” Tsukauchi said, flipping through his notepad. “Doctor’s say she’s trying to get back onto the field, and I’d rather get some answers before she goes hopping off to an early retirement.” 

With her eye-witness account, he could solve at least one of the problems that had stacked itself onto his many cases he had to solve.

Upon arriving at the Hospital with notepad and Sansa in tow, the two were immediately greeted with a hurried expression on one of the Doctor’s faces - her brow filled with worry. 

“Detective! Thank goodness you’re here; come, come, quick!” She stormed off back into the building. They followed her as she began ranting about how Mirko had been less than cooperative since waking up. 

“Ever since she woke up, she’s been asking to be discharged, but she’s still got to go through screenings, MRI’s, and to schedule a physical therapy! It’s simply ridiculous with how outrageous she's been! Please, knock some sense into her and save my poor nurses and interns from any more of this nonsense.” 

Tsukauchi gave the woman a curt bow and stepped inside the room - Mirko standing on one leg and the other a carefully wrapped nub. She was currently leaning on an IV pole with a grimace. 

The Detective knew how prideful the Pro Hero Mirko was, and her being crippled with one missing leg and an arm, must’ve dealt a decisive blow to her. 

“Ms. Rumi, you shouldn't be out of bed–” The young nurse pleaded. 

“I ain’t sittin’ pretty all day at this damn hospital! Not when that psycho’s still out there–” She barked out with a glare. Her eyes full of fury soon landed on Tsukauchi.  “Detective! Come and tell this girl that I’m fit as ever.”

“Rumi…” He sighed, shaking his head and gesturing for her to sit back down onto the bed. It was like a silent battle between the two as she mean-mugged him for a minute before letting out a huff, plopping down with another glare to her missing limbs.

When it looked like she had finally calmed down, he scooted closer with one of the nearby chairs in the room. “Look, I understand you’re angry, but right now I need your words and story.”

“Tch… Don’t tell me you’ve been waitin’ on my ass to wake up to solve this.” She let out a shaky sigh when Tsukauchi’s silence served as an answer. “You’re tellin’ me you haven’t caught her yet?”

“Her?” Tsuakauchi’s head tilted. 

“The goddamn Control Killer! Who else do you think I’m talking about?!” She retorted with a furrow in her brow before realization dawned on her. “Holy hells, you guys really don’t know?”

“She was there?” Tsukauchi said in astonishment, like an epiphany had finally been given to him. He had his pen on the paper. “Tell me everything. Start to finish.” 

Mirko huffed, crossing her arm to her chest, her gaze still lingering onto her missing limbs. “Tch… She was there alright; tussling around like she was some bigshot with the Yakuza of all people.” 

“Yakuza… What were they–” 

“Can’t tell ya much beyond that; as soon as I saw guns and a fight to brew I jumped into the fray.” Mirko replied in a prideful tone and expression.

With such an answer as that, Tsukauchi wilted into the chair before straightening his posture. “But you fought her though? What was she like? Her ability–”

“She’s got more than one quirk, Detective.” She cut him off. “Some sorta, eh… Chain ability that controls the victims. Saw them go into her opponents to try and trap me in a killbox of bullets. She’s able to have multiple targets under her beck and call. Tried to figure out how it worked, but, one thing’s for sure…” Mirko leaned closer, her eyes narrowed. “It’s got prerequisites to activate.”

She sighed and shuffled in her bed, opting to lay back down, her glare aimed up at the white ceiling. “Can’t tell ya what those are even if I tried. All I know for a fact is that it didn’t apply to me.” 

Tsukauchi’s pen scribbled down the findings as he hummed in thought. 

If it’s got a requirement for her to establish control, then why does it work on multiple people and not on Mirko? Is there a cool down? Maybe a limit to how many she could have and Mirko got lucky? 

“What else have you gleaned from that fight?”

“Girl’s built like a truck, I’ll tell you that. I’d think she’s got another quirk besides that cowardly control ability. Gave her cracked ribs, a whole routine of heavy-hitting blows to the chest–”

“You know you’re supposed to hold back on villains, Mirko… Everyone–”

“Deserves a chance of fair trial, yadda, yadda, yadda, Detective. Clearly that unspoken rule shouldn’t apply to this woman.” Mirko groaned and rolled her eyes at his conflicted face. “I know ya wanna see justice to all those affected by her, but with this villain, she’s too far gone. Better I gave her internal bleedin’ than let her walk around in Tarturus. Lotta crap that did, though… Every attack I did didn’t phase her one bit. It’s like she’s got some hyper regeneration quirk.”

Regeneration, an ability to control multiple people, but then…

His eyes gazed at her missing arm and leg. “Then those are…”

“Yep - her third quirk . ” Mirko said in a quiet voice, raising her bandaged nub up to view. “Something to do with air pressure, maybe an invisible projectile, but it sure as hell gave me some war scars, that’s for sure—Wait…” Mirko paused, glaring with her ear titled up, her other hand telling Tsukauchi to stop writing

She flashed her signature grin with a throaty chuckle. “Heh… Tryin’ to cut me off like I’m some flimsy loose end. That’s damn right insulting, treatin’ me like a dog to be put down in the background.”

Mirko groaned and tried sitting up, hissing in pain, but reaching for the IV pole nonetheless with a determined look. “Nah, I don’t think so, Control Killer. Mirko’s not goin’ down without a fight… Hah…” She winced in pain before hiding that expression behind another smile.

“Mirko…?” Tsukauchi whispered, reaching into his trench coat for his gun and quickly planting himself in a hunched position behind the hospital bed. 

“These ain’t no random thugs making a name for themselves, this is targeted; didn’t think it’d be so quick though…” Mirko said, hobbling over to the corner of the door with a fist at the ready. They both waited in silence until Tsukauchi could hear the sound of multiple footsteps echoing out in the corridor….

The Rabbit Hero’s ears rested onto her head as her eyes widened. “Get down!” She roared out, leaping over to Tsukuachi’s position and covering his body with her own. 

Not a moment sooner did a hail of bullets spray out from outside the door and walls - some ricocheting and striking the hospital monitors and bed.

“Grahhh, assholes!” Mirko hissed out; Tsukauchi’s eyes followed her own as she stared at the grazes she’d suffered from the bulletstorm. The Rabbit Hero was about to leap up and make a dastardly charge, but the Detective hastily snatched her wrist, stopping her. 

Immediately Mirko's head snapped back down to him with fury.

“Follow my lead!” Tsukauchi yelled. 

“Like hell I am! I’mma knock their teeth–”

“And risk dying in your state?! Don’t even! Just do as I do!”

Mirko gave Tsukauchi a glare before groaning. “You’re lucky I’m missin’ two important things of mine right now!” She waited for his signal.

When the storm of bullets stopped and it sounded like the shooters were reloading, Tsukauchi’s voice cried out. “Now!” The two rose from the hunkered down spot and pushed the bed onto its side to act as a shield as they ran it towards the door. 

They kept the shield rush going til they made contact with the door’s frame.

“Did you get a look at them?” He asked, checking to see the men were still busy reloading what looked to be assault rifles with undeterred expressions on their faces.

“Yep - got the same look them bozo Yakuza’s did when the Control Killer got ‘em; this is her doing all right.” 

“Damn it - let me try and radio in my support on the outside.” He reached for his radio tucked onto his belt. “Sansa! Report!”

“Sir! It’s chaos out here - we got Yakuza of all sorts out on the premise–” The radio cut off as it sounded like Sansa had been engaged in a firefight.

“Tch…Should have some Pro’s comin’ by any second now… Ain’t no way people would be ignoring all these gunshots!” Mirko said, taking some deep breaths and looking at Tsukauchi with a nod. “We gotta rush ‘em or else we’re as good as dead–”

More shots rang out from outside as bodies began dropping to the floor…. 

Tsukauchi and Mirko looked confused before shoving the makeshift shield down towards the door - their eyes finding the bodies of the men who had been shooting at them.

Down the hallway on the left was none other than Detective Hayakawa - her hair disheveled and her own trenchcoat drenched in blood.

Relief surged through his entire body as he tried to lend his shoulder to Mirko to lean on, but the Rabbit Hero scoffed and opted to use the wall to be her support as she hopped with him towards their rescue crew.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Hayakawa….” He sighed before gripping her shoulder with a firm hand and giving her a glare. “May I also ask where the hell you were this past week?!” 

The woman gave a tired smile and pointed to the dead Yakuza on the floor. “I’ll tell you later once we get to the station, but it did involve them. Everyone else has been filled in.” 

He couldn’t argue with that considering the current situation. “How’s the outside?”

“Dangerous. Endeavor should be arriving soon to offer support.” Her eyes roamed over his body - appraising his health. She patted him down. “Are you injured at all?”

“Just a graze, nothing too serious.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re doing alright. I didn’t think you’d be here, you know?”

Tsukuachi barked out a laugh. “Says the person who went missing, but… I am glad you’re alive and well.” He said sincerely, his hardened expression softening.

Hayakawa smiled back at him, though her gaze left his as she looked at Mirko being helped up onto a stretcher. 

The Rabbit Hero was being a nuisance to the medics, berating them and talking aloud about how she fought valiantly despite her injured state. Tsukauchi chuckled at the sight. 

If anything good came out of this, it was the fact that his eye-witness of the Control Killer was safe and secure. He’d get more answers. 

And at that moment, Hayakawa’s category of smiles aided his understanding of her, and right now… He caught the barest glimpse of something from the wide array of enigmatic expressions he’d categorized. 

What he saw in her smile was…

Disappointment. 

Chapter Text

Leaving the Hospital’s front doors couldn’t be any more chaotic to Tsukauchi as he and Hayakawa took cover behind a parked ambulance truck that was under the building’s portico - its covered entrance providing adequate space to hide behind with its pristine white structural columns. 

Bullets whizzed by while more Yakuza grunts sprayed a hail of lead across the entrance with what looked to be sub-machine guns. 

Beside him, Tsukauchi caught in the corner of his eye the crippled Rabbit Hero pushing off her stretcher and attempting to leap into the fray. 

“Gah… Just let me at ‘em and we’ll be outta here in no time, Detective!” Mirko grumbled as she tried to stand up to get into a fighting stance. 

He quickly followed after her towards the pillar for additional safety. His hand reached out to stop her with a firm grip to her wrist, tugging her back into cover. “Please… We need you alive and well for another interview. I need answers. Not a report on your death.” He pleaded upon looking into Mirko’s glare. 

The crippled Pro weighed her options for a few seconds in silence. “Tch…” She clicked her tongue and reluctantly squatted back behind the pillar. “Suppose you got it handled; I’d have cleaned it up by now though, just sayin’.” 

Seeing that his main priority had hunkered down, he peaked over and winced as he’d barely dodged another bullet striking the pillar - scattering concrete debris across the ground. He ducked and looked to the left to find Hayakawa staring towards the crowd of black SUVs hauling into the foray of it all. 

More yakuza poured out of their vehicles with a tenacious determination. It was likely a hit, Tsukauchi mused. An assassination gambit aimed at Mirko. Was there a score to settle or, like she had said earlier in her hospital room - to silence her. The latter seemed more likely. 

“Their eyes… How did their eyes look?” He asked the Rabbit Hero and she hummed, closing her own to likely recollect the memory. 

“Blank.” Mirko did a half-hearted mimic of the expression. “Like the lights are on but nobody’s home type of a stare.” She said with a grimace. “Wait. They’re reloading…” She held a hand up and tried to listen in. “No orders. No shabby insults or cocky words shared between any of ‘em. This is her doing all right.” 

There was a rage burning in the woman’s body - that much Tsukauchi could tell. He couldn’t have her jumping off to her death like this. Nor would he approve of having her go on a vigilante-like mission to enact something as stupid as revenge. 

“Mirko… Don’t.” He said gruffly, tightening his grip on her wrist. “We need you back at the station. You’d be of much more help solving this case with your testimony and knowledge.”

Arguing with her wouldn’t help the situation at all, so he switched back to what the Yakuza were under the effect of. “Was there a way to disable it? Any physical contact–”

Mirko seemed to have noticed the shift in topics and her tense shoulders eased a bit. She yanked her wrist out of his hand with an annoyed scoff. “You’re asking me like I stayed around long enough to care when I fought those goons, Detective! I don’t know!” She retorted, rolling her eyes.

“Fair enough.” He couldn’t keep his mind on it as he’d hunkered himself into a safe spot and looked back into the Hospital’s main lobby. It’d be risky, but they’d have to hold out until Pro Heroes and additional police could come in for a rescue.

No… That’d put innocents and the doctors inside at risk. Think clearly, Tsukauchi! 

The distraught Detective shook his head at the ridiculous plan. It wouldn’t work nor would it be right to do. 

The Yakuza closed in, one of them slowly driving a black SUV over to act as cover for his friends. Each one, just as Mirko described, looked empty. Like husks with the only task of shooting at them. 

Their pillar cover wasn’t going to last too long - soon they’d be pincushions. 

“Oi… Look!” Mirko hissed out, asking him to peer over the cover to see a singular one - a lanky guy with thick sideburns and slicked back hair gasp and fall to the ground with heavy coughs. 

The man was clearly saying something to himself, but Tsukauchi couldn’t make anything out with the loud gunshots and car alarms going off.  Sideburns’ eyes widened as he looked around. He hid behind one of the cars and scrambled about. Not long after, the frightened Yakuza pulled one of the blank-faced men down behind a silver truck. 

It was all Tsukauchi saw for a few seconds before the other man looked to have come to - shaking his head and yelling something to his friend. Behind the blank-faced firing squad, Mirko and Tsukauchi saw the two ‘freed’ men running with fear and confusion.

There is a limit… How did the other guy get his friend to free himself?  

“Hayakawa - stay here with Mirko. I’m going after those two.” His ruffled up partner looked pleased as she placed her hand onto the Rabbit Hero’s shoulder. 

“Understood. Ms. Rumi–” 

Mirko shrugged her shoulder out of Hayakawa’s grasp with a scoff. “Like hell I’m staying here like a sitting duck, Detective! I’m comin’ with!”

“But–”

“But nothing, Detective! Do you think you’re fast enough to catch those guys?” She asked incredulously, eying his form with a shake of her head. “Trust me; I may be missin’ a couple of bits, but that doesn't make me any less capable of catchin’ two goons with my speed. I’ll get ‘em.” 

Mirko crouched down low - taking a deep breath and pounced forward, hopping on one leg and using her remaining arm as support to crawl on all fours, like a dog. She took off in a blur - passing through the firing squad’s hail of lead and zig-zagging through the parking lot behind them towards the fleeing men. 

“Shall I go after her, Detective? She may need support.” Hayakawa offered. “We can’t lose her.”

“No. She’s too far gone for either of us to catch up.” He replied wistfully. “I just pray she’ll be alright.” Tsukauchi said quickly, looking at the other officers who were alongside Hayakawa’s entourage. “Let’s make this work. Let’s hold out until Endeavor comes.” 

Makima’s eyes hid their disappointment when she watched the loose end tenaciously hop away to try and catch the failures of Shinso’s awakened quirk. She didn’t think Tsukauchi would even be here of all places; her mind had all but confirmed he would be too busy snooping around the implosion deaths around the city. 

That man just couldn’t be any more of a thorn in her side. But annoyances like him had to be put on a backburner for now. A bigger issue was coming along in blazing fury. 

Her nose picked up the scent of a burnt, aged leather. Endeavor was close, dangerously so. She’d have to cut the assault early. Her hopes of dealing with Mirko quietly under the guise of ‘escorting’ her to safety had failed. As did the Yakuza sting that would’ve looked like a grudge match gone successful. 

Like a trickling river of free will being given - more and more of the disposable Yakuza she’d handed to Shinso were coming to their senses. Coughing and falling to the ground in confusion and surrendering immediately upon the arrival of Endeavor who flew in like a meteor. 

Once the remaining men were subdued, Tsukauchi power walked over and immediately began spouting about Endeavor notifying other heroes that Mirko had gone off to catch the runaways. The cover up was a bust. Another plan gone awry.

It would only be an even slippery slope from here on out. Her excuse to give to Tsukauchi later would no doubt draw scrutiny from the man. He’d snoop around where he wasn’t wanted; ask things that shouldn’t be asked; see stuff he wasn’t supposed to. 

Makima would simply just have to get her plan in motion faster than previously expected. Her attention slowly motioned back onto the back and forth between the Detective and the prideful Pro. Tsukauchi likely stating what Mirko had done. 

“Of course she would.” The fiery hero sneered. “I’ll let my sidekick know and she might catch the hyper-rabbit before she does something idiotic to herself.”

Tsukauchi deflated like a balloon and eyed her tiredly. “That’s good. Have someone monitor her too. She’s got information that may help with our Control Killer problem.” 

Endeavour could only ever scoff at his words, crossing his arms and burning a glare toward the city’s bustling streets that Mirko ran off into. “Here’s hoping she won’t spout anything less prideful than she already has. The woman is clearly drunk on it.” 

It was like the pot calling the kettle black - except on a far worse scale. She’d liken Endeavor to a rustic pot that’s long since outlived its heroic shine. Tsukauchi seemed to share her reaction to Endeavor's hypocrisy - the Detective struggling to not roll his eyes. 

Endeavor is, however, a problem if she’d ever faced a direct fight with him. Enji Todoroki - the second strongest man in Japan. Built like a tall impervious wall of flame - his turquoise eyes roamed over her body with an astute gaze. 

She’d read a bit about the half-and-half boy’s father she met back in the USJ incident. Enji was too smart for his own good. Something she hadn’t really expected from a hulking, moving mass of prideful muscle. 

To see him here no less, so far from his own agency building, must mean he’s taken a keen interest in the Control Killer. No doubt it would amplify his standing and boost his already-burning pride with hotter flames. 

And that interest, she had to admit, was on par with Tsukauchi’s. Endeavor wasn't a top hero for no reason. No, he's in the top two for having solved the most cases of crime and villainy. But the second strongest hero in Japan had his faults. Faults that could be exploited and taken advantage of given time. 

The main fault lies with his prized son. That half-and-half one who somehow resisted her power during the USJ attack.  Sheer willpower…? Or perhaps a burning hatred so raw and unfiltered that couldn’t be snuffed out and cowed into submission? 

Did the apple not fall too far from the tree she wondered? 

Regardless, neither Tsukauchi nor Mirko wouldn’t get too far with those two goons who ran off. So long as the only useful dinosaurs of this city proved their competence, Makima had no reason to worry. 

It was always better to come up with contingencies for something as unstable as Shinso’s quirk. Though that man would likely want to demand more from her concerning his little project as a favor. 

“Hmmph, and who’s this? Never seen you before.” Endeavour’s attention finally shifting downward, finally acknowledging her presence.”

“Ah, she’s my partner. Been a bit absent for a bit, so it’s probably why you’ve not seen her. Hayakawa, meet Enji Todoroki - Japan’s–”

“Second strongest hero - just a tad bit behind All-Might. A pleasure.” She extended her hand out with a smile. 

The mention of All-Might seemed to make Endeavour’s eye twitch. He didn’t shake her hand and opted for a curt nod. “Tch. Repeated absences would’ve had you fired and blacklisted from any agency if you were my partner, Ms ....” He looked at her badge with thinly veiled disdain. “Hayakawa.” 

“I probably should’ve told you that Endeavor’s personally joining our investigation. He’s lending a lot of resources to crack down on finding the Control Killer.”

The fiery hero scoffed and grabbed the hair of one of the captured Yakuza who had been freed from Shinso’s quirk. “Either our cowardly prey has gotten too cocky with their quirk’s reach, or…” He paused, clicking his tongue and prying open their irises. “Something foul is at play.”

She sighed and walked away to her police car, keeping an eye out to ensure Tsukauchi was too busy giving details to Endeavor and taking note of the detained Yakuza they’d caught. Once she figured it was clear her fingers were tapping away, dialing in the number of a burner phone he’d given her a while back. 

Shinso fell forward with a mind-numbing migraine that made his ears ring. Bunching up his hands into his pants, he took deep shaky breaths, but it wasn’t any use. Too many connections were being severed. It was as if he had multiple ethernet cables connected to the back of his head and someone had tripped over them, effectively yanking them out incorrectly. 

The young man slammed his back against the bathroom’s tiled wall - shaking the stall along with it as he convulsed on top of the toilet seat. Blood seeped from his nose as he wiped it away with the back of his hand 

Shinso tried to steady himself and relax, but the tremors and black dots in his vision weren’t going away yet. His face was covered in sweat as he panted and gasped.

But none of his current physical symptoms really mattered to him, though. No, they were just minor side effects of overusing his awakened quirk. Makima had assured him he’d be fine after a few minutes. 

His physical health wasn’t important though; Shinso was more worried that he screwed up Makima’s trust today. He told her he could handle it! He… He can’t disappoint her. Not again. 

Shinso straightened out his posture on the toilet and tried to will his power back into their brains, but to no effect. He’d lost them. They were likely experiencing similar symptoms as he’d had - coughing, migraines, dotted vision. 

He flushed the toilet under him to make it look like he’d used it as he hastily tried to fix up his school uniform and hair. Turning on the sink in front of him, he cupped some cool water and splashed it onto his face. Soothing water helped ease his nerves. He had an alibi. He was okay. Nobody would find out.

He snorted, tasting some iron in his throat, and blew out any remaining blood that remained in his nose as he took one last look in the mirror before heading out.

“Excuse me.” He muttered, squeezing past a muscular student with four arms as he’d found himself back into the busy hallways of U.A. Lunch hour was booming as everyone clamored like a herd of buffalo - talking amongst themselves or hurrying off to the next destination in their daily lives.

The room was quiet save for the occasional tick of the clockwork tower sitting in the corner of the office. 

Annoyances like smoke never dared to encroach the cleanliness of which this office radiated. Not a speck of dust; a flake of skin cells; nor even a droplet of sweat was seen in the pristine office that had been cleaned to its utmost level. 

The only smell he’d picked up was the lemon scent of bleach and alcohol that lingered onto the maplewood of his desk, no, rather it belonged to The Boss. However such immaculate cleanliness was immediately ruined with the loud ringing tone of his burner phone. 

Thin eyes with irises the shade of a brilliant gold narrowed at the unknown caller ID. 

Great. It was her. Asking for another favor already? Hadn’t he given her enough?

“Tch… It’s her again, boss. Do you want me to tell her to buzz off?” Irinaka, his general manager spat out. “She’s getting too close to comfort with us lately. I mean it’s a lost cause helping her mess with the stadium–”

Kai Chisaki raised his hand to stop him, picking up the phone and answering it. “Speaking.”

The voice of his devilish benefactor sounded out into his ear. Kai abhorred how her words felt like a slithering slug violating its way into his eardrums. “I have an issue that needs handling. Immediately if at all possible.” 

“And if I told you that the heat was too much to go wandering around Musutafu right now?” 

“Then I’d say your little project will go back to being a runaway again.” She said curtly. ”I mean, I could always remove my control from her. Let her sink back into being an irresponsible munchkin that could cause so many problems down the line.”

“Then I’d say your ‘little’ project could be put on indefinite hold.” Kai countered. “I could pull Irinaka and my contacts out of fixing that stupid festival of yours. We have been busy tending to it for a while now. Be a real shame if we decided to just cut ties there. Let it simmer and falter like the psychotic plan that it is. We’ve better things to do than painting a giant target on our backs.” 

“And if I told you I’m allowing you to keep your free will–”

“Then I’d eradicate my pawns. Gone. Deleted from your grasp. Forever out of your reach.” He’s long since known she was after Irinaka’s quirk and possibly even Eri’s. He wouldn’t tell her he could bring them back, but the threat of losing out on valuable quirks like those seemed to spook the Control Killer. 

He’d have to commend her though. That much was a given. The two seemed to have shared a similar goal that made him reluctantly partner up with her. The world needed to be fixed. Returned back to what it was before quirks. Her plan, however, seemed random. Out of the blue. He was told only so little of it. 

There was silence on the line for a few minutes. He’d got her good there. “You need to understand that our cooperation relies heavily on ensuring neither of us get caught. So I need the freedom to act on what I think is beneficial. Your little stint on my old boss’ rivals certainly raised a lot of eyebrows in case you haven’t noticed.” 

Security has tightened its hold around the city of Musutafu. Brand new CCTV’s being installed carefully by some hero agencies; police patrols doubling and getting more alert; heroes normally not seen in Musutafu setting up shop. 

To him, all he saw is a congregation of the sickly that gurgle with their infections like ever-increasing boils on a body. 

She may have the power of control, but there were obvious limits to it. She couldn’t do her batshit crazy plan without external help.

“Very well. I suppose I’ll just have to bear the brunt of it for now. How long do you suppose until your pawn has figured out the layout of the stadium?”  

“He needs only a few more days.” He cast a glance towards Irinaka who begrudgingly crossed his arms with quiet curses and insults. 

“Hmm… Acceptable I suppose.” Her voice didn’t sound too happy with his answer and the call ended there. 

“What’d she say? More breaking our asses for that stadium?” Irinaka grumbled when he saw his nod. “Do we really need her? The squirt’s been fine without that control quirk she has on her.”

“Thanks to that psychopath’s quirk, I have Eri producing quadruple the amounts of the serum without her having to run off. It works to our benefit for now.” Kai said in a drawl. “When the time comes, we’ll cut ties.”

“An Irish goodbye, eh?” Irinaka chuckled, satisfied with the abrupt way in which they’ll end their partnership with the Control Killer. She was a means to an end. An end to the infestation that pervades this very world. 

A world free of quirks and that heroic nonsense. He opened up the case of the newest batch of the serum - a bright red color infused with Eri’s quirk. 

He’d label these as Mk. II in terms of potency and effectiveness. Twice the dose yet twice the time it took to let the drug take effect. 

Kai Chisaki wouldn’t have ever agreed to that woman’s insane plan. Never in a million worlds would he ever agree to it because of the sheer stupidity it would require for someone to attack one of Japan’s most anticipated national events. Pros and retired heroes were in the dozens there. 

Someone would have better luck being struck by a meteor than be able to stage a full-on terror attack there and make it out of there alive. 

It was a true David vs. Goliath scenario of which David would most certainly lose. But… She offered him something he couldn’t refuse. 

A chance to test some hypotheses he’d been yearning to try with the Mk. II serum. Beside the bullet’s pristine silver case, a set of four polaroids she’d given him with a serum casing next to them. 

It was almost time to completely overhaul the stage. For the greater good of the world and for his Boss to whom he owes his life. If he had to become a necessary evil to give the man who saved him a world free of the quirk infestation, then so be it. 

Chapter Text

The lead Tsukauchi desperately hoped for turned into a dead end with the captured Yakuza men who came out of nowhere to attack Mirko at the hospital. Casualties were thankfully non-existent with the nurses and doctors yet it still left him with more questions than answers. 

What did Mirko know that would garner a hit-squad on her? And why attack her now rather than when she was in a coma?

How did those two men manage to break free from the control? 

He sighed into a thick binder filled with reports, sticky notes, and folders of paperwork. All of it pertaining to today’s incident among the implosion deaths that happened around the city. Even those didn’t make a lick of sense to him. It was another thing added to the pile of mysteries he’d have to solve. 

Across from him in the crowded mess that was his office, sitting lazily in a rolling chair was Mirko sulking and gazing about the room in impatience. “Has to be that woman for sure. Probably ‘nother one of her quirks I bet.” Mirko grumbled with a mouthful and a cast on, idly chewing at a protein bar.

Tsuakauchi wanted to smack her atop the head with a thick bundle of papers for running off into danger like that. What if she’d been assassinated during her little chase? He’d lose out on valuable information and the life of a renowned Pro that a lot of people look up to. 

“Could be. Can we please just get back to what you were saying back at the hospital?”

“Before we got shot up, ya mean? Pft, yeah, why not. Ain’t got anywhere else to go right now.” She straightened her posture and leaned her elbow onto his desk. “What’cha need me to say?”

“The third quirk you were talking about; an invisible–”

“Bullet. Yeah, I know.” She sunk a bit into her chair, staring at her missing arm. “To think someone like that exists here in Japan, y’know? Twisted and maniac. Using their quirks for evil rather than good. Doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Mirko…” He said in exasperation, not wanting to get back into the argument that the Control Killer should or shouldn’t be locked up, but rather be put on death row. 

“I know, Detective.” She sighed, taking his exasperated voice as a sign to not delve too much into that topic. “Eugh, where was I…?” She hummed as she sat back in her chair, musing to herself. 

“She says ‘bang’ anytime she uses it, I remember that. Goes into a whole finger-gun gesture too.” She mimicked it, aiming her hand at Tsukauchi with one eye closed. “Pow and bam… I lost an arm and thigh to it. If I were anyone else, I’d be a goner. Probably just fine mist like them implosions you’ve been looking into.” 

“So you’re also on the assumption that the Control Killer is behind those deaths too?”

“Too much of a coincidence that they all happened to people with connections to Yakuza or were Yakuza.” She snorted. “Even a kid could connect the dots with that simple minded execution. But one thing’s for sure.” Mirko’s eyes narrowed. “That woman’s got enemies with the underground lot. Enough so to send a message to rats and roaches who dare to mess with her.”

Mirko continued with her tale. “And let me tell you those Yakuza were in a fight with her. She’s likely messed around too much with the local mobs - disrupting the chain of command and routine. One thing leads to the next and rats will band together to swarm the big cat. Usually how criminals work. Nothing is really guaranteed in a partnership with them.”

She laughed heartily with a grin. “Which means I may have a good lead.” 

Tsukauchi’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Might have to go diggin’ round old pals of mine in my past though. Ask around to see if people know things that the fuzz like you don’t.”

“That’s great…  I take it you won’t share those names with me?”

“Not unless you want to capture this evil mastermind, no. I really doubt any of my old buddies would appreciate you snoopin’ around their stuff if you tagged along.” 

“Well, maybe you can take Hayakawa–”

“I’ll manage just fine without a chaperone.” Mirko retorted rudely. “Trust me, I’ll be back.”

Is that how she’s going to go about this? Arrogantly?

“If it means you’ll go to leaps and bounds for helping me, I appreciate the help. But… Let’s continue the testimony if we can…?” He gestured for her to get back to the matter at hand. 

“I really hate sittin’ around, y’know.” 

“I know, but anything and everything helps. Just remember what you can.” He readied his pen again, at the ready to jot down Mirko’s words. 

“Absolute control of the situation.” Makima’s devilish voice kept replaying when he rewound the footage back. “Absolute control of the situation.” It was old footage from many months ago when she first made contact with him. The day it all went to shit, he thought. 

Giran half wondered if her words alone could count as an incantation to summon her right to Kurogiri’s bar. He peaked around the booth before steadying his paranoia for the task ahead. He jotted down many hypotheticals of how Makima’s powers work. 

What were the prerequisites of control for her? 

He opened another tab on the laptop to several different camera angles found in Asuka’s room where she’d been busted by Makima and the controlled Yakuza under her command. Most of them looked her in the eyes, so maybe that was it? 

No… Despite her creepy ass eyes, it wouldn’t be that. Too easy and predictable. Plus, Asuka wasn’t put under some control or anything. 

Instead she’d turned into a ticking time bomb and somehow found Giran amidst it all. None of that really put him at ease knowing that the girl may have just led a trickling trail right to him. Fear-mongering wouldn’t help him right now, so he’d put that on a backburner. Let it simmer for a while. 

He lit another cigarette and crossed out the hypothetical question on his green sticky notes he had on the table. 

Did her quirk work like that Shinso kid? He remembered the little squirt’s name that would’ve been the scapegoat for her horrific atrocities so long ago. The boy he thought was going to be the one-and-done deal between himself and Makima. 

Pulling up the boy’s file - he took note of the requirements of his quirk brainwash. 

“Able to put someone under a state where they’re forced to obey his commands. “Heh, if that doesn't sound like a Makima jr. to me….” Giran laughed darkly to himself while continuing to read the U.A. report. “...Blah, blah, exceptional grades, nope not interested….” His eyes widened at the quirk’s activation. “Only applies brainwash should a person respond to anything the student says… Holy shit.” 

Did Makima’s work like that? She certainly always ensured to get the last word in or made people blab on about stuff. But if that was the case, why didn’t he feel like his free will was taken? She could’ve forced him to comply with all her commands.

He continued reading through the file to see if perhaps there were parallels between the two. “Able to have multiple people under control at once, but is unable to make the controlled perform higher brain functions…”

That bitch…. She needs higher priority people to act for her. Hah! Haha! 

She’s like a fucking tape worm that needs a host to operate fully! Sure she could maintain motor functions over people, like the shitshow that was making people kill themselves, but he hadn’t seen anyone under her control really speak or operate beyond it. 

Finally he was getting somewhere. He circled the idea down and jotted down several out-branching theories. 

Does it not work on Pro Heroes? 

Makima could’ve just as easily taken over All-Might and called it checkmate with the entirety of Musutafu there, but she didn’t. No, rather, she couldn’t .  

The gears were turning in Giran’s brain while he kept on ensuring the ideas were flowing in and offering reasonable explanations as to how Makima’s main threat of a quirk works. If he could figure it out, maybe, just maybe, he can get an upper hand against her. 

Sedation and possibly even knock-out gas may be a suitable option for taking her down temporarily. Hell, even a prolonged fight with someone of equal or greater physical strength like Mirko, apparently, could deal a wallop of hurt to her. 

But Giran didn’t have on-hand access to somebody like Mirko’s agility nor combat prowess to survive a battle of attrition like that. He severely doubted that Tomura kid would consider lending him a Noumu or two either. 

Crossing out the latter option, he’d have to resort to sleeping gas or maybe even tranquilizer darts of some sort. Something similar to what the Yakuza had for their dastardly plan that almost worked. 

It’d have to be some top of the line military-grade type stuff. Something to put her out for a while til he figured out how to dump her off somewhere. 

A remote island in the middle of nowhere would work. Maybe an endless abyss deep in the ocean… Tie her up in a submarine and have it swim to the bottom of the Mariana Trench. 

She’s just a human at the end of the day. A really sick, twisted, and evil human at that. But nobody could withstand more than 16,000 or more PSI, much less swim back up in time. 

Yeah… The only thing was to try and find a submarine in such a short time. He had to work against the clock because he feared that his deadline to death was coming up sooner or later. The faster he figures out a plan to deal with her, the faster he can finally be at ease with himself. 

Only a matter of time, Makima…. He thought as he stared at her in one of the CCTV recordings he had on the laptop. 

A knock on Tsukauchi’s door signaled his cue to finally take a break from his workload after working on it for what seemed like forever. Signing documents, sending out notices, all of that could plunge off a cliff. 

“Come in!” He said aloud, idly making some room on his paper-littered desk to plant his elbows on. 

The sight of a slightly-disheveled Hayakawa entered the room with a curt bow and her own binder filled with what he could assume was her portion of reports and paperwork. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything, Detective?” She asked with a smile, adjusting her glasses as she sat down in the rolling chair across from him.

“No, no, not at all.” Tsukauchi sighed. “Finished up a hefty interview with Mirko - we got some good stuff. Not a lot, though, but it’s going to lead us somewhere.” 

Hayakawa’s eyebrows furrowed and she leaned forward. “Is that so? What did she say?”

“Just a few outliers that I hadn’t really considered beforehand - the Shinjuku Suburb explosions for one; she pointed out that it was a planned stint. A thing to keep us at bay while our local underground criminals mess around with Mirko and the Control Killer.”

Hayakawa hummed and listened.

He went into a long ramble of what could happen or what couldn’t happen - blabbing on about Endeavor’s meticulous questioning and form of investigation. 

It soothed his heart hearing another person speak their mind about their own deductions as Hayakawa offered her input in a back and forth conversation with him. He couldn’t get something like that with Sansa or the chief. 

Yet the atmosphere of their talk soon turned awkward as he’d been dancing around the question in his mind. 

 “Something on your mind, Detective?”

“Yeah - where were you all this time?” He blurted out, palming his face in exhaustion. “You said you were going to explain that.”

He didn’t deign to tell her that he’d always check in on her cubicle, hoping she’d clock in at some point. Tsukauchi even made several texts asking where she’d gone. All of them left on delivered, which hurt a little to his pride as a co-worker. 

Hayakawa’s posture straightened as she parted some of her hair behind her ear. “Ah, yes. I said that, didn't I?” She chuckled lightly. “I was admittedly on a honeymoon with a special someone.”

“I’ve been seeing him for a good few months. A few on and off dates that turned into something a bit more special.” She said wistfully, as if recollecting a fond memory. “We were going to Tokyo to see his parents and to let me introduce myself to them. But then…” She took off her glasses, cleaning them with a black microfiber cloth that came out of her breast pocket. “Turns out he was a sociopath. A control freak you might say.”

The room was quiet as Hayakawa shook her head. “He got jealous after hearing about my connection to you, Detective.”

“Me…?” He pointed to himself in bewilderment. Him and her together…? It seemed highly unlikely. 

“Yes. He assumed we were… what did he call it…” She pondered with a finger on her chin. “A work couple. Yes. That was it.” She laughed. “I’d told him that we meant nothing to each other and that it was purely business.” 

Ouch…. Tsukauchi did feel a bit wounded by her frankness. 

“Little did I know that telling him that we wouldn’t work out as a couple anymore, he’d lashed out. Burnt my apartment to the ground in a way to get some revenge.”

“I did wonder about that….” 

“I’d assume it would’ve been the first thing on your mind. But you were more worried about my sake. For that I am thankful you do.”

Hayakawa continued her story with a tired sigh of her own.  “Still, I found out that the man I was dating was involved with Yakuza. He’d seemed to have asked them for help - whether they were old friends or not, he didn’t anticipate them kidnapping me for their own gain.”

“Then you were….” Tsukauchi’s eyes darkened. 

“More held onto for ransom than anything else.” She assured him. “It was thanks to one of our undercover agents who were investigating the Yakuza’s drug trade, Monika Kaniyashiki, was there to free me during her covert operation. We escaped hastily and I immediately made my way over to the hospital - I’d heard from gossip of the Yakuza men who held me hostage speaking of the stint.”

She slowly pulled her hand away from his with a smile. “One of these days I have to treat you to a drink. No detective work; no talk of reports and emails; no mention of All-Might or the Control Killer… Just us.”

