—Damn it, you were supposed to find some trouble!— he cursed himself, vaulting over the fence and disappearing into the dense forest. —You should have stayed home, but no! You decided to play hero!
Taiko managed to lead Nomu away from the residential areas, where the creature had already reduced several cars to piles of twisted metal. The monster lunged after him like a living battering ram. Its two-meter-long body, covered in jet-black skin, seemed monolithic. Its cat-like tail lashed from side to side, and its golden ears stuck out from the top of its head—an absurd, almost comical detail that concealed a deadly threat. The worst part were its claws: long, razor-sharp blades, with which it ripped open the trunks of centuries-old trees like envelopes. One swipe, and the wood crumbled to dust.
The creature's exposed brain pulsed—more like a creator's mark and a demonstration of power than a vulnerable spot. Kyudai was clearly determined to destroy Taiko. «I should have finished the old man off last time,» flashed a venomous thought. It was unclear what kind of Quirk this Nomu possessed. Everything pointed to a feline mutation, but the scale was astonishing: Taiko knew the doctor hadn't been able to combine mutation types so seamlessly before; he usually simply transplanted the powers granted by All For One.
Now, trapped in Nomura's body, Taiko felt helpless. His expensive, completely unsuitable clothes hampered his movements. He tore off his mask, trying to steady his breathing, but his lungs were already burning. His turquoise hair whipped wildly around his face as he trudged through the thorny bushes. This body sorely lacked the stamina and strength he was accustomed to. He didn't even have his trusty "Staff." The only incentive to keep running was the heavy, measured thud of Nomu feet behind him: for Nomu, the dense forest was not an obstacle, but a pile of matches.
A random runner crossed his path. An ordinary man out for a jog, he had no idea what this evening would bring. Taiko rushed toward him with an outstretched hand, as if clinging to his last hope. Any Quirk would be useful right now. He'd planned to simply copy the stranger's gift to the second slot, leaving room for Nomu's Quirk, but his "Oneself" Quirk behaved differently.
The Quirk was ripped out by the roots. Taiko felt fierce resistance as he tried to take the Quirk, but the element of surprise and the animalistic desire to survive prevailed. At the moment of contact, their emotions intertwined: while the victim choked with fear and confusion, Taiko decisively attacked on an invisible front, encircling and absorbing the stranger's energy. The stranger's Quirk instantly took over the primary slot #1, stripping the man of his essence. The runner froze, disoriented, and in that instant, a black whirlwind with slicing claws pierced him. Bloody streaks and entrails flew in all directions, painting the foliage crimson.
If you think about it for a second and remember that when Taiko and Nomura switched places, a similar "battle of souls" occurred between them, perhaps that's why he didn't lose Oneself, but only the Staff—a quirk that wasn't truly his.
—Damn it! I wanted to copy, not steal!— Taiko spat, without turning around. —How am I supposed to disarm Nomu now? I'll have to copy the mutation. I hope it works... I only have one try.
He hadn't yet felt the surge of strength from Nomu's blood. It was unknown how long it would take for his body to begin to change. Fatigue weighed on him like a leaden weight: the burning in his lungs and the sharp pain in his muscles screamed that his body had reached its limits. His chances of resisting the monster were nil.
The stolen quirk had turned out to be rubbish—"Steam Flow." A cloud of hot, humid air would only deplete his already meager resources and suck the moisture from his body. But for Taiko, it was the only tool capable of creating the perfect moment. As Nomu roared and raised his saber-like claws for a blow capable of cutting through stone, Taiko extended his palms forward.
Dense, scalding steam hissed from his pores. For a moment, the world around him was drowned in a whitish haze. Blinded by the heat, Nomu missed, shattering another tree where Nomura(Taiko) had stood a moment earlier.
Taiko slid under the monster's paw, pouring the last of his strength into this single maneuver. His palm touched the creature's chest. This time, there was no resistance—on the contrary, the energy from the second "Oneself" slot began greedily absorbing the template, reconfiguring itself to match Nomu's mutation.
