Chapter 432 - 15-16

Chapter 15: Predecessor's Sworn Friend

In the pale green glow of the room in the basement of the abandoned hospital, the Doctor worked, and dreamed of what might be.

Kyudai Garaki had relished finding the abandoned hospital in Jaku, and the opportunities it had given him to build on his work for the Master. A long time ago, a failed attempt to sedate a villain with some sort of feral beast Quirk had resulted in a rampage through the corridors, staff and patients dead, and the immediate closure of the hospital by a government all too willing to condemn the incident to the past. When he and Kurogiri had stepped through the double doors all those years ago and surveyed the hospital, he had tried not to leap with glee at the sight of what had been left behind. It was perfect for his future works.

When Jaku had been set up, Quirks hadn't just bloomed among the population sedately, they had erupted like wildfire and coursed through the population. New conditions and new medical anomalies became a daily occurrence, and like many hospitals Jaku had been granted the chance to expand its research portfolio. A whole new array of Quirk related conditions meant genetic research was on the cards, and a hasty departure to cover up the rampage within the walls went most of it had been left behind perfectly intact.

It was the perfect little den for a man of Kyudai Garaki's nature, a man of his goals. He had set himself up with a little office above ground, in one corner of the hospital where he could look out over the nearby city and marvel at how oblivious they were to what sat on their doorstep, but it was below ground where he thrived. There he could tamper to his heart's content; dissect, analyse, hypothesise, and improve. To push the boundaries of known science, play god, devil and Frankenstein in a world that would only know the dangers of what he did when it was all too late.

The Master had a legacy to be carried forward, after all, and it wasn't just his missing Quirk.

The red light flickered behind him above the doorframe to the laboratory, an irritation in the otherwise surreal calm of the basement. He enjoyed working down here, in the pale glow that came from the tanks, and one of his most recent projects hung beside him in the tank as he typed on his computer, creating a bizarrely soothing sense of companionship as he worked. The red light that went off on irregular intervals was a nuisance, and to this day he hadn't worked out what powered it, or why it seemed determined to persist. One day, he would get that damn light.

There was a subtle shift in the air behind him, one that he had become used to over years of his company. He was responsible for it, after all. "Kurogiri. Any news from the Yakuza?"

Kurogiri had long since given up questioning how the Doctor knew he arrived, when most of the time nobody could detect his movements at all. He showed no surprise in his response and got straight to business. "They appear to have closed ranks since a few of their number disappeared. I understand that the disappearance of Setsuno's Quirk previously made its way to the attention of their young Boss, and the inner circle, but since our intervention the rank and file appear to be keeping the whole situation quiet."

"Their young Boss?" Now the Doctor was interested. He pushed his chair back slightly to spin and face Kurogiri, the glow of the room reflected in the lenses of his goggles. "My understanding was that their boss was Chousokabe. Older, grey hair, tattoos. Willing to take the money and stay out of the Master's way."

Kurogiri bowed his misty head in acknowledgement. "So I thought. It appears Chousokabe has been incapacitated. The details are not recorded in their records, which I suspect means that there is something unsightly behind the scenes."

"A coup?" Garaki shook his head. "Clearly the instability after Incident Zero bled into even the ancient organisations like the Yakuza. And here I thought after everything they had survived, we wouldn't see any changes among their ranks."

"Indeed." Kurogiri's terrible yellow eyes blinked. "They appear to now follow the command of a new face, Kai Chisaki. They call him... Overhaul."

"Overhaul..." Garaki tasted the name like a fine wine. "Do you have any intelligence on him?"

"Limited. A number of those loyal to the old Boss appear to be scared of his power. Overhaul seems to be some kind of destructive Quirk, from which he has taken him name. It appears he used it to destroy the Quirkless lieutenant after he interrogated him, among others."

"Intriguing..."

"Hmm." Kurogiri's head appeared to tilt as he looked at the Doctor. "Only he and his inner circle, the Expendables, know what the true plan is for the organisation. There's discord in the lower ranks due to their lack of knowledge, but fear to speak out in case the Boss turns his power on them. All I do know about his vision is what I'm told in whispers."

"And that is?"

"He considers Quirks to be... a disease." There was a tinge of amusement in the bass of Kurogiri's voice. "He appears to believe that society would be better if Quirks were eradicated."

Garaki frowned, and scratched his moustache. "An individual with a powerful Quirk and such aspirations... he's aiming to fill the void left by the Master, that's for sure."

"And here I thought you would admire someone like him." The Doctor knew that Kurogiri would have been smirking if he had a normal mouth. "He claims to have been inspired by your theory, after all."

Now the doctor paused. "The Singularity? He believes in it?"

"Even more reason for him to act as he does. If Quirks continue to grow in strength and devastating potential, generation after generation, then he believes that his actions are for the good of all."

Garaki rolled his eyes, humourlessly. "While simultaneously creating a world that allows the Yakuza to walk freely on the streets, knowing that no overpowered Heroes can snuff them out in a blink of an eye. The cynic in me sees the additional bonuses for a group like his, in a world like that."

"Perhaps," Kurogiri said, fiddling with the cuff of his exquisite tailored suit. "Whatever his true motivations, and whether he does it out of charisma or out of fear, he is good at inspiring loyalty in those around him. He is one we may have to watch."

"Keep me updated. I dare say he wouldn't like us if he found out what we did to some of his minions." Garaki looked up to see that Kurogiri wasn't paying attention to him, instead staring intently at the contents of the tank with yellow eyes that gave nothing away. "Something catch your eye, Kurogiri?"

"Hm." Black mist flickered and danced in the pale glow, cutting through the light coming from the tank. "The differences between you both... are stark. Even while he was alive."

"Quirks are a wonderfully unpredictable thing," Garaki replied, pushing his chair back and turning to the tank. "You never quite know what you're going to get."

The thing in the tank could only be described as a thing. To use the word 'he' was something only the Doctor, with his prior knowledge of who the thing had once been, could say. Experiments and manipulation and a torrent of conditioning at the hands of the Doctor had created a creature of nightmare, an abomination that defied the natural order and would make anyone who hadn't been a general for the Master shiver in fear. It was appalling, beige skin as coarse as sandpaper, talons and fierce draconic wings that furled around its body while in the tank as a cocoon, and an exposed brain that seemed to pulse like a heart even as it slumbered in the tank.

The Doctor was proud of it. Even if it wasn't one of the strongest.

Garaki shook his head, saving the designs for a gas mask to fit to the creature and shutting his computer, before standing up with the help of his cane and standing beside Kurogiri to look at the tank. "He took more after his mother's side."

Kurogiri shook his misty head. "I would have still expected some similarities to remain, though. After all, he was your grandson-"

"Kurogiri..." Garaki chided, shaking his head with a bemused look on his face. "Did you forget my Quirk?"

"Your Quirk..." For a being without a face in the normal sense of the word, Kurogiri was remarkably expressive when realisation hit. "Of course... longevity changes everything. May I ask how many generations?"

"... Huh." Garaki found himself speechless for a second, as he was completely unsure. "Great, great, great... great? Three, or four? No, three, definitely three. Of course, when you live to my age, it's easier just to refer to him as a grandson and be done with it."

"I suppose," Kurogiri pondered, "if that is the generational difference between you, then it's no surprise that the Quirks are so drastically different?"

"My Quirk had a bearing, at first." Garaki tapped his cane on the floor. "My wife at the time, she had a wonderful set of wings for her Quirk. Combined with Life Force, and our daughter had dragon wings and a lizard tail, and an ability to shed skin and rejuvenate herself whenever she got injured. Truly a remarkable product."

"And then the passage of time changed it?"

"Time and her own relationships. It seemed the wing transformation was the dominant genetic trait of the Quirk, and her children simply went back to being winged creatures, with no trace of Life Force to assist." Garaki tutted, displeased. "If I had been capable of what we can do now, when my daughter was still alive, and her Quirk would have been far more suitable and she would been at the higher end of my scale. Instead, I have to make do with a diluted descendant, middle of the road. A useful foot-soldier, but... a waste of potential."

"You weren't fond of him then?" Kurogiri asked. "Your... descendant?"

Garaki chuckled. "Dear god, no. Tsubasa was a horrible little boy, the sort of child who would rat others out to their bullies in order to escape themselves. He was going nowhere when we found him. Now, at least, he may serve a purpose."