“I’d really like that, I do, Hayakawa. But, it just seems inappropriate–”

“Nothing romantic, I assure you.” She laughed and he deflated in relief. Thank the heavens and above for that. “After that last encounter, I doubt I can go back into the dating scene. This is just two friends in the workplace going someplace to de-stress and get a few drinks. Just us two. Like partners.” She smiled, her eyes boring into his. 

“Well if you’d started with that in the beginning and not turn it into…”

“A sultry confession in your office?” She gestured to his rather cramped workspace - papers and coffee cups littered his desk. “I’m sure you have plenty of admirers who are dying to meet you here.” She joked and she made him laugh at that. “How’s this upcoming Sunday sound? I’ve heard of this one restaurant by the beach that makes delicious takoyaki. My treat for the absences." 

He looked at his calendar and saw that it was the day before the Festival began. Just shy of starting up at the crack of dawn too. If he got tipsy on that Sunday, he knew he’d hate waking up on Monday for sure.

A whole barrage of things involved that stadium were just a giant risk in general. He was going to ask Principal Nezu to begin scouting out around the stadium - making sure nothing was tampered with; have Cementoss work with support item crews to make a metal-detector system for the entry ways into the stadium. The list just went on. 

But a night out of just getting drinks and taking a break from work did sound nice. “I suppose I can make time for that.” Hayakawa beamed at his answer and leaned forward in her seat as he began writing it into his calendar. “Is that for the evening?” 

“Yep. I promise you it’ll be a night of just catching up. Nothing more, nothing less. Oh, and wear something casual-like. Something that won’t draw crowds or have people swarming you for questions while we’re out in public.”

Something more casual….

 “I’d hate to see you wearing your usual getup. We’d stick out like a sore thumb if I wore, say jeans and a cardigan, and you in your… suit.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind. No promises though.” He chuckled. “And… Hayakawa?” He said, stopping her from leaving the office with binders in tow. She was half-way out of the door with a raise of her eyebrow.

“I am glad you are back. I mean it.” He coughed awkwardly. “That’s all.” Tsukauchi said with a grateful grin. “Was going crazy without having someone help me with the workload.”

Hayakawa smiled warmly at him and nodded. “Me too. Makes me a bit sad we didn’t think to take some time off to just converse and such.”

“You make it sound as if I’m dying, Hayakawa. Let’s not jump to that; I’ve still got plenty of life ahead of me.”

“Just thinking of all the lost time is all. It goes by so quickly these days…” Her eyes stared behind him, as if she was lost in thought momentarily before she stopped zoning out. “I won’t keep you.” She nodded and closed the door behind her.. 

“Was this a date…?” He mused to himself, not at all expecting something as casual as a drink with Hayakawa out of the blue. Sure, she was nice, kind, and above all very intelligent. She kept up with him in all things detective-related. But he never saw her that way. No, he had better things right now than to focus on finding someone. 

But it didn’t hurt to go and get a drink. No, it wouldn’t hurt at all. Like she said - just an outing between friends.

Friends…. 

A knock on his door brought him out of his overthinking and he looked up from his desk to see Toshinori in his grey suit - smiling tiredly at him. “Have I come at a bad time, old friend?”

Tsukauchi could only laugh lightly at that, gesturing to the mountain of papers surrounding his desk like a fortress on all ends. “Not really; I think I need a distraction from this.”

“Well, I was going to ask if–”

“A cup of coffee?” Tsukauchi finished Toshi’s sentence for him. “Yes please. Anything other than what I have on my plate right now.” His back groaned with him as he rose from his chair and stretched his arms. “What brings you here anyways? Thought you’d be training away those students of yours in preparation of the Sports Festival.”

Toshinori’s face crinkled at that as he scratched the back of his head. “Turns out Aizawa’s more than capable of teaching his own class - Vlad King included.”

“Class 1-A certainly did raise a lot of eyebrows in the community with their fight against those villains a while back, so I’m not at all surprised they’re still raring to go.” 

He walked alongside the lithe, slouched man - passing by cubicles of officers and workers in the station who worked tirelessly answering questions on phones, visitors, and more. Needless to say, work has been getting more chaotic.

Tsukauchi needed the break as he continued walking, taking off his jacket and slinging it over his shoulder, running a hand through his hair. “Thanks for swinging by; thought I was going to go crazy.” 

“Anytime. Hey, where’s your… uh… buddy at? That quiet one?” 

“Hayakawa?” His smile slowly faded from the memory of their earlier conversation.

“That’s her name!” Toshinori smiled dimly to himself, pounding a fist into his palm. “She was always glued to your side, so I’m pretty shocked to not see her by you. Good gods, I think I met her a while back. I just never remembered her name I think. I am horrible…” He mumbled.

“She’s been absent for a while, so that might be why. She’s back though.” The two kept walking down the busy street - bustling with activity of tourists, food carts, and promotional advertisements of the Sports Festival. 

All sorts of people were here now that the Sports Festival was coming up fairly soon. Social media, news stations, and the like had been announcing its return like never before.

Further down the thoroughfare of downtown Musutafu, a Cometbucks was tucked away to a larger brick building that Toshinori pointed to. The large paned glass windows allowed the two to peer inside and see that it wasn’t as busy as he’d thought. Thank the coffee gods for that - he’d hate to have to wait for so long for a simple black coffee. 

While not a fan of Cometbucks by any means, Tsukauchi couldn’t really turn down the offer as he followed his old buddy into the semi-busy building - customers speaking amongst themselves and the strong scent of espresso, coffee beans, and pastries filled the air. 

Toshinori tapped his shoulder and pointed his finger at the billboard of various drinks; lemonades; and frozen beverages. Tsukauchi shook his head. “I’ll just get a regular black coffee–”

“You sure? I’ve heard they’ve got some decent new limited time coffee blends here–”

“Just a black will do, thanks.” 

“Alright.” Toshinori shrugged and pulled open his wallet, pulling out some bills as he planted it onto the counter and spoke to the barista. 

Tsukachi wandered towards the back of the coffee shop - finding a booth and plopping down into it with a tired groan. The cushioning soothed his strained back when he sank into it. 

After a couple of minutes, Toshinori found him and handed him his coffee and sat across from him. “So… What’s new for you?” The sharply faced man asked with a sip of his oddly colored blend of a beverage. “Aside from work that is.” He mended, stopping Tsukauchi from explaining all the workload.

“Got me there. Well…” Tsukauchi drawled with a test sip of his fresh hot coffee. “I think I got asked out on a date. Or… a date of friends?” 

Toshinori nearly sputtered and hacked at his chest when he choked on his drink. He beat his chest and reached for a napkin to wipe away some of the drink that got sputtered out onto the dark, walnut table. “A date huh…? With who?”

“Well….”

“Don’t tell me…. Your partner?” Toshinori’s face balked and it nearly made him laugh. 

“She worded it like an outing between friends. Nothing more, nothing less she said.”

Toshinori sipped at his drink in awkward silence, not at all following up on what he just told him. 

Tsukauchi looked at his old friend expectedly. “Isn’t this the part where you tell me it’s going to be alright?” 

“It’s going to be alright….?” Toshinori drawled out in a questionable tone.

Tsukauchi could only deadpan the man and droop his shoulders in defeat. “You’re supposed to be telling me the woes; the hows; the tips….”

“Just be yourself? I don’t know what you want me to say! It’s not like I’ve had any time for that during my prime. I was always onto the next hunt; the next mission you might say. Too busy, ah… working than focusing on that romance stuff.” He scratched his cheek and opted to peer out the glass window to his right. “Well, I suppose there was someone… Not romantic of course, but… she interested me.” He murmured. 

“Oh…? The Toshinori Yagi crushing on someone?” Tsukauchi grinned, taking a swig of his coffee. 

“I’d only met her once actually.” Toshinori retorted with a scoff. “Haven’t seen, no… I did see her again.” His smile faded. “Just on the wrong side of things.”

“She also had someone she’d pined after too, huh…?” Tsukauchi said dimly. 

“You could say that…. Needless to say I was, ummm… disappointed. Hurt. Really intelligent woman that seemed to be bottling up her emotions with no end in sight. We met on the Takoba beach when I was training one of my students for the entrance exam, and she just waltzed on by. We got to talking about my mentor Nana Shimura and how she inspired me. That people who had to be saved, needed not only their lives protected from harm, but also their hearts.” 

Toshinori fiddled with the colorful straw of his drink, swirling the contents as he continued. “She cried, Tsukauchi. She cried at my story for some unknown reason and, a part of me just… hugged her. I told her to not bottle up her emotions and added my number on some paper I had on hand.” His smile deepened on that memory as Tsukuachi listened in silence. 

“I am in no place to dictate what a person should do after what could be a horrific past, but whether she was emotionally unwell or not, she went down a path that I can’t help but want to pull her out of. Or maybe make a fork in the road for her to follow so she can find a better purpose.” 

“I never took you for the deep type, Toshinori.” 

“Hah, well, figures I’d be stuck in a hopeless relationship that seemed one-sided from the start. Not you, though. I reckon you’ll do alright. Just… be yourself. None of the detective stuff. None of the witty info you’d share as a man of the law. Just yourself. Besides, it’s just an outing between friends; you should be fine. It’s not like we can call this a date, can we?”

Tsukauchi rolled his eyes at the bland joke and took another drink.  “Thanks… Do you remember her name at all or what she looked like?”

The man closed his eyes, trying his hardest to remember it. “Gods, I remember it started with an M, or maybe it was something else… Ma-hmmm…” He tapped his chin, pondering on the memory. “Maki… It was something Maki.” He waved it off and shrugged his shoulders. “Just treat it as a regular outing, that’s all my advice would be for you and your partner.”

“I just feel like I’m going to make it awkward or something horrible will happen.” 

Tsukauchi couldn’t really tell his old buddy that he got a weird feeling in his stomach. Whether it was a gut feeling or butterflies, he couldn’t decipher it. The man would only grill him. 

“Enough of that, though… How’s your side of things going?” He wanted to change the subject, hoping Toshinori would take that cue.

The man nodded and took a long drink of his colorful beverage and breathed out a long sigh. “Most of my concerns are mainly stress-related. Most of which involve the Sports Festival and…” He tapped his fingers against the edge of the table. “Mostly the Sports Festival. That about sums it up.” 

“I understand - it’s your protege, isn’t it? The one that got injured during the USJ incident?” The memory of a beat-up kid sitting in bed with a steadfast heroic determination was both frightening and encouraging. A majority of what Toshinori could talk about was his newest student. The successor to One For All. A quirkless boy with the guts to prove all those who doubted him that even he could be a Hero. 

His sister would get a kick out of writing a thesis about that probably - mostly of how it correlates to society and the adversities he and other kids face in today’s world. 

“The very same; can’t help but worry for him. He’s not fully mastered it but he’s done amazing so far.” 

“I bet.” He agreed and leaned closer. “Speaking of the festival, how does Nezu think of my recommendation for security?”

“The HPSC thing? He sort of gave the usual frown and danced around the suggestion last I recall during our staff meeting. Those guys do come off as intimidating.” 

“Better to be locked tight as an impenetrable fortress than not at all, I say.” 

“I highly doubt anyone would have the balls to do something as extreme as make a move on the Sports Festival, Tsukauchi.” 

“People said that about U.A. and then the USJ event happened. I am not taking any chances this time, Toshinori.” 

Tsukauchi wouldn’t stand for it. There wouldn’t be any other demented monster out there in the city besides the Control Killer who could attempt something so audacious. 

He’d catch them this time with the whole cavalry of Pro Heroes right behind him. 

Chapter Text

“Hmmm…” He looked back and forth between a simplistic black business shirt that could come off as ‘casual’ and a t-shirt he’d gotten from his university’s gift shop a long time ago. 

Pairing it with a compatible pair of jeans and shoes would be really hard too. Why did dressing up seem so obscenely difficult? Sure he could go in just a shirt and tie, but would that come off as too business casual? 

Tsukauchi was in a rather terrible dilemma. The outing wasn’t until a few more hours, but it felt sooner. He didn’t have any sort of outfit prepped just yet. Why did Sunday have to come so soon? 

Maybe a quick jog to–no, I can’t. I’d smell funny if I ran full sprint to a shop. Have to use your resources here and now….

He stopped to open his closet full of various types of business shirts ranging from dark blue, burgundy, to a deep tan. To the left of the monotonous rack of apparel were five jackets to choose from. All save for one may make any aspiring onlooker wilt with depression at his lack of fashion. 

He pulled on the sleeve of his trusty tan trench coat and shook his head. Next was the dark brown leather jacket he had forever. Something his sister left behind as a parting gift before she left for the U.S. 

It was darker than any other set of clothing he had. It was called Ebony, or maybe Havana… Something fancy and more suited to be shown on a television than for casual wear. Damn that Sister of his. Always choosing gaudy stuff to spite him somehow. 

It was a zip up, but he didn’t think it’d look great zipped up, but paired with the black shirt underneath….

Would that work? He pulled it free from the rack and slipped the coat hanger out, tossing it onto the bed behind him. Slipping it on was humbling to say the least. It felt snug around his shoulders and biceps. It pulled taut when he tried to stretch his arms in it, so it wasn’t really practical to wear in case of emergencies. Plus, only two pockets? He’d like multiple for his wallet, phone, notepad, pen, and any other items on hand.

But it’s just a friendly outing between friends, Tsukauchi. No need for anything other than your phone. 

He walked over to the bathroom to check out how the amalgamation of clothes he chose would look. 

Tsukauchi immediately balked at the sight; he looked sillier than a clown. He couldn’t wear this. Shaking his head and striding back to his bedroom in defeat, Tsukauchi reopened the closet and had to choose ole’ reliable. 

Slipping into a navy-colored business shirt felt like a second skin to him. Nothing else would compare. He began opening up a few of the top buttons on his neck to air it out and make it appear more ‘casual’. Flaring out the collar too would help lessen the ‘serious’ look it had. Business casual was still a thing, he could make it work.  

Humming in approval, he opted for the matching straight-cut jeans and dipped his white-sock feet into a pair of trusty brown plain-toe oxfords. Striving back to the bathroom mirror never felt greater as he looked about the outfit with a smile. It wasn’t much, but it did the job. No need for a run to the shop or anything. 

He checked his watch and saw that it was 6:45. Still two hours to go until it was time to meet her for their outing. 

It’s going to go great. We’ll laugh about it and I’ll get to learn more about Hayakawa. It’ll be fine.

And yet it felt like something was building up in his heart. Whether it was jitters, butterflies, or dread, he couldn’t tell. All he knew was that it was just an outing.

Nothing more, nothing less. 

Taking the cab to the Takoyaki restaurant was the smartest thing to do if he was going to be drinking some alcohol tonight. He’d long since forgotten how many months it’s been since he’s indulged in casual drinking mixed with socializing. 

The streets were bustling with night-time goers and tourists - stands of varying foods, merchandise, and such littered the streets while he squeezed past groups of youth parading through to go to the next stop. 

“Hey!” He heard a voice call out to him. “Detective!” 

Turning around, he caught the sight of Hayakawa, her black hair let down and cascading her shoulders in a long-sleeved white shirt, faded denim jeans, and black canvas shoes. Her smile beamed upon seeing him as she walked up with a judging appraisal of his outfit.

“Still couldn’t tear yourself away from the business, could you?” She joked. “I supposed I was anticipating too much to think you’d wear anything less than shirts like these.” Hayakawa’s fingers pulled at his sleeve. “But I’m glad you made it; I was worried you’d gone and left me, what do they call it…. ‘High and dry’?” 

“I’d never.” Tsukauchi flashed her a smile as he gestured to the loud restaurant in front of them - a neon sign blinking bright shades of purple and red. “So, Natsumatsuri Waves?” He said the name of the place aloud with a whistle. 

“It is a lot busier than I’d remembered.” Her expression faded lightly. “Oh well, it’s not like we’re staying too late out. It’ll be quick.” Hayakawa conceded with a dry chuckle. “Come on then. Let’s go on in.”

He followed after her, his nose picking up faint notes of what smelled like white jasmine mixed with a few other floral notes of Hayakawa’s perfume. 

Where had I heard of white jasmine from before…?

As they went in, the volume level escalated with raucous laughter, countless conversations going to and fro in several tables, and the cashier taking a call. The old woman pointed at the two of them to take a seat at the waiting area next to the right where another couple sat. 

“We could always try another spot–”

Tsukauchi’s hand went up. “Like you said, we’re not pining for time. We can wait. Besides, we can talk, can’t we?” 

Hayakawa nodded with an appreciative smirk. “Yeah, we can.”

He opted to give his phone number to the waitress to notify him of whenever a table would open up. Giving a bow to the lady he opened the door for Hayakawa as they ventured out onto the street. “What now?”

“Perhaps a little late night drinking?”

“On an empty stomach?”

“We can always eat some appetizers at a bar, you know.” 

“You are dangerous, Hayakawa.” He laughed. “Fine. Lead the way.” 

Walking down the street in the dark amidst the busy night owls felt surreal to him. He was never one for nights out like this, and it further solidified as they found a bar called Astro Sands. 

“ID.” The bouncer said with a stout look about him - his v-neck t-shirt doing little to hide his humongous pecs and biceps that likely yearned to rip free from the pitiful fabric. 

Handing them over, the bald tan brute eyed them meticulously, especially looking at Hayakawa with an appraising stare at her hips… Rude. 

“You’re good. Enjoy your stay.” He gruffly said, handing them back and stamping their wrists with a palm-tree logo. 

Upon entering the boisterous and loud bar, Tsukauchi and Hayakawa were stopped again by a woman guarding the main dance floor with a cash register and a gaudy stanchion rope to prohibit anyone from just waltzing in without paying an entry fee.

“Oi… It’s 1000 yen to get in, y’know?” She said with her hand extended outward, expecting bills or a card to be handed to her. 

“1,000 is no issue.” Hayakawa said, handing the woman her card. “For two, please.” 

The card went through without any delay and the woman stamped their other wrist with a similar palm tree logo, but it was a bright red instead of the stark blue this time. “Just don’t get too crazy.” 

Tsukauchi followed after Hayakawa and the loud techno-music playing wasn’t at all pleasant. They sat down at the bar and were immediately greeted by a pig-tailed bartender with a bright wavy smile. “Heya! What can I get’cha two?” 

“ Maybe a single malt scotch - neat.” She rested her elbows on the counter and looked at him. “How about you?”

“Ah… a gin and tonic.” He winced at the frown the bartender gave him. 

“A G&T huh…? C’mon, your partner’s drinking something refined like. Should follow suit, dude.” 

“A gin and tonic will be fine.” 

“Tch… Your loss, bozo.”

The two shared banter of what they did today; how their paperwork went, and eventually their drinks came to them - Hayakawa’s glistening like amber gold while his was given to him with clear disdain….

“You don’t deserve her, dude.” The bartender hissed as she handed him his G&T. “Better wake up before the wolves come and get ‘er.” The girl’s acrylic nails pointed at the group of what Tsukauchi would assume were bachelors eying up Hayakawa and making comments.

The music was too loud to really hear anything though, but those men hugged the wall like weeds, standing there with their drinks in hand and attempting to dance. 

“I don’t think we should go out there.” He said aloud in Hayakawa’s ear as they waltzed over to a booth to sit down, pointing at the full-floor of men and women enjoying themselves. Some stumbled over each other; more danced in sync; a few stomped their feet in an attempt to look like they were dancing. 

“Agreed. I’m more of a casual drinker and less of a party-goer. Besides, it’ll kill time for us to just talk.”

“Yeah, thanks. I was worried you were going to pull me into that mess.”

“It would be a sight.” She jested. “Seeing the well-known Detective Tsukauchi doing the running man or the worm.” 

A plate of pot stickers had eventually been served between them to help ensure they won’t be suffering later on in the evening. “I take it you’re no dancer too then?” 

“No, but if I had to, I could pull off a decent shuffle.” She smiled into a bite of her appetizer. 

Their conversation was soon interrupted by a loud cry of pure joy as some youthful college-aged guys tore up the dance floor - trying their best to impress what Tsukauchi could only assume were their dates. 

He and Hayakawa watched on in silence for a bit - the college men easily taking the main event and dancing to the beat with skill. Sweat gleamed off their faces while they did some wavy move with their hands that got the crowd to join in. 

“Eyyy, ohhh!” The crowd cried out with them and the song that was playing - a foreign song apparently as it had English words in it. “Weeey! Ohh!” 

Still, the song got the crowd pumping and it made Hayakawa chuckle as she pushed away her finished drink. “Shall we join in for a bit? Wave our hands?” 

“I mean, if you’re up–ohh!” His hand got pulled by her surprisingly strong grip - eventually they found a tiny spot inside the large mosh pit. He hesitantly put his hands up, raising them up high with Hayakawa as they did their best to ride along the hype of the song and crowd. 

“How’s everyone doing tonight!!!?” The DJ said aloud in the mic as he held it to the crowd who could only reply with screams of affirmations. “Let’s bump up the noise!” The man, dressed in a off-white flannel shirt and large colorful glasses, put his headphones back on and began dialing up his machine.

Tsukauchi found himself laughing with Hayakawa. Neither of the two really sure what to do until the songs eventually died down for them to slip away to the bar counter, slight sheen of sweat on both their foreheads. 

He had to tug and air out his shirt from the humidity of body heat that was in that moshpit. “Shall we go check on our table?” 

His partner nodded. “Yes, let’s.” 

“Alright, let me just go and use the bathroom, and I’ll be outside.”

“Very well, just don’t go throwing up. We haven’t even gotten to eat takoyaki yet.” She grinned, letting him go as she stayed at the bar counter.

Tsukauchi tried to squeeze past the group, ignoring the smell of booze and sweat until he found the bathrooms. Several men came out of it with laughter and jests until he found the booth. He ignored the various graphic drawings on the stall to his right where a man was busy emptying his horrid bowels with groans.

The smell was atrocious, he had to leave as soon as possible. 

Taking care of business and heading to the sink proved slightly weird as a man with conspicuous intentions was next to him, eying him up and down and looking to the door. “Hey… You.”

Tsukauchi pointed to himself. “Are you talking to me?”

That earned a groan from the man as he adjusted his glasses and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, who else would I be speaking to - the god damn guy shitting his guts out?! Of course you!” He pointed at him. “You’re with that woman, right? The one with glasses?”

Tsukauchi’s eyes darkened. “What of her?”

“I’m just a concerned party - don’t mention me, please. Just… People need ya. Like really need ya. Don’t go with her. Just don’t.”

“Why?” He asked with suspicion. 

He shushed Tsukauchi’s lips with his finger, its tip moist from the soap, gross….

“Shhh! She could be hearing us….” He said in pure paranoia. “It’s taken all my balls to even be here in the same place as her. I can’t tell you directly because she’ll know that you know. Fucking bitch, I should've known she literally had 'ears' everywhere....” He pushed a note into his hand. “You didn’t see me. Don’t know me. And, if you have any heart as a detective -  don’t mention me to her. If you value a concerned citizen’s life, don’t tell her anything about this little talk of ours.”

He left in a flash after that, not even bothering to zip his fly as the door barreled open, leaving Tsukauchi puzzled. 

He flipped open the crumpled letter that simply read: ‘She’s not who she says she is. Leave the date while you can.’ 

Tsukauchi scratched his head and shrugged, simply tossing the paper into the trash bin and heading outside.

He found Hayakawa idly sipping some water and standing up, brushing off any crumbs from some dessert she’d got from the bartender. “What took you so long?” 

“Ah, just some weirdo talking to me. Maybe a drunken one at that. Said not to bother with you, weirdly enough.” 

“Did he have a gap in his teeth?” She said with amusement at Tsukauchi’s astonished stare. 

“How did–”

“That’s the jilted lover I was telling you about. Let me guess, something along the lines of ‘I’m not who I say I am, or so?”

“Word for word… Should I go tell him off?” He said, looking around for the guy.

“Mmm, such a forlorn creep. Trying to stop the inevitable. Just ignore it. He’s simply jealous that I’m seen with you.”

“If you say so. Let me know if you see him again or if he bothers you.”

“He won’t. Him coming here won’t change anything. He knows it as much as I do.” She said with an indifferent shrug. “Come, let’s go see if our table is ready.”

They left the bar and felt the cool breeze from the beach not too far off. Walking along the sidewalk with her felt awkward after having met what he could could fathom was a messy ex of Hayakawa’s… The man didn’t look well at all. 

Baggy, bloodshot eyes, disheveled hair, and moppy hair didn’t strike him as a guy to be Hayakawa’s type… 

“Still on about that ex of mine?” She said, leaning forward in his field of view. “Don’t let it bother you. This is just an outing, remember? Think nothing of him and we should be just fine.” 

Eventually the two found themselves back inside Natsumatsuri waves. They waited for at least twenty minutes before a table was finally freed up and granted to the two of them. He followed the waiter who settled them at the booth with a window of the beach. 

The night sky did it great justice as the moon reflected off the water with the smooth swell of the waves lapping gently at the sandy beach below. There were a few bonfires lit down below with people huddled around them; others chased each other in laughter; some drank what he hoped wasn’t alcohol and played songs. 

“Wow… That’s–”

“Amazing? I know, I thought of the same when I stumbled onto this place a while back.” She said while sipping on some water. “Ah, can I get a beer, actually, make it two?” Hayakawa looked to him with a glance. 

“Sure, I’ll take it. You’re paying, you say?” He grinned, resting his palms onto the booth’s table, tapping his fingers while looking at the menu. 

“But of course; I did say I’d treat you to some delicious takoyaki.” 

The two waited for the waitress to write down their orders and as the women left, Hayakawa leaned forward, elbow propped up on the table with her chin resting on her palm. “So, how’s life been besides work?”

Tsukauchi stopped sipping at his water and set the clear-plastic cup aside. “Stressful. I doubt I’ve gotten a full eight hours of sleep in months.” He fiddled with the straw, swirling the ice cubes inside. “You?”

“Mmm, much the same.” Hayakawa’s eyes drifted to her left, watching over the busy tables of other patrons laughing and eating their meals. “Say… I’ve got a question for you. Not the romantic ‘are you single,’ of course.” She held a hand up, almost causing his stomach to drop. “A philosophic one, if you may.”

“And here I thought I’d get to know what your favorite animals are, or maybe what color you like.” He sighed.

“Indulge me.” 

“Fine. Shoot away.” 

She rested her back to the cushion behind her. “What do you, in your honest opinion, think of quirks?” She asked, staring intently at his face with her expression taking on a determined look.

“Quirks…? Like in general?” His brow furrowed at the question. “What brought this up?”

“Just curious is all. We are only human - no quirks really brand us as special or portray our image as all-powerful.” 

“That is true… I guess I could say that there is a time and place for them.” He stopped her before she could make her assumption. “What I meant is that quirks are useful , I’ll admit that. But… sometimes I wish they weren’t. It’s divided the world as a whole. We’ve taken two lunges forward, and forty backflips into the past.” 

“Oh?” Hayakawa leaned forward with both elbows on the table this time. “Would you prefer that they didn’t exist at all?”

“Sometimes, but people like All-Might,” Tsukauchi noticed a brief frown appear on Hayakawa’s lips before it could hide itself with a sip of water. “...Showed me that quirks are signs of greatness. That they can be used for the better of the world.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here.” Hayakawa thanked the waitress as she brought in two large mugs of beer, setting them onto coasters and bowing. 

Their conversation continued with occasional sips or swigs of the strong brew. The taste is just right. 

“You are right in that. I can’t, as a member of the law, in good conscience consider them part of justice when quirks can just as easily be misused. We’ve seen countless villains use them for truly awful things.”

“True that.” Hayakawa hummed, taking her attention away from him and accepting a hefty plate of fresh hot takoyaki, pushing the intricate ceramic toward the middle of the table and reaching for chopsticks. “What if, hypothetically of course, quirks ceased to exist at all?”

“I’d eat my own shoe if that were the case.” He chuckled, prepping his own chopsticks. “We’d all be equal then.” 

“Equal…” She murmured with a disagreeing glare, taking a swig of beer. “I don’t think we would. There would be, let’s say, other outliers that people would clamor towards to ensure they were superior than the other.” Setting down her mug, she sighed. “It would be start though. A start to setting the world right.”

“Would you prefer a world like that though? Free of quirks. Free of suffering. Free of everything bad?” 

“Bad?” He looked confused. “Define what you mean by ‘bad’.”

“War, death, famine. Everything that causes the world suffering.”

“Well, not everyone sees everything as ‘bad,’ Hayakawa. Take movies for example; some are seen as incredible works of cinematic art, while others may say its the worst thing they’ve seen in their entire life. It’s a matter of perspective. So, I guess I wouldn’t want a world like that.” 

“Movies, huh.” She sighed in disappointment. “I really do dislike bad movies. Her eyes glanced at him, or rather behind him. Likely she was zoning out, reminded of a memory. Crap, did he say something off-putting?

He had to save it. “What considers a movie ‘bad’ in your eyes?” 

“The chaos of them. Movies like that have no place in the world. They’re flawed, poorly structured, and rarely enjoyable.”

“Maybe you’ve not seen a lot of ‘good’ movies then.” He joked, but she didn’t laugh. Ouch… Okay not a good choice. 

“I have seen a lot of movies; a majority of them are just that: bad.” 

“Some people do like those sorts of movies though.” He countered, wincing at the light glare he got from her. “Just hear me out: what you hate is what another person might love. We can’t control things like that.”

“But if we could? If we could live in a perfect, controlled world like that?”

“It wouldn’t be a world worth living in. Everything, even bad movies, have value to people.”

She stayed silent, taking another bite of takoyaki and downing it with a swig of the beer. “I was hoping you’d see things my way, but, mmm.” She munched on some food. “To each their own , I guess.” Hayakawa said that with thinly-veiled venom. 

Tsukauchi had to cringe a bit. He didn’t want to sound like he was disagreeing with her.

You’re doing wonderfully, you idiot.  

He had to steer the conversation to something else. “Let’s forget philosophy. I don’t want to babble on about stuff that might get us to hate each other.” 

“But I do dislike you, Tsukauchi.” She said, her face morphing into an indifferent stare. “Every moment with you fills me with such dislike that I cannot even fathom how it is possible. You’re the second most ridiculous person I’ve had to put up with.” She slowly took off her glasses, setting them aside on the table. “But you’re no Denji, so that’s fine. You get points for that.” 

Ouch… Okay, this was not on his bingo card tonight. “Have I done something to offend you in any way? If so, I can apologize–”

“You can’t.” She cut him off. “Because at every turn you are there - like a scuttling lice that refuses to leave my scalp at every turn. At the hospital; at the USJ; at the station; everywhere.” She said with heavy exasperation. “And every time that mind of yours refuses to cave to me”

Mind…? What was she–

His eyes widened as she snapped her fingers, her normally black hair slowly fading into a red hue. Her other hand was forming into a finger-gun gesture. 

“And I finally figured out why, Tsukauchi. Why I dislike you so much.” Soon the loud raucous laughter in the entire restaurant paused. He glanced about, taking note of how every patron, every waitress and waiter, even the cooks, stopped and stared at him.

All around, the people began pulling the strings on the blinds, shuttering them close, and locking the door to the restaurant. The waitress from earlier flipped the sign from open to closed. 

His heart was thumping in his chest like a wardrum - telling him to get the hell out of dodge. 

Hayakawa let out a dry chuckle, wiping her cheek with a napkin. “It was a funny fantasy, though. Thinking you and I could ever really be friends.”

She rose from her seat, aiming her finger at him. “I can’t have you interfere with the Sports Festival. I can’t have you interfere with what will fix this world.” 

Chapter Text

Tsukuachi’s heart was racing and pounding imminent danger into his ears as he gawked at the unmistakable red hair he’d been searching for all this time. The one who’s been causing all manner of horrific atrocity after the other.

His mouth felt dry, his hands shaking with dread and betrayal. All this time she was right under his nose; right by his side; right at every crime scene. 

Anger and betrayal filled his heart. This didn’t feel real. “Hayakawa…” 

All around him, the patrons of the restaurant stood up, surrounding their booth like a crowd would to a famous celebrity except instead of adoring faces they had dull eyes and blank expressions. 

She can manipulate multiple people simultaneously…  

He had an inkling that it was possible, but to see it up close with his very own eyes scrambled his courage and fear. Though it had to have taken a toll on her body or mind. He needed to figure this mystery out and fast.

For now, he just had to summon an incredible amount of courage and stare the monster into its eyes. “Why now?”

“Why what?” She asked with a condescending tone. “Why am I deigning to kill you when I could’ve done so sooner?” 

“Yes. Give me that.”

“Mmm, I admittedly had hoped to have stayed my hand, but time is of the essence. People would ask questions if I had killed you earlier. Where the usual man on the scene was; why he wasn’t around to sniff for things he shouldn’t. People would get nosy, and I’d hate to be busy mopping up every little crumb before I could do what I need to. So, you being alive was more useful than killing you - I hope that answers your burning curiosity.”

“And that jilted lover?”

“Giran?” She said with a condescending smirk. “I was admittedly a little perturbed in thinking he’d cut the curtain of my little act a bit soon, but you valiantly, and rather stupidly, shrugged it off.” 

“Giran…” The name sounded familiar, but the tenseness of the entire scene made it hard to think of anything but the monster in front of him. “You won’t win. You’ll lose, whatever it is you have planned.”

“I doubt it. This world is really oblivious. Oblivious to the point that they’ll neglect the crumbling foundations it has. I’ll be doing it a favor when I remake it.” 

“Remake it how?” He asked. “You keep going on about that. What are you planning?” 

Her eyes looked him up and down. “You wouldn’t really care. You’re merely trying to buy time. Time that you don’t have.” 

“Enlighten me at least.” 

“Hmm…” The way her eyes scanned him like she was appraising him didn’t feel right. “I don’t think I will. You always try to think things through, Tsukauchi. Trying to be a couple steps ahead, but always floundering your ascent to the answer.”

He had to keep her talking, something to delay her murderous intent. “What happened to you? Were you always like this? Why Hayakawa?”

“It was just a means to an end, that’s all.”

“That can’t be true. What of the laughs we had; the brilliant conversations of proper detective work; the god damn snarky comments you’d make?” He cried that bit out. Refusing to believe it was just all an act. “You don’t have to do this. I can help you. We’ll talk–”

“You mean when I’m locked up in Tartarus? You’ll visit my cell every so often and speak of what could’ve been?” She countered. “You won’t. Attempting to play my heart strings won’t get you anywhere.”

Empathy wasn’t working. Damn it all. He had to be fast.  He had to buy time, anything to stay alive.“My death won’t change anything; kill me and all of Musutafu—“

“--Is already in the palm of my hand.” She cut him off, chuckling at his confused expression. “For all your praise of being the best detective, you really are naive. While you were busy snooping for me, I’ve already sunken my hooks into a lot of things. Eraserhead; Chief Kenji; Principal Nezu.”

Tsukauchi’s mind reeled at the list of sleeper agents she had. “The Principal…? You’re joking.”

“Why do you think he was so adamant about keeping the festival going despite your heated warnings time and time again?”

Tsukauchi connected the dots with haste, the gears shifting and turning inside his brain.

Why would the Principal deny him the opportunity to bring the HPSC into the festival; Why the Principal fought so hard to ensure the Festival looked as ‘non-aggressive’ as possible. 

It was because of her influence. Because of her machinations, security won’t be as tight as it could’ve been. Tsukauchi could only glare at her. “You’re a devil.”

“I am; you’re not far off from that.” She smugly said with a smile. “Mmm, Nezu, though. Such a useful little creature. I was so glad to have run into him at a Cometbucks so long ago. He’s done his part, as will you. When you die.”

“So you do have prerequisites for your quirk.” He said, trying to keep the clock on his life ticking. He shifted the conversation. “Why not take me under your command? It’d be much easier than killing me.” 

His question seemed to strike a nerve as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you really believe someone will swoop in and save you?”

She couldn’t . She can’t take me under control. Tsukauchi thought back to her earlier words, ‘...That mind of yours refuses to cave to me.’ 

“You can’t put me under your quirk, can you?” He looked up to see her smile dim to a frown. Her eyebrows furrowed just slightly. Her expressions may have been unnoticeable to anybody else, but to him, he could see it - that she’s a complex killer. Something ticked inside her head, he just had to find out what it was. 

Good. Good, he was getting somewhere. “I don’t meet a certain prerequisite to be under it, don’t I?” 

“It’s true, you don’t. It would’ve made things so much easier if you’d been slightly stupider. But you aren’t. That inquisitive mind seems to be locked tight.” 

He looked down under the table, thinking about lifting the thing and using it as cover at the last moment. The way she was talking didn’t seem like she intended to keep him alive as a hostage. She had the atmosphere of fully killing him here and now. 

“Is All-Might like that too?” He asked and she didn’t answer, her eyes narrowing into slits. Her silence was more than enough. “Then that means Mirko was right. You can’t control certain people. But I’m no Pro Hero, so surely that means–”

He tried to rise up and make a stand, but Haya—no, the Control Killer shoved the table toward his midriff, trapping him against the cushioned seat behind.

“Escape is not an option; neither is begging. Your death here will serve a purpose.” She gruffly changed the topic, not at all liking the fact her quirk didn’t work on certain people. 

God complex…? No, she’d be spouting about how better she is than me. Superiority then…? 

“I’ll rally your friends, family, and the whole city against a literal ghost they’ll never find.”

“They’d not believe you over me!”

“I weave excellent sob stories; I’ll be sure to speak fondly of you at your funeral.”

“But why?!” He said with anger and pain, the table’s edge digging deeply into him. “Why do this…. This senseless killing? Why do it?”

“You wouldn’t understand it even if I tried explaining it to you; you’d simply call me a madwoman.” She said with indifference, shrugging her shoulders before aiming her finger at him. “Goodbye, Tsukauchi.”

“I saw you as an equal!” He yelled, not at all missing the glare she had growing by ten. It frightened him. But his courage demanded he get answers. “ You were my partner! You can’t throw that away.” 

“That’s the problem , Tsukauchi.” Hayakawa said coldly. “ You never were.”

No, not like this. You can’t just do this!  

He quickly tried to lunge at her. 

“Haya–” 

“Bang.”