As soon as the copying was complete, Taiko felt a wave of hot lead roll through his body. His bones ached as they rebuilt, and the muscles beneath his skin began to tighten and gain incredible flexibility. This was the "Tiger" Quirk—the pure, concentrated power of a predator, adapted to human physiology.
Taiko pushed off the monster's chest sharply, somersaulting. The transformation took place in mid-air: he felt his aquamarine hair stir, and sharp cat ears peeked out from among the strands, greedily catching every rustle of the forest. His pupils narrowed into vertical slits, bathing the world in a golden, predatory light. No fur grew on his body, and claws no pierced his fingertips, but the very structure of his hands had changed—they now pulsed with a power capable of crushing bones and breaking centuries-old logs with his bare hands.
—Glory to the great adaptation! Ha!— Taiko growled in an adrenaline frenzy, feeling his lung still burning, but the pain dulled, and Nomura's endurance sharply increased under the influence of the tiger's quirk.
Nomu, enraged that his prey had not simply eluded him but transformed, launched a new attack. His saber-claws whistled a centimeter from Taiko's face, but his reaction was faster now.
Taiko understood: he could fight back, but he still couldn't defeat this body in a frontal attack. He needed to buy time and find a way to replace the useless "Steam Flow" with something truly lethal. There were doubts the steam curtain trick would work a second time; the monster had already adapted to the smell and temperature of the steam. And it needed to conserve moisture.
Straining his recovered muscles, Taiko leaped powerfully, literally soaring onto a thick oak branch. He began to move along the treetops, leaping from branch to branch with the grace of a true arboreal predator. Small branches lashed at his face, leaving bleeding scratches on his now ferocious, terrifying visage, but he felt no pain. Adrenaline, Nomu's blood, and his Tiger Quirk merged into a single cocktail, turning Taiko into the perfect survival weapon.
Somewhere below, Nomu roared as he smashed through the trunks, trying to reach the fugitive, but Taiko was already eyeing his next target. He needed another "donor." Someone whose strength, paired with the might of a tiger, would put an end to this pursuit.
Nomu, in a rage, jumped and flew past, almost grabbing Nomura (Taiko) by the tail, in a deadly embrace, but his tail flexibly bent along with his body, and Nomu flew past, knocking down several trees with his body, flying deep into the forest.
...
The trees finally parted, and Taiko, breathing heavily, tumbled out onto the shoulder of the highway. Ahead, a bright spot in the night, a gas station glimmered. He sensed Nomu still following him—the monster's stomping behind him had died down only for a moment, but it was a false silence.
Nomu's body, accelerated by the tiger's quirk, was crying out for resources. Taiko's throat was raw, as if he'd swallowed scorching sand. The "steam flow" had literally squeezed every drop of life out of him: his body was using its own fluid reserves to create the scalding curtain, and now Taiko was on the brink of critical dehydration.
He burst through the glass doors of the gas station like a wild animal unleashed. The customers and the sleepy cashier stood frozen in shock: before them stood a young man in tattered, expensive clothes, with aquamarine hair from which cat ears protruded, and golden eyes glowing with primal fury. The scratches on his face only added to the eeriness.
Ignoring the screams and frightened gasps, Taiko rushed to the refrigerators. He yanked the door off its hinges and began grabbing bottles of water. He didn't unscrew the lids; he simply tore them off with his now sharp teeth, downing liters of icy liquid one after another. The water washed the dust from his throat, restoring clarity of thought and invigorating his new physiology.
And then, as his thirst began to subside, his heightened predatory perception revealed something incredible.
In the bright light of the fluorescent lamps, the world around him suddenly changed. Taiko saw strange lights pulsating inside the frightened people huddled in the corners of the store. This wasn't ordinary vision; he felt their nature with every cell of his body.
«What is this? Vibration? The Qiurk Energy within?» Taiko froze, pressing another empty bottle to his lips.