"His mouth is... distorted," Kurogiri observed. "This one feels pain?"

"Surprisingly. Unlike the others, who went through brief agony before being neutered, he seems to still feel it."

"Despite all the procedures..."

"Indeed. I have to keep him sedated regularly at the moment or he wakes and screams like nothing else. As much as I am proud of my creations, I didn't intend to make a wailing banshee. That just won't do, if I'm to present this as a weapon to a new master." Garaki waved at the computer with his cane. "That's what I was trying to fix when you arrived."

"Oh?"

"His lungs require more oxygen because of his flight capabilities. I am building a mask which assists him to get it, but..." Garaki smiled darkly. "Fortunately, it will also be able to silence him."

"Two birds with one stone."

"Ha! Very good, Kurogiri." Garaki's eyes twinkled with mirth under his goggles, as he turned his back on the tank. "I probably shouldn't make the effort like that for a middle tier creature, and I'd dispose of any other which displayed such flaws, but what can I say?"

He nodded to himself. "He's family."

The man of mist fell into stride alongside Garaki as he walked out of the laboratory and across the hall, heading towards a locked door at the end. "If you're content to describe him as middle tier, then I assume the most recent experiment has been a success? Our latest acquisition?"

Garaki's grin grew wider under the moustache. "Beyond my wildest dreams. You will remember the Super Regeneration Quirk I acquired a little while back?"

"The one that was incompatible with so many of the others we tried? The one that would react to the procedure and kill the creatures by trying to fix them?"

"That's the one." Garaki paused for effect. "It bonded with Shock Absorption."

Kurogiri was normally implacable, but the surprise was obvious in his voice. "You're serious?"

"Deadly." Garaki reached the door and unlocked it with a key. "Behold, Kurogiri. The fruits of our labours."

As he swung the door open, Kurogiri could see inside the dimly-lit room, and see the creature which sat, black knees to its black chest, in a tank of bubbling green liquid. The stark difference from the green-haired thug they had acquired from the Yakuza was all too plain to see, the bulging muscles, the exposed brain, the eyes open and staring wildly at the door but not moving an inch from its position. Everything about it was wrong, and abhorrent, but there was almost a beauty to just how much power exuded from one being.

"Doctor..." Kurogiri's voice became smug. "Now that is a higher-end creature."

"A cut above the rest, wouldn't you agree?" The Doctor smirked, before calling out. "Nomu? Stand."

Without hesitation, the water rippled, and enormous arms pushed down on the side of the tank to pull the creature upright. Obscene rippling muscles tightened and flexed under the black skin as it drew itself to its full height and stopped. The creature turned slightly in the tank, its horrifying beak remaining clamped shut in a grimace as it stared Kurogiri and the Doctor in the phase, standing to attention.

"Obedient in an instant," Kurogiri noted. "He exceeds all expectations."

"On the contrary, he meets all of mine. This is what I have strived for since Machia. What I have dedicated my life to, to giving the Master an army unparalleled. And he will be the first general. He truly is a thing of beauty."

"A present fit for a ruler."

"For the new Master." Garaki's grin grew. "The finest Nomu yet."

"And if he doesn't accept?"

Garaki faltered at the unexpected question. "I'm sorry?"

"What if we miss the chance to convince the new holder of All For One to take up the mantle as it once was?" Kurogiri didn't meet his gaze, staring intently at the black-skinned Nomu. "With all the turmoil in the world, what if someone else finds them first? The Yakuza, the politicians, the Heroes, all outnumber us, could all dedicate more resources. We may not be the only ones looking, and we may not like what we find if we aren't the first to come across the heir."

"..." After a moment of silence, Garaki bowed his head. "You are correct, of course. We are but two men in this wide world, but we know what to look for. That said, perhaps our strategy needs to be bolder. If the Yakuza are going quiet and don't care who took the Quirk of their lieutenant, then we need to be proactive."

"Tell me what I shall do," Kurogiri vowed, "and I will act right away."

"Good. Then perhaps we may have a different angle." Garaki stroked his chin. "The Master died in Musutafu on Incident Zero, and Setsuno lost his Quirk years later in Musutafu. A city where, in a previous life, I once was a Doctor diagnosing the Quirks of children. Was I Tsubasa then, or Ujiko? I can't quite recall."

"If you still have medical credentials," Kurogiri asked, "then perhaps I can acquire you some records?"

"Capital idea. Widen the search to Tokyo, since All Might appears to have followed the Master to Musutafu from Tokyo, but yes. If we are able to source medical records in the city for Quirk diagnosis since Incident Zero, the outliers should be easy to spot."

"It will be done." Kurogiri moved to stand in front of the Doctor, between him and the Nomu which had now settled back down into the foetal position. "Doctor, may I ask-"

"What happens if we are still too late?" Garaki interrupted with a grimace.

"... Yes."

"... I have given thought to this." Garaki sidestepped Kurogiri to continue gazing at the creature. "Society thrived in the days of All For One and All Might because of the balance it created. They were, if you like, the apex predators of heroes and villains. Society has been disrupted since Incident Zero because without its two apex predators, the whole ecosystem is filled with overpopulation and power struggles."

"I see," said Kurogiri. "And so society needs an apex predator to fill the void-"

"All For One is the alpha of Quirks. If the new holder can see it that way, can see its rightful place at the top of the pile, then we can restore some balance and rule the roost again. If they cannot..." A dark look flashed across his face. "Then we level the whole system, and start again from the rubble. Calamity beckons."

"Gigantomachia..." Realisation dawned on Kurogiri. "What is it he always said about the Master? Why he was so loyal to him?"

"A king must inspire fear and dread," Garaki paraphrased. "Machia bowed to the Master because as powerful as Machia was, the Master was stronger and therefore worthy of Machia's fealty. If the successor does not inspire dread, and is not worthy-"

"Then the Calamity lays waste to all." Kurogiri sounded uncertain. "Shall I begin to wake him?"

"No rush. But if Machia can be awake to meet the successor in due course, it may assist."

"Do you think Gigantomachia could beat the new holder of All For One?"

"The Yakuza seem to think that the Quirk is in the hands of a child. Even if the child has unlocked a tenth of the Quirk's potential, they won't stand a chance against the Calamity." Garaki's eyes narrowed, unseen to Kurogiri. "Only one in total control of All For One could hope to beat Machia, and if they are in control of it all, then they're powerful enough to be swayed to our side."

"So we find them and test them, and begin to wake the giant in the meantime?"

"Precisely." Garaki tapped the floor twice with the cane, as if it were the gavel of a judge banging for order. "We find the successor and offer him our vision, offer him the Nomu as loyal soldiers. If they do not accept, then we turn the Nomu loose on all the world, and if he somehow makes it through them..."

"Calamity," Kurogiri finished. "Gigantomachia as the great leveller."

"Precisely." Garaki turned his gaze away from the tranquil Nomu in the tank and onto Kurogiri. "You are right, time is not ours to waste. I will return to the laboratory- there are more subjects to improve."

"And I will investigate the records," Kurogiri said with a bow. "We are close, Doctor. I can feel it. Soon the new holder of All For One will be in our hands."

"Safe travels, old friend." Garaki nodded, as Kurogiri's black mist violently shuddered and folded in on itself, the warper disappearing into thin air as he set out with renewed purpose on the mission.

As the last trace of fog drifted away and left the Doctor alone in the laboratory with the Nomu in the tank, he reached up to mop away the sweat on his brow and let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding in. The project had driven him forward, the desire to perfect his Nomu, but he hadn't taken account of the risk of not finding the successor first. They had to get it right, and had to ensure the legacy would continue.

All For One would not die with the Master.

"Master... We will not fail you again."

(***)

In the bright lights of his office, hidden away from the rest of the world, the Principal of UA High School stared at the list in front of him on the desk, and wondered what the next step would be for the future of his school.

The creature known as Nezu was used to being in the spotlight; after all, being one of the few animals in the world to possess a Quirk meant that people couldn't stop talking whenever they used to see him in public. Being a three foot high albino chimaera with traits of dog, mouse, bear and others meant a lot of staring, even if you weren't wearing a suit and welcoming their children into your school to train as the newest group of future Pro Heroes. Such was the fate of a creature of his nature; doomed never to be accepted by either the animals or the humans, and fated to live an eventful life.