His ears rang as a burst of strong, stinging pain soon erupted into his abdomen. He looked down to see a gaping hole at his side. It hurt like all hell broke loose inside of his body and there was no doubt that internal bleeding, the lack of what used to be there, and black spots in his vision weren’t a good sign. 

The pain was unlike anything he’d ever had before. He fell to his left out of the booth, onto the matted carpet of the restaurant, crawling away with desperation and blood pooling down his waist and thighs. 

The crowd parted for him, staring at him with lifeless eyes. Was she going to have these poor souls kill themselves after he dies? No, he can’t think that… He still had time—

Tsukauchi’s life flashed before his eyes - graduating university with pride alongside his Sister hugging him with all smiles; meeting and joking around with Toshinori all the time; managing paperwork and solving cases to put various concerned people at ease.

Sounds of his parents talking to him with pride and joy; laughing with old friends in the station; worrying about Hayakawa’s disappearance with constant calls, texts, and check-ups at her cubicle…

A good life he led and now here he was, bleeding like an idiot as he tried to find purchase on another booth, his entire body feeling cold. Tsukauchi’s legs felt like jelly while he tried to raise himself up for stability, his bloody hand leaving a print onto a platter of half-eaten food plates. 

He stumbled into the booth’s seat, his eyes on her as she waltzed over with a frown. 

Blood was forming in the back of his throat; he tasted nothing but the tangy iron on his tongue. He was losing too much valuable time. He reached for his backpocket, attempting to call the emergency line, but Hayakawa gripped his wrist with surprisingly strong strength. 

He cried out with a pain grimace as she’d forced his phone out of his hand and peered at the notifications. 

“Nobody will save you, Tsukauchi. Just accept your defeat and you can watch from the grave of the beautiful world I’ll make.” Her finger came up slowly, aiming toward him with her cold, ringed eyes honing in on his bloody state. 

“Your name… At least give me that.” He gasped out, blood oozing out of his lips; eyes bloodshot and his hair damp with sweat. “Give me one answer…”

“Still on about that? Even at death’s door, you snoop for something to latch onto; something to solve the biggest case you’ll never finish?”

She hummed, scanning his form and closed her eyes with a condescending smirk. “Makima. It’s Makima.”

Makima…

The memory of Toshinori telling him about that woman’s name he couldn’t quite recall. ‘Gods, I remember it started with an M, or maybe something else. Ma-hmm… Maki. It was something Maki.” 

He was an idiot. Why couldn’t he connect the dots sooner? 

“Makima, huh…” Tsukauchi coughed up phlegm and blood, the action alone making wince from the sharp pain pooling in his gut. 

Tsukauchi closed his eyes - praying that Toshinori, someone, anyone, would figure it out and stop her. Stop her from–

“Bang.”

Another sharp pain rammed into his chest and darkness soon clouded his vision - the table and the booth splattering itself into blood.

Makima’s eyes waited til the light of Tsukauchi’s own dimmed to nothing. She had to confirm he’d be dead. Slowly, she sighed out a breath of relief and slight disappointment. 

Everything was just poorly timed. She’d have liked to have finally conquered Tsukauchi’s mind, but time was no longer on her side. With the irritating Detective out of the way, the Police Station was effectively hers. 

Chief Kenji would be a figurehead and her the puppet-master as she ensured the Pro Heroes would be none the wiser for tomorrow. The same went for Nezu’s portion of the plan. She just had to do her part, and so too did Shinso and Chisaki.

“Ms. Makima…” A woman’s voice called out, but the tone of it already revealed who it was. Her eyes shifted to the tired expression of a waitress with black hair tied up into a pony-tail - her red blouse and black pants doing nothing to really hide the demeanor of her newest pet project. 

“Shinso, dear. Your quirk has truly exceeded my expectations.” She said with pride, cupping the girl’s cheek. “You can speak through people now? Interesting. Perhaps our plan will be easy.”

The woman’s head shook with a shaky voice. “It won’t. I get awful headaches speaking through someone’s own voice. It does a lot to their bodies. If I used it too long, they’d die–”

“But it shouldn’t bother you. They’re merely a means to an end, my dear. You know that, don’t you?” She said, “Take care of this.” She gestured to Tsukauchi’s dead body. “Ensure no one finds it until after the festival. It’ll make explaining much easier.”

“Yes, Ms. Makima.” 

Shinso’s various puppets began swarming about Tsukauchi’s body, hoisting it up and discreetly carrying it away from the booths and into the kitchen. 

But there was still one little beetle who scurried around through cameras. One that had to be reminded of his place. One that ought to know when to be brought to heel like the good dog he is.

Scared, paranoid, and at his limit. That’s Giran. Such a silly man, but a useful one nonetheless. Her gaze turned up to the camera above, its lens zoomed in onto her like someone was watching. 

Giran’s eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from the scene he’d just seen. He’d warned the man. He did! He couldn’t be called lazy or a coward if he’d given Tsukauchi a warning! 

But he got information! That damn kid of hers, Shinso Hitoshi, the little bastard is under her control! Or maybe working in tandem with her. Either way that duo is bad news. The stuff that would make this a level ten of evil shit. 

By the looks of it, the kid’s quirk has gotten stronger. Stronger than what his original file suggested. Not good, definitely not good shit to learn at all.  

And their plan - the Festival. There was only one dang festival around this time of year that anyone gave a damn about and it was the Sports Festival. But why? What reason could they benefit from it? 

Eraserhead, the Principal, the Police Chief…. A lot of hefty names she had at her fingertips. People had to know of this. 

He kept tapping away and zooming in on the scene of the crime - Makima wiping the blood off her finger and face, taking a new shirt from one of the controlled schmucks in the restaurant with her. 

Yeah, this would fuck her over though. He’d send this footage to someone - Sir Nighteye or–

“I know you’re watching, Giran.” He heard the devil’s voice say from the computer. His blood went cold and his heart stopped as he looked back to the computer’s screen to see Makima staring up at the camera with a smile. “You didn’t think I knew? I reckon you know how good my hearing can be.” She gestured to her ears with a chuckle. “I have to give you some credit for figuring that out. What gave it away - the crow by your windowsill? I should’ve let it fly about instead. Would’ve been less inconspicuous. Oh well, the secret’s up.” 

She stood more towards the camera, her head titled upwards more up at it with a chilling smile that made his heart freeze. “Be a good boy and stay where you are. We need to talk. Face to face. I do miss having conversations with you.”

Like hell I will! Giran thought, already trying to dial in Kurogiri’s number for an escape. 

“And don’t bother running. Unless you’d like to end up like dear little Asuka and the rest of her people.” 

The memory of the Gadget Fox suddenly imploding in one of his safehouses came to mind and complete dread washed over his body. The girl, he remembered, completely panicked and looked downright scared to her soul. 

He stayed in his seat at a rather dingy internet cafe that not even most people would bother looking at. Beside him on the far right were two smelly teen boys playing some sort of team game. They munched on cheesy chips and smacked their lips; their fingers tapping away at the keyboard and issuing out heated commands.

It was a busy cafe filled with lowlives and degenerates that likely lived in this place. Smoke filled the air, some online slot machines were going off, and a few more raucous arguments shouted out between people. 

Still, the cafe was a mile or so away from where that Natsumatsuri Waves building was. He had time. But he couldn’t run. Even if he wanted to. Death’s cold grip was on his balls and he couldn’t do anything.

He could’ve saved Tsukauchi - dragged him out of that bar while he had the chance, but Giran was a coward. He had to think of himself first and foremost. Who wouldn’t do the same in his place?! A Pro might, but he was just an info broker. Nothing more than that! 

He’d given that Detective every chance to get the hell out of there and look where it got him! Dead and likely tossed into the ocean to bloat up like a balloon…

He sank further into his own seat, hiking up the collar of his jacket in hopes that maybe Makima wouldn’t go through with her threat.

Why on earth did he think it was a good idea to try and warn Tsukauchi about the shit that looked inevitable?! He’d gone and dug himself an early grave by warning him in a stupid bar bathroom of all things! But he really prayed for the slight hope that Tsukauchi could do it, and now look where it got him. 

He kept leaning up from the computer’s desk and checking the entrance, expecting to see the devil herself walk in with murder on her mind. 

“Calm down, Giran. You’re useful. You can get out of this. She needs you. Remember her quirk only works for imbecile shit.” He smoothed his hair and tried to steady his breathing, opting to close out the tabs on his laptop and replace it with silly images of cats and dogs. 

Waiting for her felt like an eternity. No, it felt like he was waiting to be sentenced to death row in a dumb internet cafe of all things! 

Five minutes turned to fifteen as he kept his eyes on the clock, tapping his foot restlessly against the floor below him. Those fifteen minutes soon turned into thirty and he felt like his heart was going to burst or descend him into cardiac arrest. He was fucked! He was totally in the shit now. What could he do?! 

He hid a quiet gasp when he heard the doorbell of the cafe ring and he closed his eyes, muttering a quiet prayer to any literal god out there that existed. 

“Oh father who art in–” He yelped as he felt the devil’s smooth hand squeeze his shoulder. 

“I need you to log out for me, old friend . We really need to talk.” Her silver-tongue flapped its venom into his ears as he reluctantly did so at her command, pushing out of his chair and following her to his death. 

Mutters from the nerds around them commented about Makima’s beauty and why she was in a place like this, but they didn’t know. They didn’t know that they were in the presence of something evil. 

Her black-hair was back, her glasses readjusted. Her outfit consists of a brand new off-white t-shirt, stone-washed jeans and sneakers. The evidence of Tsukauchi’s murder likely gone and buried by now. 

Makima’s kind smile flashed toward him as she gestured to a leather couch in a corner that was far away from the loudness of the main cafe. A little coffee table was in front of it and further ahead - a large plasma screen television playing the latest J-drama. But that wasn’t important; surviving this encounter was. 

“Hey, long time no see! Hah… Funny finding you here.”

“Mmm, indeed. I’m glad you listened. I do appreciate men who obey what I tell them to. Makes things easier and less… violent .” She said, crossing her legs and sitting closer to him, her thigh brushing up against his. “Wouldn’t you agree, Giran?”

“Absolutely! I…” He gulped - those awful eyes bored into his very soul. “I-I was just making sure no one would hack into the CCTV’s!” They both knew he was pulling excuses out of his ass, but if those excuses could lighten the fury of Makima, so be it. 

“I thought so. You’re really more useful to me with your free will intact.” She said, her fingers tracing his chest and rising up to his throat, gently wrapping around it. “I’d hate to see our partnership tarnished because of misunderstandings.” 

Her light laughter made his blood freeze as she reached for his shades, pulling them off and holding them to the ceiling with a condescending smile. “These for me?” She eyed them, putting them on and humming with mock-approval. “Support items really are an interesting attempt at becoming equal to those with quirks. It’s admirable, really. A shame a majority of them are flunks.” She shrugged, pocketing his shades into her breast pocket. 

He’d worn them in hopes of recording their conversations, to see how she worked her quirk onto people. But a fat load of crap that did for him as she kept hold of it…

“Dirty tricks aside, Giran, I do forgive you for your little stint against me with those old dinosaurs; it was simply too far out of your control. Nothing you could do.” She tutted her tongue. “But you did set me back in a plan so meticulous, so finely crafted, that I had to opt for a gungho one. And I do hate being unprepared.” She continued with a more colder tone toward him.

“The same could be said about leaking information about my whereabouts; what my name and occupations was; everything crucial to staying under wraps and you gave it to a noisy little gadget fox. A fox that quipped and cried so hard to stay alive.”

She led her to me….

“Mmm, and sure enough, I set her loose. Let her lead the breadcrumbs to the leak and there she was - in your apartment, begging and sniveling like the worm she was. And pop , all those mewls, cries, and whimpers dissipated.”

Fuck this! Fuck this! She’s going to kill me!

There was no way he wasn’t getting the Tsukauchi treatment here in a stupid cafe of all things! He had to act!

Giran rose as fast as he could, reaching under his armpit for the shoulder-holstered pistol he had in this situation. He gulped down a thick wad of spit and shouted with what was left of his courage.“Go to hell–! HRK!!”

His vision blurred and he found himself sitting back down with Makima’s palm pinning his chest to the back of the leather couch, its cushioning lessening the shock to his spine. Pain wracked his left hand, rising up like molten lava from the stinging, otherworldly strength Makima had. 

“I’ll excuse your outburst of desperation, Giran.” Her palm left his chest. “It’s unbecoming of someone like you.” She said with thinly-veiled smugness. Damn her. Damn her to the final pit of hell itself. 

Why, why did it have to be him? Why was he the only one who was so close to this monster of a woman? 

Tsukauchi… You stupid moron. Why can’t you have solved it sooner?! 

Now he was left alone with this huge burden. He had no failsafes; no contingencies for a direct confrontation with her; no nothing! 

She leaned in closer to his ear, whispering vile poison into it. “I’ve a favor I’d really like to cash in. Consider it my mercy call for you.” Her grip tightened onto his throat, making spots appear in his vision. “Do this and you’ll walk scot-free.” Her thumb dug into his adam's apple, threatening to push it inwards, causing him to shudder. “Oh, and no leaks; no mutters of who I am to the Pro Heroes; no nothing. Understand?” 

He nodded faster than anything. God, he was a coward. But life was more precious. It was a dog-eat-dog world and he wanted to live. If it meant…. If it meant getting out of here alive….

“What do you need?” He whispered out and panted in deep heavy breaths when she let him go, allowing him to massage his throat with a shaky hand. “Anything you need, you’ll get it!”

“Twice. I need your friend for tomorrow’s main event.” 

“Ahh… Well, you see, I had Twice already set to work with the League–” Her hand slithered back up to his neck again, making him backpedal. “Jesus, Twice is a special case!” He hissed with wide eyes. “He’s really delicate!”

Her strong grip finally lifted its choke hold onto his neck, letting him breathe. 

“Twice is nothing I can’t handle. I merely need an alibi, and Twice will be perfect for it.” She played with his collar, rebuttoning it for him. “Do that and I won’t have to kill you.”

The way she said so casually in front of him made his entire being shudder with dread. This wasn’t going great. But, like the dead man who tried earlier, he needed to know more. More to crack the code.

“Just one teeny question…” He dared to ask as she flicked her eyes back to him, her attention fully locked in on his sweaty-covered face. “Tsukauchi… Why kill him? You’ve just set off so much shit that’ll turn into more shit.”

“Too many questions like that are what kills men like him, you know.” She teased. “But Twice isn’t the only thing I need.” Her finger pointed to the many lowlives sitting at their computers. “I need a hacker. The best of the best. One that won’t trip any alarms, set off snooping noses, that sort of thing.” Makima’s calm demeanor didn’t soothe his anxiety one bit. He was in an alligator’s deathroll, and one simple screw up could be his last. 

“Even if I get you your alibi–”

“You mean when you get me my alibi.” She corrected him.

“Yes…! H-ha… When I get you Twice and a hacker, what then?” She tilted her head, ready to shoot back with another cryptic bullshit of an answer. He had to get something out of this exchange. “Look, I’m just a concerned guy looking out for you.” He lied through his teeth and Makima sure as hell knew it. 

“If you go through with whatever you’ve got cooking at the Festival, it’s going to be like ringing the dinner bell to a slaughter house of international Pro Heroes!” He quietly whispered, hoping she’d understand the severity of what she’s going to do. “You’ll be considered an international terrorist, and treated as such. I’m surprised those other countries haven’t already deployed their number one heroes over here…” 

She didn’t look one bit afraid of his warning - it was like she had nothing left to lose. “Look… If I help you with this, I’m just as fucked as you are. We’ll be lucky to even be escorted to Tartarus at the rate you’re going. I just… You got Chisaki–” He blurted out something he shouldn’t have as her eyes went back to him with great interest. Shit. Fuck. Oh hells. 

“So you know about Overhaul?” She smiled, crossing her leg over the other. “How ironic is it that you’re closer to cracking the code than Tsukauchi ever was. The criminal information broker smarter than Musutafu’s brilliant and renowned Detective.”

Makima straddled him, her thighs on opposite sides of his waist. She felt surprisingly light and fragile in his lap. Her hands went to his face, one thumb teasing circles around his eyebrow and the other caressing the scarf around his neck, eying the fabric with slight interest.  

If it were any other woman he’d be happy, but the thing in front of him was no mere woman. No, she was a monster. A monster in human form. 

She titled his head upwards to meet her gaze. “You should’ve called him when you had the chance all those months ago. The Yakuza of old wouldn’t have been dismantled; Tsukauchi would’ve been alive; I would be behind bars; you wouldn’t have to be complicit in so much blood.”

Giran’s eyes went as wide as they ever could. “You… You knew–” 

His contact, the one he so desperately wanted to call… He should’ve trusted his gut and figured out Tsukauchi wasn’t a patsy, nor poisoned by Makima’s influence. 

He didn’t register her tying his scarf against his throat at first, too gobsmacked by her knowledge.

But he was thrust out of his thoughts when she wrapped the tail end of his scarf around her palm, pulling on it like a collar. She yanked it taut and smiled at his sputter and aghast expression. “But of course. I was so pleased you didn’t go through with it. I’d have killed you earlier if you had. But, like all humans, you listened to your fears. Your subconscious, deep down, chose not to betray me.”

A lick of that ain’t true… He wanted to murmur, but he kept quiet. 

“Against your better judgment, you played your cards right. You didn’t spill everything to Tsukauchi. Even in the bathroom, you were too afraid to tell him the truth. For that, I am thankful. For that,” She leaned in, her breath hitting his ear. “You get to live.” 

He panted heavily when she let go of his scarf, letting him breathe. Jesus, she’s been choking him this whole damn conversation! He’d be blue by the end of it…

“I knew you’d be useful, Giran. You're better if I give you leeway to do what you need to. Even if there were a few hiccups at the time. But you know your place now, don’t you?”

He nodded, massaging his throat with a shaky hand, still wondering if she was just playing with his sense of safety. Giran closed his eyes as she settled into his lap more firmly, wrapping her arms around his neck and looking at him. 

“So scared of being admonished are you?” Her index finger idly began to encircle his right eye, gently pushing it inwards and he flinched with a thinly concealed whimper. Makima giggled at his reaction and shook her head. “I’m glad we had this talk.” Her finger pulled back, stopping at the last moment of potentially gouging his eye. She hopped off him nimbly.

“I need that hacker by tomorrow.” She said, taking her eyes off him and checking her phone. “I’ll hear from you later. I expect trust .” Makima rose off the couch and began walking, not before casting a glance to him behind her shoulder. “Oh, and Giran?”

He looked up, afraid she was just toying with him, expecting to be blown to bits here and now. “Yes?”

“I am so delighted to have met you. Without your help, I’d have not gotten to where I am.” She said with a smug smirk.

Makima left him in his thoughts as he cast his head down and thanked whatever celestial being out there for sparing him. 

I’m alive….

The clock roared its breath into the air and she yawned, stretching and sighing out a sigh of relief. Today was the day. 

Makima rose out from her bed, going to her closet, reaching for a white long-sleeved shirt, a dark, long black trench coat and matching black suit pants. At the bottom of her closet laid out in a neat rack were a variety of shoes.

Canvas, heels, boots, and then there they were - brown oxfords with a fine sheen to them. She smiled and pulled them free from the rack, slipping them on and admiring herself in the mirror as she tucked in her shirt and adjusted her tie. 

A knock on her bedroom door took her attention away from her outfit and she walked over with pride to see Shinso on the other side, a canvas bag of his Sports Festival uniform inside, and eyes filled with awe and anticipation.

Her hand wrapped around his wrist, bringing him to the living room of her newest apartment that Giran had given her. A brand new safehouse closer to U.A., which would help her keep close tabs on Shinso’s progress. 

She sat him down onto the plush, off-white sectional sofa, crossing one leg over the other. She cupped his chin and locked eyes with him. “You’ll do absolutely amazing, Shinso. With my influence, you’ll undoubtedly come out on top. Have you prepared your speech?” 

He beamed at her like a starved pup happy to be given attention to something of little importance. 

“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his head with a light rosy color to his cheeks. 

Shinso babbled on about classes, how he’ll do in the first round of the Festival, and other irrelevant things. 

She pretended to agree and lavish him with praise and adoration. Nothing of his ‘overcoming adversity’ with his sob story of a past really intrigued her. She just pretended to act intrigued. Often saying ‘ooohs’ and ‘ahhs’ in there for good effect.

It worked in her favor to keep his quirk in check. She can’t have him accidentally freeing himself from her control again like last time. Not when they were at the pinnacle of the greatest moment to grace this world.

Makima added in a hug that would soothe the teenager’s anxiety as she rubbed her thumb over his cheek. 

That would always work; he melted in her arms like putty - reverting back to the shaky pup he had been back at Akiyama’s estate. He shuddered like one too, shaking and hyperventilating with pure fear and anxiety. It almost made her feel sorry for him. Almost. 

“I’ll be watching everything, Shinso. Cheering you on. Just trust the process and the battle tournament, and you’ll be just fine. I’ve made sure of it.”

“Do you think…” He averted her gaze, anxious. “What we’ll do is worth it? What if–”

“There are no ‘what if’s’, Shinso.” She said curtly. “Keep a majority of your quirk’s awakened state under wraps until the battle tournament. Endeavor and the others will be keeping a close eye on you.”

When he didn’t look at her, she kept on, ensuring her words got to him.  “A lot of my hope is riding on you, Shinso. You know that, right?”

His eyes widened at that and he nodded his head up and down like a bobblehead. The adorable action made her giggle, which in turn, made him calm down.  “Good. I’m happy you understand that.” 

Positive reinforcement, or social and token reinforcements worked wonders on Shinso. It was amazing how easily a young adolescent’s mind could be molded to her whims. All he asked for in return was validation and physical love.

Breaking in his mind and destroying his family made him dependent on her. With nobody else to talk to or speak about his hopes and dreams, she ensured she alone would be his only form of emotional attachment. 

Like a little duckling imprinting upon a new mother, Shinso waddled alongside her with adoring eyes. Eyes that saw nothing wrong with her anymore. 

Still, his awakened quirk had a few kinks in it that had to be ironed out. Times where he’d regain that bothersome ‘free’ version of himself that would accuse and mewl about how much of a monster she is.

And if it wasn’t Shinso’s little episodes, it’d be the other Pro Heroes that acted far too suspicious for their own good. 

Endeavor and the rest of those pompous hopeful spirits at U.A. seemed adamant on Shinso not participating in the Sports Festival due to the Control Killer’s antics. She had to go through leaps and bounds to get their guard down about ‘fairness’ and ‘equality’ to them. 

With Principal Nezu’s words, they eventually conceded, but not without suspicion. Tsukauchi’s disappearance would pop up soon, but by then everything will be too late. 

“I… Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, Ms. Makima…” 

He hesitantly reached out his fingers, wanting to intertwine his fingers in hers and she smiled warmly at it. So dependent. So… pitiful. 

Shinso got bolder and wrapped his arms around her and sobbed into the crook of her neck. Dampness could be felt on her shoulder and she had to reciprocate the hug, pulling him tighter against her chest. “I won’t let you down. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you’ll be happy by the end of this, Ms. Makima!”

“I know you will , Shinso, dear. I know.” She watched him pull back and look at her with a sniveling face of snot and hope. “I can’t wait for that moment. The moment you bring me what I want .”

Chapter Text

Drawing felt hard with bandages rolled up all around her arms. She squinted and analyzed her artwork - a simplistic happy stick figure of herself and Ms. Makima stood out in a field of grass. 

It was her own little storybook of how Ms. Makima came into her life so suddenly and so beautifully. 

The first crunched up page that Eri felt quite proud of detailed Ms. Makima hanging around Mr. Chisaki and his work partners. She tried to make her be the central piece of it all - brightly colored, more detailed than the others that Eri could manage with crayons and her imagination. 

At first, she called Ms. Makima the tall skinny lady. 

The next page, she scrambled through her drawer for, smiling and putting next to the first, told a simple story of Ms. Makima talking to Eri about things. 

Two stick figures of herself and Ms. Makima in a house, with Eri blabbing on about stuff she couldn’t remember anymore. There were chains around the woman’s waist in the beginning and one of them wrapped around Eri at one point. 

Eri made sure to write down questions Ms. Makima asked her when the topic of her powers came about. It sounded super serious. Her handwriting wasn’t the best, and one of her caretakers called it chicken scratch at best, but it was her story! She wanted to read it! Not anybody else!

Above Ms. Makima’s stick figure had a large smiley face, bright red colored hair, and the three speech bubbles. 

“Can you rewind concepts?”

She remembered how Ms. Makima explained that one - saying that if she could use her quirk to rewind something to the point that it never existed. Still confused, Ms. Makima used the examples of her quirk being used on crayons. Asking if her quirk was used, would it cause the entire thing to cease to exist in the first place…

Like a world without crayons, she said. It sounded horrible. She shook her head and that caused Ms. Makima’s stick figure in the story to frown, which in turn, hurt Eri’s stick figure’s heart. Disappointing Ms. Makima didn’t feel good.

“Have you tried to use your quirk on a lot of people or things all at once?” Again, Eri’s character told her no, and like before, Ms. Makima’s frown got bigger. To the point that her whole face was just one upside down smile. 

“What happened to your parents - did you forget them after they were erased?”

She still remembered how scary Ms. Makima looked when Eri told her that she didn’t want to talk about that scene.

The stick figure in that scene got dark - chains enveloped Eri’s own character, the chains warping into the giant circle she made for heads. Ms. Makima made her relive that moment - walking around in her head like some sort of gallery. 

Eri drew Ms. Makima’s eyes for a whole page - the bright yellow color with lots of red rings in them. The artwork took up the majority of the paper and she had to make a second one of her stick figure sitting alone in a white room of nothing.

It was a room inside of Eri’s own head, or maybe it was Ms. Makima’s, she couldn’t really tell.

The stick-figure story continued - Eri’s lined hand reaching onto Ms. Makima’s sleeve. It was that moment, she remembered, where she made Ms. Makima gasp and recoil back like Eri had been a plague-bearer. 

Lines of smoke and a crudely drawn spider outline behind Ms. Makima disappeared into nothingness. 

Eri recalled how Ms. Makima had tried doing something with her hands and speaking out some odd name, and then looking astonished. Mutterings of a grown up word being broken by Eri made her feel scared. 

Ms. Makima looked at Eri like Kai Chisaki did then… It felt scary.

Eri didn’t want to see that version of Ms. Makima again, and was told that won’t ever happen, so long as Eri remained good and didn’t tell her the word ‘no’ anymore and to stay away when she had her quirk enabled. 

There were other grown up questions too that Eri couldn’t quite answer or remember. Ms. Makima had black hair then with glasses, and she egged Mr. Chisaki to see her more and more after hearing and seeing her quirk in action. 

But after a while, she and Ms. Makima became really good friends after repeated visits! She started up a new page, eager to show it off.

Eri felt pretty giddy about its brightened hues she used with the crayons she’d gotten. For a little dash of extra joy, she added in a faded yellow sun in the upper right corner. The final finish to it would have to be a rainbow. No reason not to use all the crayons at her disposal, right? 

The tall skinny lady, which she used to call Ms. Makima because there was no name at the time, had been immensely kind to her. Kinder than even the caretaker who would occasionally bring in new crayons.

Mr. Chisaki and Hari kept telling her to not get too attached to her though. Saying weird stuff that she was worse than them. It was a lie. It had to be. How could she not like Ms. Makima? The lady was higher up in her box of people she didn’t have to be scared of. 

Safe to say that Ms. Makima was at the top of the list of best people in the world. Yeah, no way anybody could top that. 

Eri hummed as she filled in the stick-figures with color - adding in Ms. Makima’s black pants and substituting red with pink since the crayon had whittled down to the nub. 

Her tiny feet kicked up in the air as she lay on her stomach, continuing to draw swirls for the grass, a couch where they could watch movies or relax in the sun. 

In her mind, details like that would surely earn a few praises, so she added in more things that Ms. Makima would compliment her for - things like ‘I’m proud of you’, ‘I like that part’, and her most favorite ‘You’re a good girl.’ 

It made her feel loved and appreciated. Not seen as something more than a useful ability with a quirk. 

My quirk… She had been constantly told it was special by Mr. Chisaki and that once his job was finished, he’d no longer have to use needles. 

Her quirk… it did something weird every time she activated it. Those happy memories of Ms. Makima would fade in her head. The thoughts of Ms. Makima’s gentleness just whisked off like it was never there in the first place.

Eri couldn’t describe it, but every time Ms. Makima patted her head when she came to visit, that loving feeling came back. That feeling of joy and appreciation just booming into her chest. It felt good. It felt safe.  

Ms. Makima wouldn’t lie to her. She’d never! She was one of the good older people. Nothing like Mr. Chisaki. He was a monster compared to her.  

She let her braid that cool red hair of hers, which had been something she’s always wanted to do! Her hair smelt nice too, like fresh flowers on a cool sunny day. 

The door to her room creaked open, signaling the caretaker was coming in. She hid a squeak of surprise, rising and scrunching the drawing behind her back. Hiding it in case the caretaker would toss it into the trash. 

But behind the muscular man, was a red hue of hair and she immediately beamed with happiness. Yes! She’s visiting again today!

She dropped the crayons and ran with as much speed as she could muster. Her feet pitter-pattering against the cool cement flooring while she tackled the front of Ms. Makima’s legs, pushing her face into the front of her waist. 

“Ms. Makima! You’re here?! Why? No… wait, c’mere!” She pulled back, tugging on her white sleeve over to the mini table she had, pulling out a tiny chair for her to sit on. “You’re going to like this. I worked really hard and added coloring. I added sunshines–”

A pale finger shushed her and Ms. Makima chuckled. “It’s alright, Eri. Take your time. I’m not in a hurry this time.”

Eri’s face lit up. No way. This can’t be real. Usually Ms. Makima would only get five minutes. “Then… Can you stay the whole day?”

“I can’t, Eri.”

Oh.

She pouted and kicked at nothing, averting her gaze. “But you said you’re not in a hurry….”

“I know, Eri. It’s a shame. A real bad one too. Which is why I’m here in hopes you can convince Chisaki to listen to my requests.”

She looked up, her red eyes boring into Ms. Makima’s. She was so pretty. “I don’t wanna… The needles–”

“If you can just endure the needles, the blood draws, and everything else, I promise you we’ll play lots and lots.” Ms. Makima’s hand tucked some of Eri’s hair behind her ear. “This for that. Think of it as a guarantee.”

“Gua–huh?”

“Oh, a promise.” She amended. “If you promise to be a good girl.” Eri’s face smiled at that word. “And listen to Chisaki’s requests, he’ll be nice to me. So nice that I’ll get what I want.”

“Really…?” Eri always wondered what Ms. Makima wanted, but from what she could tell, it had to be out of this world good. 

“Really. But I’m having a hard time getting to him. He keeps saying I’m too mean. Too crazy.” She laughed and Eri joined in. “So absurd, hm?”

“Ms. Makima isn’t any of those things. Least of all mean!” Her head got patted and she leaned into it. 

“I agree. Which is why I’m hoping…” Ms. Makima scooted closer, whispering. “You’d do this favor for me. From one good soul to another?”

“I just have to listen to Chisaki…?”

She nodded, “That and more. Can you?”

Eri’s mind chose the obvious route. Of course she’d help out her friend! She was always nice to her, so it was only good to do the same. “We’ll get to play lots after?”

“Definitely after. And only… after.” 

“Then I’ll do it! For Ms. Makima! Now, let’s draw!” Eri handed her a crayon.

Makima had some reservations about this child, but it proved all too easy to get the kid on her side. 

Being deprived of love and an actual parental figure did wonders for Makima. She had to thank Chisaki for being so abhorred by this girl. It sped up her process of easing herself into the girl’s life; lavishing her with praise and attention that she’d lower her guard down. 

A few crumbs of attention was all it took for Eri to be a mini pomeranian eating out of her hand with dedication. Makima could tell the girl to do a backflip, and she’d happily do her best to do it. 

She patted and let Eri clamber into her lap, letting the girl go crazy about her drawings and day. This was part of her deal to secure aid from the Shie Hassakai - playing pretend mother to a parentless child.

So long as Chisaki got his promised compliant prize, she’d get his support. 

“Boss, are you still sure about this whole gig? It reeks of a setup at the end of the day.” Irinaka grumbled over his shoulder. Chisaki paid him no mind as the easily-irritable man rambled on about the many hypotheticals that could happen with their current partnership with Makima. 

The woman was currently in his compound, being the best version of a parent to Eri that she could be. In turn, Eri would comply and become a bloodbank for him to continually draw from. 

Irinaka kept whispering the idea of crushing Makima while she was still in the compound. He’d use his ability to crush her to a paste and that he’d easily just reassemble Eri who happened to be there. 

Though, from what he’s been told, the woman had an insane regeneration quirk. One that could recoup in a matter of seconds. That little tip from Giran proved useful, though the man seemed unreliable after a while. 

Like he’d gone mad, so there was no point in dealing with a lunatic. 

Chisaki held a bullet containing the serum in his fingers, inspecting it with an analytic eye. They were carefully crafted with precision and refined to its utmost perfection. He begrudgingly had to thank that psychopath Makima for that though. Without her, his progress in Eri’s quirk wouldn’t have been sling-shot forward seventy-five percent completion. 

She was unlike the rest of the plebians who touted that they’d fix this world with so many useless propositions. Quirk laws, which a majority of them were nullified when it came to those in power; banning quirks, a plan never ever to see the light of day; all of those ideas proved fruitless to him. 

The erasure drug, however… It worked - through and through. It disabled people’s quirks without fizzling out from their body in a few seconds. With MK. II, the dosage was higher and more potent. The only trade-off was how long it took to take effect. 

To him, it would serve as the first step to a better and more world free of ridiculous quirks. Sure, Makima had set his own plan back by eradicating a majority of the old families that once ruled the underworld of Musutafu, but they could be brought back into the fold with his leadership. 

Hell, she’d actually gotten rid of the more stubborn old guard of the Yakuza who’d not listen to him while she was at it. Now, he’d have access to the newbloods, who in turn, could easily be swayed to an expanded version of the Shie Hassaikai. 

There were positives to this alliance between himself and Makima. He recalled how she’d sniffed around his compound a long while back. She popped up, offering her services in exchange for support for an insidious plan. 

She became a quick favorite to Eri - the girl blabbering about how attentive Makima was to her drawings, words, and feelings. He had no doubt the woman had ulterior motives - likely seeing the girl as a means to an end, same as him. There was no pity in those eyes of hers. 

Makima wore a mask, it seemed. A mask of deceit and psychopathic tendencies. 

“Go and head to the stadium, Irinaka. I’m sure the crowds are starting to get a line set up for seating, so it’d be wiser to get in earlier.”

The short-tempered mimic growled and hissed out some expletives about Makima while trudging out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

After the festival was over, his partnership with her would nullify and he’d no longer have to deal with her. A simple transaction, that she will honor, one way or another.

Opening the door and being welcomed in an all too familiar face, albeit with a black surgical mask, was amusing to Makima. Having what she likened to be the most reasonable of that dying breed of Yakuza was breathtaking. 

Possessing a similar goal of fixing what was wrong with this world made their cooperation almost instantaneous had it not been for his spite and venom aimed at her for certain altercations. Altercations mainly involving a certain someone in his entourage. 

The smell of hand-sanatizer and aloe vera littered his body from head to toe, and it made him unmistakable to miss wherever he was. It stung her nose at times with the concoction of hygienic anti-bacterial soaps.

He glared at her with utter disgust and open disdain when his little experiment clung to her with a happy giggle. The young Yakuza wasn’t happy with the idea of Eri running around the compound, so seeing her in his office set off a ticking bomb of irritability inside him 

This child, so frail and innocent, made it her mission to stay locked into the front of her thighs. Those red eyes looked up at her with hope and trust. Trust that likely Chisaki never had. 

Eri - Kai Chisaki’s ace in the hand - was glued to Makima like caramel to an apple. 

“Ms Makima said it was okay for me to follow…” Eri said, giggling into the front of Makima’s legs and clutching onto her right thigh like a koala. “Did… you like the drawing I made?”

Makima’s mind had to register the irrelevant stick drawing of herself and Eri smiling with a horrific background of some sort. “But of course, Eri. You’re getting better and better. Keep it up, mm?”

“Yeah!” Eri sounded satisfied and grinned to herself, mirth welling up into her innocent mind at being appreciated. 

Showing even the slightest bit of motherly love proved very beneficial indeed. Eri’s mind was as open as it could be to her. It was like finding a diamond among boring pebbles of rocks when she first met the girl. 

Kai’s ability proved interesting as well. The ability to reshape and remold anything back together sounded like a godsend. Though, it’s obvious there’s other properties to it. Properties that Kai doesn’t want to share at all. 

Complete disintegration of matter with his bare hands. That sounded like a problem to her if he laid hands on Eri or Shinso for that matter. Those two were pivotal to the Sports Festival, and she can’t have him finding any leverage to use against her. 

Behind him at his desk, a man with pointed eyebrows and chin-length hair formed into clock needles. Her research into the Shie Hassakai deduced that this was Hari Kurono. Kai Chiskai’s assistant and right-hand man. 

She did know that his quick was excellent at immobilization. Combined with Overhaul, there was no telling how much he’d set her back if she tried anything here alone with the two.

“Care to explain why you’ve come to me with Eri on such short notice?” Chisaki said, snapping her out of her thoughts. “I said you could have your little playdate. But I didn’t say anything about bringing said playdate up here where she could get ideas.”

“So you did, but I figured it’d do good for Eri to get out of the stuffy room she was in. She’s curious is all.”

“Uh-huh. Well, consider it duly noted and ignored. Hari, call Eri’s caretaker and have him escort her back to the room.” 

“On it.” Hari pulled a flip phone from his pocket and spoke into it.

Chisaki waved Hari to take the conversation further away, but close enough to intervene should things arise. “Aside from the obvious stint you’re trying to brew in my prize, why’d you come here?”

“A change of plans - Tsukauchi’s been dealt with prematurely.” 

The young Yakuza’s eyes widening didn’t go unnoticed by her. Shaking his head, he pulled away from his desk and stood up, pacing back and forth with his right hand massaging his temples, he groaned. “A little something like that could have easily been told over the phone or through a couple of cryptic text messages.”

“We both know those are being monitored now more than ever. It would be too stupid to try. Endeavor’s already snooping where he shouldn’t. The HPSC won’t be too far behind him.”