The lights were different: dim, barely smoldering sparks for the commoners, and brighter, more defined clumps of energy for those with stronger Quirks. They spread throughout their bodies. It dawned on him with terrifying clarity: thanks to the mixture of Nomu blood, adrenaline, and tiger senses, his "Oneself" ability had evolved under the risk of death. Kyudai had described this as a rare occurrence. Now he could see Quirks before he even touched their bearers.
He quickly scanned the room. Most of the "crickets" inside people were useless: mundane trifles, incapable of stopping a tank on legs about to burst out of the forest. But suddenly his gaze caught a man crouched behind a rack of motor oils.
Nomu wasn't just burning a light inside him. It was a dense, heavy, pulsating clot, the color of steel. Energy that felt like a monolith. The tight, viscous, and rather strong energy showed Taiko the nature of the quirk before anyone could understand.
—This...— Taiko narrowed his eyes, his vertical pupils focusing on his target. —This light... it looks like it could withstand a claw strike. This is exactly what I need to replace this damn steam.
A dull thud and the grinding sound of tearing metal were heard outside. Nomu had reached the parking lot. Taiko tossed aside the empty plastic bottle and, springing to the floor, moved toward his new victim.
He only had a few seconds to replenish his arsenal.
...
Nomu chased Nomura all the way to the gas station, crushing everything in his path. But suddenly his movements became jerky and twitchy—as if his bestial instincts had been cut by an invisible blade. Deep beneath the layers of artificial flesh, right in his ear canal, Kyudai's voice rang out.
Clean. Icy. The order to retreat.
Through the camera implanted in the monster's body, Kyudai could already see police cars converging on the gas station. Flashing lights cut through the darkness, heroes emerging from the cordon. Too many witnesses. Too high a risk. The experiment was declared over.
The creature twitched a couple of times, intending to continue the fight and slaughter, but the order had already been given. Kyudai's voice had been deeply imprinted in its memory during the weeks of brainwashing. And now, its body finally decided to carry out yet another order from this petty, weak, and insignificant master.
Nomu growled lowly, claws tearing at the asphalt, but obeyed. His silhouette darted back and vanished into the forest thicket, leaving behind only twisted metal, acrid smoke, and a silence that was about to be shattered by a cannonade of sirens.
Nomura stayed.
He understood everything instantly. He wasn't looking for a way out, wasn't planning a new escape, and wasn't weighing his chances—there was neither point nor desire in that. His escapade against the law had come to an end. His journey here was over.
He slowly walked into the light, raising his empty hands. Torn clothes, bloodstains on his skin, animal ears and tail—he looked hunted, not dangerous. There was no panic in his eyes, only scorched fatigue and dull resignation.
The police surrounded him in seconds. Sharp commands, gun barrels, cold gazes. Handcuffs snapped on his wrists. Nomura lowered his head and whispered, barely audible, like a memorized prayer:
"Not Tartarus. Please, not Tartarus. I can't leave Kuinn alone."
This time, it wasn't a threat to peace. It was his last request.
...
Contrary to expectations, everything turned out not to be so bad.
The holding cell smelled of concrete, sweat, and old metal. The air was heavy, as if it had already been chewed up by dozens of alien lungs and spat out. Nomura sat inside this piece of gray world and didn't notice how his hair began to slowly darken, resembling his previous body, as Oneself's will was realized in his new body.
At the roots. Slowly, almost lazily, as if the color was remembering its former state. The strands were still aquamarine at the ends, but the black at the scalp was stubbornly taking over. There were no mirrors in the cell, and he felt no change. Only a strange, dull heaviness in his head, as if something inside him had finally snapped into place.
During interrogation, they tried to tell him what had happened, but he simply remained silent, not only because he didn't want them to know the whole truth, but also because they simply wouldn't understand or believe him. There was no point in trying to prove anything.
They locked him behind bars. Several men were already sitting on a bench along the wall. They smelled of sweat and dirt. Their faces were varied, equally tired and angry. Some were looking at the floor, some at the ceiling, one was stubbornly staring at the bars, as if hoping to burn a hole in them with his eyes. There was no room for Nomura.