Incident Zero had only compounded the situation. In the wake of the death of All Might, the Symbol of Peace who had trusted Nezu with secrets not known to the rest of the world, the Hero Commission and numerous Pro Heroes had seemed to try everything within their power to take UA for themselves. The bright future of countless youngsters had been threatened by those who feared societal collapse, and who paradoxically helped to achieve the same collapse by becoming tyrants in their own right. This was not the future he wanted for his school, or his students. And so, in the face of great uncertainty and facing something he could not stand by and justify, Nezu stood in the face of the oncoming hordes, and defied the tides of change.

Since he had declared UA to be his own Agency, he had preserved the Rescue Training, the General Education Course, and the Support Course, key tenets of what set UA apart from the rest of the hero academias in Japan. The public reaction had been immense in support of keeping up the traditions of UA, and the donations had rolled in to support this vision of the future; the reaction of the Commission and a number of Pro Heroes had been apoplectic with rage, so much so that Nezu had to retreat from the public eye and hide from the vultures. As much money as had been donated was soon sunk into defending lawsuits and court battles by the Commission trying to force a reversal, but through it all UA stood defiant. UA, Nezu swore, would remain as it always had- a home for Heroes first.

The battles for its future had taken its toll on the school, as much as Nezu had tried to preserve the heart of his school. Admissions had been drastically reduced not only due to the societal uncertainty in a world without All Might, but also due to public campaigns by politicians whose true affiliations Nezu couldn't quite trace (no matter how hard he dug). Funding was sufficient to keep the core classes running, but while the UA of the past would have two Hero classes, and three for General Education and Support, Nezu was faced with one class for each, on a sprawling campus meant for so much more.

Not that Nezu minded too much. Frankly the fact that the school had survived as long as it had was something he could be grateful for every day, and the fact that most of his staff had stuck with the school and their commitment to do right by the next generation made it all the more sweet. On the hardest days, he could take great comfort in the people who made it their mission to prepare the next generation, and in the success stories of the students who overcame their limits to be the best they could be. That was all it was about, after all- to go beyond, Plus Ultra.

Now he just had to come to terms with the name on the sheet in front of him, and what it might mean for the safety of everyone at his school.

The application process to UA had become tighter and tighter each year, and his school's infamy for the low pass rate of its Entrance Exam had translated into a stringent system being put in place. Nezu would receive blind copies of applications, with no school name, student name or birthdate, and would review the remainder; his High Spec Quirk allowed him to divine all the information he needed from their academics, their Quirk descriptions, their references from their teachers and any Pro Hero recommendations, and their answers to the set questions he had incorporated into the application. He would then make his selections of a range and allow his staff to review and make changes where necessary, before they sent out the invitations to the Exam and informed him who would be coming.

In theory, it was a good system. High Spec was an intricate and powerful Quirk, and would allow him to look beyond the obvious to get a good picture of the candidate; he could assess an individual's motivations, project the limitations of their abilities and Quirks to see where they may fall down in the field, and weed out the problems. Combined with a blind review of their applications and Nezu considered it a fair way of treating all applicants equally, regardless where they came from. This was in theory.

In reality, his teachers had affirmed the choices and notified him who would be attending the exam, and now his blood ran cold at the thoughts it provoked to see one of the names that had passed through his net.

Tenko Shimura...

The name dredged up memories that the chimaera had blocked in a dark corner in the back of his sharpened mind, of the world before it lost its Symbol of Peace. Memories of a man in goggles and a moustache, of the pain and misery inflicted on him to bring out his Quirk and the constant brutal pushing to his limits when it manifested. Memories of a tyrant in a black mask ruling the underworld, watching with glee as he was experimented on. Memories of how low the Symbol of Peace had been brought by the tyrant, disappearing to America in a blaze of righteous fury before returning to seek vengeance and take down the villain to end all villains.

And most importantly of all, as Nezu stared at the name on the paper, one more memory bubbled and made him shiver as if he'd seen a ghost. The memory of a black-haired woman with a bright smile, of her casket being lowered into the ground, of the absolute agony on the faces of All Might and Sorahiko Torino. Now, it seemed, the past was not dead.

Closing his eyes, High Spec whirring away as he tried not to let emotions cloud his judgment, Nezu assessed as he always did, and came up with the best solution that he could on such short notice. With a few short clicks on the keyboard a video call was launched, and was instantly connected.

With a beep, the ever-exuberant Present Mic, a UA stalwart teacher and ever-energetic radio DJ picked up, crowing with happiness. Nezu noted that he was in his little studio he had set up to run his nightly music show, and was dressed down without his hair spiked up, without his sunglasses or any of the trinkets from his Hero costume. "GOOOOOOOOD evening Mister Principal, sir! What can I do for my favourite listener on a fiiiiine spring evening?"

"Good evening, Present Mic." Nezu smiled a smile that didn't meet his eyes. "I'm going to change the schedule slightly for the Entrance Exam, if I may. I'd like to bring in an external examiner."

"An external?" Mic frowned, before his eyes went wide. "Wait wait, don't tell me! I can guess! Returning to UA High for a reunion like no other, give it up for Shooooota-"

"I'm not bringing back Eraserhead, no."

"WAAAAAGH?!" Mic threw his head back and groaned at the top of his lungs, nearly deafening Nezu even without his Quirk. "Come on man, when are we getting him back?! You sent him out on a mission two years ago and we don't even hear from the guy with a text these days! You're killing me and Nem-"

"I'm sorry Yamada, truly, but Shota knows the importance of the job and why he can't come back yet." Nezu shook his head sadly. "Believe me when I say that taking Eraserhead out of teaching at UA was not a decision I wanted to take. We all miss him. But his job is crucial-"

"I know, I know, I'm just yanking your chain," Mic said, backing down, but Nezu didn't even need High Spec to sense this wasn't true. "What's the plan though sir? The way I saw it, you don't trust many people outside of our school, so if you have someone you wanna bring in, you must really think the little listeners are safe around them."

"I assure you, they will be. I will let you know the plan when I confirm with them but there are a few students I'd like an impartial judgment on before I let them in."

"Oooookay!" Mic shot him a thumbs up. "I'll let Nem and Ken know we're expecting company, and we'll wait to hear from you Mister Principal!"

"Thank you, Yamada." Nezu allowed himself a small smile. "Enjoy your show tonight."

"Will do! YEEEEEAH-"

Nezu cut the call off before Present Mic's Voice kicked in and broke his computer speakers, and determinedly tapped away at the keyboard to connect the next call. He had no doubt that this was what he needed; he just hoped he could get through.

As he sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, he heard the click of the call connecting, and internally felt a wave of relief that he had been able to get through. "Good evening. I was worried you wouldn't take my call. It's been a long time."

"At least a few years." The recipient on the other end of the call sounded like they were doing their best to keep their tone neutral. "I didn't think I would ever hear from you."

"Interesting. I thought the same of you." Nezu kept his eyes closed. "Two of the last people left alive with the knowledge of the greatest secret known to humanity. I thought you would retreat into your Agency and your investigations, and wouldn't pick up the phone to me."

"And I thought I told you I didn't want to talk about it." The voice wasn't raised, but the anger was palpable. "I thought I told you that I wanted nothing more to do with the past. That after everything, all I want to do is take that secret to the grave."

"You did. So I wouldn't be calling you if I didn't need your help-"

"I failed him, Nezu." The interruption was harsh and blunt. "I could have done so much more, and I failed. I just want to keep to my investigations, to continue to work to stifle the threat of the Yakuza as they grow like weeds through the cracks. I'm getting closer to making a move on the Shie Hassaikai; I don't need to be reminded of the past."

"Unfortunately, the past makes you one of the only people I can talk to about this."

"I don't want to talk, Nezu. All Might died and there's nothing left to-"

"Nana Shimura has a grandchild!" Nezu didn't want to raise his voice- he hated how squeaky he sounded when he shouted- but he had to get that point across before he lost the room.

The shout was met with stony silence for a long moment. "... I'm sorry, what?"

Nezu breathed out to calm himself. "Nana Shimura... the seventh holder. She has a grandchild."

"... Does Sorahiko know?"

"Not yet. And I won't tell him yet. There's something I need your help with and it's only you can help. I wouldn't ask anyone else, I cannot." Nezu took a breath, and opened his eyes. "I need you... Mirai."