“You do realize what you’ve done, don’t you?”

“That I do. Which is why I’m having you and Irinaka, who I don’t see with you by the way, be at your stations much sooner than previously planned.”

“Irinaka’s busy worming his way into the spot you wanted him to be.” He retorted quickly. “People will ask questions about Tsukauchi. They aren’t dumb.”

“I very much doubt people will think of him during the buzz of the entire festival. They’re much too busy gawking at the next generation of heroes.” Her hands found themselves under Eri’s armpits, lifting her up and packing her around the office room, letting the little girl play with her braid. 

That earned another tremble in the man’s frame, his eyes narrowing at her hands. Hari’s hair poked out, poised to strike and she closed her eyes with a chuckle. “I mean no harm to her.”

“Sure you do.” Chisaki rolled his eyes. “I want to have permanent compliance over Eri once this is over and a favor from you when I want it.”

“Don’t you worry, I’ll hand over her leash once your job is finished. Just have yourself and Irinaka ready. Same goes for you, Hari.” The assistant’s body twitched just briefly. “We do need you on hand to disable Cementoss when the time comes.” 

“Tch…. I answer to Chisaki. Not you.”

“Yet he serves me, which in turn means you ought to do the same.” She waved off the feeble attempt of a retort. 

“And what’s stopping us from being done with your plan right now?” Hari shot back with a glare that frightened Eri, the girl trying to cling tighter and hide in the crook of Makima’s neck with a quiet whimper. “Your plan is madness and I’m surprised you even managed to consider it with Chisaki.”

“Forget it.” Chisaki’s eyes narrowed at Hari’s attempts of persuasion. “She says she’ll get us into I-Island when this is all said and done.”

Hari’s breath hitched at the revelation. “I-Island, sir…? So you mean the–”

Chisaki’s hand went up to stop his man from saying more in front of her, though his minion had already said too much. 

The mythical ever-moving island whose security was on par with that of Tarturus. The holy land of prototypes and unheard of tech unseen by the rest of the world. What Chisaki wanted with it, she had no clue, but she had an inkling it involved some sort of genetic weapon involving Eri. Her blood and quirk was too special to not exploit further. 

“You know, I would be happy to help with that excursion in the future–”

“I’ll think about it.” Was all what Chisaki said before shifting the topic back to the matter at hand, pointing to the window outside of his compound - its view offering a glimpse to quiet suburban streets outside. 

“Me and the others here will be out of the situation by the time our part is done, got that?” He pointed to the stadium next that can be seen in the distance a few miles off. 

“I’d still like you to be on hand if things go awry.”

“And what’s the guarantee that I won’t be swarmed by the mob of Pros by the time your plan comes to fruition?” 

“They’ll be too busy to pay you any mind, of that, I assure you.”

“Too risky. I’d rather keep a hold of my safety once it all goes to hell.”

“A shame… I suppose I won’t be getting that trip to I-Island like–”

Chisaki’s eyes narrowed at her words, cutting them off.“Fine. C’mon, Hari. Get the equipment started in the lab.” He asked, the clockwork assistant nodding and bidding them to follow.

“I’d like at least two doses of that serum.”

“You said you only wanted one; who’s the other for?” Chisaki’s eyes narrowed with growing suspicion.

“For safety purposes more than anything. I’ll be amongst them all, so I’d like a contingency against Pros more equipped to easily incapacitate me.”

“And those would be?”

“If I told you, who’s to say you won’t just figure out my weakness?” She giggled at the click of his tongue as he hooked Eri up to the machine that would provide her two contingencies for the festival.

Soon, she’d finally have what she’s longed for. Everyone had their parts, and it was all or nothing at this point. Makima could practically taste heaven at this point with how smooth everything’s going so far.

Chisaki sighed heavily, having to keep an eye on Hari so he’d not lose the man while they waded through the sweaty, stinking crowds of idiots who were waiting in line to be seated. He looked at his throwaway phone for the digital ticket that Makima had provided for them. 

The stupid website was not at all functioning as it took forever to load up. It made a vein pop up in his head, testing his patience. Finally, it showed where he had to be.

They were seated in some stashed away location higher up in the stadium - row H, 322; row H, 323.

Outside of the stadium’s precinct, a whole slew of food vendors took their chance to try and set up where the public would most likely be. Offering estranged prices with gaudy decorations and greasy foods; visiting Pro Heroes standing around, flexing their muscles, signing autographs while people waited in line sickened him.

When it was announced that seating would be open, the line finally moved after what felt like eons. His legs aching from standing forever.

Bodies squeezing past one another made his skin flare up again with hives.

Disease-riddled is what they were, he thought. There was no sustainable way a person with squid-like features on their face could ever be truly clean after a shower. Nor would a person made of a literal fork live life normally. What if rust became an issue, what then?

Chisaki clicked his tongue and shook his head, ignoring the many stares from the other eager parents, friends, and fans of this audacious annual event. 

Entering the interior of the stadium felt like walking into a breezy beach home - the AC cranked up to eleven while various food-stalls lined up to offer outrageously priced beverages and snacks. He ushered Hari along, heading to the elevators where they’d be taken up to their assigned seats.

Chisaki chased after an open elevator, but the crowd was quicker. Piling in like sardines as he politely asked for them to hit the button to semi-highest level. 

“Ouch, buddy.” A stocky man said with a cheshire grin. “Highest level - how are you gonna see the action, with binoculars?” He laughed, with a few of the others joining in with a few chuckles. Chisaki rolled his eyes and ignored it. The higher up he was, the less likely he’d be in the chaos.

The official Sports Festival wouldn’t start for another hour or so, which meant he’d be stuck seeing the practice stuff; the sponsorship mentions and gratitudes, and more. Which meant more time being stuck with Hari in a festering pool of germs…

 “Why yes, I am sure that we will be just fine, Madam. Yes, yes. I understand.” Nezu’s calm replies likely eased what Makima could assume was the HPSC representative. A bothersome group of people covered head to toe in encryptions, dark silhouettes, and no names. 

She patted the top of the rodent’s head, treating him more as a pet mouse than anything that hummed and stood on his tiptoes to push the front of his forehead into her palm. He kept the mystery representative on the offensive, shooting her reasonable explanations of why the Sports Festival will continue without additional support from the air. 

Makima made him throw All-Might and Endeavor’s name in for good effect and it quickly muzzled the insistent woman on the other side of the call. 

“With those two, our event will be the safest there ever is in this city. You have nothing to fear.” He calmly said, pacing back to his desk, hopping up into a large chair and reaching for a cup of tea. 

“No, no, Hawks won’t be needed. Mtn. Lady will be providing on-site surveillance alongside Death Arms and Kamui Woods.” 

“No choice…? He’s already on his way?” Nedzu’s beady eyes shot a wary glance towards Makima’s way.  “Oh dear. Well, I suppose the people do like an up and coming Pro to be a representation of the next generation.” “If it eases the committee then I guess I will concede just this once. Oh, yes! Ha-ha! We’ll have him give a show for the half-time portion of the games.”

The call ended and Nedzu sighed, taking a sip of his coffee and shivered when Makima’s fingers scratched his chin. “I couldn’t shake them off. They got awfully insistent that Hawks be present for ‘air-survelliance’ if you could believe it.” 

“Mmm… Sounds more like a plant than anything for their eyes and ears. Give him that half-time warm-up regime before the tournament rounds begin. It’ll wear him out. I need the skies clear of any would-be flying Pro Heroes.”

“And what of Aizawa? Present Mic would no doubt catch on immediately since, if you’re not aware, the two are very good friends. Those types tend to catch on quickly if they see even the slightest bit of difference in attitudes or mannerisms.” 

“He’ll do his part, you have no need to worry. But you on the other hand,” Her fingers deftly went behind his ear, offering the sensitive spot a few generous scritches. “Will continue to be a wonderful figurehead, won’t you?”

Nezu sighed dreamily and nodded. “Of course! Anything to ensure you bring absolute bliss to this event.”

“Mmm, good. Have you gotten what I wanted?”

“To take care of Cementoss…?” The rodent flinched at her quick glance shot his way. “Ha, I wish I could be of use, but alas what you ask of me is nigh on impossible to achieve. Your shooter, wherever they’ll be in the crowd, will have to make the shot of their life to temporarily ease him out of the final portion of the game.”

“Is he a fan of beverages, foods, or snacks perhaps?” She asked, sitting on the edge of his desk.

“Well, he is very fond of manju.” Nedzu shook his head and sipped more at his mug of tea. “But he’d never eat it during the games. Only on breaks.” 

“That’s perfect. When will he go on those?”

“Only after each section of the games are finished.”

“Then have him take a mandatory break with the others during the commercial breaks and such.”

“I understand Mr. Ishiyama is a great obstacle to your well-crafted mission, but are you certain he is critical to it? Can’t I simply ask him to be stationed outside and have another teacher sub in for him?”

“No. Cementoss is too big of an obstacle to be pushed to the outside of the stadium. He’d simply use his quirk to counter an acquaintance of mine’s own ability when given the chance. I need him out of the game completely.”

“The other teachers will notice if I ask him to be removed or sent off somewhere when he’s been the referee for several games prior. We can’t take out an old guard just like that.”

“You know… For a rodent, you’re being awfully bold in telling me ‘no’ in an intellectual manner.”

“I’m simply offering a valuable insight into your goals. A grand plan can’t be grand if it doesn’t have valid criticisms or leaks that ought to be fixed.”

“Then we’ll just have to go with the manju option. Make sure he’s there at the breakroom. Insist on him getting a break if he so much as refuses.”  Their conversation quickly ended when the door opened and the two saw a very exasperated Toshinori Yagi trudge in and plop himself into the soft leather of a couch in the Principal’s office.

“We talking of breaks, huh?” He said tiredly, smiling at her and offering a brief wave to Nezu. Her being froze just lightly at that all-too familiar scent wafting up her nose: A fruity note of kiwi and dash of peppermint.

She couldn’t forget it even if she tried to. 

There he was - that skeletal man dressed in a navy blue suit and white business shirt layered underneath with matching pants and black dress shoes. 

‘Don’t bottle up your emotions.’ That note he’d given her a long time ago popped up into her mind. 

He’d hugged her - a hug so free of malice, ulterior motives, and lust - that it seemed alien. Nobody hugs anybody without expecting something in return. Nobody did. Not ever in this world or the next. 

And yet….

That ugly, sliver of a pitiful feeling began welling up in her chest, threatening to rise up her throat. 

“Why yes,” Makima adjusted her glasses, standing straighter and reaching for her clipboard of menial detective tasks she’s assigned herself. “It is my first Sports Festival, and the Principal here’s just telling me of how hard-working Cementoss gets in-between rounds.”

“Hah. Yeah, he focuses on that type of stuff.” He leaned forward, resting his palms on his knees. “Hey, get this, Endeavor’s wanting some of the guys to sweep the rounds in shorter intervals. Says he saw some suspicious characters the other day with Burnin’. Wants to be extra cautious because of it.”

Makima’s eyes narrowed at that new bit of information. “Since when was that a thing?”

“I don’t know, but he’s really into the whole Control Killer shtick since Tsukauchi’s invited him along into the case.” He looked around, peering past Hayakawa’s form. “Speaking of which, where is the guy? Thought he’d be wringing Nezu here dry of more security measures.”

“He said he’ll be here shortly; said he’d take care of some last minute things at the station.”

“Huh… Well, I was hoping he’d be around so I can ask him about something.” The man shrugged and groaned upon rising up from his seat. “I thought I could talk to Nezu in private, if I could, Ms. Hayakawa?” He scratched his head, hoping she’d agree.

“Sure. Take all the time you need. I’ll go and see what Endeavor’s doing.” She did a quick bow and left them, eager to leave and let that awful feeling die down in her chest. 

“My thanks. Talk to ya later, Ms Hayakawa.” He smiled lightly and gave her a wave before pulling up a chair to Nezu’s desk.

Makima would simply ask Nezu later on what Toshinori was asking about if it was about Tsukauchi’s absence or any suspicion on his part. Ensure nothing out of the ordinary had slipped from yesterday’s mishap.

After all, Giran knew better than to squeak out any details. 

“You can do this; you made a promise to her.” Shinso whispered to himself as slapped his cheeks hard and cupped a bit of cool water from the sink, splashing it into his face. 

The cold provided a brief comfort when the heat in his cheeks finally died down, allowing the tremors in his hands to still. It was happening again. That weird anxiety attack of his as he clutched at his heart, pushing his back up against the navy blue lockers behind him.  

Those horrific nightmares he’d told her about kept popping in and out of his vision. Brief flashes of two random people inside his own home dead and brutalized; a muscular woman punching him endlessly in a dark room; a kitchen floor sullied by copious amounts of blood that wasn’t his own. 

Deep breathes. Deep breaths…. Just like Ms. Makima told you to do. They’re just nightmares. They’re not real.

The thought of her smile and soothing voice - those kind hugs helped build up a warmth inside his stomach. When he’d close his eyes, all he could think and see was Ms. Makima. If it wasn’t for her, he’d not have made it past the exams; the physical tests; the anxiety attacks; everything was thanks to her. 

He can’t let her down now! Not now when she’s the one who’s asking for a favor! In return, he’d get more hugs; more affirmations; more affection; more attention; more praise; more appreciation.

The episode finally died down and he breathed out a shaky sigh of relief. He took another deep, slow breath before swinging the door open. 

His breath shuddered at the thought of it. Shinso couldn’t handle it anymore! His heart ached in homesickness - he briskly walked back to his assigned locker, searching for his canvas bag and unzipping it for his phone. 

Opening it, he’d see the lockscreen he’d kept at bay from her eyes; a picture he’d taken of Ms. Makima. She always told him not to have pictures of her real features; only ones of her Hayakawa identity. But she just seemed more reliable and beautiful in her natural hair color. 

He’d taken it in secret - the only frame of her seen through an ajar door - her red hair cascading around her shoulders as it was let down from its braid; her loose white business shirt’s hem hanging over the upper half of her creamy thighs which had been freed from her slacks; long luscious legs free of any blemishes; her yellow eyes staring at something in her own room. 

But what made it so special was how happy she looked at the wall in this photo. He dared not to tread inside, fearing admonishment. He respected her privacy…! He’d never betray her trust. Never.

But it pricked at his heart when she’d brought along some stray. Someone who seemed way too pitiful and useless to her. The thought that she let that girl get to bask in attention and love as she points to photographs on the wall. 

Those weekends made his entire being fill with something he’d never felt before. A feeling he never experienced with anybody. 

Jealousy. 

It bothered him.

That girl, whose name he never cared to learn, clung to Ms. Makima’s thigh like it was her lifeline. The way Makima petted her head and said sweet things to her. What made her so special? What made her so great to be held and picked up in Ms. Makima’s arms?! 

Shinso’s fists clenched into his palms, his nails digging into flesh in anger. 

Yet he wondered if it were pictures of him. A surge of joy jolted through his entire spine at the thought. He loved Makima, he really did. She’s done everything and anything for him. Shinso felt nothing but gratitude for the woman who went leaps and bounds to ensure he’d be happy. 

It was his turn, though. His turn to repay the favor with this monumental task of reaching the tournament portion of the festival. 

He turned the phone off, waiting for the screen to fade to black before placing it back into his back. Today was just the start - he’d race off against others. 

Avoid the robots, keep his quirk under wraps, and don’t bring too much attention to himself. Shinso could do that. No, he will do it! With Makima’s eyes and dreams riding on his back, he can’t fail. Not ever. 

He dug his fingers into his palms though, a migraine forming into his head, wanting to spread another false memory to life. It didn’t happen. None of it did. 

Makima made him who he is today. Shino owed everything to that woman. He’d do anything to make sure she smiled genuinely by the end of this. 

Shinso repeated his mantra to himself, manifesting his predetermined destiny to help Makima attain her dream. 

Do it for her, Shinso. Do it for Makima.

Chapter Text

Splashing water onto his face soothed the growing heat accumulating inside Giran’s noggin. His nose was clotted with snot; tears have since dried up; 

He looked at the reflection his bathroom mirror provided - baggy eyes, a heavier stubble settling in around his chin and cheeks, and bloodshot eyes. For the first time in forever, he’d broken down to tears while in bed last night. 

How could he not…? He managed to narrowly escape death with a slap to the wrist and the most insane lapdance he’d ever gotten in his life from Makima at that internet cafe.  His situation was completely and utterly hopeless. There was no way out this time; he couldn’t hack or bribe his way out of it this time. 

He sat back down with a loud groan, plopping into the sinking leather of his couch, its cool texture molding to his lower back. Giran’s hands reached for a half-drunken glass of bourbon, gulping the remnant down with an exhale as he stared ahead at the evidence board he’d scrounged up with Asuka and Tsukauchi’s findings.

To the left, Tsukauchi had a variety of theories regarding how Makima’s quirks worked thanks to that Rabbit Hero’s witness accounts to him. Some spanned into potential workarounds to the quirks exhibited.

He leaned forward, eyes glued to the wall of the findings - each one an intricate puzzle that leads to more puzzles. Tsukauchi’s handwriting suggested he’d done these on the spot with the Rabbit Hero’s words. 

Things like cooldown limits to Makima's abilities - an opening for a swift takedown by a quick hero. Other ideas pulled to sedation and knock-out gas, which shows the Detective wasn’t too far off the mark from what the Yakuza had tried.

But the biggest find that Tsukauchi figured out with Mirko’s words had to be the fact that Makima, the sole proprietor of Giran’s night terrors, couldn’t control everyone. Giran had a hysterical laugh session about it. 

She couldn’t control absolutely everything. She has a limit. She has a weakness.

With these findings and proof through Makima’s interactions with Mirko and All-Might at the USJ incident, it all made clear sense. Why couldn’t she just nab the biggest buck and call it a day? Why beat around the bush and dally about while Shigaraki’s goons did all the heavy lifting?

It’s because she had no cards to play besides being a parasite. A literal tapeworm that latches onto opportune moments that’re presented to her. But, in her case at the USJ, no such opportunity came. 

Giran stood back up to stare at Tsukauchi’s ideas of why Makima couldn’t control certain people. The notes pasted to bullet points and venn diagrams. He leaned forward, reading one that always caught his attention.

“Could the subject’s quirk be a sub-genre of Shinso Hitoshi’s quirk - in that it only works under certain predetermined conditions. Compared to Hitoshi’s quirk, in which he must have opponents respond to his words, could the Control Killer operate in the same manner?”

Below that note another read out the now dead Detective’s findings. 

“With Mirko and All-Might’s first-hand encounters, they felt no sensation wash over them or headaches. They have maintained constant eye-contact with the subject yet did not adhere to their quirk. Subject has also talked to them on several occasions during their bouts and have replied, but to no avail, they were not put under hypnosis nor a strong urge to obey subject’s commands.” 

The next note was quickly written in; Tsukauchi’s handwriting quicker and less legible. Almost as if he’d thought of it on the spot or after a recent find.

“Two men whom I’ve recently interviewed shared unique findings that I find utterly appalling and unique to the subject's quirk. When asked why they did the things they did, they blushed or acted bashful about the one controlling them. Vehemently denying any part of shooting their fellow Yakuza to the point they began resorting to violence. Goro had to handle it from there.”

Giran, however, saw the latter half of this note to be most interesting. Hell, having this in his last safehouse that wasn’t compromised, felt like forbidden knowledge. But, Tsukauchi…. He may have been a lovestruck idiot, but a damn well smart lovestruck idiot all the more.  

“I deduce that the subject is capable of holding limited control over their memory - diluting and remolding it to be a sort of leading figure in their psyche. Similar in the way an Alpha Wolf herds over its lesser kin. But with this finding, could it be possible, even how outlandish of a prerequisite it sounds, that the subject must view their targets as lesser than themselves in order to work?”

Giran wanted to punch the note and burn it at first, thinking how stupid of a theory it was, but… it sounded plausible. Like a potential lead to a never-ending loop of mysterious webs. 

“With the idea of a superbly strong prerequisite, it supports my argument that the Control Killer cannot control others she deems mighty or equal. Is that the reason why I am unable to be affected? I can’t toot my own horn and call my intellect strong, but if it has cemented the leading Detective as untouchable to one of the most dangerous quirks this world has ever seen, then it is something I have to include in my findings.”

“After extensive talks with Mirko and All-Might, I have to conclude that this theory of mine has sustenance. Mirko, agile and unwavering in the face of defeat, struck blows with the Control Killer and came out alive. Angered at a thwart in their plan, the Control Killer tries to silence Mirko with a quick assassination while she lay in bed recuperating her wounds.”

“Additional findings suggested that Shoto Todoroki, Enji’s boy, also had a run-in with the subject. Although he was subjected to the quirk, he had said he’d not been under control prior to it for a moment in time. Further questioning yielded that he saw the Control Killer as another common thug amidst the USJ incident trying to get a name for themselves. However, after being beaten by their air-bullet quirk, the Control Killer retained the idea that Todoroki was lesser than them. Does this mean if the subject cannot control a victim at first, they simply have to win a fight in order to gain hold over their minds?” 

But that couldn’t be right - Giran wasn’t put under control after being thoroughly whipped by Makima during their talk at that internet cafe. Did he fall under that blanket of being immune then…? Is that why she can’t control him or is she just stringing him along with humiliation? 

Giran couldn’t exactly test this theory on the only chance from a dead man’s notes, but they gave actual reasons to what could be how Makima’s quirks work. It was a bet worth taking and god damn it all to hell did he wanna find out before he’s six feet under like Tsukuachi.

The Sports Festival… It’s my only alleyway to seeing it firsthand. To see if she can control other Pro Heroes or such. 

Giran hastily pulled open a notepad that had once been Tsukauchi’s - its pages scribbled in with so many useless old cases until he finally reached the final few pages. In it had been a list of Tsukauchi’s gambles of who she can and cannot control based on this ‘superiority’ theory of his.

“From what I’ve surmised, I am positive All-Might is untouchable to the Control Killer’s quirk. His newest protege had confirmed the attempt of control via chains proved useless to One For All. My next hopeful bet on this theory is through Endeavor. If Mirko had physically beaten the Control Killer, I’d like to see how a Pro Hero of equal might and strength, who hasn’t seen or beaten said subject, is just as immune to this mind-control as the previous two are.” 

With this preset template, Giran wanted to confirm Tsukauchi’s theory. The man had done the heavy lifting for the most part with extensive research and resources, but it’s without a doubt that Makima caught whiff of the Detective’s sniffing and decided to nip it in the bud. She’d forsaken the ‘play pretend’ motive and went in to eliminate what could be the downfall of her intricately made plan.

Giran prayed this Sports Festival would become a sham and she’d be swarmed in by the Pro Heroes. 

For now though… 

He went in to go get his suit and tie from the walk-in wardrobe he’d installed in years ago - readying himself up to dance with the devil for the last time, to see if Tsukauchi’s parting theory could help stop whatever Makima has planned. 

Giran kept to himself most of the time, keeping his cool and sat around in the Stadium’s bar lounge, sipping another G&T idly. It tasted more like a liquid athlete’s foot swishing in his mouth, but he didn’t care. Anything to get his mind off the current predicament. 

His foot tapped the cold concrete flooring beneath him. The gesture itself caused a slight wobble to his unsteady bistro-style metal chair he was on. It had no back rest, much to his unfortunate pool of bad luck.

The television behind the bar counter offered a glimpse of the various sponsorships for the Sports Festival before the main event would go underway. A bunch of hogwash to him, though a few elderly men drinking away their sorrows looked intrigued by a few of the brand new SUVS and trucks treading through snow and mud like it was nothing. 

Part of him still wanted to rebel, but what was the point? This theory of Tsukauchi’s might be a bust and he’d be back to the drawing board or in a coffin. He’s been outclassed, just like Tsukauchi had been. There wouldn’t be any feasible way of stopping what’s going to happen. But with how Makima treated him lately; calling favor after favor; demanding this and that, Giran was stretching thin on things. 

His old contacts have long since ceased talking to him with Makima on the steering wheel of his operations. She’d cut him off from any form of support or aid like some sort of a possessive spouse! It’s getting superbly ridiculous at this point. 

He couldn’t do anything without Makima knowing about it. If he’d even try to contact Kurogiri, Makima would ensure he’d not even breathe out a cry of help when she crushes him to paste. He had to lone-wolf it from here on out. 

Giran was a poor player; strutting and fretting his hour on a rickety stage until he would be cast aside and no longer heard of. A forgotten afterthought to be seen as a supporting accomplice to the main big bad… He could see the ridiculous documentary already. Complete with an actor who will portray him and his style horrifically. 

At the rate things are going, his usefulness as an informational broker and collector of contacts would be seen as unneeded. Makima could just take what she wanted and he’d just have to be at her beck and call. 

But what could he do against a force like Makima - a woman of many talents and carefully webbed lies? Strong-arming the situation like the Yakuza had attempted did absolutely nothing to her. Neither did the threat of a bomb in her neck. She just tore it out and regenerated! 

But sedation and possibly even stuns are what will be her only achilles heal in this silent rebellion. There had to be other people out there who loathe Makima as much as he did. It wouldn’t hurt to try and sniff around.

Giran would have to figure out something though - the impending doom of whatever’s going to happen here is looming overhead the people of Musutafu. But he had Tsukauchi’s notes and the man’s theory. 

It was a gigantic dilemma of which he had to choose: Be a hero and likely die in the process or choose himself first and foremost to live another day at the expense of what could be hundreds of lives? 

He was likely the only person who knew what Makima’s powers were now that Tsukauchi was gone. 

No one else would pick up the mantle of responsibility that was investigating Makima's enigmatic background. Sir Nighteye or Endeavour may be possible candidates. They were investigators in their own right. One was mightily known as one of the best in taking down large crime operations; the other a man of the future with his ability of foresight. 

They were his only options, and if he had to pick between the two it would have to be Sir Nighteye. Foresight sounded really helpful right about now. 

Giran took another awful swig of the G&T and looked up at the giant plasma screen television behind the bar counter - showcasing some green-haired kid flying above the others with a green metal plate in a desperate bout to get ahead in the first game of the Sports Festival.

Makima’s sleeper agent is hidden among them - that Shinso Hitoshi… Is he like me? Trapped against a wall like some mouse pleading for help.

He couldn’t make out the many faces and heads of the students trailing behind in some sort of dirty patch of land filled to the brim with what the announcer described as a minefield. Non-lethal he said. Hah, a non-lethal minefield. Silly idea for a school intended to train the next generation. 

Giran closed his eyes, weighing that dilemma in his noggin. 

To live another day with immense guilt surrounding his soul at every corner?  The idea made him feel nauseous with anxiety. Then again, any sane person in his shoes would choose to live as well. Giran was completely justified in saving his own skin. 

Nobody would hear of his heroic sacrifice. Nor would anyone dig deep to discover he’s at the forefront of wanting to save people’s lives. All they’d see is a washed-up criminal going soft. They’d barely bat an eye at his name, so why should he sacrifice himself for people who wouldn’t care to know who he was?  

Why was he stuck with this stupid moral dilemma?! Why couldn’t this giant bag of issues be tossed to someone more qualified? More good-hearted? 

The other path would be to choose redemption at the cost of no thanks or acknowledgement. Nobody would know of his deeds. He’d only be doing this to help himself and his pride as a man. 

Makima’s caused irreparable damage to the city and its people. All of this wanton chaos caused in part because of his foolish trust in the woman. Had he never interacted with her - given her the keys to the beating heart of Musutafu’s Police Force and its Detective, things might’ve gone differently. 

Should he choose that righteous path to do some good to himself and the people of this city he’d helped destroy, Giran would assuredly die. Of that he was certain. 

There had to be somebody here worth telling about what’s about to go down at the Festival. Anyone with a heart of pure intentions and justice. Someone who doesn’t have Makima’s tongue wiggling in their ears. 

He had a head start of her abilities, but nothing of her goals or ideas. Random killings, involving a U.A. kid into the mix, dipping her toes and probably her whole ass into the underworld… She was a wildcard of extreme proportions. 

A regeneration quirk of epic scale that 'd make anyone worth their salt green with envy. Several rolls of footage detailing it had been analyzed many times over. It was fast, near instantaneous, and seemed to not tire her out one bit. 

What factors contributed to that ability? 

Did she have to consume a whole lot of food or energy in order to maintain a high-demanding quirk like that? Even the best healing quirks in the world couldn’t match that speed. The best in Musutafu currently was an old hag working with the U.A. staff, and even she had limits to what she could and couldn’t heal. 

The next had to be that air-bullet of hers - a devastator of an ability that would rival actual weapons made by I-Island gadgets. Recalling the CCTV’s from a fight Makima had with Mirko and some witness accounts from the Rabbit Hero herself, he managed to nab off the old Detective’s computer and confirmed she had three quirks in her arsenal. 

Mind control, regeneration, and an invisible bullet made of highly pressurized air of some sort. No, scratch that - four quirks…

His mind went to what had happened to Asuka and the fact such a quirk exists makes him believe Makima’s some secret super soldier bred by an unknown nation. That conclusion is the most likelist of his theories.

A super soldier bred for one purpose alone: causing chaos within a nation. He’d read up on some conspiracy theories from other concerned citizens on Webbit of what Makima, or in the clueless case of these people, the Control Killer, came from.

Some said she’s also a failed super-soldier from a foreign government, which he assumed had to be the case. 

Others clamored that she’s the offspring of the once powerful All For One super villain - the man with many quirks. A demon lord’s spawn coming back to finish what that man started. A plausible theory that Giran gave thought to. 

Though, judging how Kurogiri and Shigaraki reacted to this woman, there was no amicability between the three. So, it was safe to say she wasn’t that. Otherwise she’d have been an ally for the League of Villains from day one.

A small few argued she’s a superbly lucky case of quirk genetics. They drew their conclusions from the fact that quirk marriages happen around the world, and Makima may be the result of it. It made some sense to him. Someone wanted to pull an Endeavour and struck gold with Makima’s four quirks. 

But, the people on Webbit didn’t know that. They assumed the mind control quirk had been combined with some long-distance quirk as well. Was that how it worked? Did she need sight of people? 

Then there were the downright absurd shouting down the sub-webbits claiming Makima is a savior - freeing people of their suffering through the suicides and mass-murders. These commenters likely stemmed from the Control Killer’s fanclub. A devout following of people who believed Makima’s cause, however wild and random it may be, to be just and divine.

The way they flooded every news article with comments and denials made them sound more like a cult than anything. Those idiots claimed Makima to be an angel in disguise - choosing at random who to send to the heavens. 

More like hell, he thought. Who in their right mind looks at a grisly scene Makima would make and think to themselves that it would be worth following? 

Giran was the only man alive to have such extensive knowledge of Makima’s abilities, and if he dies, the Pro Heroes and Musutafu itself would be left to that devil of a woman’s machinations. 

He would most certainly die if he rebelled. Makima would guarantee it and be the executioner holding the axe to his head. But if it meant he’d see a frown or an expression of anger across her face, it sounded all the more worth it. 

Death hung over his head though with these outlandish thoughts. It made his heart pound like a wardrum that settled into his own ears. A sinking feeling welled up into the pit of his stomach. Everything about wanting to fight back sounded downright terrifying. He could die if he betrayed her again.

He’d gotten one chance to be back on Makima’s good side after that encounter in the internet cafe. A slap to the wrist and a firm reminder of who he should bark for. 

The fact a man of his reputation would be doing that didn’t sound good. Not for himself or any of the people he’d call friends. 

Giran shouldn’t be lying around like a beat up hound waiting for his next abusive order. No, no, no.

Speaking of friends…

He saw Jin Bubaigawra amidst the crowd and spotted him at the bar, giving a brief wave and began to settle next to him on the same wobbly chair with a tired groan. The same kind of dopey look he’d see on anyone who would even be in cahoots with Makima. He was out of his costume - dressed in a simple blue collared shirt damp with sweat over a white tank top with run-of-the-mill blue jeans and boots. 

An ordinary disguise that would keep him anonymous should things go awry. What made it eerie about the guy was Jin’s clashing bouts of madness looked to be gone. 

Jin immediately found it appropriate to begin spouting nonsense about how great of a person Makima was to him, as if he hadn’t seen first hand how much of a demon that woman is. 

But this was his chance. His one chance that cannot be floundered. He leaned closer, hoping some semblance of Jin was still there to trust.

“Just tell me what you’re doing. From one old friend to another–”

Jin formed an x gesture with his arms and shook his head fast. “No can do, buddy! I’m under strict orders to keep a tight lip as per Ms. Makima’s requests! She just has me doing her alibi and that’s all you’re gonna get outta me!” He laughed, sipping a cold beer he’d ordered himself.

“Not even a bit on where she’s actually at? Give me that; I want to be…” He struggled to say the words. “ Useful to her.” 

Jin perked up, his hands slamming to his own cheeks. “Really?! You’d wanna help out? She’d really appreciate it. Well, I’d just have to let her–”

Giran gripped Jin’s wrist, stopping the man from calling the devil herself. “Just let her know later. Probably too much of a hassle with how big security is here.” He didn’t dare to tell Jin that he was trying to use the man’s misguided loyalty to try and pull one last daring move. One more thing to crack what the hell Makima’s up to. 

If he could solve it in record time, he’d be able to minimize some of the damage here. He really shouldn’t, but he wasn’t going to go out like Tsukauchi did.  And if he can get Jin and his old life back, then all the more reason to go through with this dastardly plan.

“You’re right… Hah! Stupid of me. Well, she’s currently out of the stadium; my body double is acting as her by Principal Nezu.”

“Any idea where she’s at?” He had to hide his glimmer of hope from Jin’s eyes. To look as nonchalant as possible. 

“Hmm… Either trying to find the staff break room or tending to something else.” Jin hummed, trying hard to remember, his face scrunching up. “Gah… I wish Makima was here to hold me again. It helps the voices stop.”

“Yeah…? Me too… She’ll, uh…” He patted Jin’s back, “Be there for ya. Thanks for the info. For Makima’s sake.”

“It’s Ms. Makima, dude. Get with the program.” Jin corrected him, a ferocious glare forming on the man’s brow.

“Right… My bad.” Giran barked out a laugh for Jin, patting him on the back and rising from that god awful barstool. “Ms. Makima. Yeah, yeah. I’ll remember that.” 

Whatever was in front of him wasn’t the Jin Bubaigawara he had come to bond and smoke with. That man was gone. 

Toshinori’s phone continued to ring for Tsukauchi to no avail. It made him slightly worry about if the guy was okay, or if that date night between the Detective and Hayakawa went awry. The way she addressed his absence felt cold and quick like the woman didn’t want to share more. 

Was Tsukauchi’s chance at the date shot down? It sounded like the only plausible scenario to have the man too sullen to leave his own home, or the Police Station for that matter. 

“I have other things to worry about - mainly about young Midoriya. I suppose I’ll just call after the first race is over.” Toshinori told himself, grasping at his face with slight worry for his old friend. 

If it wasn’t Tsukauchi’s absence, then it had to be his growing anxiety over Midoriya’s progress in this festival. He’d hoped with all his being that his protege would make it to the finals - to show them his hard-earned progress. 

But the kid’s been doing his own research into that Control Killer. He wasn’t the only one either. A majority of Aizawa’s class chirped their own speculations and plans of justice dealt to the woman who caused a great scene against the USJ. 

He and Aizawa had to make firm reminders that vigilante ideals wouldn’t fly at U.A., nor would any attempts of going out to brazenly try to challenge one of the most wanted villains this city’s seen since All For One. 

Though… A part of him still wondered if the woman he met that day on the beach and the one at USJ were the same person, or if someone horrific had happened to make her go down that path. Most would clamor for her to be sent to Tartarus, or even sent to the chair, and he wouldn’t argue no more. 

The woman was too far gone - any chance of a reasonable talk may prove futile with how twisted she’s become. And yet… a part of him yearned to talk more to her - understand her and figure out why she’s the way she is. 

Because the woman at that beach told him she was lonely and that the one thing she so heartily desires is gone. He didn’t mean to pry further after hugging her and letting her go, seeing that she seemed too emotional to share any more details. 

Was it a lover…? A friend…? Was the maniac chaos she’s caused a way to lash out against the world in misguided fury? 

Toshinori didn’t know, and he feared he’d have to face her again with all his strength. For the sake of the people he’s sworn to protect with the final dredges of One For All. He looked at his palm and clenched at it. 

His fists would have to deliver swift justice and haul her to Tartaraus. 

Toshinori sighed heavily and knocked on the door in front of him, being let into a small breakroom to find Detective Hayakawa fixing up herself a black coffee. She turned to face him with an expression of surprise, her eyebrows risen and her mouth slightly agape. Next to her was his fiery and brooding classmate Enji Todoroki - ablaze with silent anger as he towered over the lithe Detective.

The man let out a click in his tongue, glaring down into Hayakawa’s own eyes. “I’d like it if you didn’t dodge my requests. We are supposed to be working together.”

“That we are, Endeavour, but Tokoyami is under a lot of pressure. His mental state isn’t in the right mode for us to question him extensively. I’m sure Detective Tsukauchi would tell you the same thing.”

“No, he wouldn’t. He told me that everything at the station was at our full disposal.” Endeavor quickly retorted. “Where is he by the way? I’d rather talk to someone of actual competence around here instead of dancing around a request that should be given readily.” He peered over her shoulder, pretending to look around for a non-existent Tsukauchi.

“Again, Tokoyami–”

Toshinori pushed in, placing a hand onto Endeavor’s shoulder in his All-Might form and smiling happily. “May I ask you to not deepen things so woefully, old friend? We’re all in the same boat, so let’s not make quick enemies at a Festival now.”

Endeavor glared his way, rolling his eyes and pushing off, shoulder-bumping him as he made his way to the door, casting one last glance over his shoulder. “Tch… I do want to interview Tokoyami at some point, Detective. I care not for summarizations from old interviews. I want a face-to-face talk to see if we can learn anything else.” He slammed the door shut, leaving him alone with Hayakawa.

Turning with a tired sigh, Hayakawa faced him and sipped her black coffee.“All-Might, sir. I’d have expected you to be watching the games.” She said with a cough. “Though I do appreciate the save. Endeavor is a bit too insistent on wanting to solve a months-long case in record time at a Sports Festival of all things.”