He approached the bars a couple of times, trying to call a police officer.
—Listen, I really need to be home. They're waiting for me. It's... urgent," he said calmly, almost politely.
The response was either ignorance or a chuckle. One of the officers, passing by, made something like a joke about "tigers lost in a zoo." There was laughter in the cell. Nomura didn't respond. «Very fuckin joke, pig»
—If you were more cooperative during the interrogation, then maybe. But as it is, stick your tongue back up your ass and don't try anything. —the policeman replied, scrolling his smartphone on his chair. —But we call to your parents, very soon they come here.
He needed to get to Kuinn as quickly as possible, before Tiger's quirk dissipated like sand in the wind. He could feel it already slipping away. Time was working against him, but here, behind bars, it seemed to have stood mockingly still in a stupor.
A few reproachful glances from his cellmates made it clear that standing in the middle of the cell was not a good idea. Nomura walked to the corner and sat down on the concrete floor, leaning his back against the wall. The chill slowly crept under his clothes.
One of the men on the bench turned out to be talkative. Too much so. He chatted nonstop, jumping from topic to topic, telling stories, jokes, rumors. No one was really listening, but he continued, as if the silence were worse than the cell.
Nomura finally had time to think.
Oneself. A very strange Quirk. The more details he recalled about AFO's Quirk, the clearer it became that it was fundamentally different, even though they were related. Oneself could steal mutation types of Quirks. Yes, only one, and only copy the other. Without the ability to create a combination, without complex combinations, without the absolute power over others' powers that All For One possessed.
But she had something else. Quirk Vision. Unlike AFO, she didn't need additional Quirks (crutches) to solve the perception problem. AFO could learn information about a Quirk and its weaknesses after stealing it, and from the Quirk Registry, which isn't always 100% accurate. Taiko had no idea why this ability had suddenly manifested, but it was odd that it appeared immediately after stealing a second Quirk. The likelihood of this being an evolution is very slim. Something else could be hidden here.
He clearly felt resistance when he tried to steal it. It wasn't there when he copied it. The resistance was alien, dense, viscous. The Taiko called it the Will of another being. It stood between him and the Quirk like a living barrier. It had to be broken, exhausted, overcome. Only then would the Quirk's energy be accessible.
No pure science. Esoteric and pseudoscientific explanations were more appropriate here. Words like "resonance," "core," "spiritual structure." But he understood the essence even without the jargon.
Screams in the holding cell pulled him from his half-slumber. Someone was arguing, someone was cursing, someone was slamming their fists on the bars. This place was disgusting. Not so much because of the walls, but because of the people. If he were alone here, everything would be simpler. Quieter. Cleaner.
Scoundrels. Rabble. Homeless. Marginalized. He'd always imagined what such places looked like from the inside, back when he was still a Grimm. Never thought he'd end up here himself. He was no longer that killer. Thanks to Kuinn.
The thought of her made his fingers curl into fists. Somewhere now, in their home, she was probably next to the fake Taiko. The image made his knuckles turn white. But he stubbornly clung to hope. Kuinn was smart. She'd figure it out. She'd sense the fake.
He ran his fingers over the scratches on his skin and grinned. The wounds were already healing. Nomu's blood was beginning to regenerate, slowly but surely. He touched the tiger's ears, then the tail, awkwardly emerging from his tailbone. Warm, alive. Pleasant to the touch. He could touch them forever, but an inner feeling told him this quirk would soon fade.
Nomura closed his eyes and still saw the "fireflies" even with them closed. It seemed he couldn't even sleep with them constantly before his eyes.
Quirk Vision worked even like that. The energies of the people in the cell glowed in different shades, pulsating, trembling. They were alive—imprints of their spiritual shells, their personalities. He saw the quirks of the police officers beyond the walls of the station, nothing further. Space was no longer a barrier, just a layer.