There was no mistaking the man on the other end of the video call, with his severe features and precise haircut and the rebellious streaks of blonde in his green hair. He was lanky, thinner than he used to be with slightly sunken cheeks, and his glasses now framed yellow eyes that looked to be more bloodshot than they ever had been, but no other Pro Hero waded into battle in the same white business suit, with nothing but a tie and a set of high-density seals to take on a villain with. Even after all this time, Nezu looked upon the face of one of the few people in the world to know the truth of One For All and All For One, and was glad to see him.

Mirai Sasaki, Sir Nighteye, folded his arms and leaned back in his chair on the call. "How? I didn't know that Nana Shimura had a family-"

"Neither did All Might." Nezu had his attention, and knew it; he didn't want to waste words. "Nana Shimura gave her son Kotaro up for adoption when she feared for his safety. She feared that All For One would come for them."

"And so he had a child-"

"Two of them. He married a woman called Nao Hinata, and together they raised Hana and Tenko Shimura."

"And yet you only say that Nana Shimura has a grandchild..." Nighteye adjusted his glasses. "What happened to the family?"

Nezu nodded. "Incident Zero."

Nighteye twitched ever so slightly at those two words, in a manner only someone as intelligent as Nezu would detect. "Specifics, Nezu-"

"They were never found." Nezu paused, remembering the horrifying report he had read. "They weren't collateral, but Police went to visit afterwards when the neighbours were concerned. All that remained in their home were ashes, and the house had been damaged beyond repair."

"And then..." Nighteye stopped. "A grandchild survived."

"Tenko Shimura survived," Nezu confirmed. "I thought that the whole family had perished, and then he applied to my school to become a Hero."

"After all this time..." Nighteye focused. "What's his Quirk?"

"Decay," Nezu said, pouring himself a tea to calm himself. "He can turn whatever he touches with all five fingers to dust."

Nighteye's frown twitched. "... You suspect the boy destroyed his own family. That he fled after Incident Zero because of what he had done."

"I..." Nezu breathed out. "I don't know. But I cannot rule it out, and so the feeling concerns me more than anything."

"How has he gone undetected until now?" Nighteye asked. "Where has he been living, and what on Earth were his school doing?"

"He's been moving from house to house until recently, when a younger friend of his took him in. That same friend is another student applying to UA, and Tenko Shimura has followed." Nezu took a sip of the tea, and relished the warmth. "The school updated their records, but nothing of note came of any of it. It never got brought to my attention, or to the attention of the Police, just like so many cases of the missing and the dead after Incident Zero. And now, he's been approved to attend our Entrance Exam."

Nighteye took a moment, steepled his bony fingers, and looked Nezu in the eye across the video link. "... What do you want me to do?"

Nezu rubbed his snout and tried not to breathe a sigh of relief that he held Nighteye's interest still. "I have my concerns. The last descendant of a holder of One For All is due to attend my Entrance Exam in two days. Nobody has an explanation as to why his family died in the crossfire on Incident Zero. All we know is that All For One came to Musutafu on that day, that All Might confronted him and gave his life to stop him, and that the Shimura family died, only for Tenko Shimura to resurface later. Tenko Shimura, the boy with a Quirk that allows him to turn anything to dust."

Nezu stirred the tea, and blinked as he looked at Nighteye. "I do not know if Tenko Shimura is good, or not. I do not know if All For One came to Musutafu to hurt the Shimura family, or if he got to Tenko Shimura. I do not know if his family died by his hands, and if they did whether it was an accident. And I do not know if there is anything special about him by virtue of his blood relation to a holder of One For All, the Quirk that seems to have disappeared from the world for good."

"Help me. Come to the UA Entrance Exam as an external assessor. Take on students for their assessment, talk to them, challenge what they do and why they want to be a Hero. And among your group, I'll ask you, please, to look at Tenko Shimura. Look at him in a context where he won't suspect a thing and where we can react safely if you discover anything dangerous." Nezu took a long sip of tea. "I would ask you, Mirai, please, to use your Quirk on him."

Nighteye's shoulders seemed to shoot up, defensively, at the mention of the Quirk that wasn't public knowledge to this day. "I... haven't used it since Incident Zero. I do not know if I will be able to find the answers you look for-"

"All I can ask is that you try, for all our sakes." Nezu leaned forward, careful not to fall out of the oversized chair. "If he is good, and there is hope for all of us, then I want to know. If he has been hurt by the evil of All For One, and there is a chance he could hurt more in future, I want to know. I don't like asking this of you, and the morality of doing it to a child is not something I can face easily, but in a world without All Might or All For One, I will do whatever it takes to keep my students safe. I hope you understand why I have to at least ask."

Nighteye bowed his head for a second, before looking up and fixing his glasses. "... I accept. I can only apologise if my Foresight is not what it once was, but I can try. And where All For One and One For All might be involved, I understand. Whatever it takes."

"Thank you, Mirai." Nezu allowed himself a small smile again, as he leaned forward to tap at the keys. "I will send you some profiles over to have a look at, including his, and some details for the Entrance Exam. I am glad you decided to help; I cannot let something like this lie."

"I agree." Nighteye steepled his fingers and closed his eyes. "Thank you, Nezu. I'll help you be sure about the boy."

As the connection terminated, and his email inbox pinged with a notification of documents received from a secure UA email address, Mirai Sasaki spun away from the computer screen, closed his eyes, and let out the large breath he didn't know he had been holding in. After all this time running, the past had caught up to him.

Sir Nighteye had regretted not using Foresight on All Might since the day that the Symbol of Peace died. All the time he had been a sidekick, he had told himself that Toshinori Yagi was the one man off-limits to the monstrous prophecies of his own Quirk, that his friend and partner should not be analysed and probed like one of the many people he had used it on without their knowledge. And then Incident Zero happened, robbing him and the world of All Might, and to this day he lamented that he could have done more. He could have seen it coming, he could have given All Might the knowledge of what happened, he could have prepared better or tried to find a way to watch All Might fight fate, the only man he knew who could have been capable of overcoming the inimitable truth of his visions.

After that day he had retreated into his shell of analytics and research, vowing never to touch his Quirk again. He ran, ashamed and hurt and crying out in the night from the grief, and he vowed he would never look back or look forward again. And now, only now, Nezu had dropped the gift he didn't know he needed onto his lap. A purpose, a new chapter to the story he already knew.

He didn't know who Tenko Shimura was, what his story was, what had truly happened. He wouldn't know until he met him. But Nighteye knew that he was a shot at redemption, one way or another. If the last Shimura was their last chance at salvaging a legacy for All Might, then he would give it his all.

And if the last Shimura was touched by All For One, if he found that the villain's dreadful evil remained in this world somehow, then Nighteye would not falter as he had done before. He would remove the threat once and for all, and would clean the last dreadful reminder of All For One from the face of the earth. If the boy had to die to free the world of that unspeakable villainy, then Nighteye's hand would do so without hesitation.

"Whatever it takes," Nighteye murmured to himself, turning to face the wall to his left and gaze up at the poster on the wall, adjusting his glasses as he did so.

"All Might... I will not fail you again."

(***)

Kyudai Garaki and Kurogiri. Aged: ?

Principal Nezu. Aged: ?

Mirai Sasaki, Sir Nighteye. Aged: 37.

Chapter 16: All for the Sake of a Correct Society

"You know, Hitoshi, when I said I was coming to collect you from class and show you something special, I thought you might be a little more positive than usual."

Hitoshi Shinso refused to look up as he stood outside the door of the auditorium with his mother, instead fixing his sullen gaze firmly on the floor. "I'm sorry, next time I'll bow at your feet to express my gratitude."

She tutted, and tried to fix his messy hair and button up his collar, deliberately ignoring his growl of protest. "You could have at least made the effort to look nice for this. This is supposed to be a great day, a chance to show the board my finest achievement and a chance to show off what we've been working on for years. I would have hoped you could make the effort for me."

"Why? Nobody in this place ever makes an effort for me." Hitoshi jerked away from her and tried not to look at the kids from the other training class who were walking by, all to used to the murmurs and weird looks he was getting from some of them. "I'm just the kid with the villain's Quirk, I'm just your son. Nobody sees anything past that."