“Sounds harsh. I’ll make sure he keeps his distance if he bothers you again.” He gave a thumbs up. He can’t have Endeavor spooking the only other Detective here. “And… Could you go easy on my buddy Tsukauchi? He’s a good man.”

Hayakawa’s eyes cast downward and he felt like he’d struck a nerve. Crap, not what he meant. “Uhh, I just mean to be easy on him when it comes to workloads. He’s a hardworking man is all I meant. Apologies.” He tugged on his business shirt’s collar, feeling the air get a bit hot and nerve-wracking. He gulped and looked anywhere but at Hayakawa’s face. 

“I ought to get back to the seating, make sure everything is in order!” He bowed, thinking the atmosphere got tense and quickly left. 

Way to go, Toshinori… Tsukauchi might reprimand me for interfering. 

He made a beeline to the elevator leading up to the main arena, hiding out near the interior of the stadium’s vomitorium - where most athletes, or in this case, students, would enter and leave the main stage. 

Toshinori could hear the interluding music playing to accompany the team-making process while the fans and families watched with bated breath. Food and drinks wafted down below to where he was, making his stomach grumble with hunger. Corndogs, beer, lemonades, all of it made it hard to not leave the vomitorium to go and grab a bite. 

Hearing Hizazshi Yamada’s boisterous comments and explanations leading up to the newest challenge Izuku Midoriya would have to face: A classic game of Calvary Battle. 

He could only hope Izuku would be okay in finding adequate partners. Teamwork made the dream work so they say.

“Ms. Hayakawa, woof. We’ve scoured everything to your exact wordings and have found that Endeavor is indeed sniffing too deeply, woof.” 

Makima’s eyes narrowed at that, pinching the bridge of her nose and having to hide her frown behind the clipboard she’s been carrying around. 

That Enji Todoroki proves to be a constant new thorn in her side, especially now of all times. But, none of his interference would do much thankfully. She followed Chief Kenji to the interior of the trusty Police Station she’s come to see as a more comfortable second home. 

The officers and supporting work force within all stood and waved at her with unabashed loyalty. They smiled and swooned when she waved back with a curt smile. All of them were hers to mold and order. 

She continued to follow Chief Kenji through the twisting sharp turns of the hallways leading to the cells deeper within the station. Prisoners clamored and cussed; others cried and moaned; few whistled and catcalled. 

The cells were made of solid cement courtesy of Cementoss and the bars made of a special alloy that not even metal-manipulating quirk users could use. Toward the far right corner would lead to a huddled up Tokoyami Fumikage. He looked up with hope and sighed. “Am I finally free to go…?”

The young bird-teen’s eyes widened as Hayakawa unlocked his cell and stepped in, locking the door behind her. “Get the sheets, if you will, Chief Kenji?” She asked, smiling at the obedient overgrown dog-man.

“Of course, Ms. Hayakawa, woof.” Tokoyami’s eyes widened in shock and anxiety. 

This didn’t make sense… Detective Tsukauchi said he’d be released a few days prior to the Sports Festival! Where was he?

“If I may…” Tokoyami tried to look for the man outside of the cell but he was nowhere to be seen. “Where’s Detective Tsukauchi? I’ve been meaning to speak to him.”

Detective Hayakawa laughed and shook her head, pushing him to sit onto his janky spring-coiled bed. “You’re so well spoken for a young man, you know. I’d have expected a more resilient or loud type of outburst, but you’ve been remarkably quiet.”

Her hand trailed over his shoulder, then to his nape, gently massaging the flesh under his feathered head. It made his eyes flutter and he pulled back, suspicious at the clearly inappropriate contact. “I’d rather speak to Detective Tsukauchi if that’s fine with you.”

“I’m afraid Detective Tsukauchi is not available. You see,” This odd Detective, scooched closer to him, her thigh brushing against his. He immediately scooted away, wanting to create distance between himself and this… touchy woman. 

She leaned forward, continuing her words. “I’d much rather take over your case and solve it to the best of my ability. Take care of what Tsukauchi can’t handle at the moment. To ensure you get out of here without a tarnished thought to your name and reputation.” 

“I still insist on speaking with Detective Tsukauchi. I’ve a right to an attorney, and–” His beak got shut by her fingers, making his eyes widen in incredulous disbelief. 

She cupped his chin and tilted it upwards to have eye-to-eye contact. “Everything I am about to do is for the sake of a better future, and you will be a wonderful factor into it.” 

Her eyes closed and she shook her head as if recalling something. “You see, if I hadn’t decided to come to you, I’d have to force my hand.”

“Pardon….?” Tokoyami pulled back, his eyes widening as the Detective’s hair turned to red and he backed up against the wall as much as the wall allowed. Dark Shadow, sensing the danger, rose out of his stomach to protect, albeit, with a whimper of its own. “ You… ”

“So you do remember me. Mmm, I figured you and Koda were the ones to see my face the most during the USJ attack. I’ve left you on the back burner for the longest time that I almost forgot what you smelled like.” 

“You’d make more innocents kill themselves if you didn’t come to me…”

“You catch on quick.” The Control Killer said with a smile that lacked any remorse. “I was almost going to, but then I remembered something about your quirk. It’s not exactly… yours to use, is it?” 

Not answering her, the woman continued, eying his stomach where Dark Shadow lay in wait. “It’s a sentient quirk. Which means…. It occasionally doesn’t listen to you.”

Not answering seemed the best option. He’d hoped it would deter her from more.

“I’ll take your silence as confirmation then.”

“You had Koda testify against me…” Tokoyami changed topics with fists clenched. He remembered being served to court to only see the only other witness to what happened at USJ point to him and accuse him of murdering those thugs. It was rigged. 

“You’re her. The Control Killer.” He rushed past her, ignoring how she didn’t even stop him. He cried out to Chief Kenji in hopes of getting aid. “Hey! The Control Killer!” His voice went hoarse, he’d screamed louder than he’d ever done.  

Nothing but cackles, cries, and whimpers were heard outside his cell. He heard the jangle of keys and hope blossomed into his heart and Dark Shadow. “Finally…! Chief Kenji - please, this woman is–”

Tokoyami’s eyes fell to the men beside Chief Kenji - giant black sheets that he’d see for blotting out the sun and any other form of natural light. “Chief Kenji…?”

“The sheets, as you’ve requested, Ms. Hayakawa, woof.” The dog-man said, not at all batting an eye to the helpless bird teen. The Control Killer chuckled at the pitiful sight. He’d hoped to have been saved by justice, or through the aid of some police officer.

“Thank you, Kenji. Get them over our cell if you will? I need a darker environment for our helper today.” The other two officers nodded and began to drape the cell bars with the dark fabric, the daylight of freedom being blotted out and he felt Dark Shadow rumble within his stomach. A low growl and whine. 

“They’re all under your control…” He turned back, Dark Shadow growing bigger. “I won’t have this. If the Police Force is corrupt, I’ve no choice!” Tokoyami trusted Dark Shadow to plunge forward, using its abyssal strength to push the Control Killer away, but instead it stopped. 

Impossible - Dark Shadow always–

He got suddenly jerked to the left, pinned to the wall, driving the air out of his lungs and causing his eyes to bulge out of his sockets. The pain was searing throughout his entire body. Hot warmth flooded into him. Everything felt like a gigantic pressure had been applied to his solar plexus, but all that kept him pinned was a simple pale hand of the Control Killer.

“Dark Shadow… Don’t you feel how lovely this darkness is?” The Control Killer knelt down, talking to his quirk directly, purring into its abyssal flesh. “Isn’t it just awful how you’re the one doing all the work while this kid reaps the benefits? He sits there, idle, while you take the damage. It must be infuriating.”

Dark Shadow whined in agreeance, turning its yellow eyes to him with a newfound irritation. “Don’t listen to her.” Tokoyami pleaded. “She’s trying to influence us.”

“Would you really listen to someone who’s so ungrateful for your aid…?” She ignored Tokoyami, opting to instead give her full attention to his sentient quirk. “Wouldn’t it be better if you had all the control, Dark Shadow?” 

The Control Killer whispered awful temptations to his quirk. “To be able to do what you want? I can give you that. You just need to do something for me in about three hours.”

Horrified, Tokoyami saw his quirk begin to extend out of his body and wrap around The Control Killer’s neck like an ethereal scarf. Clearly content and satisfied for an offer like that. Her fingers danced over Dark Shadow’s body and she stared at him with a disinterested smile. 

Dark Shadow wasn’t responding to his commands; it was the woman’s doing. He had to rein in his quirk! 

He tried to let Dark Shadow back into his body, but she kept a firm hold of it, preventing him from doing so. “In order to create a beautiful world, I need you. Well…” She chuckled, correcting herself. “Really, I just need Dark Shadow; there’s no need for you. So, be a dear and play passenger for a while.” Her finger pointed at him.

The last thing Tokoyami saw was a chain shooting out of her finger before darkness took over his vision. 

Chapter Text

Watching the final moments of the cavalry battle portion of the Sports Festival had exhausted Chisaki with how outrageously competitive the bystanders in the seats all around him were. Loud, obnoxious, and shuffling about with signs and cheers made the entire experience more miserable.

Many of the people here he assumed were proud parents and relatives, but it should be common courtesy to be respectful to those around them. Not to behave like animals when one group of brats manage to get more headbands than the other to progress onto the leaderboard. Some half-and-half kid won with a loud blondie placing second in that time. Third place had been what Makima said was her highest value pawn and to not be touched whatsoever during the plan. 

It didn’t help when the jumbotron showered its camera his way and to a couple other people in the crowd during intermissions. The theme of it mainly revolved around look-a-likes spotted, and he’d be compared to some overseas actor from the Americas. 

Chisaki wanted nothing more than to leave this, but Makima promised him I-Island, and he’d make damn sure she’d honor it. Not many brave souls could locate or perform a successful heist against the facility, yet they didn’t possess the right mindset and goals to perform it like he did. With I-Island in his grip, the research around Eri’s quirk would boost to a quicker rate.

Yet… He’d need Makima’s assistance in getting another ‘willing’ soul to dedicate their time and effort on researching Eri’s quirk with advanced equipment if he’d nabbed somebody from the elusive island. Which meant he’d have to continue working with her… 

The idea made him nauseous and a series of cluster headaches were beginning to form because of that woman. Working with her meant more favors and more time she spent being with Eri. He had to nip that ridiculous notion of a good figure Makima was to the girl. Make her dependent back on him instead of someone who thinks they could just butt in and call themselves the ‘good’ one. 

He leaned forward in his seat, pointing at the hunking block of walking cement tending to the grass, formulating a battle arena with his quirk. “That’s your target, Hari. How’d your aim be if we get up close towards the latter half of the tournament?”

Hari Kurono squinted and framed a photo-like gesture with his hands, gauging the distance. “It’d be a far cry from a perfect shot. Doubt a syringe can even pierce, let alone scratch him.”

“That’s what I thought. She’s given us an impossible target to begin with. But he’s going to be in the way if he’s still mucking around with that quirk of his.” 

“Hmmm… Didn’t she say she’d handle him if we can’t get a good shot?”

“That she did. Which means we’d have to angle our shot to Endeavor over there.” He pointed to the hulking mass of fiery muscle a couple of sections over, arms crossed. “Seems he’s playing monitor today too, just as she’d predicted.” 

“You and I both know the man’s liable to see us if we make a move on him.”

“Then you and I best be prepped for Irinaka to shutter the world out by the time we nip the fire out of the equation.” Chisaki knew it’d be a ballsy move against an end-game Pro Hero like Endeavor. 

He didn’t fancy his odds against a living flamethrowing monster like him. Pulling out his burner phone, he texted Makima that she’d have to deal with Cementoss on her own and that they’d deal with Endeavor.

“I’m going to get some food before they set up the stage, wanna come?” Hari asked, stretching and rising out of his seat. “Watching that,” he pointed to the students all playing games or doing cheerleading moves out on the field, “ Isn’t my form of entertainment.”

“Neither is it mine.” Chisaki agreed. “But one of us has to stay.”

Hari sat back down with a disapproving look. “We don’t have to follow her word, boss. At the end of the day, she needs us. Wouldn’t do her any good if she got on our bad side.”

Chisaki rolled his eyes, of course he knew they held all the cards. Didn’t need an idiot to figure that out. He waved off the complaint. “Try finding another sap who could get us into I-Island then, Hari.”

When his assistant made no motion to counter it, Chisaki scoffed. He knew his subordinates hated Makima with their hearts. Irinaka being the most vocal still relented on having a contingency in place should their ‘benefactor’ turn tail once the chaos begins.

For now, he’d play the part of a spectator until the final rounds of the tournament kicked off. His quirk would be at the ready, so too would Irinaka whom he bet wasn’t having a fun time hanging around the retractable roof above. 

“Just come and find me when you can. And try to enjoy this as much as possible. We want to look authentic.” Chisaki ignored Hari’s scoff of indignity, opting to try and relax his back into the uncomfortable plastic seat covering behind him. 

His assistant left, waving and descending down the stairs while the cavalry looked to be coming to a close. 

Shinso couldn’t believe he’d made it to the tournament section of the Sports Festival. To think it was all thanks to some Ojiro kid’s dexterous tail maneuvers. Shame the guy didn’t seem too amicable about his mind being stolen. Would have made a great addition to his posse in the future.

Hopping off, he raised a fist in celebration, praying Ms. Makima had been watching his achievements. He’d made it to third place. Third place! Just as planned. Nothing too serious but nothing too dopey. 

His heart kept beating like a band’s drum roll with anxiety and anticipation though. He was getting closer and closer to his part in all of the games. A one-on-one fight between himself and other students. 

Ms. Makima assured him he’d not get any unsavory students with quirks that could easily counter his, but it did sting a little. He wanted to win it of his own accord to show her he is useful and worth keeping around for the long haul. 

Shinso didn’t want to be a one-trick pony to Ms. Makima whatsoever after the plan was finished. He needed to show her that he’s able to handle everything without fainting or going overboard. For that, he’d have to not hold back once he won this thing. 

Shinso vowed to make Ms. Makima the happiest woman in the world. For her sake, Shinso would stop at nothing to get to the third round of the tournament. 

He clutched at his head again as another episode of cluster headaches threatened to break free, and with them fake memories of something that didn’t even happen. 

She told him it may have been a side effect of his awakened quirk and it made sense. The output of his newest abilities required a lot of brain power, so it made sense that these ‘hallucinations’ she called them, would try to burst forward and replace fact with fiction. 

Ms. Makima never lies. She’d tell the truth and nothing but the truth. 

Shinso watched with the rest of the students as the digital screen of the jumbotron rolled names like a slot machine, choosing what the first bout of competitors would be.

Shinso Hitoshi vs. Momo Yaoyorozu. 

He’d be the first match for the whole nation to see, and likely the whole world. From what Makima had told him, this girl had the ability to make anything out of her body. Be it a weapon or tool, she would be dangerous if he let her get any distance. 

He stepped forward, as did Momo, standing tall and stoic. 

“It’s the Control Killer Jr….” Someone whispered behind his back. 

“Yikes… Why did they let him participate in the games? What if he cheats?” Another kid chimed in.

“He’ll cheat with that killing quirk of his!” A third piled onto the venomed whispers. 

Shinso did his best to ignore their words - none of them would matter at the end. He extended his hand out to Momo and saw her eye his form with suspicion before reluctantly taking his gestures.

“May the best win.” She said, her eyes steeled and full of determination. 

“Yeah. We’ll see.” Shinso replied, not caring for this nobody and instead searching for Makima in the crowd above them. Not seeing her, he coped with the fact that she was simply busy tending to stuff behind the scenes.

The two did their respective bows and left to their entryway into the newly built arena made by Cementoss. All eyes were on them at this moment and Present Mic began the count down.

“Five.” 

The crowd chanted with their loud announcer; some stomped their feet; others cheered with shouts of encouragement. 

Shinso saw Momo’s hands resting on her stomach, already drumming up what to summon. 

“Four.”

He leaned forward, prepping his legs for a full-on sprint to end this quickly. 

“Three.”  

Momo’s legs shuffled, grounding herself for something.

“Two. ” 

He readied his fists, closing them, trying to not outright use his quirk just yet. If he used it now, his next two opponents would no doubt study it and learn more. 

“One… Begin!” 

The horns blared and Shinso rushed forward, his eyes catching the sight of Momo conjuring up a bean-bag launcher from her stomach. 

She loaded in a purple bag and aimed. The loud pneumatic pop from it sent the bean-bag careening his way and he sidestepped it, not letting that halt his sprint! 

Momo looked to have anticipated it, tossing the bean-bag launcher his way when got close enough, pulling out a baton and using two hands to swing for his gut. 

He reached out to grab at her wrist, latching on with a quick grip and twisting for a shoulder throw, planning to knock the wind out of her. 

Momo yelped when his grip tightened around her lithe wrist, her eyes going as wide as saucers as he started the motions up for the shoulder throw.

“G-gah!” Momo cried out and the crowd all let out a collective gasp or ‘ooh’ at the impact as her back connected with the hard cement floor. A thick amount of spittle flew from her mouth, and she rolled over to dodge a stomp from him. 

“I-I won’t yield! Not yet!” She cried out, pushing herself up. Shinso had to hold back from not groaning too loudly. This girl had to concede the defeat. He can’t keep Ms. Makima waiting! 

He took the initiative to go at it again, closing the distance to Momo before she could recover fully from the shoulder toss. He looked to her hands palmed over her stomach, a bright purple glow emanating from it, and he assumed she was trying to make something to defend herself again. But Shinso was faster. Much faster thanks to Ms. Makima’s training. 

He got into her guard and grabbed at her left forearm this time, twisting it behind her back. She cried out in pain. Her legs trying to kick back at him; her fingers clawing into his arm. 

Empathy for this was not allowed. He could hear the boos coming from the crowd for him to treat her better, but this was all or nothing. He looked over her shoulder and began to rush her toward the edge of the arena, fully intent to force her off her balance to get a ring out. 

Sharp pain shot out immediately into him however just as they’d reached the edge. 

“G-geuh!” He felt something hard bulge out from her nape and into his forehead, forcing him to let go of the grapple. The momentum of the rush had been lost, leaving him slightly staggered and clutching at his newly formed bruise. 

W-what is going…. His awakened quirk tried to break free, and he had to hold it in. Like trying to hold in a sneeze, he clutched at his face. Vast amounts of those false memories and scenarios rushing forward again. 

Scenes of him in his house, clutching at an older woman who had his eyes - her body limp and her neck sliced open.

Scenes of him in a dark room with shadow-like figures, taking their turn torturing his body with grins and laughter. 

Scenes of him in a kitchen crying on the floor in a fetal position. It was too much. 

“This isn’t….. I’m….” Shinso began hyperventilating. Now was not a time to have a panic attack! Not now! 

He covered his face in his palms, taking deep breaths like Ms. Makima had instructed. The loud blaring crowds and chants didn’t help one bit. 

“They’re not real…. Ms. Makima loves you. She loves you. I love her. I’m….” More and more memories burst forward. It made him wilt. It made him cry. It made him…. Angry. Angry at something. He pulled at his hair and clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms until they hurt.

Why though? Why did it make him so mad…? He loved Ms. Makima, so why did his heart feel so… detached from the idea? 

“Deep breaths, Shinso. Deep breaths.” He steadied his tremors. 

It looked like Momo had taken the opportunity to regain her own footing during his outburst. 

She’d created a weapon in that short amount of time. Shinso’s mind already had its gears running. She could conjure it not just from her stomach, but from other areas on her body. 

“You’re not using your quirk…” Her arm created a small mini-buckler. The type used in a medieval-like duel. “Am I too pathetic for you to use it for an easy win?” She said with heavy pants and a face dripping with sweat. “You’d easily win this.” Her other hand held a yellow stun baton. Electricity crackled from its pronged tip. 

He could, he really could end it here and now. She just fulfilled the prerequisite, but people were watching. His future opponents were watching. Ms. Makima had explicitly told him to save his trump card for the third round and only the third round.”  

“Saving it.” He mumbled, readying up his fists and getting into a crouched position. 

“So that’s how it is. Not wanting the others to figure it out til later…” The girl sighed. “Fine. You’re only handicapping yourself, but who am I to judge? We’re evenly matched at this rate.”

Shinso dashed again, forcing Momo to get into a guarded position, raising her buckler up high and her cattle prod aimed. 

Just as she was about to strike, her eyes went blank. He hated having to do this, and no doubt Ms. Makima would know. But he had to finish this fast so her plan wouldn’t be delayed. It was all for her sake! It hurt his heart going against her wishes…

“Announce you’ll concede and that you’re too hurt to continue.” He commanded and the girl’s head bobbed up, dropping her weapons with a loud clatter. The crowd went silent as she announced her surrender. She turned heel and stepped down the stairs, giving a curt bow to Cementoss and heading towards the vomitorium. 

“Well….” Present Mic took a long pause, still in surprise. “What a way to kick off the Sports Festival, guys and gals! Shinsoooooo Hitoshi is the victor!” Present Mic said with a dramatic flair with his vocals. “What did you think of that fight, Eraser Head?” 

“Hmmm, it was a battle of attrition. Both were evenly matched, but it seems stamina dictated the victor here. Surprised Shinso hadn’t used his quirk here. Whether that was even the match for Momo or not, I’d say it was kind but stupid.”

“Yowch… Talk about a drama queen, am I right, guys and gals?! Hah, just kidding!”

“Tch… It’s how I see it. I’d hope Shinso takes this into account for the next round.”

Shinso didn’t heed Aizawa’s words; he was more worried if Ms. Makima would call him and scold him for why he didn’t listen to her. 

She’ll understand. She’s always understood you, Shinso. She’d applaud your quick thinking.

He left the arena, making a beeline to the vomitorium to clean up and await for the next bout. 

A quick taxi back to the stadium proved to be more of a delay than anything else. Makima should have just chosen to walk instead. 

Traffic had been at an all time atrocious high due to the anticipation of the final bout of the Sports Festival. The display of quirks, battle intellect, and potential internships drew everyone’s attention, so it made sense people would arrive in the masses to see it in person.

For her, it meant more and more viewers to increase the likelihood of her plan to work. Her phone vibrated inside her coat pocket and she pulled it out, seeing Chisaki’s initial popping up.

“Cementoss is a bust for us. We’re swapping for Endeavor.” Makima read the text from Chisaki and sighed. She’d hoped that Hari would have been the crackshot to somehow eliminate the local cement manipulator out of the equation early, but it was hopeful thinking. 

She would have to visit him during the break room and lace his manju with the drug. Makima’s eyes drifted to the window to see people enjoying the locale, touring around with shirts of All-Might, Endeavor, and other heroes. 

“Would you be so kind as to pull to the side? I really need to get to the stadium.” She asked the sweating driver who nodded, taking his fare from her and letting her out. Makima stretched and rested her hands onto her hips, the gigantic Sports Festival station booming with celebratory music.

Techno, hip-hop, and oldies played at an obnoxiously loud level to soothe the crowds as she assumed it was going on a brief break to set up the next match. It was right on schedule. 

Tokoyami, or rather, Dark Shadow was added to the board. He’d be at the ready. Now, she just had to get back to the stadium, fulfill the final touches for her side of the plan, and then let Shinso do the rest. It would be smooth sailing so to speak.

Putting her hands into the pockets of her trenchcoat, she began her journey to perfection. 

“Hey, Tsukauchi… It’s Toshinori. Just thought I’d drop a message to see where you are and that you’re doing alright. We can go get drinks if you’re feeling down.” 

He ended the voicemail and pushed send, pacing back and forth. Toshinori didn’t usually worry for things like this, but his gut had been telling him something was off. He just couldn’t place it on something feasible. Maybe it was just his nerves acting on instinct due to the fact that young Midoriya would be out there in front of thousands of people. 

He’d be showing off One For All in all its early-stage glory. He had no doubt in his mind that his old mentor, Gran Torino, was watching too. Probably thought of it as a crapshow with how reckless the kid was during the race and the cavalry battles. It’d be his chance to shine as a potential student to all who watched that he had what it took to be a Pro Hero. 

The tournaments would start soon, and thankfully it looked like he wasn’t next yet. The kid did really well against Class B’s Ibara Shiozaki and Neito Monoma through the first two brackets. It was between one of Aizawa’s kids and Vlad King’s. A tie in a way with how long the battle had gone through with both sharing a similar quirk…. 

The break room was quiet, save for the occasional flicker of the AC going on automatically once the temperature went past a certain level. 

Toshinori nearly felt his heart jump at his chest when someone entered the room. He assumed his All-Might Form, flashing a smile along with a boastful pose, but he relaxed when it was just Hayakawa. 

Thought it was the press or a student… Whew. 

He plopped down onto the couch with relief. 

“All-Might.” She bowed, walking past the couches he had to sit down on and to the counter, grabbing a cup of coffee. “I’d have thought you’d be out there cheering on your students.” 

“Ah… Principal Nezu thought it’d be better if I show up at the end, honoring the victor with the medals and such.” He scratched his head, their conversation ending abruptly and silence followed after. 

The only sound now was Hayakawa pouring her coffee, tearing open a creamer, and stirring the paper cup. 

It felt awkward. He needed to save himself. “Would you like to sit for awhile? I bet the Police Chief is really hounding you with everything going on.”

“That he is.” Hayakawa took a seat in front of him, sipping at her coffee and adjusting her glasses. “The Control Killer has certainly made us beef up various areas around the stadium just in case of anything strange.”

“Ain’t that tough… Guess you’ve had to tone down everything after Nezu hounded you not to? He did want to make the Sports Festival feel welcoming.”

“Indeed. We’ve managed to get some approval to make our presence a lot less intimidating. We’ve had a majority of our officers on standby just in case though. Can’t be too sure in these scenarios.”

“Heh, you sound like Tsukauchi.” He didn’t miss the slight frown that Hayakawa hid under a sip of coffee. Crap. Of course he had to blurt that out.  

“How did your talk with Principal Nezu go?” She asked, her tone sounding as if she wanted to lean away from the subject. 

“Oh, that! Ha.” He had to force out some laughter. “Just some old talks between friends, you know. The usual. We spoke of how it was back in my prime days. I made it to the finals. Was quite a show too for those who came.” Toshinori scratched at his face. “Might see it on the web if you look.” 

Hayakawa hummed and took longer sips. “I’ll have to see it on my own time.” Hayakawa took a longer pause, sipping and maintaining eye-contact with him.  “Hmm… Say, can I ask you a question?” She set her coffee down onto the short maplewood table in front of her. “Nothing too outrageous to take up your time.”

He looked at the clock behind her head and shook his head. Young Midoriya wouldn’t be selected until after Kirishima and Tetsutetsu’s match. A little conversation wouldn’t hurt. “Not really. Why, got some juicy details about Endeavor? Or what do I do on weekends?” He said, feeling a lot more alleviated with the atmosphere getting somewhere less on the acquaintance end. 

“Hardly. I imagine you’re tired of that sort of stuff. It’s something I asked of Tsukauchi a while back. Made me consider the wonders of it all, really. After all, I don’t ever get the chance to get a one-on-one talk with the Number One Hero of Japan.” 

“I suppose that is true since Tsukauchi’s usually the one asking me to swing by the station.” He said with a simple smile. “Apologies if we haven’t been on proper speaking terms. We ought to be given how we work in tandem with you guys.”

“It’s no issue at all. I understand that as the symbol of peace, it must be taxing to handle all the assignments of your caliber.”

“Don’t I know it.” Toshinori recalled all of the previous tasks he’d been given at his prime. Handling behemoth-level villains or dealing with One For All’s minions, most would quit under those conditions, but not him. 

“But what sort of question did have in mind–”

Hayakawa’s hand went up to shush him. Her radio went abuzz at her hip, and the sound of Chief Kenji’s voice barked over it with a crackle. “ Detective! We need you at the scene; Tokoyami’s escaped his cell. He’s running rampant outside the station!” 

Hayakawa’s face went into full-surprise mode, but, almost like how Tsukauchi usually does, her expression hardened. “On it. I’ll be there shortly. Keep him contained and away from civilians.” She rose quickly, downing her coffee and strided past the table. 

Toshinori gently placed a hand onto her shoulder. “Mind if I come along?”

Hayakawa looked almost relieved at his words, but shook her head. “I thought you’d be more keen on staying here to keep the peace of the Sports Festival?”

Toshinori let out a heroic bout of laughter and flexed with a pose to a non-existent audience. “As if I’d turn down the chance to aid our local law enforcement. Besides - that’s one of my students rampaging. It’ll do me good to try and talk him out of it. I got time.” He looked to his watch on his wrist one last time, taking note that even if Kirishima finishes up his match, it’d take a while to set up the next. 

He had time before Young Midoriya would share with the world that he is here to be the next successor of One For All. 

“You’re too good for me, All-Might. I can see why Tsukauchi likes you.” She laughed. “Are you certain I won’t be keeping you? I’d hate to steal away a prime symbol to deal with a teenage outburst.”

He clapped her back, causing her to stumble. “Hah! Not at all. From how Kenji sounded, it seems bad. Now, let’s get going! We’ve a student of mine to reprimand!” 

Toshinori saw the usually stoic and reserved Hayakawa that clung to Tsukauchi’s side, smiling with mirth. She was likely happy to be partnering up with him, and he couldn’t blame her. He was a force to be reckoned with all on his own. To be serving as the backup would do great things for the Police Force’s image. 

He’d even go say hello to Tsukauchi while he was it. The poor guy was probably up to his gills with issues. 

Makima smiled to herself as she had her eyes closed - peering through the eyes of crows as Jin’s double had All-Might tailing behind with an oblivious grin on his own face. 

She’d chosen to relax in the break room again, wanting to finish up another cup of coffee. 

The trump card of this stadium was on sabbatical for the time being. She ensured to flood Dark Shadow with as much of the trigger drugs that Chisaki could make in a short amount of time. 

He’d be a walking leviathan of darkness by now. Wrecking havoc wherever it went. A being of darkness full of sound and fury - attacking at random while its host could do nothing but watch. It’d make All-Might hesitate for a while. 

She opened her eyes back up to see Present Mic announcing the tie-up match between Kirishima and Tetsutetsu, and letting the match roll the next few combatants. Shinso had already moved up to the third bracket, beating Mina Ashido after an extensive battle. 

It shouldn’t have taken him too long to beat her. It was a slight concern to Makima. 

She cherry-picked the best opponents for him, so there shouldn’t be any difficulty on his end.

Unless someone squealed to the girl about the prerequisites to his awakened quirk. Thoughts of Giran immediately splashed forth, but no, it couldn’t be him. The cockroach of an info-broker was too whipped to try something so stupid. She saw him snooping around, but he knew he couldn’t stop the inevitable. 

 Who else could provide such quick battle information in such a short amount of time? 

He simply needed to win this one and to acquire a key quirk to keep the aftermath at bay. It was the only amount of time she’d bought with All-Might out of the picture.  

That green-haired child would have been Shinso’s opponent had she not changed up the process. His quirk, however it connected to All-Might’s, made it certain that he’d be immune. No matter though. That Izuku Midoriya wouldn’t have the chance to stop this either once it was in motion. 

“Whoa-oh, there guys and gals! We got an interesting one! We’ve got the underdog Shinso Hitoshi vs. Katsuki Bakuooogo! Both of these boys have proven themselves to be top-notch. With Shinso’s incredible hand-to-hand combat skills and our residential powerhouse’s explosions, this is sure to be an interesting match!” 

The crowd went wild with glee and they’ll soon cry out a better tune by the time Shinso wins. 

Chapter Text

Kai Chisaki and Hari Kurono, both here at the stadium doing only God knows what - it made Giran’s mind flare with endless possibilities of why they’re here. 

He kept to himself in the middle row of the seats, a place where he wouldn’t be easily spotted with so many faces alongside his own. He grunted and winced whenever someone elbowed him in the side when they cheered on the announced names of Shinso Hitoshi and Bakugo Katsuki. 

People were too easily amped up for a literal bloodbath under the guise of a showcase of abilities. He’d not be surprised if those investors and potential internship recruiters are on sight drooling over the various quirks that have been tossed around.

Though none of that mattered when he spotted Chisaki and Kurono taking turns leaving their seats and going somewhere else. A couple of rows away from him. They weren’t here to enjoy the games, that’s for damn sure. They were here on Makima’s orders then. 

She’s put her fingers in all the pies it looks like. He rose from his seat, hiking up his collar and following after the closest Shie Hassakai member. He needed to know what they were up to. 

He grabbed a hot dog from a young lady hawker who was screaming over the top of her lungs trying to sell the damn things. He took the packets and began smearing the mustard and ketchup over it, hastily squeezing past people while chowing down, keeping sight of Hari Kurono’s clock-work hair over the bustling crowd coming in and out of the entryways with plates of food and drinks. 

Why are you here? Why help someone like Makima? 

He knew very little about the Shie Hassakai’s operations after the shitshow the other Yakuza families pulled. They went completely radio silent and refused to speak with him. But it never occurred to him that one would turn coat and join forces with the mother of all psychos. 

Jostling past the crowd got difficult and he looked around the open venues, searching for that clockwork hair at a stadium or a–

His nape was snatched by a cold hand and he got ushered to the nearby men’s bathroom to the left. He was slammed against the wall with incredible force that made him spew out his hotdog over Hari Kurono’s chest.

The man clearly didn’t look pleased and let out an irritated sigh through his nostrils.  A sharp prick came soon after near his midsection and the whole world seemed to slow….

“Figures that a nosy rat would try to come scuttling along to interfere.” Kurono scoffed, his hair retracting back into his scalp. “Never believed you’d have the guts to come here after that stint with the other families, Giran.”

“Y-you can’t...!” He said slowly, his words uttered in slow motion. 

“Can’t what? Do something batshit insane like be here? Yeah, I understand the perspective, Giran. I do. But Chisaki says it’s a long term investment. One we intend to cash in. So be a good guy and just plop down,” Kurono shoved him into the stall, sitting him down onto the wet seat of a toilet. “I’ve got you set for an hour. Should be enough time for you to leave the place by the time everything goes to shit.” 

“Kurono…!” Giran’s hand slowly tried to reach out for the man that looked like a speedster at the moment and shut the bathroom stall door, trapping him inside. “Come…..Back!”

It didn’t make a lick of sense to him, none of it did. He slammed the locker shut, giving himself a once over in the mirror. He made sure to get his costume in tip-top shape for when he wipes the floor with his next opponent. 

He’d be up against someone who wasn’t even supposed to be in the Sports Festival, let alone the tournament. 

Pony-tail lost to that guy…? The guy who ought to be locked up? 

Shinso Hitoshi - even the name sounded like a sketchy villain to him. From what he’s heard, talking seemed to be about the only way his quirk could work. So, why did Pony-tail give him the opportunity? That dumb Deku even said some warnings to her. 

Bakugo scoffed. 

The idiot should’ve kept her distance and wailed on him with range-items. Better yet, she should’ve just not yapped at all. For all her prim and proper words, it went down the drain with that shitshow.  He’d not make the same mistake; he’ll show him a hierarchy existed and that he was at the top of it all. Not some extra wannabe.

Bakugo trudged on out of the locker room, fully determined to get past the extra and get to Todoroki. Nothing else mattered. Not some Control Killer, and definitely not some useless background character like Shinso.

Chisaki eyed every single entry point that he could see with his own eyes, taking note that the once empty seats were beginning to fill up with newcomers and returning spectators. 

“Remember to enact your part once Shinso’s third round begins. All-Might will be away for that time being, as will the rest of the competitors be too busy watching the massacre on stage.” He recalled her words over the phone.

“Giran’s here.” Hari said with disdain.

Chisaki’s eyes narrowed - the info broker was a problem. If he was running around mucking up the entire plan, it’d all be for nothing. “Did you handle him?”

Hari nodded and that soothed Chisaki’s nerves. Good, he didn’t need to worry about some idiot like that. “Where?” Chisaki asked gruffly, his eyes straight ahead. 

“In the bathrooms by our entryway. Kept him on an hour's pause.”

“Didn’t kill him?”

“I doubt Makima would be pleased if her favorite victim would fall painlessly without her knowing.” Hari moved the conversation over to the main game plan. “Shall I start heading over to Endeavor’s row, boss?” Hari asked, flashing the other ticket he’d been provided. 

Chisaki nodded. “Be quick. I highly doubt that this match will be a long one. Seats are filling up too.” His eyes roamed over the packed stadium, more full and alive than ever. Some had gone out to get concessions, so the smell of fresh hotdogs and beer wafted through the air. 

Popcorn was strewn across the floor beneath them that each step made an annoying crunch. Where were the janitors during this time? Were they too busy watching the rounds to care for now? His hygienic system was being tested here. Hives formed around his ankles and thighs with the sticky feeling of spilt soda clinging to the soles of his shoes. 

It all quieted down once the arena had formed again after the latest battle. Chisaki didn’t miss how sluggish Cementoss had been acting. Makima had likely done her job and laced the man’s food with the erasure drug. 

It had a longer activation time, so by then, the hulking cement user would be out of the equation once the chaos began. 

The two kids down there didn’t so much as shake hands or speak any words. They left to each opposite side, walking up the steps with purpose and a silent determination to finish this. 

“Go, I’ll meet you outside the stadium once I’m done with my end.” Chisaki rose, following after Hari who descended down the stairs. He ran his hand over the cement wall, leading right through the walkway and concourse. 

He closed his eyes, picturing the image of remolding the cement to form and create a blockade from the outside. With a crackle and groan, the floor gave way to create a new, restructured wall of cement. Caging this section in so as to avoid any stragglers from leaving. Makima needed all eyes and bodies for this. 

He whistled and acted nonchalant, placing his hands into his pockets and making his way to the rest of the entryways to do the exact same thing. 

Shinso’s heart was beating like a drum while he began ascending up the steps to face his last opponent. This was it - do or die. Everything rode on this moment for him to make it look as authentic as possible. Until he saw three crows in formation fly overhead, he’d play the part. 

“Uh-oh. Looks like Young Bakugo isn’t here for pleasantries, folks!” Present Mic said with a cackle. 

The sight of his opponent glaring his way with a crouched position didn’t bode well for Shinso. He lacked any ability to deflect or outrun Bakugo’s explosions. It would be a battle of attrition. Which meant he had to be a punching bag. A punching bag for the greater good.