Cautiously, he began to analyze those around him. There were several quirks in the cell, and almost all of them were dangerous. Destructive. Difficult to control. Perhaps they were what made these people like that. Or perhaps, conversely, their nasty personalities shaped them. Chicken or egg. There was still no answer.
— ...I tell this cop, "Fuck off, please!" And he pulls out a gun with rubber bullets. Ha! What can he do to me with that? I squeezed his hand so hard he's probably lying in a trauma ward somewhere right now! All he could do was scream for hero and run away in fear.
—Well, you still ended up here, didn't you?— the man grinned, scratching his stubble.
—Yeah, man, this hero turned out to be no pushover. Good thing they haven't labeled me a villain yet. I still have a few chances left in my pocket :)
—And I was wondering why you were so rumpled.
—Hey, I bet you ten thousand yen that I can not only walk out of here, but also stand in front of a cop for ten seconds and then run away!
—You're brave. But you have some kind of ace up your sleeve, and I don't have any cash with me.— the second man sighed sadly.
«More like stupid»
As he examined the villain with Quirk Sight, Taiko immediately understood what he was talking about. The Quirk was concentrated in the area of his right hand and appeared as a dense, almost monolithic substance. Even a cursory glance from Oneself was enough to grasp its intent. It *wanted* to compress. To grab something hard and press to the limit, with inhuman strength.
Dangerous. Destructive. Straight, like a press.
But there was something strange about it, too. The Quirk was clearly dissatisfied with its bearer, if such categories are even appropriate. Distorted emanations emanated from it, disrupting the normal energy flows in the brain. Dissonance. Faulty feedback. Perhaps this was precisely the cause of his conformist, broken behavior, which ultimately led to his crimes.
A vice-like Quirk. Superhuman compression.
This man himself mentioned that he once squeezed a police officer's hand so hard that he was taken to the emergency room. Poor cop. He likely suffered serious, if not permanent, injuries. Taiko almost automatically noted how sad it was that such a powerful ability had fallen into the hands of such rabble. People who didn't understand and didn't want to understand their own potential.
It was enough to consider for a second how many people walked the earth whose potential would never be realized. Not because of external limitations, but because of their own stupidity and cowardice. Taiko ran through several thought experiments with this Quirk in his head, but Quirk Sight didn't provide any details. The theory would still have to be tested in practice.
—Hey, what are you staring at, cutie?— the same man said.
He noticed Taiko's gaze in Nomura's body. The body's features were quite charming, and the tiger ears and tail only enhanced the effect. But the look in Taiko's eyes left no room for imagination. There was pure disgust. For a split second, surprise flashed. And caution. The last thing he needed was to make the situation worse in front of the police.
—Fuck off. You reek of shit.
Taiko was in a foul mood, and now those creatures from above had decided to get to him. His keen tiger sense of smell felt like a punishment, not a blessing. Sweat. Alcohol. Cigarettes. Urine. And something else, indefinable but vile.
—Watch your words, you bastard.
A man in dirty, threadbare clothes rose from the bench and approached the bars. Only then did Taiko notice his right arm. It was black all the way to the elbow, as if in the final stages of necrosis. A disgusting and disturbing sight. He tried to look menacing, but the stench was so thick that any threat was lost.
He stepped closer and kicked Taiko in the stomach. The wind was knocked out of him instantly. Taiko didn't even try to get up.
Then the guy grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up, pinning him against the wall. He wasn't strong enough to lift him off the ground.
—What, aren't you strong enough?—Taiko croaked.
He tried to hold his breath, more because of the smell than because of the pain. He heard movement behind him. For a moment, Taiko hoped the police would finally react. They'd take the troublemaker out. They'd club him. Anything.
But the sound came from the other three.
—What an arrogant boy. I'll teach you some manners.
Someone grabbed his shoulder from behind. Taiko was even glad, thinking they'd intervene. But then he heard words that made his insides go cold.
—When you're done with him, let's have some fun with him.