She sighed, exasperated. "Really? Can we not do this now? It's not the right-"

"Time? It never is," he snarked back, in a dark tone, shaking his head to allow his messy purple hair to stand up as he liked it again. "You don't even make the effort for me because you always say you're too busy. Any time I try to talk to you about it is a bad time. I don't want to be here and I don't want to do this-"

"Please, Hitoshi, we can talk after this," she said, grabbing his sleeve with a pale hand. "The President is coming to see this, our best Pro Heroes are coming. This is the big day where we show them the way to get society back under control-"

"You really don't see it, do you? You alienated half of society by trying to take too much control, and now you wanna take more? Whatever you're planning, they won't accept you."

"Hitoshi." She bit, and inside he smirked at the small victory. "I gave you the best chances I could, to be here and achieve your goal. And that's how you repay me? With comments like that?"

"If you don't see the truth, that you only brought me here so I didn't get in the way of your successes, then there's no helping you." Hitoshi rubbed at the bags under his eyes with his free hand. "Don't act like you care."

"That's not-"

"Don't worry, I won't mess up your big speech," he replied, snatching his arm away and pushing at the door. "They're all here for you anyway. They won't care about me whatever I do."

"Hitoshi, I-"

"Relax," he called over his shoulder as he slunk into the auditorium, ignoring the looks on the faces of the gathered bureaucrats. "You won't even know I'm here."

God knows he wished he wasn't there. The Commission was a hellhole and he was lost in it. Anywhere but there would be better.

Incident Zero had changed things for many people. Many had lost parents, siblings, children; many had found their dreams crushed and their livelihoods destroyed. Hitoshi Shinso had grown up in Saitama Prefecture relatively untouched by the effects of Incident Zero. And then, as it looked like Japan was just about to start its recovery and move on, the Hero Commission had completely overhauled the whole of Hero society to the tune of fervent protest; Hitoshi had just been dragged along for the ride.

One way or another, he blamed his mother. Haruga Shinso was a Pro Heroine who had been kept relatively underground by the Commission; with a Quirk like hers, she had to be kept out of the limelight and allowed to do the dirty work, because it would scare anyone and everyone if the public learned the truth of her powers. She was a Commission darling, and so when the announcement was made that the Commission was gathering its own force of Heroes, training its own future Heroes in house, she made sure that he came along with her. It wasn't enough for them to take in the likes of Hawks, Wash, Death Arms, Crust and more; in the wake of UA refusing to bend to their whims, they had to build their own hero academy.

Hitoshi didn't get a say in the matter when his mother asked him to come along and become one of their own recommended students, and his dreams of going to UA hadn't been realised; instead, he was one of a hundred trainee students directly working at the Commission's facility outside of Tokyo, learning to fight first and ask questions later in their vision of a brave new world. It wasn't what he wanted to be, and yet he couldn't talk to her about it because she just wouldn't listen. He was lost in the crowd to her, just another problem child.

He barely ever saw his mother, wrapped up in her missions she couldn't talk to him about or whiling away her days in a laboratory on some project for the President. Hitoshi had just been thrown to the wolves to become one of the Commission's many future investments, subjected to their harsh training regimes and made to feel as if he was part of some military boot camp. And it wasn't just bad enough that being the son of a Pro Heroine bred resentment among some of his peers; the other kids would never see any merit, and would only see a boy who they felt had used the family name to get a leg up in life. No, everything was made worse because of his Quirk.

Again, Hitoshi blamed his mother. After all, her Quirk's worst elements had fused with his father's Quirk to give Hitoshi his Brainwashing ability, an ability which caused all the other students in the Commission's training program to whisper about him when they thought he couldn't hear. In the beginning, it had hurt him to hear their names for him; the villain in their midst, the B rank, the freak. All of this because his Quirk could do stuff they were scared of, because it didn't look as heroic or noble as some of those possessed by his bitter and mocking peers.

Several fights later, and several tellings-off from their teachers after he had Brainwashed classmates into embarrassment as revenge, Hitoshi had decided to just grow a shell to deal with it all. It still hurt when he heard them, and Hitoshi was sick of it, but he had grown tired of the lack of response when he showed weakness and adopted sarcasm and apathy as a means of respite. If they didn't think he was bothered, they wouldn't bother him.

He would show them, one way or another. He would succeed, however much he hated being there, and he would show them that he was more than his Quirk. That he could be a good Hero, whatever they said.

If only to get back at his mother a little.

As he slumped down into an empty chair in the auditorium on the end of a row near the front, he didn't pay attention as to who he'd sat down next to until they spoke up. "I know these things are usually dull, but they've gotta be better than class, right?"

If it had been anyone else asking Hitoshi would have considered activating Brainwashing and asking them to vacate the seat next to him, but this was someone he could actually tolerate and someone he recognised. The Hero Commission's pride and joy, the Number Two in all of Japan, their project for the last few years and a shining example used as a stick to beat all of their new recruits with, was sat right next to him. With wings that wide, none of Hitoshi's peers could ever hope to get out of his shadow, and Hitoshi had his own doubts as to whether he would have a Hero career even a tenth as successful as the young man besides him; even despite that, Hitoshi respected him as one of the few people who had actually spoken to him like a human in this place, and hadn't tried to force the Commission's ideals down his throat at any given chance.

He turned to look at the young man beside him, and while he had been starstruck the first time he had met him, now he could talk to him like any normal person. That was a rare quality within this place. "You say that, but it's not your mom who's presenting it."

The Wing Hero Hawks had wrapped his fierce red wings around him like a blanket as he sat in the chair, and he shot a small smile at Hitoshi. "I did ask myself how a student got out of Combat Training to come and see the show here. Perks of being Sway's kid, huh?"

"I wouldn't describe them as perks," Hitoshi muttered, sinking further into his chair at the mention of his mother's hero name. "How come you're here, Hawks? No other Heroes are here."

"Aw, no sir?" Hawks asked, but when Hitoshi didn't respond to the tease he just flashed a peace sign and the wide smile he had become known for on the front page of every newspaper in Japan. "Nah, the President asked me to come down. Apparently Sway's got something exciting planned that she wants me to see."

Hitoshi looked behind him to the back row, to see the stern and immediately recognisable President talking to two of her close advisors with a very deliberate poker face. One of the most powerful women in Japan, rarely seen in public these days, had made it to this event. "God, I feel out of place."

"Wanna know a secret?"

"Huh?"

Hawks leaned in and raised an eyebrow at him conspiratorially, his blonde hair wafting with a blast of air-conditioning as he whispered. "So do I."

Hitoshi tried not to smirk and looked away, rolling his eyes. "Try telling that to me when you're not their favourite hero. They raised you here, didn't they? You can't feel out of place."

"It's true." Hawks lifted his feet up to rest his black boots on the seat-back in front of him, and stared at the stage with its small podium. "It's not like how it used to be. Sure, they were strict on me when they were teaching me, but the world back then was different, right? More hopeful. I believed they would let me out there and I could join All Might in making people happier."

Hitoshi almost forgot that the Pro beside him wouldn't have been old enough to make his debut when Incident Zero happened. All of Hawks' career had been in the shadow of a world without its Symbol of Peace. "And now we're all just filling a gap."

"They're trying their best," Hawks said, looking back over at him. "They just can't get it right all the time."

Hitoshi didn't believe him that they were doing well at all, and opened his mouth to say so, but at that moment the lights dimmed and his mother strode through the door to walk down the steps to the stage. He hated how obvious the family resemblance was with him and his mother; even though her hair was straight and cut short, it was still the same recognisable shade of indigo unlike anyone else in the room, and he had her purple eyes, just with permanent bags underneath his. If he had any say in the matter, he'd invest in a lot of hair dye the second he left the Commission's training programme.

When she reached the podium, with a small cough she announced her presence, and the murmurs of discussion in the room died down. With one last look over Hitoshi, as if imploring him to keep quiet and not ruin the moment for her, she began to speak.

"Thank you all for coming today. For those of you who aren't familiar with me, my name is Haruga Shinso, although you may have heard whispers about me under my hero name of Sway. I've been here with the Commission for a fair few years heading up the Underground Heroics team, although in a world like this pretty much everything is underground these days."

As a few polite laughs rang out across the auditorium, Hitoshi tried not to groan loudly and lamented not bringing earphones to drown out her awful self-serving jokes. One of his idols growing up had been the underground hero Eraserhead, the teacher at UA who basically fought Quirkless; when he found out that his mother was also technically an underground hero, the idea had lost its lustre a little.