Do it for Ms. Makima. She trusts you. She has a lot of faith in you, Shinso. 

 “Ha! Bakugo’s got the looks of someone who means business, ain’t that right, Eraser Head?”

“Ugh… Just do not go overboard, both of you. I know this is the semi-finals, but that doesn’t mean you can turn this into a bloodbath like the previous match between Izuku Midoriya and Shoto Todoroki. We don’t need any of that right now. Midnight and Cementoss will be on standby in case any of you do something stupid.”

“You heard him, folks! Let’s keep it nice annnnnd clean!”

Shinso’s eyes went over to the two aforementioned Pros, Cementoss more relaxed onto his overseer chair, looking a little less energetic than before. Across from the large platform, Midnight herself was palming at her nape and rolling her shoulders, as if she was trying to shake off some fatigue. 

Makima’s done her part, as did that shooter Chisaki had on hand. Everything had to be just right. Now, he just had to delay the fight for as long as possible. Until Makima gave the signal. 

His awakened quirk felt like a constricting tight amount of gel slabbered all over the top of his head. He had too many connections. Way too many. But it was for Ms. Makima’s sake. 

It felt nauseating though. He could see through almost every spectator’s eyes like they were countless lenses in his view. Almost as if he possessed the eyes of a fly. He saw himself and the stadium from thousands of different angles. 

He had great trouble reining it in and finding his own eyes, his own body. 

“Five….!” Present Mic started the countdown and the crowd joined him.

Shinso readied himself, planting his feet and getting prepared for a whole lot of explosions and fire. 

“Four…!” Sparks and crackles of mini explosions were already popping from his opponent’s hands. He had one foot over the other, his hands stretched out from behind him like thrusters to a jet.

“Three….!” Shinso knew he had no chance in a direct fight with Katsuki Bakugo, but Makima had insisted that the loud blonde’s quirk would be pivotal once it started. Shinso had to have it, she said. At any cost. If it meant he had to become a punching bag, then so be it.  

“Two…! ” The stadium roared, a cacophony of cheers and boos as Katsuki Bakugo and Shinso Hitoshi faced each other on the large platform. The crowd was stomping their feet in unison, some booing Shinso’s name and calling him pathetic or worthless. 

“One…!” Present Mic’s voice boomed over the speakers, “ Let the battle begiiiiin!!!!!”

Bakugo, eyes blazing with intensity, didn’t hesitate. Sparks flew from his palms as he launched forward, a blur of motion and pure explosive power. Propelling himself forward, he reached out with both hands, planning for a shotgun blast.

He chose not to not talk to Shinso or even say any remarks. He’d not make the same mistake Pony-Tail did. 

In the end, this Shinso was just like Deku, but without the wobbly eyes and stupid face. He’d be blasted off the arena and it’d be a ring out. Simple as that!

Shinso, however, wasn’t where Bakugo expected him to be. He’d already moved, darting to the side with a stupid burst of speed. The explosion from his hands rocked the ground where Shinso had been, leaving a small crater, splinters of cement flying overhead.

He narrowed his eyes at that - he figured that this extra was stupidly dexterous. But that’s all he had going for him. Bakugo readied himself again, pivoting to face Shinso. 

A fist connected to his jaw and Bakugo had to do a double take to his face, did he just…? It felt too weak. Almost Deku-weak, but not enough to knock him out. Was this extra a joke? 

The extra saw that his attack did nothing and backstepped, wringing out his wrist. How did he even make it here? Why was he even here?! 

The idiot kept his distance, a wrong move as Bakugo aimed up his left arm, unhooking the stored up glycerin in his glove for a direct beam!

Shinso’s eyes widened and Bakugo couldn’t help but smirk, the blast roaring like a dragon and lighting up the arena in a bright orange light. The stadium cried out in cheers at the display of pure destructive power. 

When the smoke cleared, he saw Shinso still standing but his arms raised up, burnt and covered in soot. Though, the idiot was clutching at his head and having a little schizo moment again like he did with Pony-Tail.

“N-no… I-it wasn’t me, Mom…. I-I didn’t do it. I’d never…” Shinso slapped at his face, the smacks audible even from where Bakugo was standing. “Shut up. Shut up. Those are fake. Ms. Makima said so. She said they weren’t real.” The weird freakout gave Bakugo a moment to catch a breath and eye the debris surrounding the guy. Dodging would no doubt be hard for this dumbass if he slipped on the small nuggets of cement lying around. 

His move, AP shot, took a lot out of him, but it definitely earned him a lot of points from the people watching. No doubt impressing Pro Heroes to take him on, that’s for sure. The blast wasn’t fully what he wanted, but it was a work in progress. Something he’d have to work on. Still, it did its damage, Shinso’s clothes all singed and his hair burnt to a crisp.

He aimed his arms behind him again, propelling himself toward this extra who shouldn’t be here. 

Endeavor shook his head at this mocking display of a match. Each time he laid eyes on the kid he vouched to have removed from the tournament made his blood boil. But it slightly made him better at how Katsuki was handling him. 

The scene of Shinso being dragged across the cement floor and being flung over with an explosion definitely made people cheer. Though… Shinso was tenacious. Getting up and up after each thorough beating. He landed a few hits here and there, but nothing that made Katsuki truly hurt. 

It started off quick - the explosion kid charging forth without a word, fully intent on finishing it one go. But this Shinso just ran around in circles. That was not the sight Pro Heroes wanted to see for potential internships.  

Nezu said time and time again to give children, no matter their opinions or quirks a proper chance at U.A. High, but that couldn’t be applied to this walking monstrosity of bad PR. He could see it now: U.A. houses murderers and psychopaths - Shinso Hitoshi at the head of it all!

He heard of how much bad rep they got once the media heard about Aizawa’s student - Tokoyami Fumikage. It wouldn’t surprise him if this kid sullied it with his filthy quirk. It had no place here. 

People jostled past him, wanting to get to their seats and remained still, arms crossed while continuing to watch. Like an unmoving rock in a river, people excused themselves and bowed, taking their seats.

He winced and felt something prick at his side, but he couldn’t tell what it was, too many people around him to see what it could’ve been. He looked to the spot and saw no blood or visible injury. 

The sight of people carrying plastic utensils for their chilidogs and such alleviated his concern. Someone had likely just accidentally jabbed him with their plastic fork. 

“Fools.” He muttered, standing tall and continuing to keep close monitoring on Shinso Hitoshi. 

Shinji Nishiya tapped away at his gacha game, collecting another grey-rarity farmer character with a sigh… He really wanted the muscular dude who had a gold rarity. That guy can dig a real mean plot of land he’s heard. 

He rested his back against the bean bag he was in, tilting his head up with a quiet sigh. The break room wafted with cigarette smoke, coffee, and pastries from the local bakery. It was spacious and cooled thanks to the constant AC provided by U.A. High School. The sweltering heat wave outside was practically melting him during the last hour’s patrol. 

Standing up, he made his way to the cheap grey plastic table, propping open the pastry box, pulling free a pink donut. “Hey… These are gluten free, right?” He asked, seeing Death Arms shake his head. “Ugh… Damn it.” He dropped the donut as if it were the plague. 

“Yikes… Did ya hear, Aizawa’s kid is on the loose by the station.” Death Arms said, taking a long drag from his cigarette while watching a wrestling match on his phone.

“Which one…?” Shinji asked out of curiosity; he needed some action today. 

“Ehh… I knew something was off about that bird guy.” Takeyama Yu said with a roll of her eyes. “Those quiet, broody types are always the culprits.” She let out a tired sigh, posing with her lanyard and taking a selfie. “Heard All-Might’s handling it though. Gives us time to stretch our legs.”

“It sounds like he could use someone with constricting–” Shinji made a beeline to the door.

“Don’t even bother.” Death Arms said aloud, stopping Shinji in his tracks as he had his hand on the doorknob. “All-Might’s always got that handled. Probably won’t even take him long.” Death Arms waved off his concern. “Besides, we’re supposed to be here, Shinji.”

“Yeah, Shinji. Get it together. Though I’d have liked to be in the stadium… Probably juicy stuff going on in there.”

“That’s what this television is for, Takeyama.” Death Arms scolded, pointing to the plasma screen hoisted up in the corner. “We get some sight of it.” 

Shinji watched for a little while, the sight of a recap of Katsuki Bakugo raising his arms up in the arm, covering the arena in a cloud of explosions to deliver the final defeating blow to some Shinso Hitoshi. Yikes… Talk about overkill. 

“And with that….! We have a winner!” Present Mic’s voice boomed over the television with horns blaring that could be heard even from outside their break room. 

“Buuut it’s not the sameee! This is on the level of an idol concert, y’know?! I mean, we’re stuck in here while a whole crowd is cheering on the next generation!”

“We both know you just want them to cheer you on.” Shinji retorted with a deadpan look.

“Boo… You guys suck.” Takeyama sulked, going back to her phone. 

Shinji’s attention then went to the door when it opened, revealing the current detective Mashiro Hayakawa, who walked in with an indifferent expression on her face. Her trench coat was all buttoned up and she had black gloves on. She gently brushed past him, the strong scent of a flowery perfume going into his nose, making him feel relaxed. 

“Ah, Detective. Huh… What’s got you in our humble abode? Thought you were with All-Might?” Death Arms asked, setting down his phone and placing his hands onto his hips. “Let me guess, the big guy had it all sorted like always.”

“Something like that.” She turned to lock the door. Oh, it had to be serious confidential information. She was doing the serious mode that Detective Tsukauchi does, her expression hardening. “I just thought to take care of loose ends hanging around.” Her pale fingers gently took off her glasses, placing them into the tanned trenchcoat’s pocket. 

Shinji squinted at Detective Hayakawa’s eyes. Did they always look so creepy? Guess he hasn’t really paid much attention to Tsukauchi’s partner.

Shinji walked over to be behind Takeyama, tapping her head to pay attention and not look at her phone. The girl swatted at his head and glared, but did as she was asked. 

“Ahh, well, I wish we could share any details about your investigation. We’ve been milked dry by Tsukauchi the other day about everything we know.” 

“Yep… He treated us to coffee and all that, didn’t he?” Takeyama said, tilting her head up to ask Shinji.

He nodded and recalled that fond memory. Detective Tsukauchi was always on the scene helping him and the others out. Shinji had a lot of respect for the guy. 

Hayakawa smiled and placed her hands behind her back. “How thoughtful of him. I wish I could do the same. Though, you’ve all got it under control here, don’t you?” She gestured to the table of half-eaten pizza Takeyama had ordered. 

“Ha, yeah. Nezu’s got us all cooped up here all of a sudden. Said we had to take our mandatory breaks and not cash them in. Whatever that means.” Death Arms rolled his eyes.

“I am glad you guys are here protecting the peace.” She turned to face Takeyama. “I imagine you’re here to catch any neer-do wells who’ll come in from the skies while Shinji is here to constrict them? It’s the only reason  I can think of why my partner had assigned you those roles.”

“Yeah, Tsukauchi had fears that someone would try and one-up the Sports Festival. Doubt anyone with half a brain would do something like that though.” Shinji had to add. 

When Detective Tsukauchi debriefed them last week, he thoroughly wanted to keep Shinji and Takeyama close by for any outside interference thanks to their crowd-control quirks. 

The man was thorough and Shinji imagined his partner was no less the same. Her eyes flicked to his and he had to move his gaze over to something else. 

“He always did think of all the perspectives of those sorts of things. Hmmm. It makes my job easier finding you together so easily. I suppose I have Tsukauchi to thank for that.” 

Death Arms raised a hand up, catching everyone’s attention. “Hey, by the way, who does Nezu got covering us while we’re on break?”

Detective Hayakawa smiled with mirth and turned her head to Death Arms, but kept her posture poignant, her hands behind her back. “Our Police Officers are hard at work covering your patrols, so there’s no need to worry.” She pointed her finger to Takeyama. “You’re not needed here anyways.”

“What do you mean by–” 

“Bang.” 

Takeyama’s entire head dissipated into a fine red mist - bits of brain matter and blood scattered over the wall behind her and onto Shinji’s body. Her curvacious body went slack in the bean bag - her fingers twitching and still in shock at the loss of bodily function. 

“T-takeyama…” Shinji whispered, looking up to see Hayakawa have not even an expression of joy or killer intent.

Her finger went to Death Arms and again, “Bang.” His entire chest cavity dissipated into a giant gaping hole.

“You–!” Shinji rushed to Hayakawa, trapping her into a wooden cage against the wall with a heavy breath. “How could…Glk!!” He looked down to see a chain pushing itself into his stomach from her own waist. He tried to pull back, but Hayakawa yanked it, forcing him to her. 

He ripped open his suit and saw the outline of this chain under his skin like a slithering snake, coiling and writhing into his guts. Shinji felt it tighten around his insides, pulling and tearing, ruining him from the inside out. 

Shinji’s eyes bulged when he felt the chain rising up from his throat, choking him from the inside. He clutched and gagged. Tears pricked at his eyelids and he could only look to see the bodies of his comrades. 

He saw Hayakawa toss her bloodied trench coat, revealing a whole coil of those chains at her groin. He caught the last sight of her floating off the floor….

Takeyama…. He reached out on the floor toward his friend’s body, praying something would help him. I’m…. Sorry….

She floated over him, her finger aimed at his head. “Bang.”

In that instant, Shinji saw just darkness.

Shinso was on the ground, ears ringing and the crowd in an uproar over Bakugo’s win. He’d won it through a relentless beat down that felt like it lasted forever. Every part of his body ached and cried out for aid. 

Even his bones and legs felt like jelly. Merely standing took a heap of effort. But he had to endure. Endure for Ms. Makima. Shinso spat out some blood pooled in his mouth and rose with his head held high. The three crows signalling Makima’s plan flew overhead in a triangular formation. 

It was time. 

He clapped his hands together…. His breath shaky and hands glowing with a white light. Through the eyes of all those present, he snatched hold of the thread that blurred the lines of control over human bodily function. 

His ears heard a low rumble somewhere, but he ignored it. Knowing that it was normal. That whatever he saw today was supposed to be here. That was what Ms. Makima assured him of. 

He keeled over, falling onto his knees and convulsing. He tore open what was left of his burnt clothing to reveal his back, the skin bubbling with slithering outlines underneath.

“Grrahhhhhhaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!” Like a torrential wave, thousands upon thousands of translucent chains visible only to him shot out in all directions, like a spiderweb. This was it. Full connection. 

He felt all of his quirk begin to seep into the spectators, the people, thanks to what Ms. Makima had given him. 

His mind acted as the medium, holding over dominion and forced all those noisy spectators to go quiet. 

What in the hell is going on…? That ain’t part of the show. We still got one more round to go and the awards ceremony…  

Hizashi Yamada took off his shades, squinting and rubbing at his eyes to make sure this wasn’t all in his head. He whispered over to his co-partner. “Oi… Aizawa, you seein’ this?” Hizashi’s voice was laced with concern, his eyes wide as he observed the crowd’s weirder than hell behavior. 

The stadium attendees all rose in unison, their movements eerily mechanical, a complete contrast to the usual lively atmosphere from earlier. His gut was telling him something wasn’t right. This wasn’t part of the script. 

His eyes swooped over the arena, taking in the sight of several Pro Heroes like Endeavor, Midnight, and Cementoss mirroring his alarm down below. Panic gnawed at his instincts as a hero and a teacher. He shoved away from the control console, his chair scraping against the floor with a cringing screech. 

With a surge of adrenaline and blood pumping in his ears, he grabbed at the metal chair, hurling it through the glass window. The giant pane shattered into a thousand pieces. Hizashi slammed his hands down the control board’s many buttons. His fingers rising the faders upward, desperate to amplify and unleash a deafening scream that would jolt everyone back to reality. 

Hizashi drew in a sharp breath, his quirk bubbling into his vocal chords, but before he could release it, a vice-like grip clamped down onto his neck! 

What the…?!

Aizawa’s hand, awfully forceful, shoved Hizashi’s face into the console. Hizashi’s eyes widened as he met his friend’s own gaze. The man’s usual tired eyes were now sculpted with a creepy intensity often reserved for villains. His hair standing on end, and the faint scars that marred his face and hand were gone… Like they never existed there in the first place. 

“E-eh…? Aizawa? Buddy…?” Hizashi’s voice was barely a whisper, his heart pounding against his ribs.  Absolute dread curdled inside his stomach when Aizawa’s silence stretched on, his expression devoid of any emotion. 

He was yanked away from the console and pushed to the ground. With quiet efficiency, Aizawa bound Hizashi’s limbs with his capture scarf, immobilizing him on the ground. 

Aizawa’s hand delved into his pocket, retrieving a phone. He walked over to the control console, adjusting the faders for something. “Ms. Makima… It is done. The floor is yours,” he spoke into the device. His voice cold and robotic. “What should I do with Present Mic?” 

A cold silence fell over him and then Aizawa nodded with his eyes on Hizashi, ensuring his quirk would be disabled. “Understood. I’ll deal with him.”

He hung up and proceeded to Hizashi with a terrifying aura. Why was he doing this?! Who was that?! 

“Aizawa…?”

Midoriya shook at Ochaco’s shoulders, slapping her cheek, but to no avail. She was acting like everyone else in his row. Asui, Mineta, everybody. Their eyes were rolling behind their heads, their breathing gone quiet. Midoriya took a step back when all the afflicted stood up in perfect sync. 

He didn’t know how it happened, but his finger activated by itself, knocking him out of the weird trance that he’d been put under. It felt invasive. Almost like that Control Killer situation.

Everyone in the stadium was standing up now. Even Kaachan was doing the same down at the arena! 

“Hear me!” Shinso’s voice boomed over the speakers, amplifying his words. “You will all help me bring forth something the likes of which this world hasn’t ever seen before! Raise your hands in awe and wonder! Cry out with me the words that I shall say!”

All around, people raised their arms up to the skies. It made Midoriya worry and he knew it was something to do with the Control Killer. What could he do though!? His classmates and everyone else was under Shinso’s quirk! 

He had to rush down the stairs and head to the entryway! He hastily shot down the stairs, making a beeline to the entryway, but his nose connected with a solid cement wall…! 

“T-that wasn’t there before…” He ran his hand over the wall. Someone did this. It was a joint effort. He had to call All-Might! Midoriya dug for his phone, tapping away with shaking fingers. 

His ears picked up a low rumble coming from somewhere….

It started small, barely audible at first. Then, it steadily got louder and more noticeable. It morphed into a distinct, metallic whirring, almost like a chainsaw slowly revving to life. 

Midoriya’s hairs stood up on all ends over his body, giving him the type of goosebumps he’s never felt since the USJ attack. 

The sound intensified, vibrating through the stadium until it shook the very foundations. The noise drowned out the murmurs of the entranced crowd, who were mumbling weird phrases in some language he’s never heard of before.

He rushed to the front of the guardrail, seeing Endeavor jumping over the stands and landing onto the ground, his arm stretched out to fire his quirk. But he looked to his hand in confusion. Was… Was Endeavor’s quirk not working?

Not too far off, Cementnoss and Midnight were acting in a similar manner. Looking at their hands and bodies, trying to will their own quirks to life to stop whatever’s going on, but just like the fiery number two hero…. Nothing. 

Midoriya hastily reached for his own phone.

W-what’s going on…? C’mon, All-Might… Pick up! Pick up!

The phone went to voicemail again and Midoriya didn’t know what to do in this situation. 

“Say it with me all who are here and from afar….” Shinso’s body began to float upward, his hands raised above his head. “Save me…..” He pulled free a knife and stabbed at his hand. Blood gushed from it in copious amounts. 

All around him, the cacophony of voices cried out his words. The wound inflicted by Shinso appeared onto everyone’s right hand as blood leaked and pooled onto the floors of the stadium.  

“Save me!”

“Save us!”

“Protect us!”

“Save us.  Bring onto us salvation and glory.” Shinso took a long pause. “Save us, Chainsaw Man.”

Midoriya couldn’t believe what he was seeing. This was on a gigantic scale. How could Shinso’s quirk work like that….? 

He had One For All…. He could end this. 

Steeling his resolve, he jumped over the railing, landing on his butt with a hiss of pain. He rubbed at his ankles which ached from the shock, but he kept on. He focused all 100% of One For All into a fist. 

The stadium thrummed with an awful atmosphere, a tension hanging heavy in the air that felt suffocating. Thousands of people, thousands of voices, once cheering on Kaachan’s victory, now merged into a horrifying, unified chant.

“Chainsaw Man!” They roared, their voices echoing throughout the entire stadium itself. Their voices hoarse and raw. 

“Chainsaw Man!” They repeated with tears and sobs, the sound building, gaining even more power with each repetition of that name. What did it mean? Why was it important?!

“Chainsaw Man!” The entranced crowd cried out even louder. Their vocal chords being tested to the limits. “Chainsaw Man! Chainsaw Man!”

The chants grew inexplicably louder, faster, more desperate. The crowd swayed in unison, more wounds popping up around their bodies as they wept with blood. Their eyes were glazed, their faces mixed with terror and ecstasy. 

“Save us, Chainsaw Man! Save us from this world of cruelty!” Shinso’s voice roared. His plea for help was echoed by the crowd. 

The chant reached a deafening pitch - its volume shaking the very foundations of the stadium with the force of this quirk. Their voices all acting as one to call out to the darkness of the sky - the clouds forming ominously, ready to weep for the arrival of something.

And then…. It came. A dark, tall figure fell from the sky, bursting into the arena. It moved with insane speeds, a blur of black that left trails of pure, abyssal darkness in its wake. 

“A-a Nomu…. Here?” Midoriya took a step back, halting his assault on Shinso, as did Midnight and Endeavor, their eyes wide with surprise. The figure looked… hellish. More twisted and gnarled than the Nomu at the USJ incident. Its arrival washed those still sensible with pure dread. 

That loud chainsaw noise reached a deafening crescendo as the figure landed heavily in the center of the arena, staring at Shinso’s floating form. Its arms sharpened into long, pitch black chained blades. Its head glowing with yellow eyes behind a chained visor.

“Bear witness to that which will bring about wonder and order! Give your lives for this moment! Offer your despair! Offer your fear so that Ms. Makima may be nourished!” 

As if on cue, the whole stadium echoed with cries, sobs, and screams for help as though Shinso had given his victims brief control over their emotions, but not their bodies.

Sure enough, Midoriya saw the people crying and begging to be let go. Whatever it was doing, all he could hear was a hellish choir of dread and agony. 

“Not on our watch!” Endeavor roared, charging forth with fists raised, as did Cementoss and Midnight. The three heroes and the ones on standby in the stadium rushed onto the ground floor, charging at the newest intruder.

The Nomu looked at them and screeched - halting them with mere guttural cries alone.  

He saw Shinso fall back to the ground and sluggishly crawl over to Kaachan’s still form, whispering something into his ears and holding onto his back. 

“Kaachan!” He ran forward, watching his friend grab Shinso and proceed to fly off into the air out of the stadium.

Makima couldn’t believe it… Finally, Finally! A large, rosy blush colored her cheeks as she stood over the stadium’s roof with Irinaka. 

For once it seemed that Fate itself had left her with the best opportunity on a silver platter. There were no other competing devils to stand in her way this time. It was just her and Chainsaw Man in this world filled with bothersome heroes and villains. 

She’s finally found him - the cries of humans needing help never occurred to her at the time, but at a much grander scale? The Hero of Hell wouldn’t ever miss this chance. All she had to do now was ensure he was hers and hers alone.

If she had to become a necessary evil to have him all to herself today, then so be it. 

What was a few thousand lives compared to the beautiful changes she could make to this world with Chainsaw Man finally at her side? 

She looked at the shaking form of Irinaka, the man in pure awe and dread at the sight below him. Such was the power of Chainsaw Man.  “Close the roof. Seal the exits that Chisaki didn’t cover. No one leaves.”

“W-what is that…?” He pointed, his body shaking with fear.

“A key to a better, more peaceful world.” She replied. “Irinaka. Do as you’re told. Or you won’t be leaving here alive.” Her eyes narrowed, the man shrinking down and melding into the roof, prepping his own part.

People were watching live and as they did, no doubt did they begin to fear the name Control even more. All over Japan and likely places around the world too. Her muscles grew, tendons forming and reworking themselves. She’d need all the power she could get for today. To fully bring him to heel just as she did before. 

Her heart surged with energy and love.

Her bones hardening and her limbs becoming more dexterous. 

This was the climax of it all. 

She leaned over the edge, dropping down into the center of the arena from the retractable roof, the sky being blotted out by Irinaka’s quirk. The lights came on soon after, giving the savior of this world and her life a grandiose spotlight. 

It covered its face at first, its dark hands shielding its sight from the blinding light before roaring at it with deafening sound and fury. Endeavor and the others were ramrod straight at the sight of him, as they should be. Chainsaw Man was a being of divinity. A being worth living for. 

She extended one hand outward with a smile she’s only ever reserved for the one and only being that could be her equal in this life and the next. 

Chainsaw Man stepped forward with a stomp, letting out a shrill cry that made her entire body shiver with delight. 

It roared, the chainsaws on its body all whirring with blazing intensity. Without a moment to spare, Chainsaw Man blurred forward, poised to strike. 

“Come, Chainsaw Man. Come and be mine.” Makima smiled.

Chapter Text

Chainsaw Man blurred forward in an instant, his speed unlike anything she’d recalled previously. Makima’s cheeks burned ever brighter with a deep blush. He was everything. A being of pure chaos. Just as he was meant to be. 

With her hand aimed at him in a finger-gun gesture, focusing on the power to the tip of her index finger. “Bang.” 

In an instant, the rushing beauty of darkness and fury was stopped by an invisible force, being launched backwards into the wall of the stadium. Some of the innocent hypnotized bystanders by the guardrail fell over with glazed eyes, happily, if not unwittingly, falling to their deaths in silence.

She powerwalked over to him, his form practically caved into the fieldwall, ripping through the padding of it and into the hard cement behind. With another aim of her finger, she smiled. 

“Bang!”

“Bang!”

“Bang!”

With quiet hisses and groans, Chainsaw Man could only hold up his arms to try and guard itself from her onslaught of pure, pressurized power. 

Looking weakened, she grinned and dashed forward, Makima’s hand became straight as a blade as she tried to go for his heart! He was hers–!

“GRAHHHHH!!!!!!!!” He let out a loud cry, the shockwave shattering her eardrums and momentarily causing her to lose balance.

He capitalized on that moment of weakness and used his chainsaw atop his head to dig into her chest. The infernal blade revved up inside of her chest cavity, rending organs with jagged edges. 

She kicked off from him, landing near the stairways of the platform behind her. The gaping hole and her intestines that were flopping out of her returned back to their original positions. 

Ripping his arms and body from the wall, it stretched and got even larger. That was different. New. He’d not done that before. 

Time to switch up the arsenal. 

She got herself back into a boxing stance, her feet planted and her fists clenched tight to prep for a barrage of jabs. 

Like a whirlwind of blood and demonic fury, Chainsawman launched like a catapult, but she stood her ground, taking the charge head on. It’s barrage of attacks came down one after the other. Each slice hacking away her arms and body into various pieces, but that wouldn’t be enough. Her body would continually mend itself over and over. 

She’d continue to punch holes into the dark flesh of Chainsaw Man’s body, each one a resounding blow of pure force and power. Each punch earned a cry or gurgle from his throat along with black blood and cracked bones. 

Makima ducked under a wide sweep of his chainsaws, only to be kneed into the face by him. Her face pushed in on itself from the strength of that attack. He used that chance to send forth a tendril of blackened chains to wrap tightly around her midriff. 

She showed no emotion on her reforming face as she’d been lifted away from the ground and flung higher and higher. To the point that she reached the roof of the stadium at an alarmingly fast pace. The wind whistled past her ears and that sense of gravity welled up in the bottom of her stomach.

Her body collided with the cement ceiling, bones and willpower once again being tested to its limits. Her head cracked open and it momentarily left her vision foggy from the jarring stun to the back of her brain. With a quick tug, she was peeled off the roof slowly. 

He mercilessly let gravity do what it did best as she slowly felt the rest of her back begin to reform and mold itself after being slammed against the roof. That sense of gravity made her fall down for a long while. The air whizzed past her ears.

A loud splat came soon after as her legs and entire body cracked open like an egg. Again, she crawled forward, letting her powers restore herself back to fullness. 

She let one arm out and gestured to herself for another round. 

Chainsaw Man ran forwards to her again. His chainsaws slashed through the air with screeches that sent chill after chill down her entire body. It was electrifying. It was ecstasy in its purest form. Her upper half was sliced cleanly from her legs and he grabbed at her shoulders, flinging her off into the distance with another roar. 

She looked down, a distinct lack of legs and the sight of her guts yet again spilling out over the bloodied arena didn’t deter her one bit. In fact, it just made this much more thrilling. It was like finally meeting someone who could keep up with her. Someone who would understand her once she got a hold of him. Someone who would make things truly right. 

Makima’s regeneration didn’t take long, muscles, tendons, and bones reforming and remaking themselves into another instant. Anything done to her today would be nullified. She was at the top of her level. 

She rose and was caught off guard by Chainsaw Man’s ridiculous speed and untamed fury. Makima readied her hands up to block it and try for another grapple, but the force of his attack was on another level. 

He slammed into her with the impact of an unstoppable train, his shoulder connecting with her body and sending Makima flying through the air. 

She crashed into the stadium stands, shattering concrete and steel. Her back bent in two ways and her arms twisted as she crawled upwards to sit in the remnants of a broken stadium seat with a slight chuckle.  

Another roar echoed throughout the stadium and it vibrated through her teeth and chest. This one felt different. Too focused than before. Her eyes narrowed, even still, he cared more about these humans than her. 

How irritating. Even though I’m the main one who called you here….

Again, and again, Chainsaw Man unleashed several primal roars that echoed throughout the stadium, vibrating through the chests and teeth of all those present. It wasn’t a sound of fury or chaos, but something more. Something showing intelligence behind the mindless fury of his terrifying and beautiful appearance. 

With each shrill cry, a subtle, unseeable force emanated from Chainsaw Man. Visible only to her eyes. 

“So that’s what you’re more worried about?” Makima let out another disappointed sigh. She looked around to see that he was disrupting and jamming the mental hold Shinso’s quirk had on the crowd. 

People, who just moments before were glazed-eyed puppets, began to blink, their expressions and faces shifting from empty to downright confused. Whispers came through the stands as even more people started to regain their senses, shaking their heads as if they were coming out of a deep sleep. The translucent chains that had bound them were dissolving, shattered completely by the sheer and incredible force of Chainsaw Man’s chaotic powers. Powers that were different and new to her.  

Their eyes, once dull and lifeless, started to show flickers of fear and disorientation as they realized the situation they were in. Some started to scatter away like terrified insects found under a rock; others pulled out their phones and tablets, wanting to record what was going on; and the scarce few, tried to call out for help to the Pro Heroes too scared to move their own legs at this battle. 

This roar of his…. It wasn’t just some stupid sound he made for the fun of it. No, it was a wave of chaotic freedom that washed over all these humans. And that…. That made it both enjoyable but also disappointing. Like reaching the high of an orgasm, only to see it be cut off at the end. 

She looked over the crowds of people finally regaining their senses, the weaker and much more cannon fodder of Pro Heroes and U.A. students contemplating on jumping down to join in the fray. 

The bottom of the barrel that didn’t interest her one bit nor would they make a dent in today’s battle. These low-level Pro Heroes, a mix-match assortment of people who clearly weren’t meant to fight someone like Chainsaw Man or her. 

She left the stands, jumping back down into the arena itself. 

Still, their idiotic heroic virtue ushered them along. Surging them forward and onto the arena itself. Some landed with grace, others with a thump, and a scarce few making a fool of themselves. 

It was desperation at its finest to Makima; a poor attempt to display bravery in the face of something utterly impossible. Each hero and young teen’s face was illuminated by the stadium’s lighting, dazzling them in one brief flash of heroism. Not for long though. 

“W-we will split them up. One half takes Nomu, and the rest of us deal with her !” A lanky man with stretchy limbs and a green spandex suit declared. 

“W-wait! It looks like the Nomu is weak! Surround it!” Another said aloud and soon a large crew swarmed him without any resistance.

“Coward… So you think the masses will help you recuperate?” Makima said with a scoff, glaring at the sight of them believing they’d had any part in subduing that which cannot be tamed by normal means. He was hers. Not theirs. 

The large motley crew of random low level heroes and sensible, if not brave, U.A. students huddled and argued for a brief moment before all getting into their own readied stances. 

They launched without a second thought to their own safety. All of their quirks, supposed symbols of safety and hope for the fearful masses, now meant nothing more than fodder to Makima as she raised up her hand to them.

She let out a small chuckle, stepping up onto the platform that once served as the ‘battleground’ for the tournament. Her eyes scanned the oncoming mass with a critical analyzation, checking for any troublesome heroes among them.

None… It would be a massacre then. 

The first to break the charge and arrive at her was a lanky hero covered in a faded green spandex that stretched all in the wrong places…. Before he could even stretch to an abnormal size, and likely try to wrap himself around her like rope, she raised her finger-gun up to him. 

“Bang.” The sight of his stomach blossoming out into a hefty, albeit chunky, crimson bloom, halted the charge of people. The sheer force of her power easily tore through muscles, bones, and tendons, sending the brave idiotic soul collapsing to the concrete with an audible wet thud. 

Makima didn’t even look at the pathetic sight, stepping over his corpse while his blood spread over the floor. She felt something wrap around her ankle with a weak grip and she looked downwards, seeing the stretchy hero’s arm tangle itself on her right foot. 

She yanked her foot from his dying grasp and stomped into his face, the skull of his popping like a grape.

She sighed in annoyance at how these Pro Heroes still charged forward despite the difference in power. The fear of everyone present had given her strength and agility on a whole another level. 

Still, the relentless horde is either brave or completely stupid like the one who died, their arms raised and quirks at the ready. 

“She got Elastic!” A woman said with hesitation. Her costume, a mix-match of leaves and shrubbery, halted those behind her, most of which were fearful students, full of false bravado. 

“Where’s the crowd-control guys at…?” Another whispered. 

“Shut up.. She’ll hear you!” 

“Aizawa… Keep me covered.” Makima said, commanding her sleeper agent to come down from the press box high up towards the eastern side of the stadium.

The agile controlled hero leapt forward, dancing between punches and kicks like a puppet with expert handling from a puppeteer. 

Nets, slime, and area quirk users were quickly shot down with Aizawa’s helpful quirk. He kept them off her back while she handled her own portion of ambitious and stubborn cannon fodder.

They got closer, with one, a muscular man with a blue mohawk and glowing fists of purple energy, war-whooped with a cheshire grin. “You will pay for your atrocities!” He whirled his right fist up like a windmill. 

He lunged forward, flying with a powered up strike straight to her body, but Makima side-stepped it, catching the man’s neck as he flew by and slamming him into the ground. Her own fist, clenched into a ball, shot downwards. 

It rammed straight into his back with ease, her hand parting through bone and viscera inside until it went clean through his chest. The man gurgled beneath her and he went still, blood seeping from his lips. 

Makima slowly withdrew her hand, rising up from one knee, but she saw the glare of a scope high up near the north ed of the stands. 

A shot whizzed by and pierced her ankle, sending her onto one knee again. She covered her face, but a pellet of bullets, with pin-point accuracy, bursted their way through her hand, chest, and neck. 

“Yeah! Snipes got us covered! Swarm her!” Another person declared as she heard the tell-tale stampede coming her way. 

Her mind was foggy as one of those bullets was lodged in her brain. Vision was a blur and her sense of balance was out of order. This wouldn’t stop her though. A minor thing to heal….

“Aizawa…. This is an order: Deal with Snipes. Doesn’t matter how.” She mentally commanded, slowly rising but getting another barrage of bullets slamming into her face and body, each bullet likely customized, as she felt them explode inside of her, sending tiny shrapnel pieces into different parts of her organs.

The man nodded without saying a word, thrusting his fist into the throat of a woman with a metal visor over her eyes, causing her to keel over with a bloody gurgle. He dodged and weaved between the downed heroes, using them as cover while Snipes tried to triangulate a better shot. 

It was annoying is what it was…. 

She rose back, more and more of her body mending itself back together while simultaneously spitting out the bullets in her flesh. 

The sight of a grave and pathetic death didn’t deter these fools. No, it only spurred them on. They charged forward like relentless ants to a downed cricket. 

Her eyes flicked over to the sight of them encasing Chainsaw Man in a solid block of ice, while a line of them stayed close to defend it. 

“Will you just sit there and let me massacre all of these innocent lives, Chainsaw Man? What’s happened to you? Where’s that sense of chaotic justice?” She swatted aside an eager-faced student, the boy’s head turning at an odd angle, terrifying more of those behind him.

It was laughable to think these peons could even amount to anything here. Their movements were uncoordinated. Each individual here acting with their own personal intent, but sorely lacking any cohesion amongst them. 

She dodged and weaved through the fire, the rain of bolts, and the swirls of powerful gusts while at the same time jabbing, uppercutting, and kicking in retaliation. Each hero bloodied her shirt with a fresh gush.

A boy dabbed in pure metal rushed her, punching her into the face, caving it in with force, but she quickly grabbed at his wrist, her nails digging into the metallic forearm.

“Testu–!” A girl cried out and she tuned out the cries of the boy as she breached the metallic dermal plating of this kid’s quirk with her nails. With a swift and graceful turn, she used a gator-like twist to rip the boy’s arm off, tendons and all. 

He let out a cry of utter pain and she didn’t let up there. She used the severed arm and smacked him with it, using the metal portion of it as a blunt weapon. He laid there, crying out with whimpers, as Makima casted a brief glance before stepping over him.

Each handful tried their hand in trying to subdue her, but each one was met with a fatal end or humiliating beatdown. 

Some backed out, opting to instead go help the crying and utterly terrified citizens up in the bleachers, leaving their comrades behind to face her with each of them having worrying degrees of anxiousness and dread. 

Behind those were the remnants of the lowly Pro Heroes and not too far off, the U.A. students of varying classes. Their outfits still on and their faces full of fear and courage. 

Through it all she could see utter terror past those fake displays of bravery just like all the others. They followed behind what little Pro Heroes they could, sallying behind them in hopes of defeating Makima with quirks not fully developed to anything truly dangerous to affect her. 