"My work has to take place underground because of the nature of my Quirk. It's been a closely kept secret through most of the Commission, but my Quirk has a number of ways you can refer to it. Suggestion, Hypnotism, Influence..." Her gaze drifted over Hitoshi, and he made a point to look away, "and even Brainwashing. I prefer to call it... Trance."

Of course you do, Hitoshi thought. Anything to play it down.

"Put simply, my Quirk allows me to place an individual into a state of mind in which I am able to influence them. This can be immediately, depending on what I command the individual to do, or subconsciously, to allow for a delayed reaction from the individual at a time I desire."

He yawned. He basically had her Quirk after all.

"In the hands of a villain this Quirk would be devastating. In the eyes of the public, a Quirk with such drastic effects would be far too dangerous to be allowed to be wielded by a Hero. What kind of Hero would a person be if they could totally bypass a sense of liberty, remove a person's freedom of choice even just for a second?"

"I'll show you," he muttered under his breath, not catching the look from Hawks besides him. "Just watch me."

"As such my work with the Commission has, until recently, been limited to underground work on missions where there is no risk of a public reveal. Besides this, I have had ample time to research the limits of my Quirk and perfect its mastery, consider fully how best I am applying it. Such a power would only be deployed to be used to its full potential in the darkest of times." His mother paused, and adjusted the thick-framed glasses that hung around her eyes. "These are dark times."

Hitoshi felt it, then. He had had a lifetime of exposure to his mother's Quirk to recognise when it took effect, to pick up on the tingling on his skin like goosebumps that she was layering her voice with it when she said that phrase. Unlike him, she didn't need to get a response from her intended target for her Quirk to activate, but it was a lot less successful if it didn't get a response. Next to him, Hawks stirred, but Hitoshi only had eyes for his mother at that point. Why was she trying to deploy her Quirk here? And who was it on?

"We find ourselves surrounded by threats on every level of society." His mother looked up and Hitoshi had no doubt that she had nodded towards the President, sat tight-lipped in the back row. "We struck a deal to allow some of the Heroes to remain private, out of fear of backlash if we brought them all in. By doing so we have divided society, so that some of our Heroes end up obstructed by those independent of us. Private Heroes pick and choose where they want to enforce the law and where they want to turn a blind eye, leaving us with the clean-up duty in the end. The Yakuza are profiting more and more, and the extremist groups are shouting louder. Criminals aren't afraid of us."

There it was again. As Hawks leaned forward to listen more, a frown on his face, Hitoshi felt the wave of suggestion that he knew came from her Quirk. That last phrase was heavy with the feeling, the emotional and psychological equivalent of a fishing hook. His mother had a target in mind for all of this, but who?

"The worst of all, though, are the vigilantes." His mother paused as there were some murmurs of assent in the audience. Not from Hitoshi, who frankly couldn't be more grateful somebody was actually doing the job the Commission were supposed to do, instead of sitting in their towers trying to make a political statement. "The ones who think they can act with no consequence, the ones who think they can be heroes with no moral code, the ones who pretend that the law doesn't matter and that they are above us. We have allowed them to survive unchallenged for too long."

Was this what it was about? All of the issues in the world, and the Commission remained fixated on stamping out the competition? On punishing people trying to do the right thing, rather than commending them for helping to tackle the criminals the Commission kept missing? And why could Hitoshi still feel the waves of his mother's Quirk reaching out in that last statement?

"It's time, we decided, to take a stand. To not tolerate these vigilantes and their mindless acts of violence any longer." His mother banged the podium, unconvincingly in his mind. "We have been letting them grow unchallenged for too long, and haven't worked decisively to rip the weeds out as they sprouted. Now, finally, we have a way to deal with them once and for all. We must wipe them out for good."

The force of his mother's Quirk in that last statement made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he could have sworn that even Hawks beside him flinched. Who was she directing it at?

"So finally we have a way to tackle them, to do whatever it takes to end their activities. Madam President, I am truly grateful that you allowed me to remove the shackles and set to work, because now, we can tip the balance in our favour once and for all. We can beat the criminals for good." She raised a pale hand, and Hitoshi finally realised with horror what was going on, as her purple eyes glowed to finish the job. "What are you going to do, Hawks?"

All that time, the Wing Hero had been leaning forward in his seat, and finally Hitoshi got a brief look at his face before Hawks sprang forward with a flap of those mighty red wings. What he saw confirmed every terrible thought that had run through his head, when he looked into those avian yellow eyes and saw nothing but clouded acceptance; Hawks wasn't there in that moment. The cheerful, bright-eyed youth of the Number Two had been overridden into blind subservience by his own mother, and from the gasps he heard in the crowd he wasn't the only one blindsided by this.

Hawks landed beside his mother on stage with the lightest of touches, and she gestured to him with a proud flourish. "I'm sure all of you in the room are familiar with our favourite son, Hawks. Taken in and raised by us at a young age, he's been a loyal ally as we try to deal with the changing world. But the problem with a hero like Hawks is... inhibition."

"All of those impulsive decisions a hero has to make when they're faced with the worst possible outcomes, all of those moments that hang in the balance and decide the fate of an ordinary citizen or the freedom of the most cruel of villains? They are what defines a Hero, but in times like these... they can obstruct. Crises of conscience allowing vigilantes to get free because we fear they may have helped? Moral uncertainty because we believe the villain has a motive we can understand. These are not luxuries we can afford, these shades of grey."

She waved a hand in front of his face. "My Quirk allows for temporary control, but over the last two years I've been given access to Hawks to work on a more regular basis. Months and months of daily exposure to my Quirk has allowed me not just control for an impulsive action, but the ability to access his subconscious as I have never been able to do so before. All those self-imposed limits, all those moral hangups and emotional traumas... I can overcome them. Black, and white."

"Key phrases layered with my Quirk act as a trigger to activate a separate persona built into Hawks' subconscious, of my own design." She nodded, smirked to herself. "Say them, and I can bring him around into the state we desire. I can create our own weapon, a tool with no second thoughts and no aversion to doing whatever it takes to achieve our goal of a just society for all. Under this control, he is ours to command for the good of all."

Behind her, two Commission lackeys brought in someone who appeared to have been drugged, and Hitoshi's eyes widened at the sight of the man, dropped to his knees and allowed to remain there whimpering. "This is Teruo Hazukashi. His Shame powers him up through his Quirk. He lost his job after Incident Zero and decided to take that news by stripping naked and putting nearly twenty of his former colleagues in the hospital. Two of them have died, and he would have otherwise serve life in prison to this date. But if we feel that justice is not done..."

She turned to Hawks, stiff as a board under her command, and Hitoshi's eyes widened. "Deal with him."

He barely even had the chance to blink before the Hero moved, and the ripple of gasps across the room followed as Hawks sprang forward with one mighty wingbeat, pulling a sharpened feather from the end of his wing and plunging it into the man as some kind of sword. He had seen Hawks use the Feather Blade technique once or twice before on television, usually to defend himself against villains with blades, but he knew the Wing Hero had publicly vowed in interviews to never use it as an attack on someone. Now, as Hazukashi's body crumpled to the floor, he saw the horror of it all; the looks on the faces of almost everyone else in that room were looks of approval.

Months upon months of daily sessions of hypnotism and brainwashing at her hands, to override any subconscious urge to disobey, had turned a proud Hero into her plaything, their plaything. They had actively sat by and encouraged her to take a man they had raised from childhood, who trusted them with every last fibre of his being, and split his personality, to turn him into their killing machine to act as they pleased. He would obey every order they gave him unquestioningly and immediately, to the detriment of anyone who stood in their way. He gave the Commission their chance to act as judge, jury and executioner with no regard to his freedom of choice or to fair process.

And they applauded it.

"Kneel and face them." His mother... no, Sway, she didn't deserve that title anymore, stood there beside the Hero and turned him to kneel before the Commission, staring straight ahead. "You see what we can do? For years they have stood against us and got in our way. All we have wanted to do is police effectively and clean out the rot in our society, and they do everything in their power to sabotage us. He will not hesitate."

"Now we can finally begin to truly deal with the threats our society faces. Dark times call for desperate measures, but this, this is calculated and true. We can permanently neutralise the most dangerous and violent of criminals, we can triumph against the Heroes who pretend to stand for justice, and we can ensure that the criminals who claim to be vigilantes are purged. That they never obstruct our judgment again."

She raised one pale hand to the back of the room, pointing to the President as if with a final flourish. "Finally, Madam President, we can tip the balance. We won't stop until every last vigilante is hunted down and removed from our crumbling society, and until the villains fear us once again. This is now our fight to win."

Sway smirked, and Hitoshi found it alarming how awful her smile looked on her face. "For the good of all?"

What left him sat rigid in his chair and utterly broken by the whole thing wasn't the proud smile on her face in that moment, searching him out in the crowd for his adulation. It wasn't the speed at which the President rose from her chair to begin clapping, or how immediately the rest of the bureaucrats joined her in a rousing wall of approval, lapping up how the liberty and morality of one of their own had been so brutally stripped away as if it were necessary in this new world.

No, what left Hitoshi Shinso broken was Hawks.

All the while that Sway had been speaking, Hitoshi had watched the face of the Number Two, how glazed his eyes were, how obvious it was that her Trance Quirk had taken complete control of him. But as the President rose to her feet to clap, and as blood dripped from the tip of the razor-sharp feather still in his grasp, that look had flickered if only for a second, and he had seen the look in his eyes change. The emotions that had passed in those yellow eyes in a brief moment, the horror, the fear, the disgust, and the absolute sense of helplessness at not being able to break free.

Hawks was still in there in some way as they used him. They were breaking him for their own gain.

Hitoshi Shinso stared at the stage, at the Wing Hero, at Sway, and made up his mind. This was over every moral line he was aware of. Good vigilantes who tried to do their best to help would be murdered if the Commission carried on. A good Hero was being turned into a brutal predator to eliminate as they pleased, entirely against his wishes. People needed to know that this was how far the Commission had fallen, that this is what they were willing to do to one of their own, that the Commission would come for them and wouldn't stop until they used Hawks to wipe them from the face of the earth.

He had to warn people. He wouldn't be part of this. If he wanted to be a Hero...

He would have to do it himself.

(***)

Barely a few hours after fleeing from the Commission compound, Hitoshi found himself cursing his complete lack of a plan and how he had ended up lost in the middle of Japan's largest city.

In his head, the plan had been simple. Make an excuse to dip out of the meeting and head back to his room in the Commission HQ to gather his belongings. Use the fact that his mother and her cronies were distracted with their new project, and the fact that the teachers in the Commission's training classes thought he was with her, and get out of the compound on the outskirts of Tokyo, sneaking through the hole in the fence that the other recruits used to head out to watch movies and go to bars. Head into the centre of the city and disappear into the back alleys and the shadows, and from there once he had disappeared, find a way to warn people what they were planning.

All of this sounded very simple in his own head before he arrived in Tokyo, and became completely overwhelmed by the sheer amount of traffic and people, the scale of the buildings. Every time he had been into the city, he had been with other Commission students who knew the area or with his mother, who had arranged for someone to drive them around. On his own, and faced with his own paranoia that sooner or later his mother would send someone after him, he was struggling.

Finally though, he had found a lead of sorts, as he stuck to the shadows of a dark alleyway in the Naruhata district and waited for a police car to crawl on by. The area had been infamous in the past as the haunt of the Naruhata Vigilantes, a group shrouded in notoriety whose rates after Incident Zero had been somewhat varied. PopStep was a name of the past, and The Crawler seemed to pop up here, there and everywhere across the country, but the one name which seemed to remain present in the Naruhata area was Knuckleduster, a Quirkless vigilante with a violent streak and a reputation among the Commission as someone they wanted to deal with sooner rather than later.

Probably because he was so good at actually being a hero, compared to so many of their kind, Hitoshi thought to himself.

Hitoshi had heard the name mentioned by one of his mother's bureaucrat colleagues before that horrible meeting. As such he had no doubt that if the project with Hawks was really going to be their way of going after the vigilantes, then Knuckleduster would be high on their list of targets, up there with the Hero Killer and Gentle. If he wanted to warn someone of what was coming, he would be a good start, and if he could convince someone like Knuckleduster to take him in, he would have good protection against anyone who came after him. Hitoshi had a plan, and a good guess on where to start looking.

As the police car turned the corner, he slinked across the road to the alleyway on the other side, trying not to grimace at the smell of trash and someone's piss against a wall. There was a sign down here sticking out from the wall, above the door of a seedy back alley bar, exactly the sort he wouldn't want to go into on any other day. But Knuckleduster had a reputation for being a brawler, and for frequenting fight clubs to take on challengers; judging from the ripped posters on the alley walls giving the details for one or two streets down, this bar looked to Hitoshi like the right sort of place that people would go to sign up. Either he would sign up, or he would find someone who knew how to get him to a vigilante.

He tried not to roll his eyes as he pushed the door open and heard the jingle of a bell above the door, and tried not to meet the gaze of a trio of shaved-head thugs who barged his shoulders on their way out, instead walking straight up to the bar. It took more of his willpower than he expected to not cough at the stench of cigarettes, or spilled booze, and instead he just slid himself into a stool, noting that there was only one other person besides him and the bartender, shrouded in shadow in the corner of the bar.

The bartender, a hulking man with massive biceps and a third eye in the middle of his forehead, looked him up and down. "Don'tcha think yer a little young to be in here, kid?"

"Funny," Hitoshi said, forgetting to rein in the snark he was so used to deploying, "this didn't look like the sort of place you'd care about ID."

For a moment the silence hung in the air, before the bartender snorted. "Huh, kid's got balls at least. Whaddya want?"

"I don't want a drink," Hitoshi replied, looking up and struggling for a moment to pick two eyes to meet the gaze of. "I'm... kinda lost."

"Most people go to the police if they're lost, son," the barman said, pouring himself a glass of something unrecognisable and amber. "Unless yer not being truthful with me."

"Thing is..." Hitoshi paused, as he evaluated how much he could say. "I'm looking for a vigilante."

This was met with a stony look. "And what makes ya think ya could find one in here?"

Hitoshi waved back at the door. "Underground fight club banners outside in a district where Knuckleduster runs around? Either you've seen him and others around, or some of your regulars could point me to one."

The bartender took a swig of the liquid, eyes not moving from Hitoshi. "Certain types of folks come in my bar and start askin' about vigilantes. Not many are kids."

He put one beefy fist down on the bar besides Hitoshi's hand, who tried not to flinch. "In my experience, a kid like that is either very naive to be askin' those sorts of questions, or the kid ain't what he seems."

Hitoshi knew he was being tested, and he couldn't back down. Not with what he knew or what he needed to do. Instead, he moved his hand away from the large fist and wiped it on his trousers, to get the sticky spilled alcohol off of it. "I'm not naive, sir. I need to find one of them, as soon as possible. Knuckleduster, Gentle, Stain, anyone of them-"

"Yer seriously coming into my bar and asking about the Hero Killer?" The bartender sounded incredulous. "Ya must think I'm stupid, kid. What are ya?"

"It's been a long day. Trust me, I know what I'm asking."

"Attitude won't getcha nowhere-"

"Now come on, Inamura," a loud voice rang out from the shadows on the other side of the bar, and Hitoshi remembered suddenly that they had company. "You're not harassing my new recruit, are you?"

Hitoshi didn't turn yet to see who was calling; the reaction of Inamura behind the bar to freeze and stiffen up was far more interesting. "Ah shit, he's one of yer kids? I didn't know-"

"No no, forgive me." The voice was raspy and drawling, well-spoken but with something in it that sounded almost a little sleazy. "I should have told you I changed the code phrase. From now on, if anyone comes in and tells you 'it's been a long day', just assume they're with me."

Hitoshi hadn't yet looked left to see the individual in question, but whoever it was had saved him from a potential confrontation with the three-eyed Inamura. Whoever it was could have been very dangerous but for now, he had to play along with the save and trust that Brainwashing could get him out of any sticky situation in the near future. "Sorry about that. Should have led with it to avoid the confusion, huh?"

"You're new on the job! Everyone makes that mistake at some point." The man in the corners had got up now, walking across the bar; Hitoshi could tell from his footsteps that he was wearing smart and expensive shoes. "You mind leaving us to talk business, Inamura? Got to keep customer confidentiality, after all."

With a nod, the bartender set a glass of whiskey on the side for Hitoshi, and stepped back. "That one's on him, kid. Look after yerself- he's a tough boss to please."