Those quirks…. One was a splash of highly pressurized water that tore through her arms and sleeves, ripping through her shirt and exposing smooth skin underneath. It was joined in by electricity, zapping her to the core of her body and frying her insides.

But these quirks of theirs… It was all just simple elementary abilities that’d been honed for show. Sharpened in classrooms and silly training rooms. Not for something as real as this. 

A cluster of teenage heroes sallied forth to her, each one a display of hope and pure adrenaline likely flowing through their veins. They ran in, dog-piling onto her and trying to subdue her, but she merely had to flex her strength, shoving them all off with a swat of her hand. 

They flew like specks, off into the distance and onto their backs with groans or whimpers. A couple of sensible ones knew the futility of their attacks and scampered off with tears. They were smart. 

However, the others, more idiotic and braver than those who ran, charged forward with little to no coordination. She was assaulted with miniscule energy blasts from a child with a built-in laser in his stomach, a few slow haymakers made by some boy with big lips, and even hesitant kicks to her shins and stomach by a kid with an overgrown tail. 

Makima narrowed her eyes, scanning each one and darted through their guards like a snake between giant blades of grass. She was fast. Far faster than their little eyes could catch.

With a series of precise jabs to their throats and heavy kicks to their guts, she dealt with them. One teenage boy with wavy hair keeled over, clutching his chest from the crane kick she’d given him, only to be met with a bootkick to the nose. 

“All this blood is on your hands, Chainsaw Man. Become mine and I won’t have to do this. I won’t have to end their lives so needlessly.” She said aloud, knowing full well that he heard her as he clutched at his body. He was surrounded by the worried cloned faces of a Pro Hero clammed in a gigantic trench coat. 

The bodies of these students were casually tossed aside like ragdolls as she paved her way towards Chainsaw Man. Parting the sea of resistant aspiring heroes with brutal attacks. 

Each step forward left another human on the ground beaten to a pulp with blood and whimpers surrounding her on all ends. She barely registered them, more interested in getting to Chainsaw Man himself than anything.  

A fast streak blurred past her and it would’ve been an issue for her in the past. He would’ve been invisible to her eyes, but with all the fear she’s absorbed, her eyes saw the image of a frail, short old man, well past his prime, joining into the fight. 

“You’re quite a fiend all on your own, aren’t ya?” The old geezer said with a huff. “Step back, kids.” He didn’t break eye contact with her, ensuring he wasn’t leaving her out of his sight. Smart. “Tend to the wounded. Wait for help.” He was short for an old man. Much shorter than any other person she’s seen thus far. It was almost comedic and she bent down.

“I am.” Makima said with a slight chuckle of her own. “You’re in the way. Move aside.”

“Can’t do that, I’m afraid. You have to be put down.” 

“Mmm… So you–” He cut her off, blurring forward and delivering a swift roundhouse kick to her jaw, momentarily wracking her consciousness. She planted her feet, keeping her grounded and not losing balance. 

He was surprisingly fast for a man his age. He circled around her in an ever-increasing dash, a small tornado of yellow beginning to funnel and form. 

She closed her eyes, smiling to herself at the poor attempt. She’d play along for now. 

“You’re fast.” She reached out, her hand missing a grapple to his ankle and that earned a chuckle from the geezer. 

“So I’ve been told.” His voice reverberated through the tornado, her hair swishing and flowing in all directions. The wind slashed at her and whistled past her ears. 

Again, she reached out, trying to nab him, but missing once more. She’d only gotten the after-image of his giant yellow boot. His speed was definitely impressive for an old man. Even more so for such a short thing like him. 

She waited for him to lower his guard in this speedy tornado, doing her best to act annoyed. 

“Suppose speed is all it takes to deal with you. You’re slow.” She felt the back of a boot hit her neck, knocking her onto her knees. “Wasn’t ever wanting to be at this lousy stadium, but a young whippersnapper of a Detective told me to be on board!”

Makima’s eyes narrowed into slits. 

Tsukauchi…. Even from the grave you continue to be a thorn in my side.  

Makima sighed internally. She didn’t register the name of this nobody. He was fodder just like the others. A gnat. 

“Clumsy!” He cried out another condescending taunt, slamming his heel into her back, shattering her spine. She felt her ribs puncture her lungs and her clavicle jutting out of her skin…. Irksome. 

The old geezer chuckled at the sound. “You’re disabled now!”

“Impuslve!” Again, he darted from the left at an impossible angle, a flying kick aimed to her chin as she reeled from it, her vision going into the doubles. 

“G-get him, Gran Torino!” A girlish voice cheered on.

“Gran Torino…? What’s he doing here?!” Another voice said in amazement.

“We don’t care! Let’s go keep that other thing busy! C’mon!” A masked boy cried. 

She heard the sounds of feet and boots rushing over to where Chainsaw Man. If they defeat him here, it’d be all for nothing. No…. They can’t have him. Only she could. 

“And most of all: Cowardly–”

Just as the old man got within striking distance, her hand shot out instantly, closing around his ankle with a vise grip. 

“Got you….” She said under her breath, her head tilting back, a thick stream of blood pouring down her forehead and to her chin. 

The old man grimaced and his eyes went wide when Makima used her strength to fling him upwards like a child would to a ragdoll, and then she slammed him down with incredible force onto the concrete platform. 

The sheer sound of the impact echoed throughout the entire stadium, the crunch his body made stayed in Makima’s mind briefly. 

Gasps and mortified cries from the students the geezer told to stay back were heard and she chuckled as she finally let go of his limp elderly ankle, his limb and face probably contorted. 

“S-she killed him….”

“I-impossible… He was doing so well….” 

Makima rose up from her downed position again and used what was left of her shirt’s sleeves to wipe away the blood dripping from her forehead. 

The majority of the remaining teen aspiring heroes-in-training began to scatter like roaches, running with their tails under their legs with loud whimpers and sobs. Their poor attempts at interventions were just a distraction. A warm-up. 

She’s never felt more alive now. And it seems Chainsaw Man’s felt the same, he rose from the dog-pile of clones from what looked to be Ectoplasm, shredding the doubles with his chains with relative ease. 

Another roar and shriek made those who were helping Ectoplasm flee in terror. Even the Pro Hero was stepping back, struck in place from his roar.

Good.

“So, you’ll finally do something now? Were you contemplating to yourself? Perhaps talking to your host?” She asked, her nose flaring again to try and triangulate what scent was beyond that cloying stench of Hell on him. 

But it revealed nothing….. That irked her. 

He was always here in this world. But never at any point in the time she’s been here in this world, he hadn’t sought her out. He hadn’t once made a stop to her actions. Instead, through the memories of those Yakuza, she’d seen him devour and consume humans as well as animals. Almost as if he was acting more like an animal than the being she so admired.  

Makima clicked her tongue and grabbed the nearest terrified student with dark brown hair, her fingers digging into the human’s nape. 

“Even after everything we’ve been through, you still don’t see me. You won’t eat me. Why? Why won’t you let me be inside you again, Chainsaw Man? Am I tough going down your gullet? Is that why you’re refusing to eat me?”

Her eyes narrowed at the stillness of him. “Is that you, Denji?” She asked, a small visceral rage building up in her at how disappointed she’d be if it was. She tested to see if the hormonal teenager would save this gril given how curvaceous and attractive she looked.

“P-please, l-let me go–urkkhg!” The human’s sniveling voice was hushed as Makima’s grip tightened around the woman’s skinny neck, wringing it with annoyance. Something was gnawing at the back of her mind and it made her worry. A seed of doubt was spreading in her mind. 

The giant form of him stood tall and it crouched low into a pounce-like posture. It made no motion to answer her. It was slightly alleviating to not hear that hormonal teenager’s voice come out of Chainsaw Man’s immaculate lips. But also worrying… 

Her nostrils flared open, gathering in the scent of his body. It was nauseating and full of rot. A fresh smell of hell lingered around him with notes of something else. 

She snapped the girl’s neck from that doubt and heard the rumble of disagreement from Chainsaw Manas well as the gasps from the remnants of the fighting force she dealt with. She was hardly defeated. The Pro Heroes and those students here were too whipped to join in and fight him. Too afraid to be fighting against something of unknown power. With a sickening squelch from her body, blood and viscera knit itself back together. Every bit of damage she’s taken thus far healing. Warmth flowed through her veins. Life pumped inside her heart. It was far from over.

Makima tossed the woman’s body aside. “Come then. Come and spar with me, Chainsaw Man. Just like old times.”

As if taking that as an invitation, Chainsaw Man’s eyes glowed with an infernal yellow light. He lunged forward, his chainsaws buzzing with sparking intensity. But this time, Makima was ready. With a swift and powerful kick, she sent him flying across the arena before he could dive onto her, his body smashing through concrete, the platform cracked and ruined. 

Debris rained down like a meteor shower, and the stadium itself groaned under the strain of this battle between herself nd Chainsaw Man. It would collapse soon, and he didn’t look one bit hurt. 

She stood over the edge of the edge of the plateau with her foot, surveying the area around him. People were pounding away at the entries Chisaki had sealed. Their fear delicious and empowering. 

Though it likely applied even more to Chainsaw Man too, which was fine. The stronger the better. Once she had a hold of him, nothing could stop her. 

“Through memories of cockroaches, to whispers and rumors, I’ve finally found you.” She leaned forwards, dropping back down into the arena, her hands behind her back. She bent forward, smiling at how surreal Chainsaw Man looked.

Tall.

Dark as night itself.

A blood-red scarf of a translucent meat cape wrapped around his neck. 

Bone plating around his forehead and chin.

Chainsaws made of an abyssal metal and burning with the fires of hell itself. 

He was divinity in its purest, chaotic form.

“For months I thought of just living my life as an officer of the law. Pretending to be what I am not. For months I thought I was truly alone in this world. I was ready to give it all up. But now… You’re here. You’ve given me purpose. A reason to try again. A way to make this world better for the both of us.”

She reached her hand out. “Eat me, Chainsaw Man. Eat me or become mine. Either way, I will be whole with you. As one.” 

But then Chainsaw Man stepped back, his body contorting and the sounds of him gagging concerned her. The dark expanse of his back was rippling with something underneath and his throat bulged outwards as if something yearned to be free from inside. 

With a bubbling gurgle and splatter of charcoal mucus, Chainsaw Man began throwing up something onto the arena itself. His fanged jaws opened wide like a snake’s maw would to remove an egg. 

Two figures slid out of his gullet, a dark-placenta like thing connected to their bellies as they were covered in the same black sludge, their faces and forms distorted yet human. Though their scents revealed themselves.

A smokey hint of a long-forgotten whiskey lost to time and the unmistakable yet suffocating incense from a faraway land.  

But beyond them and Chainsaw Man himself was another scent. One she’s not smelled since–

Makima frowned, her smile fading into a sharp glare. “So it’s like that then…”

Giran crawled onto the dirty, piss-covered floor, the effect of Kurono’s quirk still wracking his limbs with five minutes left on the slowing debilitation, forcing him to use all his four limbs to gain some sort of speed. 

Still, the sounds of roars, shrieks, and pounding of immense strength worried his mind. What was going on out there?! 

He failed. He failed to get some sort of knowledge out there to someone. No, no, that was stupid rational. He could still get info out there to someone worth telling.

After an agonizing long crawl to the outside of the bathrooms and into the main concourse of the stadium. Its stalls and various merch stands long since abandoned by the people manning them. 

He used the cool cement wall beside him as support as he regained control over his legs’ speed. Trying to get to the seating areas, but then he was met with a sturdy cement wall blocking the entry. 

“That wasn’t there before…” He felt around for it, hoping for the blockage to be an illusion. “No, no. No! Fuck!” He slapped against it and punched the wall with his fist, ignoring the pain enveloping his knuckles.

“Fuck! Fuck!” He paced back and forth, his mind a reel of possibilities going through scenario after scenario. 

What the hell could he do?! 

But the shrill cry of something drew his attention away from his panicking thoughts. 

It echoed throughout the concourse he was in and it sounded like a cacophony of pure agony. There were voices of people, young and old, pleading in various languages he’d not heard of with some Japanese mixed into it. 

He peeked out from behind the cement pillar he’d been punching and using as a rest for his back. The silence of the empty concourse he was in was interrupted by a wet, tearing sound. Like fabric, no, flesh, being torn apart with the accompaniment of squelches and dripping of blood. 

At first, Giran assumed it to be the other bathroom next to him, but then, it appeared…. A pulsating ring of raw red muscle, floating ten feet above the concrete. It’s fleshy appearance throbbed with an odd rhythm, its shape taking form into a disgusting fleshy sphincter expanding with a slow pace. 

Again, those voices came out from it, another bone-chilling cacophony of human voices twisted into screams that came out of excruciating pain. Again, he heard different voices speaking varying languages and dialects, all of them he assumed were crying out for help or mercy. 

When the fleshy floating ring opened ever slightly, a wave of an utterly nauseating stench he’d not smelled in all his life sprayed over the concourse, thick and humid. Giran gagged as it hit the back of his throat and nostrils.

Decayed flesh, intermingled with that copper tang of blood and something he couldn’t even describe, emanated from this portal. 

He took a shaky step back when the fleshy ring widened, slick tendrils of a translucent sinew with veins hung out, dangling and writhing in the air. 

Giran squinted, trying to discern whatever the hell was in front of him. Another squelch and wet gurgle popped out of the fleshy ring, before it expanded even wider, as if to push something out.

He took a few steps back and had to clench his eyes from the utterly awful smell, but when he opened them he saw something being birthed out of that floating flesh portal….

“W-what the fuck…?” He whispered with utter horror. 

Chapter Text

Midoriya couldn't fathom what he'd seen. It was a Nomu. It was unlike the level he'd encountered back at the USJ! And when the Control Killer dealt with all those Pro Heroes and some of the U.A. kids…. It was a nauseating sight.

He was paralyzed with the overwhelming gnawing fear that threatened to control his rationality and actions; to force him to flee as fast as he can to somewhere safe.

His eyes watched in both trepidation and wonder at the sight of how easily the two villains danced in battle against each other. They tore through the stadium's arena like cardboard, the infamous Control Killer whom he'd seen back at the USJ incident, dodged and weaved with a speed he's not seen before.

She moved with grace and fluidity, her form a great contrast to the monstrous and wild fury that was the Nomu. It responded in kind to the Control Killer's jabs and swings with savage screams and anger.

Its chainsaw arms tore through concrete and steel without difficulty and it made Midoriya wonder if this was another iteration of the Nomu All-Might had fought previously.

But no… That can't be it! Midoriya shook his head, trying to gather as much context as he could while jogging to get a better view of the fight.

He was on the ground floor, fists clenched and contemplating on whether or not to attack. His heart pounded against his ribs and the sounds of people screaming or sobbing all around him didn't help at all for his own heart.

The stands above him, echoed with screams of pure dread while debris from the titanic fight rained down in droves.

People need your help… You can end this. You can use One For All to dismantle whatever is happening here.

Steeling his resolve and planting his feet, he willed the rest of his power into his hand, channeling it to be at 100% of its fullest potential. Something to disable at least one of the two villains here.

He had a responsibility here. He possessed a power of which to protect those that All-Might and his predecessors vowed to uphold. He couldn't stand by idly while these two monsters wrecked havoc without consequence!

Inside of his heart, it swelled with that bubbly feeling of ingrained heroism. It surged through his veins and pumped adrenaline everywhere into his limbs.

His classmates….

His teachers….

His friends….

They wee all in danger here. Endeavor and Cementoss weren't able to use their quirks, but that didn't stop them from shouting to nearby students and other heroes to halt their attack and to instead focus on civilians.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see several Pro Heroes helping some of the terrified spectators slide down onto a makeshift ladder or tube to the ground level of the arena, ushering the lost to a nearby vomitorium to escape.

All-Might wouldn't stand around while people were in terror….

The memory of All-Might telling him that he'd have to announce that he was here. That he had to be the one become the next symbol of peace and justice. It only hardened his resolve.

He took a deep breath and made his decision here and now. There wasn't any chance of stepping out. No time to back away. No room for any form of doubt. He had to do something, to somehow disrupt this terrifying battle between titans. Even….

He clutched t his arm.

Even if it meant potentially getting injured while doing so.

Blinking away his tears and planting his feet, Midoriya cried out with a guttural scream of his own. He drew upon the power of One For All, willing it to flow through his veins and bones. He'd most definitely get hurt here. But at least he'd go out with taking or at least incapacitating one of the villains here. Anything to give the people here a fighting chance. He'd ask for forgiveness later!

He bit back a whimper as he felt One For All writhe and unravel inside of his muscles, the memory of how his limbs looked when using it to this extent briefly flashed through his head but he shook the doubt out. No turning back.

The screams and cries of innocent people here only worked to help his determination of saving them. He had to be the one to give them reprieve. To be their hope in this closed off nightmare!

Midoriya surged onwards, stepping with his arm loaded like a cannon, ready to unload all of the stored up energy in his fist to one of the villains! His target had to be when they were both in close proximity to each other. For a two-birds one punch type of attack.

However, just as he was about to use this momentum to throw himself in for an attack, a sudden block of ice stopped his advance. He slammed into it at full sprint and fell back onto his butt. The impact left him in a dizzy state, trying to refocus his sight and regain focus.

When his sight finally came to, the image of a disapproving Todoroki Shoto stood above him with arms crossed, his glare boring a hole right into his chest. "You're being stupid. There's no chance of you doing anything to those two."

Wrong! Midoriya clambered up and pointed at the two of them.

"But–!"

A flare of heat briefly came from Todoroki in warning. "Think again, Midoriya." He pointed towards the two fighting. "They have regenerative quirks. Both of them. See?"

Midoriya squinted at the two and saw them ripping each other to pieces, the Control Killer's arms being torn off and her responding in kind with an invisible attack that puncutred the Nomu's chest, leaving a gigantic gaping hole where flesh once had been.

But in those few seconds, both of them had regained their bodies to a normal state….

"We won't be able to do anything to them. I've tried. Both with ice and fire, and they shrugged it off. And Aizawa's is….." Todoroki's eyes drifted over to their teacher who was holding his own against a crew of muscular Pro Heroes, fending them off with no expression on his face.

"Look, I want to help too, but this is beyond us. Everyone else is thinking the same thing. Fighting either of those is just a waste of time. Let them duke it out." The distance between them and the fight was a way off, but Midoriya could rush it. He could make it.

Sensing his intent, Todoroki summoned another wall of ice to block off his escape with a glare. "I'd have thought you'd be smarter, Midoriya. We. Are. Outmatched. It's too dangerous. You'll only get yourself killed."

"We have to help!"

"Yes, we can. On our own terms." He gestured with his hand that swirled with fire that melted off excess ice on his arm…. As if he's been active doing something on his own.

His classmate pointed towards the lower levels of the stadium, where he saw Asui, hurriedly doing her best alongside Shoji to guide utterly terrified spectators and students towards the vomitoriums,

Beside them, Midnight and Endeavor towered over them, yelling at the people to get into safety as fast as possible.

People were being saved… It wasn't a total disaster. Todoroki's message was abundantly clear to Midoriya: The Heroes were acting. Doing whatever they could to ensure that the disaster at hand was being handled.

"I've been making mini shelters for those who we can't reach, but Aizawa's making a damn good repulsor. I opted to come down here to help with those on the ground and to balance out." He gestured to the rest of his frost-encased body, the heat of his arm doing its job of removing it.

"Your dumb decision wouldn't help anyone. It'll just shake the foundations of this stadium, which in case you haven't noticed, is faltering."

Todoroki's rationale poured over Midoriya's head and helped ease his own anxiety… His heart came to a calmer rate and he took a deeper breath, nodding with a determined stare of his own. "Thanks."

Todoroki nodded and crossed his arms, peeking out from the ice wall he'd made. "I don't know what happened, but I was stuck in some trance. Same as everyone I imagine."

"Y-yeah… You, Ochacho and everyone else. You all went quiet."

"Tch… It wasn't her ability. Shinso's?"

"Yeah…."

"Figures…. Whatever happened, I got out of it. Gained function. But enough of that, we have to get moving."

They both ran across the stadium's grassy floor, dodging debris and ushering along others in front of him.

He was glad that some of his classmates were down here with him. Asui and Ochako up front with Midnight.

It was thanks to Ochako who used her gravity quirk to safely get as much people and students as possible down to where they were. Without it…. No, he can't think of that right now. Right now they had to get going.

Ochako was also the one who snapped sense into him. If she hadn't flown down from the stands to stop him from charging towards those two monsters, then he might've….

No. I can't think of the morbid stuff. Just focus on what can be done.

He had to tune out Mineta's whimpers and mutterings of doom as it wasn't helping one bit with their situation.

"We're all gonna die! S-she cleaved through all of them and Snipes–!"

He heard a loud smack and it was from Yaorouzu, who was glaring at the short boy. "You aren't helping. Just shut up and keep moving. It's the only thing we can do, right sir?" She asked Endeavor who nodded with a grim expression.

When he and the others heard of how Endeavor, Midnight, and even Cementoss couldn't use their quirks, it threw them all into a pretty bad downspiral….

His eyes darted to try and count for who was here and who may be out in the stands…

"H-hey… Where's Aizawa?" He tapped Shoji's shoulder, which grew an eye and mouth as they continued to jog through the winding hallways.

Nobody answered for a while until Endeavor spoke up.

"He turned on us. Thirteen tried to down him, but he disabled everyone's quirks and…."

Endeavor didn't finish his words and left it at that.

Midoriya, his breath coming in ragged gasps after his body began to wind down its previous shocked state, raced alongside Shoji, Cementoss, Todoroki, and Momo through the labyrinthine hallways of the stadium. They all had a mission to get to the upper levels where a bountiful amount of outright terrified citizens remained trapped in a clash between monsters.

He could still hear the constant screams for help outside.

"Are any of your quirks working besides these students here?" Midnight asked, her voice full of thinly veiled desperation. They continued to navigate through the twisting corridors, their footsteps echoing.

Endeavor and Cementoss shook their heads with grim expressions, their faces full of frustration.

"Damn it…!" Endeavor finally spoke up, his voice booming with anger. "I feel so utterly useless!"

"I share the same sentiment, Enji." Cementoss replied with his own sigh of defeat. "Our priority right now is to at least evacuate those who remain up above as well as those with us. Let those two monsters out on the arena settle whatever they must. We'll deal with whoever wins once reinforcements from outside arrive."

"Where in the world is All Might when you need him?" Midnight's voice demanded with sharpness. "He should've been on standby for an exact scenario like this! We had meetings. We had trainings!"

Endeavor chimed in with an unsurprised scoff of his own. "Last I heard, he was called away for some 'tiny' incident. As if anything could be any more tiny than an actual full-on terror attack on the Sports Festival!"

Midoriya could only listen in silence, his own mind and thoughts reeling with so many emotions. Fear, anger, and the need to take up some responsibility. He had One For All.

The heroes in front of him continued their bickering, the constant arguments fading into the background while guilt proceeded to eat away at his sense of justice and heroism. He should be doing more!

Midoriya's fists clenched into his palms.

But then a small flicker of movement caught his eye as they got to concourse and to the food courts. In a tiny, dimly lit alcove, the low-hanging lamps that tried to add some decor swung wildly from the impacts of the battle in the stadium.

Amidst all the abandoned food stalls that were left by their owners to watch the Sports Festival, he saw a lone feminine figure.

She was helping herself to a bucket of chicken, reaching into the cart and adding in more and heading to a hotdog stand, shoving as much food into it as possible. This girl seemed oblivious to the chaos.

She plopped down into one of the many tables, calmly eating away at her collection. Midoriya had to stumble and stop, his mind going into a loop at the ridiculous scene.

The other heroes ahead of him, even his classmates and the citizens, their focus immovable, surged on, their jogging forms disappearing around a sharp bend.

He remained behind, his eyes focused on the girl. Something didn't feel right about this. Like a skittish mouse, he approached the girl eating more and more food than he thought possible. There were trays and burger wrappers all scattered around the floor.

She was messy….

The sight of a teenage girl wearing a brand-new sideways baseball hat and an oversized All-Might jersey merch came into view once he got a better look. Though, the clothes were covered slightly in a weird black, sticky tar and worse, the smell of blood lingered around her. It was like she got dunked into a vat of blood and tar and opted to look for clothes immediately.

Whatever she was wearing made her look more like a tourist with baggy brown cargo pants and canvas shoes. But she looked… disinterested. Almost emotionless.

Her hair was an ashen white and her eyes a pale pink. In her hands, she had a bucket of chicken and a large, oversized soda on the other hand. She took deep slurps and her hand went back to the chicken, pulling free another juicy thigh.

"H-hey… Ummm… There's an emergency happening right now. Do you think you could come with us? There's an escape route not–"

"Can't." The girl said immediately. She focused more on the chicken she was munching on than him.

Her gaze drifted over to him slowly, as if it was a stupid question to ask. She was about to eat more but stopped after she got a better look at his body.

"Hmm…" She chewed off the skin of the chicken slowly. "You're not like those other people." Her eyes roamed over him in an appraising manner. "Come here."

"What…?"

"Come here." Her slender pale fingers patted to the deep red stool's seat. "I wish to see something."

He looked around to see if anyone else was just hanging around the food courts, and there was absolutely nothing but crows hopping and skipping over the counters, picking away at the other trays of food people had left behind.

Midoriya with reluctance sat down and then he felt her hand dip into his chest, the touch cold as ice, leaving him breathless.

"Hmmm. Your world is full of heroic surprises." The girl said with a shake of her head. "Still no clue why It thought all this was necessary. A world like this is no place for Devils. Much less a twisted influence like my dearest little sister. It just can't see that she's already failed her trial."

"It…?"

The girl ignored him briefly, raising a finger for a moment of silence to chew her meal. "Something older than even I." She shrugged. "Older than Chainsaw Man."

Midoriya couldn't move while the girl's hand dug around his chest. He shuddered upon the feeling of her hand caressing his heart, her sleeve making contact with his lungs, making him feel itchy on the inside.

She sighed in disappointment, pulling her hand free from his chest with ease. "Shame." She finished another chicken leg.

"Who are you…? What's your name?" He asked, trying to see if she had a nametag or anything of importance that he could distinguish.

"I've had many names. It's of no real importance to you anyways." The girl swallowed and patted her stomach.

"Hah… Well, I just was hoping you'd come with me? It's not safe here. B-besides that Nomu is out there. It might come and–"

"He's not whatever it is you call him."

He paused, recollecting the horrifying memory of all the hypnotized crowds chanting a name to bring in that monster.

"The name of that N-" She stopped chewing, waiting for him to correct himself. "Err-Chainsaw Man… Is that its name?"

"Yes…. Still, I'd not want to have this particular Chainsaw Man around in your world if I were you." She said, blinking slowly. "He could be throwing up all kinds of old Devils and further ruining the purity your world has if nothing is done."

"W-what? Old devils…?"

The girl nodded, holding a finger up to chew more of her food. "You'll see things you've never seen before pop up in this world before long. My being here is proof of that. Things that will see the purity of this world and yearn to defile it and make it their own."

Tossing another chicken leg, she reached into what Midoriya could only assume was a bottomless bucket of poultry. "It's either that or the others coming here. Those two are…" She closed her eyes, humming in thought. "Unpredictable. Irrational. Huh…"

The girl paused, looking past him and looking sad, as if she's thought of something tragic. "If we're all here again, then that means there will be no choice in the matter for this–"

She tilted her head at an odd angle, casting her eyes over to him again. "You should go. Save Toshinori before my sister's pet project gets to him."

"Toshi–"

"Hmmm…" She hummed, wiping the grease with her arm and tossed the devoured chicken leg's bone to the ground behind her. There was already a tiny pile behind her of chicken bones, burger wrappers, hot dog buns….

"All-Might. That's what he's called by you, is it not?" The girl readjusted her hat. "If you don't get a move on, you'll lose your only trump card." She paused, another lengthy sip of her bottomless cola.

"Why are you telling–"

She cut him off. "I'd help, but I've yet to find some delicious pizza in this world. Searching through your soul, you haven't been to anything savory… A shame. Doesn't mean I can't stay to savor the scenes. The things you do. The people in this world…. Things like him." She pointed behind Midoriya, but he didn't dare do so. Something was odd about this girl.

"Maybe it's why she's kept him around so long. His death has come many times, but he always weasels out of them. Amusing." A slight smile graced the girl's lips before it went back to an emotionless stare. "Keep him alive. He'll be of use to you and perhaps even further. So go. Save your mentor."

"How do you–" He blinked and in that moment she was gone. Like she was never there in the first place.

"H-holy shit…." Midoriya turned heel to the newest voice and saw the lowly form of a disheveled man hiding behind one of tables non-discreetly.

"Another one…" He said aloud, laughing to himself hysterically into his palms, but then a series of sobs followed after. "A-after I just figured out a portion of what the fuck Makima was…."

The man rose and clutched at his hair, pacing back and forth. "What do I do…? There's a second one now. And she just disappeared like that." He snapped his fingers. "What the fuck is going on…. Then there's talk of two more? What did I do to deserve this? I did nothing wrong!" He yelled to the ceiling. "You hear me?! I did nothing wrong!"

"H-hey…? Y-you there."

"I'm gonna–huh?" The man's eyes gazed at Midoriya and they were bloodshot. "Hey…! You're that kid. The…" He smoothed his disgruntled hair, sweeping it back and placed a finger to his lips. As if the memory was on his tongue. "Fuck…. Think Giran. Use that brain of yours."

Midoriya was about to say it, but the man beat him to it, snapping his fingers with an 'aha!' expression. "Izuku Midoriya! Hah! Yes… Yes. You're the one she said to keep an eye on a long ass time ago. Said you were different." The man approached closer. "Look, I ain't got time to spare. Probably neither does All-Might judging from what that girl told you."

He scratched his head, pointing at the nearest cement wall. "I need you to blow a hole into that wall right there."

His eyes went to the former entrances of the stadium, all sealed up with cement like the ones to the seating areas. "What for…?"

The man rolled his eyes. "What're you, fucking slow in the head? To get out of here, duh! You're going to help me put a stop to Makima's plans. Buuut in order to do that, I need a way out."

"Makima… The Control Killer."

"Yeah, yeah. Her. I'm not prying for extra time. So quit trying to do that." He slapped the back of Midoriya's head.

"D-doing what?!" Ouch… For a guy who looks not that intimidating physically, he sure slaps hard….

"The thinking bullshit! Leave that to me. You going to blow a hole or what through that wall?"

"I–" He hesitated, his eyes looking back to where he last saw the group of his friends and teachers. They might need his help–

The man rushed forward, grabbing onto his shoulders. "Leave the saving people to your teachers or whatever. Right now, it's do or die if we stay here. And that girl, fucking scary is what she is, said something about All-Might. That her sister's pet-project is heading to him. Which, ergo, means that it has to be Shinso. Doesn't take an idiot to decrypt that."

"Shinso…. I saw him leave the stadium…" The memory of him commanding Kaachan to take off to the skies before all the chaos ensued…. So he was escaping.

"Looook, I'd love to stay and chat, but we ain't got time for me to explain every single fucking detail to you right now. Are you going to help me?!"

Midoriya nodded and focused One For All into his fist, trying to contain as much of it as possible into one of his fingers. It hurt like absolute agony, but to escape the stadium, and provide a future entry point for backup, it had to be done!

Like a focused wave of pressurized air erupting from his left index finger, a gigantic hole where cement had once been formed. The disheveled man laughed hysterically and ushered them both out of it, ignoring the many stares and gasps from people.

"T-there's–!" Midoriya was trying to scream at the police officers, but the man's filthy hand wrapped over his mouth.

The officers were outside of the stadium,though it looked more like they were preventing the public from going inside.

There were swat vehicles and helicopters flying overhead. Crowds of people were near the entrance of where Midoriya had made a gaping hole, but the police were quicker, blocking it and entering into the place.

"What're you doing?! Just shut up and come with me!"

"But the police are–"

"Under her fucking thumb, you idiot!" He dragged Midoriya to the parking lot, trying to keep a low profile. The surprised crowd were too caught up in the explosion made by Midoriya's smash to notice them.

The man crouched and he followed suit, sneaking through the cars and using them as cover. Darting to and past them to get to a dingy kei-truck that looked quite questionable to Midoriya….

When he made no motion to answer, Giran scoffed. "Just come with me. We've got to get to the Police Station. I think I got a hunch where All-Might may be if he was distracted enough to skip the Sports Festival for a bit."

"W-what's your name by the way…?" Midoriya said, a little skeptical on getting into a truck with some stranger, much less a very deranged looking man who had somehow convinced him.

"Giran. Giran Kagerou. And I am trying to right a wrong I made so long ago. Now get in or All-Might will be lost to us."

"Hop in!" He slammed the door open, the metal groaning in pure pain.

Midoriya cringed at the sight of this sad excuse of a vehicle. It's obviously seen better days, perhaps years before he'd been born. The wheels looked nearly bald… The windshield cracked, and the interior cramped with filthy seats and a distinct smell of tobacco that cloyed the air within.

Still, if it was to get to All-Might as soon as possible, he'd get in! Midoriya swung the door open and jumped in, settling inside the small kei-truck's interior.

"First… Tell me what happened there. What was going on? I heard screaming, Shinso's voice blabbering on about some man and that's about it while I was stuck in a stall trying to walk under the effects of a slowing quirk!"

"That's why you smell like urine…?" Midoriya pinched his nose, finally figuring out where that stench was coming from.

"That don't matter; just tell me what happened!" Giran slapped the worn steering wheel, gripping it tightly.

Midoriya regaled the man with a brief summary of the entire debacle that happened. Shinso's loss against Kaachan in the final bouts of the match, and then Shinso lashing out with a weird quirk.

Giran listened intently, making a sharp turn while laying low in his seat to avoid the police who were on the look out. He hummed and his eyes widened at the mention of the Control Killer dropping in from the sky and sealing the stadium down.

"But if she wanted to take down this Chainsaw guy… Why not have All-Might do it? She could've just plopped her ass down; taken a couple of shits and act pretty; then come outta the bathroom with the guy all beaten up–"

It was like a lightbulb was activated in his head and Giran laughed hysterically. "Holy shit… Tsukauchi you son of a bitch, you're probably right…"

"Right about what…?"

Inside the cramped space of the kei-truck, Midoriya pressed his hands to the dashboard with desperation as Giran soon hit the pedal with a stomp, urging their vehicle along recklessly.

"That Makima can't control super strong people like All-Might without beating them physically. She needs to be superior to them. Or see the opponent as inferior, you feel me?"

"I-I'm not following…"

Giran rolled his eyes, wringing the steering wheel to a sharp left, the many glass beer bottles under his feet sliding with each lurch and sudden turn the truck made.

"Look, kid, I'm gonna have to give you the short version of what I know so far." Giran sighed, his voice mixed with the need to cry and laugh at the same time. He performed another aggressive lane change, cutting off some poor pizza-delivery scooter who shot off into a tomato-vendor's stall.

Midoriya could only offer a wave of apology outside and sat back in. He let Giran continue his words. "Makima, or as you like to call her, the Control Killer, isn't your run-of-the-mill big bad. Hell, I'd think she'd rank in the top ten after all this blows over or, the more likely outcome, when we're all dead."

The sight of Midoriya's blanched face made Giran pedal back. "Well… She's obviously not one for going brute force all of a sudden. Think for a second, why now of all times does she decide to go toe-to-toe with the Chainsaw dude?"

Midoriya wracked his brain and found no plausible reason, but then the thought of power transfer came to mind. "She needs him. Needs whatever he's offering."

"Bingo." Giran smiled. "Her quirk, it ain't like Shinso's. It's all about control. Pure and ultimate control. Think of puppets, hm? Strings…. The whole damn stadium and everything that's happened up to this point is pulled by that bitch's hand." Giran made another sharp and abrupt turn through an intersection, causing havoc for all the vehicles involved as they honked and crashed into each other.

"But what's scary about Makima is that she's probably wanting something from that Chainsaw guy. From what you've told me, her entire plan is riding on ensuring he's got a collar on him. We cannot let that happen, you understand? Whatever this giant monster thing is capable of, it'll be ten times worse if Makima gets her hands on it."

"But what of the police…? They can handle that–"

"Nope. They can't. She's got the whole fucking police force eating out of her hands…. All because of me." Giran's head dipped low in shame and Midoriya's face of anxiety softened at the sight.

"It's my fault. If I hadn't given them to her on a silver platter, you guys would've caught her by now. Why else do you think the police haven't come to the rescue yet?"

When Midoriya made no motion to answer the question, Giran continued his story. "Like think of that Detective Hayakawa–"

"W-wait! Where's Tsukauchi?! He has–"

"He's dead!" Giran cut him off, shocking Midoriya with wide eyes.

"D-dead…?"

"Yup…. And that Detective Hayakawa prancing around the stadium? A clone. A puppet. Courtesy of an old friend of mine she's hooked her claws into… Another fault of mine." He said with a somber tone, his blinking tears away.

"That bitch is staging it as a hostage situation. Wouldn't surprise me if she's got some hotshot Pro in there adding to the story to make it more believable. The public eats up anything you good-hearted souls say. Doubt they'd question the credibility of a Pro Hero."

"I ain't got time to talk more. Check the glove box. It's got all the notes Tsukauchi had on her. Before he died." Giran pointed with his right hand to it.

Midoriya reached down, propping the glove box open and a whole slew of crunched up papers and a thick white binder spilled out.

"Tsukauchi's notes…" Giran swerved the truck again, the tires screeching with protest against the roads. The man's eyes furrowed in concentration, as if he was thinking a million different things. "His notes had mentions of prerequisites. Conditions that Makima needs to meet in order for her to actually use her busted quirk."

Midoriya listened quietly. There was so much speculation on what the Control Killer's quirk could do and if it was as powerful as it was made out to be to the public. Giran kept speaking to him with eyes darting across the dashboard in fear. "That's the key to it all. Her quirk can be beaten. You and All-Might are proof of it. I'm sure of it."

"But why are we heading to–hrk!" Midoriya lurched forward, the seatbelt yanking him back as the truck came to a skidding halt as Giran mumbled to himself.

"The route's there… But we need a shorter way….."