As the bartender squeezed out from behind the bar and through a 'Staff Only' door to a backroom, Hitoshi breathed a sigh of relief, feeling some of the tension release. "Thanks. I didn't want to cause a fuss."

"Usually, you can achieve that by not wandering into a back-street bar and asking for introductions to the Hero Killer or any old vigilante." His saviour slid into a stool besides him, and Hitoshi resisted the urge to turn yet. "Although, when a kid comes knocking with questions like that, well, consider me interested."

"Yeah, bad approach, I know." Hitoshi sagged. "I just... don't know what else to do."

"I understand. They probably don't teach you about stuff like this as a Hero Commission trainee, do they?"

Hitoshi paused, the glass of free whiskey halfway to his mouth. "How did you-"

"Well, you kinda confirmed it to me by not denying it there." The man chuckled as Hitoshi stiffened. "But honestly, I see what you're wearing. You've turned it inside out, but that's a Hero Commission trainee jacket you've got tied around your waist."

"And yet..." Hitoshi said, warily, "you still stood up for me. Why?"

"Easy. You're not wearing it proudly and you've come running into a bar like this, which suggests to me you're a runaway. And if someone runs away from the Commission and starts asking about vigilantes, well, I'm all ears."

Hitoshi didn't know what to say to begin with. "You..." He couldn't hide it. "Yeah, I ran away. What they're planning to do to vigilantes and ordinary people isn't heroic. I wanted to warn people."

"So you're a kid with morals, huh?" There was a clink, and with horror Hitoshi saw the man set a pistol down on the bar. "At least that makes one of us."

Now Hitoshi turned, and he saw the man for what he was. He was middle aged, with tufty grey hair swept to the side in a parting above squinting pink eyes that peered at Hitoshi through tinted spectacles. He was dressed immaculately in a purple suit and a crisp white shirt with no tie, and the things that drew Hitoshi's eyes were the glimmering gold necklace he was wearing, and the expensive watch on his wrist. All in all he looked like a rogue, but one who was very well off indeed; if he was a criminal, then he was the sort of person who made a lot of money from others doing his work.

Hitoshi ground his teeth a little, but didn't yet activate Brainwashing, his ace in his sleeve. Only if absolutely necessary. "What does that make you then?"

The man chuckled, flashing a smile which had a tooth missing. "I'm just the guy who gets people what they want. People pay quite well for it, in this day and age."

"You're... a broker?"

"Bingo!" The man slapped a hand on the side of the bar. "Name's Giran, kid. Whatever people need, I get. They want information? I know people who can track and hack and get whatever you need, for a price. They want gear? I know a few people on the darker side of the Internet, and know when stock goes missing from a Detnerat warehouse. And I, my young friend, can help you here."

"You... want to help?" Hitoshi gestured weakly at the gun on the bar top. "But-"

"Oh, that?" Giran chuckled again, picking it up and to Hitoshi's horror pulling the trigger; Hitoshi was not expecting a little flame to pop up from the tip. "Consider that my party trick for any customer I'm not happy with. Really I'm just a terrible smoker. You want a cigarette?"

"... No thanks."

"Right answer!" Giran used the pistol to light up a cigarette he had pulled from his blazer pocket. "If the buyers don't kill me, this habit will."

"Anyway..." Hitoshi tried to shake himself out of the confused state he was in. "You... supply people? Black market gear?"

"Some of it is legitimately sourced, but where's the fun in all of it being traceable?" Giran shrugged in a cloud of second-hand smoke which made Hitoshi cough. "The Commission tighten their fist, and now everyone wants gear to protect themselves. It's not just villains in the underworld these days- a lot of the vigilantes want stock, too, and it's not like they can get it through normal means with the Commission trying to get them at every turn."

"And now there's you, young..."

"Hitoshi." There was no point in hiding his name. Someone would find out sooner or later. "Hitoshi Shinso."

"Shinso..." Giran frowned. "Sway?"

"My mother." Hitoshi grimaced. "Half the reason I ran."

"Can't say I blame you. That woman has it fierce against a lot of my contacts." Giran turned to look at him. "If you're Sway's kid, then you really don't have any connections. You've run away and you're now in the underworld, sure, but if you aren't careful you'll end up in a hole somewhere. That usually happens when someone without allies comes into this part of society and starts asking the wrong questions."

Hitoshi smirked. "But I do have allies. I have you now, don't I?"

"Ha! Very quick." Giran let out another puff of smoke. "You have information on the Commission you wanna share to the right people-"

"To anyone who will listen," Hitoshi interrupted. "But I need protection."

"So you give them your information and in return they let you go with them?" Giran paused. "I've seen worse barters. Hell, I've made worse. It's probably even enough to secure my support. But not many of the vigilantes I know will take that trade. How far are you willing to go with this?"

"All the way," Hitoshi replied without hesitation. "Why?"

"If it's information about the Commission... then I guess it's something about Heroes. And if you're absolutely sure you wanna spread the news, and want to fight the Commission..." Giran looked at him thoughtfully. "How do you feel about the Hero Killer?"

"You supply Stain?" Now that was a name Hitoshi recognised with a shiver, and one he hadn't been expecting.

"Someone has to. The man gets through a lot of knives. And blood bags, apparently." Giran shrugged. "If you've got news on Hero Commission strategy which will change the game, and want to warn people what they're up to so they can plan a counter, I can't think of anyone better than the man they hate most. How about him?"

He gulped. This was the test, wasn't it? This was where he made up his mind how far he was willing to go with this, where he drew the line. Aligning himself with someone as dangerous and deadly as Stain would send him into territory from which there was very little hope of coming back unscathed, and he had more than his fair share of reservations about the idea of killing a Hero. But he had to get this information out to someone who could stand against the Commission, to someone who wouldn't be afraid to spread the news and to stand defiant in the face of his mother and Hawks and their nightmarish little project. Stain... could be relied on to do that. And even though he couldn't say that he would be happy with all of his mission, he had run away from the Commission because of how unheroic they were being, hadn't he?

Maybe there was some common ground between them, for how much he hated the Commission's corruption of the idea of heroism. Maybe there was a chance this could work.

"... Whatever it takes." Hitoshi steadied himself and made his decision. "If you think he would be my best bet to act on this, then I'll be guided by you."

Something flashed in Giran's eyes; was that respect? "You really are committed, huh, mister Shinso? To go to those lengths to stand against them... he'll like you."

"You think?" Hitoshi asked, trying not to let hope creep into his tone. This was not how he imagined his life would go, but the idea of meeting Stain gave him hope. "Then that's what I'd like to ask your help with, sir."

"Giran is just fine," the broker snorted, stubbing his cigarette out in an ashtray on the bar. "But you know I can't just give that to you for free, Hitoshi. You're my new recruit, after all. Your boss needs to know what he's getting into first."

It took Hitoshi a second to realise what was being asked. "You want to know too. That's what you mean when you said it was enough to secure my support, isn't it?"

"You're not as naive as I feared," Giran confirmed. "It's my neck on the line with any introductions here, and my customer you want introducing to, so I think it's a fair trade. I'll look after you and give you somewhere to stay in the meantime, but... in return, I want to know."

It was only fair, he supposed. He had been lucky enough to fall into the right bar at the right time to find this broker, with his crooked grin and skewed moral outlook on life. Any other bar in the city or any other time, and he may not have found the man who spoke up for him and stopped him being set on by an angry local. Hitoshi would be the first to point out the massive differences between his views and Giran's- a wannabe hero talking to a man who supplied weapons to criminals and Hero Killers alike- but he would also be the first to admit that he was out of his depth and in need of an ally. He could do a lot worse than Giran.

And anyway, whatever place this man had, it probably beat sleeping in an alleyway. He was not keen on that.

"Fine." Hitoshi gave Giran a dark little look. "You might need another drink after I finish."

"Some may say," Giran said, raising an eyebrow, "that those are the best sorts of stories."

"Not this one." Hitoshi took a sip of the whiskey, and tried not to let the bitter sting in his throat get to him as he spoke to Giran. "Tell me... how much do you know about the Wing Hero, Hawks?"

(***)

Hitoshi Shinso. Aged: 15

Keigo Takami, Hawks. Aged: 22.

Kagero Okuta, Giran. Aged: 43.