"G-giran…"

"Huh?! Oh… Right!" He face palmed himself. "The Station…. It's All-Might."

"A-All-Might?"

The man nodded with a grimace as his eyes flicked to and fro the left and right of the intersection they were in. He peered behind him and in the rearview mirror, constantly checking to see if someone was following them. "If All-Might skipped the festival, then that means something went wrong. And what I just saw…. Some flesh portal and that girl who came out of it… Makes me think there's more of those."

"But he's All-Might…"

"Trust me, I ain't doubting the guy's capabilities. The man could take on thousands of people if he wanted to, but… she puts a lotta trust in Shinso. And if what you told me was true: that he can control thousands of people all at once…?"

"T-then he might be able to–"

"Control All-Might for Makima…. Ergo - she'll have Japan's number one hero as a lap dog at her beck and call. Probably use his immense strength to beat that Chainsaw guy for her. Ergo - she gets control over that Chainsaw dude. You following?"

Midoriya nodded.

The idea of All-Might serving the Control Killer sent a shiver down Midoriya's spine. Everything he's gotten to this point had been because of him. To see his idol and mentor become a pawn to a sick psycho like Makima didn't sit right with him at all….

The truck went through another sharp turn after Giran got them out of a rather busy intersection again, but the maneuver sent the binder in Midoriya's lap flying and onto the floor by his ankles with a thud.

"We just gotta get there before Shinso does. Keep an eye on the skies. Tell me if ya see some explosions or whatnot."

Chapter Text

The two figures in front of Makima smelled so distinctly like old people she’s seen since her time back in her old world. 

With a crouch, the figure on the left got onto all fours, its body bubbling and shifting, pushing out two swords for it to wield. They shone with an infernal black metal and the figure stood up, its body taking shape into a feminine-like figure. 

Then its shadowy form pushed out a black-tank top and waist-high pants. Its face contorted into the facial structure of a woman she hadn’t smelled since…

“So it’s like that then.” Makima closed her eyes, taking in the scent of a rich woody and warm incense surrounding the figure. 

Beside the shadow figure, the other smelling of a long-forgotten whisky did the same, getting onto all fours, its form contorting and re-making itself to a long and tall masculine body. Its main choice of weapon flows into a singular knife in its hand.

A long billowing trenchcoat blossomed over its torso and the scraggly look of an old man stared back at Makima with tired eyes. 

Makima chuckled and placed her hands behind her back. “So you think bringing in two old dogs is going to save you, Chainsaw Man? Two humans who haven’t done much in the world besides indulging into the vices of their life?”

Chainsaw Man didn’t answer and the shadows of Kishibe and Quanxi stood idly by, taking in their surroundings and stretching their arms and legs.  

It was quiet for a brief moment until Shadow Quanxi dashed forward in silence, her footsteps unheard from even Makima’s heightened senses. The shadow’s Dao swords became mirrored twin arcs of black steel, swishing through the air with grace and strength with a shrill shriek of their own. 

The first strike sliced through Makima’s forearms when she tried to grapple at the shadow, the blades searing hot and sharp, chopping off her limbs. It didn’t stop there, Quanxi backstepped, twirling the dao swords for an x motion and to chop her neck. 

Makima kicked at the shadow’s leg, breaking it, but that didn’t deter the enemy whatsoever. Behind her, she could feel the killing intent from the shadowed form of Kishibe, its knife lodging itself into her back, nape, and shoulders in a criss-cross motion. 

She counted forty consecutive stabs into her body in just under five seconds, each dive of that infernal metal sliced apart her organs and lungs, forcing her to double back, to catch her breath.

These two, even in death and as shadowed husks, were a great duo of fighters. A seamless blend of dexterity and raw power.

Again, they charged forth in unison, but Makima was ready this time. She’d have to take care of these two swiftly.

Behind them, she could see him trying to regain his strength from spitting out these old fossils. 

She swayed from left to right with grace, her legs carrying her with immense speed. Makima’s head titled backwards, just barely avoiding two sweeping blades from Shadow Quanxi. 

The wind pressure from those swings alone summoned a small tornado, the air whipping past her hair. In that same second, she pivoted on her heels, her hand snaking out to stop shadow Kishibe’s thrust from below. 

Her fingers wrapped around the shadowed steel of his infernal knife, her palm taking the brunt of its sharp edge as it dug into her flesh. 

Just like Quanxi, his face was emotionless. They weren’t of this world or of the living. They must’ve passed back in the old world if they’re here. 

But it begs the question…. Why them? Why not a hybrid devil or anything else?

Did you consume them? She wanted to ask, but she knew Chainsaw Man wouldn’t answer. 

The ruined stadium became the dance floor between herself and her two deadly opponents. Shadow Quanxi didn’t relent, her sword strikes carved deep lacerations into the ravaged concrete platform, sending small shards flying everywhere. 

Each parry from Makima’s hands only spurred the duel-wielding sword user ever more. Meanwhile, Kishibe, ever an opportunist, darted in and out of Makima’s peripheral view. It forced Makima to split her attention often. 

He exploited every opportunity given to him by his partner, leaving Makima open for the shadowy drunkard to slip in, landing precise stabs and slashes to her wrists, ankles, and inner thighs to disable her.

They’d heal in a moment, but it’d seem they were fully intent on exhausting her through a battle of attrition. It’d seem Chainsaw Man was hoping to have these shadows adapt to her healing factor. 

An ever-continuing battle of blades meant to distract her…. Amusing but also irritating. He was up to something even now. She scanned the various corpses of fallen heroes and made sure to not step too close to them or let her guard down.

She would not fall here. 

Not this time. 

But the stench of the air sickened her stomach, and she had an inkling of what was going on. He was causing a rift. 

A rift that had brought in some unsavory pests….

He let out another thunderous roar and it stopped her fight with the shadows momentarily. 

Midoriya’s eyes kept a lookout on the sky for Kaachan, but there wasn’t any sign of his friend anywhere. The only reason he could think of when it came to why Shinso would take Kaachan would be the maneuverability his explosion quirk could provide.

On his left, he could see Giran making more maddening comments about himself or talking about horrible hypotheticals that he didn’t want to tune in on. 

Yet the mention of a Pro Hero grabbed Midoriya’s attention as he tore his eyes from the windshield to the mad man driving him. 

“Hawks should’ve been at the stadium…. Why wasn’t he? Did she send him off there as well or did he go free-mode and head there out of curiosity…. Nah, HPSC wouldn’t send their valuable asset like that.”

“But Hawks–”

“Is probably where All-Might is if he’s so busy dealing with some sort of situation.” Giran cut him off. “Has to be something ridiculous to keep two very powerful people busy.” 

He was about to ask what could those two be dealing with, but the gigantic purple beast rampaging through several blocks came into view, forcing Giran to push his foot to the brake pedal, making the truck lurch forward. 

“T-that’s Tokoyami….” Midoriya covered his mouth in horror. 

Giran not at all staring at the beast his classmate had become, instead reaching behind the back seat for a gun, loading it. 

“I-it’s–”

“It’s not important what it is! We gotta get there. Even if the big bastard has crushed the station, we have to tell All-Might. He oughta listen to you–”

A roar that he’d heard before at the stadium cut right through Giran’s words. This wasn’t like before though! It practically slammed through his chest and probably Giran’s too.

He shot his hands over his ears with a wince and gritted teeth. To his left, he could barely even make out whatever Giran was saying, his words silenced by the roar.

Again another roar tore through and made them convulse momentarily in their seats. 

“I-It’s that Chainsaw Guy…..” Midoriya said through gritted teeth, clutching his own ears to try and lessen the thunderous roar.

“S-shit! We’re so far from the stadium though! W-what the hell!” 

Another sudden, loud roar, echoing with intensity from miles away, instantly silenced Giran and Midoriya's conversation.

“Giran…” 

“Look, I know you wanna save whoever the heck that is, but he’s not a priority–”

“N-no. Not that! Look!” Midoriya’s finger pointed out the window to show the man the once pristine blue afternoon sky being riddled with two hellish looking portals. Each one a pulsating tumor or sphincter, riddling the skies like engorged cysts. 

All around them, people got out of their cars to record or watch, others stood dumb-founded while pointing at the sky themselves. There were even people leaving stores or apartments to come stare at the sight.

Tearing his eyes away from the scene, he saw Giran’s face immediately sweat buckets and his eyes widened. “F-fuck me…. Not more.”

“M-more of what…?”

Giran didn’t answer, instead refocusing his hands onto the steering wheel. “Just try to ignore it. We’ll be at the station. In and out. Or there and out. You just have to tell All-Might what’s going on. Tell him to avoid Shinso, or if you’re really lucky, and the outcome I want, to kill him. Makima loses a pawn and we’ll be smooth sailing.”

“K-kill…?!”

“Look, I know it’s not what you heroes and all really choose, but in these circumstances, it’s the only option. There’s no chance in hell Makima or Shinso will be going to Tartarus or wherever in chains!” 

Giran’s driving skills lurched them forward to the panicking streets leading up to the Police Station. 

Midoriya tried to ignore the cysts in the sky, but he looked back to see one of them tearing open and something very spindly and long drop out of it….

He held onto the dashboard while Giran skirted past a few cars and several groups of people who were running away from the commotion at the Police Station. Giran performed a drift, albeit a very poor one from Midoriya’s eyes, as they hit the curb and a dull green newsrack, sending papers flying in the air. 

He was about to say something, but Giran just pushed open the driver’s side door and marched out. Midoriya had no choice to follow suit, bowing in apologies to the many dazed and confused people they jostled past in their haste.

Midoriya had to hold in a gasp at what remained of the police station. Its exterior walls had been torn down, or, on closer examination like something explosively bursted outwards. The asphalt surrounding the station and the street itself had deep gouges carved into it, as if something clawed itself free from the very station itself.

“C’mon…” Giran said with a hurried expression, skipping up the mangled staircase with a hand on its torn guardrail. “We gotta go.” 

Giran pushed open the double doors and Midoriya followed after him, both of their eyes widening at the interior. 

Inside, office desks and chairs were scattered and broken. A thick layer of papers and files were splayed all over the floor, forming a path that led towards a vast, gaping hole that plunged ominously into the very depths of the building’s former cells. 

Above, dust motes danced about with the occasional fly in the fractured light filtering through the collapsed ceiling. 

“Looks like something, or someone got huge and decided they didn’t wanna stay here no longer.” Giran said to himself, kneeling down and checking the files littering the floor. “Makes no sense though…. Why in the hell would…. No, it just….. Damn it.”

“W-what…?”

“Look around, kid.” Giran gestured with both arms. “You said that hulking mass of purple gigantic bird thing was your classmate right?”

“Y-yeah….”

“Well, from the earlier plans, Makima had kept him here to serve as a scapegoat, but now…. She’s using him as bait. Keeping All-Might and probably Hawks very busy–” They both had to steady themselves from the giant shockwave that shook the foundations of the ruined station. “And that means…. Shinso will be swooping in after they’re both tired out….”

“Shinso….” Midoriya was about to add in, but his phone rang and he saw his mother’s name pop up. “C-crap…. One second.” He walked a further bit away from the crazy guy to get a private conversation. 

“Yeah, yeah! Fine… Let me just go and gather my thoughts as well. Shit…. All-Might ain’t here. Guess we’ll have to just follow after that giant friend of yours once you’re done.” Giran waved off as he walked further toward another room in the station.

Giran walked around with his hands in his pockets as he surveyed the remnants of this damned police station. In another time, he’d raise a glass to the destruction of this cesspool of corruption and complete idiocy when it came to society’s woes of heroes and villains, but now….?

All he could feel was regret. 

If he hadn’t given up the keys of the station to Makima, maybe this place would’ve had a better chance. 

If he hadn’t chickened out and just pulled Tsukauchi aside before Makima could nab him, none of this nonsense would be happening….

He walked further towards where the call center was, trying to get a good spot to get a cigarette in. 

“Mueghhh….. Glweppphhhhh…..” A faint mumble came from somewhere and Giran had to take a double take. He paused his action of igniting his lighter and waited….

“Purwhssehhh…… Syhmmmmboddyyy….” Again he heard it and his heart was telling him to not check out whatever it was. He’s seen horror movies. This was where he’d find something fucked up and he’d encounter the big bad! 

But his curiosity got the better of him. He subtly distanced himself from the young boy, each quiet step carrying him further into the dispatch room. He walked further in and that distinct murmuring he’d first heard grew more audible. 

It grew more noticeable and sounded more defined for him to make out the sound of someone pleading for help. It evolved further into a stomach-curdling noise. A wet, drawn-out sound that he’d hear out of something weird. 

“H-holy fuck….!” He whispered to himself as he dropped his cigarette. 

Before him lay five police officers and what looked to be dispatchers all on the floor. They were strewn about like ragdolls in a room left by a recent tantrum. He’d normally be all for helping them, but from the looks of it, he didn’t wanna touch them.

A strong urge to puke came from his throat and he had to cover his eyes to hope that it wasn’t real. But when he opened them, they were still there….

Their jaws were hung slack and stretched open to an abnormally unhinged state, their tongues, like giant gummy worms as they hung out over the floor past their ankles….

The people looked conscious, but they looked weak. Like all the life was drained out of them with pale skin, sunken eyes, and tears dripping from their faces.

Giran couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He hesitantly stepped forward and knelt down to one woman who had been the mumbler he’d heard.

“Fuhannllly….. Mehlp…. Mehhh…..” She said with no way to articulate her words, tears in her eyes.

His gaze trailed down to her tongue which had some sort of weird language ingrained into her tongue, almost like it was written into it. Where her distended jaw was, he saw a pair of bloody and black handprints, lithe and tiny. 

Looking around, all the victims here had a pair of handprints on their jaws. 

What kind of horrible quirk would do this? 

But the stench…. He recognized it. He knew it was the same one from the stadium…. Slowly, he turned around and saw that portal again.

The silhouette through this massive ring of pulsating flesh looked human. The ring expanded further and further, the groans and cries of anguish getting louder and louder for his ears that he had to cover them.

The portal finally expelled its inhabitant with a vicious force, as if the thing inside of it was a disgusting piece of used up bubblegum. 

With a wet splat that echoed throughout the empty concourse followed by the sound of a particularly loud squelch, Giran saw a girl tumbling out pathetically of the fleshy portal and onto the paper strewn floor.

The girl let out a mewl upon making contact with the floor. 

He hid behind the desk that this mumbler lady was sat against and kept his form hidden from view.

Peering out from the cover again and covering his nose, he got a better view of the newest arrival. The girl, a very skittish and timid one, was covered from head to toe in fresh blood and black ichor that clung to her nude form. 

Ashen blonde hair was plastered onto her forehead and when she opened her eyes like a kitten would, bright blue with rings revealed themselves. They were wide and utterly terrified, darting to and fro of the environment around her, and Giran’s heart raced. 

Only one person has eyes like that….  

He clutched at his chest which threatened to burst out in sheer fear. It was Makima. Maybe a clone…. No, that can’t be it. This girl came out of a portal much like that pink-haired one did…. That’d make sense. But then who was this? 

“Urghnnnghh….!” The sound of the girl holding in her cries startled him and he almost let out a gasp himself. He turned and peeked out again to see what the hell the girl was doing. 

“Hrgnnnghh! N-no! No! No! Please…! Let me back in! Don’t leave me–I tried!” She wailed, her voice raw and full of pure terror, echoed in the empty room. Giran’s eyes drifted to the portal as it got smaller and smaller, practically disappearing now. 

Like a duckling that lost its way on the trail to its mother, the girl scrambled on all with quickness, she lunged at the portal, hoping to dive back into it. She clawed and pounded on the floor where the portal once was, which had just blinked itself out of existence.

He saw foot prints all around the floor and he assumed this girl had been the one who did this to these people. 

And from the looks of it… She wanted to go back into the portal. She must’ve succeeded momentarily, but it seems it won’t take her back in. 

The horrid smell it emanated was gone, but it left a faint, lingering scent of blood that clung to the back of his throat. He was thankful that the hellish thing was gone, but it seems the girl didn’t share the exact same sentiment. 

The disappearance of that floating sphincter was like when he saw a traumatized child realized with horror that their mother had left them to go talk to a parent in another aisle. 

Looking defeated and empty of any hope, the girl then curled up into a tight fetal position.

“They can’t do this…. It can’t do this to me.” She mumbled to herself, her voice barely even a whisper. “I-I was doing so good. I-I didn’t do anything to be here! I tried to learn….! B-but everybody was being mean…. Hgnnnghhhh!” Her naked, ichor-stained form trembled, each shudder of hers sending fresh droplets of that ichor and blood to the floor beneath her.

She kept repeating the same thing to herself, all of them filled with desperation and blame, as if she were a broken record. “S-she’s the reason why this is all even happening, not me! No, no, no! I was good!”

Giran kept a low profile, crouching low behind the desk. He knew better than to ask questions, so he remained quiet. Instead, he opted to observe. 

His heart was absolutely yelling at him to leave, to walk away, or to just play dead. Anything but to interact with the girl who just came out of a portal of flesh and did this to these people. 

After several long shuddering moments and random phrases to herself, the girl sprang upwards, wiping away tears and snot, with an agile burst of speed. 

Her face went into a cool, calmer expression; her eyes narrowing with a flicker of steeled resolve and duty.

Giran kept low still, following after the mysterious figure. Her bare feet leaving more faint, red and black footprints onto the paper-littered floor.

She began rolling over one of the female dispatchers, undressing them and talking to herself all the while. 

“ It thinks that I can just take on my sister all by myself….” She muttered under her breath with a disapproving glare as she held up the shirt of her victim. “I-I’m a nobody here…. S-she’s got the whole world watching, I don’t… Impossible. Too strong…” 

This girl was obviously something not normal. She just oozed an enigmatic background after coming out of a portal like that! And her eyes…. They were like Makima’s. 

And the mention of a sister…? 

“Salvation…. I can do this. I can save everybody!” She patted her own cheeks and did three fist pumps into the air. 

Giran’s brain shortwired at the image of this nude girl doing various reaffirming gestures by herself. Excuse him? Save? W-was this girl a good person? 

His heart fluttered with relief. Was she one of those good-guys that was just draped as an evil looking entity? Maybe these people were a victim of someone else. Yeah…. She seems to be too skittish to do this horrific monstrosity to these people. 

Finally, he could reveal himself and tell her every–

“T-through death…. I can save everyone from living in the world that my sister will make. Through death, everyone won’t have to suffer or starve….” She said to herself, reaffirming her beliefs like a mantra. 

Oh… 

The girl clutched the now bloodied white shirt to her chest like it was the key to soothing her anxiety. But then her nose twitched and she hung her head up high like a dog, nostrils flaring open. The shirt dropped with a soft thud and the girl’s head craned at an odd angle towards him.

Those luminous blue eyes of hers locked directly with Giran’s own, as he was crouched behind some plastic foliage by the desk, very thin and totally unsubtle for hiding. 

“W-who…” She said with a slight hitch in her voice. “Who’s there…?”

Giran felt his heart sink to his asshole and he sweated profusely, gulping down a wad of saliva. Shit…. Maybe she hasn’t seen him.

“I-I can see you….”

Fuck….! There goes his plan!

“M-me…. H-hah…” He tugged on the collar of his business shirt and stood up with hands in surrender. 

“Uh… I’m just here. Admiring the…” His eyes drifted to the leaves. “The plants!” He quickly gestured to the wilted leaves of the plastic plant, his leg accidentally knocking the flimsy pot over, shattering it and revealing that it was, in fact, a fake piece of foliage. 

The girl’s normally skittish face drifted to the pot and she nodded, slipping on a baggy, oversized t-shirt that hung low past her upper thighs. “I-I…. That’s plastic though…” Her ears flickered back to Giran.

A wave of heat and nausea rushed to Giran’s neck and face. “HA! R-right…. Yeah. They are…. Silly me. Of course. I-it’s one of the best illusionary pieces I’ve seen. Could’ve fooled me.” He emphasised his fake chuckle and stupid excuse with a slap to the knee. 

They stood in silence for a while, staring at each other awkwardly. It was the type of silence one wouldn’t ever want to be caught in with a singular person.

 It was thick and uncomfortable as hell. It stretched on for a couple of minutes, only to be broken by the occasional slurred mumbles for help from that ruined woman beside him.

“S-so…. Hey–!” The girl’s attempt at greeting him, which was meant to break this silence, was immediately shot down by Giran. 

He spun around, turned tail, and with practiced fleeing maneuvers, booked it! His eyes were wide as much as it reasonably could, showing to the girl he was in absolute terror. He bolted. He ran. He sprinted. He jogged. He did whatever the hell he could do to get away from this girl! 

His limbs flailed around and he pictured the image of the girl on his ass with demon hounds or something snapping at his heels. He didn’t dare look back, but he could feel her presence. Sure, sure, he could stop and pretend like everything was okay. But the more rational and more human side of him whispered full on commands to flee! 

He ran like his very life depended on it!

The brief image of the girl blinking slowly and her skittish expression returning in full all but confirmed she wasn’t normal. She immediately zoomed after him, her run like that of an energized child juiced up on sweets! 

“WAIT! COME BACK!” She cried out with tears and a sobbing voice, begging him to stop. “PLEASE!” 

Oh fuck no…. Fuck that noise. I ain’t stopping!

The sounds of his and her frantic escape echoed and reverberated throughout the room as they ran in circles of the room and the adjacent one that had been a storage room of office supplies. His heavy, ragged breaths were all he could hear until he felt her gaining on him. 

The girl’s own little gasps and rapid, frantic patter of her bare feet slapping against the paper-riddled floor did little to ease his mind that he’d escaped her. She was gaining on him! Fuck! Fuck! 

If this girl was in any way related to Makima, then he knew damn well to stay clear of her. His mind already conjured up the horrors this one could accomplish to his body. It convinced him that he was being chased not by some cute, ditzy, and skittish girl, but rather a demon from hell itself. 

His veins churned out as much adrenaline as it could and drove his body to its limits. He risked taking a course of action, jerking his head to glance over his shoulder. 

The sight of the girl weeping and pleading him to stop didn’t do anything to stop his fear. In fact, it only served to make it worse! Those whimpers and expressions of fright and hope were more like crocodile tears and masks of fakeness. 

She’s just trying to play to my sense of empathy! T-trying to get me to stop so she could gut me. Make me think she’s a pipsqueak before she chokes me with my own intestines! 

These thoughts of his only served to solidify the fear in his heart and mind. Solidify that this girl  wasn’t a good person whatsoever no matter the appearance. 

When he turned to look at where he was going, he full-body slammed into a dark steel office drawer, the metal frame rattling loudly and toppling over along with him. 

His hip made full contact with the hard concrete, the papers doing little to cushion him, and it made him groan out loud. “F-fuck…” The girl stopped. She panted and tried to take several deep breaths. 

“S-stop… W-wait…!” She took a single step forward, and it made Giran’s body surge with strength, forcing his ass back up and to flee once more. 

“W-wait!” She squeaked out again, her voice trembling. “I-I just wanted to ask you something!” 

Giran’s ears rang with the harsh pounding of his own heart and he didn’t hear her. Or, if he even did, his brain immediately translated her innocent words into horrific threats and bodily harm that would be associated with Makima. 

He found himself in a more spacious, if not cramped, office area riddled with tables and chairs. Upping his speed, he performed a very clumsy vault over a row of tables, his legs kicking away binders and old drinks over. 

“WAIT! PLEASE!” She got louder, her voice cracked with sobs and fear. “I’m lost!” 

Giran’s mind wasn’t having a single one of this girl’s bald-faced lies. She was just like Makima, no, probably even worse. 

Lost…? Giran had to hold in a hysterical laugh. The sheer fucking audacity of that one lie of hers only amplified his fear further. Yeah, right… She was lost. Lost in the fucking head like Makima! 

He cursed aloud when he made contact with a wall and behind him was the girl of his nightmares. She caught up and the only thing in between them was a table. He gripped it, dodging her and she tried going towards him. 

They were performing a mixture of a sidewalk shuffle on a round table, but instead of polite apologies, they were both whimpering and full of fear. 

“L-let me go! I saw nothing! You don’t need to kill me! I-I can shut up!”

“N-no! L-let me ask you–”

“Just don’t torture me! Please! I-I have a lot to do!”

The girl shook her head and suddenly slammed her hands onto the table, shattering it in half, revealing her strength. Giran fell back onto his ass and crawled backwards until his back hit the wall. 

“Y-you… You look like you know what I am… W-why is that?” The skittish girl said, her nose sniffling and recovering from a bout of mini breakdowns.

“Please…. I don’t wanna die. Not like them!” He pointed at the open maws of the distended jaw people.  

“Y-you’re not gonna die… Just tell me.”

“Your eyes…. It’s your eyes.” Giran’s head hung low, closed and awaiting for the moment his head will be chopped off, or he’ll be set on fire, or be shot in the chest. But it never came…

“Y-you saw a girl like me?” The girl said with astonishment. “S-salvation is possible…. You–I-it’s not a–lurgh!” She shook her head to re-establish her wording. “You saw my sister?! W-which one?!”

When Giran took no action to answer, the girl’s ashen brow furrowed, a sniffle escaping her as she wiped away another wad of snot from her nose. “I-if you’re not going to tell me, I’ll just have to make you tell me.” 

Her tiny pale hand shot out like a viper, clamping hard onto his jaw with surprising strength, forcing his mouth to open. 

Before he could even try to fight back, the girl’s cold fingers slid into his mouth, finding his tongue and gripping it. He gagged, a cry of fear and struggle caught in the back of his throat, and his fists did little to push her away. His limbs and entire body felt weak. Numbed…. Docile. 

Giran’s eyes widened in horror as the girl began to tug, and his tongue complied, stretching to an unnatural elasticity. She walked backwards, pulling it further and further from his mouth like it was some retractable measuring tape. 

It felt alien.

The base of his tongue burned and the pressure in his throat became too much to handle. Tears pricked at his eyes and he couldn’t even plead for her to stop or cry for help.

The girl, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind causing him this much terror and discomfort. Her head titled, blue eyes glowing and now entirely focused on the disgusting length of his tongue dangling in her hands. She scanned its surface, cold fingers tracing over it like she was reading braille from his tongue. 

Her lips moved silently, like she was reading some sort of script that was etched onto the very muscle he’s used to talk his way through life. 

He tried to scream, but the only sound that managed to escape his throat was a wet gurgle.

The girl finally looked up with a disapproving look of her own. “S-salvation doesn’t come to liars. Y-you’ve used this tongue to lie, cheat, and extort your way in this world.”

She pressed her fingers, digging into the muscle with a burning sensation. “Salvation won’t come for you… B-but you’re helping me. I-I can’t read a human’s thoughts like my sister can, b-but I can read what you’ve said to people. What you’d told to others. Lot of it is awful. Really awful…”

She continued to read, muttering to herself. “Makima killed some detective….” She tugged again, pulling more and more of his tongue out of his mouth until she had a sizable ‘script’ to read. 

“Embedded herself into the Police Force…. How could you let her do that? T-these people led good lives except you….” She said with a concerned frown, gesturing to the other victims before going back to another reading session.

“Stadium…. Some sort of plan…. Lots of people…. EHHH!???” She screamed, sweat pouring down her face as she continued to read - treating his tongue like some intense comic. What the hell? “ She is here too…?! B-but that’s out of order…. It’d be–no,no-no,no,no! ” 

After a superbly long reading session on his tongue, she let it go, and in that moment, his tongue snapped back into his throat with a force that made him gag. 

The girl stood over him, biting her nails and tearing up as she, in good faith, readjusted his jaw that made the other victims look envious. “I-I’m sorry… I’ll make sure you’ll go to a better–”

Giran shook his head, raising his hand up as quickly as he could to stop her from doing any other body horror to him. “WAIT!”

That stopped her as she jumped back, squeaking and already prone to tears. “W-whuh?!”

 J-Just… Give me a moment.” He panted and spit out what was left of the puke taste in his mouth. “I-I can help you….”

“Help me…? N-nobody helps me. Y-you’re just a human.” She averted her gaze, looking down at her own feet and kicking aside a tiny concrete pebble that was nearby. “You’d be no match….”

“B-but you’ve read what I’ve done! I-I have knowledge!”

“I’ve already read of that knowledge though… So there’s no need–”

“B-but I can help! Y-you look like you don’t wanna fight your sister, is that right?” Giran prayed with all his heart that this skittish girl would understand. “Y-you’re utterly terrified of that bitch–err–I mean Makima!”

“M-me?! N-no! Never! I-I’m not scared!” She looked up, her brows furrowed and she adorably stomped her foot down. “S-salvation comes to all. E-even to those who think they are the harbingers of it!” 

Giran had to be careful here. A single wrong word to this girl could mean his death. For all he knows, she could probably wring out his intestines while he was still conscious and feed them to him. He had to be subtle. Kind.

“Then you can help me stop whatever Makima is doing. B-but the first thing we have to do is–”

Midoriya came bursting through with his fingers cocked like they were ready to flick at something. “I-I’m here!!!”

In that moment, both he and this mysterious girl let out screams.

Chapter Text

“GAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“HIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!”

He screamed as loud as he could and the mysterious girl beside him clung to his shoulders, adding in on the screaming with tears in her eyes. They looked at each other then back to the sudden appearance of someone else.

Giran, at first frozen in his own terror of the sudden arrival, was the first to finally regain his senses to the whole scare. His first response to the jumpscare was with the assumption that Makima would’ve somehow gotten here or that one of her many pawns would drag him back kicking and screaming all the while. 

But thankfully, luck be his witness and shield, it wasn’t that. As his mind finally cooled its panic, he caught the sight of the Midoriya kid’s green hair, distressed eyes, and panicked expression. Relief poured over him like a bucket of cold ice. 

The frantic, heavy pounding of his heart slowly subsided as it had assessed the situation with his brain, and it was then that he realized he wouldn’t be meeting his gruesome end in the ruins of a police station.

Thank goodness…. He thought he’d be a goner. 

The girl followed suit, her sniffles and shuddering dying down to a still calmness, but she still kept hugging his back and hiding behind it like a koala would to a tree. She sniffled more and rubbed her face into his back, tears and snot pressed into the fabric that made him cringe.

Giran, however, still felt afraid of even being around this girl who just ripped his tongue out not too long ago. He was going to fucking lose it here soon. There’s only so much sanity he had left! 

“W-who is that?” Midoriya asked him as he had to pry the girl’s rather tight grip on his waist with a lot of strength.

A part of him was screaming internally, urging him to become a coward and declare this girl an enemy and then run for his life, leaving the kid to fend for himself against this terrifying girl beside him. 

But… The image of letting this kid, albeit a very strong one possibly, becoming a victim to what he’d endured flickered in his mind.

He couldn’t do that….!

The more rational side of him reached his heart, calming it and seeing the potential to be had here. 

“Just… A… friend, right?” He directed his question to the girl, his tone unsure and full of anxiety. He searched her deep blue ringed eyes, hoping to find some glimmer, maybe even a sliver, hell maybe a speck, of empathy in the depths of her hellish being.

The girl’s gaze shifted from Midoriya and him, sliding away to fix itself upon the filthy debrist that cluttered the ground.

Her fingers began to nervously twiddle and upon closer inspection, signs of her nails had been bitten off. “A-ahh…. N-no. I-I’m an acquaintance!” She admitted, her voice a tiny whisper. 

Ahh, that was better than nothing, Giran thought to himself. It could’ve been a lot worse. She might’ve ripped his tongue off or did something more horrifying to the both of them. A win was a win…. Even if the girl seemed skittish to the both of them.

“W-well….” Giran coughed, wincing as the girl kept her distance from Midoriya, now keeping her gaze at the ground. “T-this is a girl that may or may not help us with our situation.”

The girl nodded and stood ramrod straight with a salute. “M-my sister will be brought to justice! S-salvation comes to all, even to those who are misguided!” Her little declaration was loud, a statement not to them, but almost sounding as if it were to the world itself.

Though the bravado of this girl’s salute was broken once another loud roar from that Chainsaw Man came again from miles away, forcing her to whimper and huddle down with her hands over her head. “Hieeee!!! It never said he would be here! I-I….. bwehhhh…..” 

The girl went back to quiet mutterings and sobs. 

Midoriya’s eyes widened at the frantic and skittish girl, then he looked at him with a need for context, for which there was none. 

The boy chuckled quietly with a nervous expression and clapped his hands together, kneeling down beside the girl who had gone into a fetal position, suckling onto her thumb and rocking back and forth pathetically. 

“H-hey…. I-I’m Izuku. Izuku Midoriya, you are…?”

The girl’s sobs were cut off immediately and she looked up at the kid, her face riddled with tears. Quietly and with a shuddering breath, she spoke. “Fami.” Another sniffle and wipe of her nose, she said it again with a mumble. “It’s Fami….”

“Fami…” Midoriya looked back at Giran for more context, but he could only offer a shrug. Turning back, Midoriya got closer, lending his hand out to the girl. 

Giran half expected the girl to do the same thing she did to him. Pull out his tongue and read scripts from it…. He winced and breathed out a sigh when the girl tentatively reached out and did no such thing. 

She rose with the kid’s help and wiped her nose with her sleeve that she’d stolen from one of the poor victims on the floor. Its size was a bit too large for her tiny frame as its sleeve hung past her wrists when she stood ramrod straight again. 

“Giran says you’ll help us–” Midoriya asked, his face hardened with nervousness and determination.

They were all abruptly jolted by a deep, resonant bellow. It vibrated through the air, accompanied by the deafening crashes of collapsing buildings. 

Giran’s eyes widened in concern, and could only assume it was the neighboring giant purple bird thing Midoriya had claimed was his classmate, waltzing around the city in a rampage. 

Continuing with a wobbly tone, Fami nodded with a tremble in her lips. “Y-yes…. I-I can try. Y-you got nothing to worry about! I-I’m strong too!” She, albeit adorably, flexed her arms together like a body-builder would. Sadly, she had no muscles or biceps to show off.

“Then it’s settled!” Giran clapped his hands together, wanting to get this show on the road and out of this ruined station. “We have to find All-Might. We get to him, explain what’s going on, and then Makima’s plan will go down in a shitstorm. Hopefully….” 

They walked out in a line towards the exit of the station with heads held high, but that was soon shattered upon the discovery of his kei truck crushed to metal paste, as if something gigantic had stepped on it. 

“So….” Fami began, her voice already trailing off into uncertainty and fear. “W-where are we finding this Might guy?”  Her question hung in the air, and it made Giran’s head go for a whirl. 

How exactly could they find the guy? They were in a vast, chaotic city, with no real clue of where to begin now that he buggered off elsewhere! 

The ear-splitting crash of another building collaplsing had them covering their ears with winces. Not too long did another bellow come from somewhere, which made them all jump. Midoriya’s head snapped to the left, his eyes scanned a road littered with abandoned vehicles and panicked civilians fleeing in terror. 

He pointed towards it with a sweaty face and expression of cowardly bravery. “There….! It’s Tokoyami! They’re probably fighting him!” 

“Then that’s where we gotta go!” Giran agreed, looking from left to right before using the rippled crosswalk and making a decent jog down the ruined streets of what must’ve been a battle between titans.

The two young kids followed behind him, Fami with hands clutched together and Midoriya running with purpose. 

“Hey… Ha…..” Giran huffed, talking aloud as they jogged, the sound of sirens, people clamoring and crying out, was annoying as it was overwhelming. “You said…. Something about you being out of order….” He recalled a previous statement from the girl, something that sounded a lot more important than he let on.

Fami pointed to herself and nodded with thin lips and wobbly eyes. “Yes….! I-I have three other sisters!” 

That meant a total of four sisters in all, with Makima possibly being the eldest. Then there was the one with an insatiable appetite back at the stadium’s food court. And now, Fami, who they had stumbled upon at the station. All this information was starting to paint some sort of picture he couldn’t quite connect just yet. But it was formulating.

“And then who’s the last one we haven’t seen yet?” Giran asked, his curiosity and concern growing. He knew that Fami likely had just as much power as Makima did, as did that slob-eating one did too. 

Each of these sisters possibly could pose a huge threat, and he hoped to God or whoever else was out there that they’d be somewhat reasonable like Fami would, to take down Makima.

Fami’s face immediately crumpled, and she looked away, her voice wobbly. “I…It’s War…. S-she’s really mean. Bratty…. Selfish. S-she likes to fight!”  

Her description of this last sister made his mind conjure up a Makima-esque woman, but without the restraint or subtle nature that she had. A girl who liked to fight…?

Well, that didn’t sound good at all. A deadly girl with abilities similar to Makima and Fami, and who just so happened to have a name like War?! 

Giran coughed, sweat growing over his face while Midoriya looked puzzled, unsure of what Fami was speaking about. 

They jogged for a solid five minutes before the evidence of his lack of exercise popped up to the two unfatigued youth behind him. Damn them and their stamina….

Giran’s body convulsed with a harsh, hacking cough, droplets of sweat beading down his forehead. He slowed the jog down to a halt. He leaned heavily against the wall of a nearby ruined convenience store that’s been looted to the ground. 

“So….” Giran wheezed out, finally acquiring a brief moment to catch his breath. He pushed off the wall, his leg muscles and shins providing him with minor shin splints and a dull ache. ”You don’t happen to know if your other sister is around here or not then?” He huffed out, slumping back against the cool, painted brick of the convenience store again. 

The flickering white lights reflected off of his strained and sweaty face. 

Fami shook her head and looked conflicted. That didn’t much to soothe his anxiety or hopes.  “No…” She mumbled. “W-which is why I-I wanna deal with Makima first…. If War or Death–” She started to add, but the mention of their names caused her voice to turn to a mewl. 

“Excuse me?” Giran cut her off after hearing such a horrific sounding name for a girl. “Death…?”

Fami flinched at his sharp tone, her shoulders hunching inwards. “M-my sister… Death. S-she’s… complicated. Weird.” She looked away for a moment, opting to stare at the sky above which had dimmed to a deep blue now. 

She continued after a while of staring. “S-she’s mean too, I guess, but she…. She waits. She’s patient. Really, really, really patient.”

“W-wait, wait, wait.” Giran stopped her. “Death…. You’re saying that slob-eating girl back at the stadium? That was her?”

Fami nodded again. “F-from what I read from your tongue…. That’s her…. But it’s out of order. S-she’s supposed to come last.”