The man licked his lips disgustingly.
—The pig-cop is sitting around the corner anyway. We'll keep quiet. He won't see anything. Just a couple of minutes.
—What?— the first one didn't understand.
It took him a couple of seconds to comprehend. Then it dawned on him. The look in the man pinning Taiko to the wall slowly changed. A look of undisguised lust appeared in it.
—Are you... are you fucking crazy?!
The second man and several others behind him were smirking. That was the last thing Taiko managed to see beyond their silhouettes before someone's hand clamped over his mouth.
—Shut up. You'll even like it.
He bit. Hard. Intentionally. He bit into the vile palm covering his mouth and tore off a chunk of flesh. The man growled, barely holding back a scream.
—Ow... fuck. You bastard!
A fist crashed down on Taiko's head, stunning him. Then a black hand clamped down on his neck.
Slowly. Inexorably.
It pressed him into the wall. The world began to shrink. The pressure grew. It felt like his throat would be crushed, his eyes would bulge. The air was thinning.
...
The shortness of breath came first. Not like panic, but like a viscous realization that breathing was no longer working. His chest heaved, but his lungs seemed to have forgotten why they existed. The blow to his head came later, precise and dull, and it was the final moment before reality cracked. Consciousness didn't fade. It shifted, as if someone had abruptly pulled the barrier between lives.
Memories didn't surface as images. They washed over him like a wave. He wasn't looking at someone else's life; he was in it. Birth had been wrong. No scream, no pain, no mother. He tumbled out of the vat onto the cold metal floor, already able to stand, already understanding what was happening. Four years. Surrounded by similar bodies, some of them motionless. They'd nicknamed him Number Zero. The smell of chemicals, blood, and something rotten. Kyudai watched emotionlessly, as if he were looking at statistics. Marriage, luck, survival rate. One gesture, and they were already taking him away, without explaining who he had become or why.
The first shelter burned down. He remembered not the flames, but the sound. Screams that abruptly ended. He climbed out on his own, burning his skin, crawling over bodies, and it was then that he realized something he would never forget: the world doesn't collapse when someone dies. It simply continues to exist. In the second shelter, everything turned out differently. He was adopted by rich people. Too rich to allow themselves to be taken in by chance. The man who claimed to be his father was infertile and was looking not for a child, but for an heir. Compensation. The continuation of the family name and the corporation.
He had everything. A house, security, the best teachers, money, status. The only thing he lacked was freedom. Every step was monitored, every decision corrected. He quickly realized that sincerity was useless here. Only control worked. He became smart, handsome, cruel. He didn't hate people. He simply didn't see them as equals. They were a resource, a backdrop, a tool. And the older he grew, the more deeply rooted the conviction became: if the world had given him so much, then he had the right to take the rest.
These memories didn't repress Taiko. They merged with him. His pragmatism intertwined with Nomura's cold narcissism, and in place of the internal conflict, a new whole emerged. Taiko had always sought self-realization through helping others, but now a different logic emerged. Helping became a means of growth, a confirmation of superiority. He no longer felt like Taiko. That name was a thing of the past. He was Nomura. The real him. The best version of himself. As if reborn into a body that could finally support his will.
And at that moment, Oneself responded.
Not with a flash or pain. With pressure. The will was released as a dense mass, pressing into reality, and capturing the body of the man with the black hand not with technique, but with the fact of its existence. The man's quirk faltered, as if suddenly recognized as secondary. A puff of steam escaped on its own, reflexively, like a final spasm before vanishing. The black hand lost its color, became ordinary flesh, and the force of the squeeze weakened sharply, as if the world itself no longer supported its existence.
Nomura grinned predatorily and placed his hand on his ribs. The crunch was distinct and wet. Bones crushed, lungs compressed, the air rushed out at once. The man collapsed, wheezing and coughing up blood, unable to breathe. The second man lunged forward, but Nomura intercepted his hand and punched him in the Adam's apple. The body sank instantly. The others backed away. Instinct proved stronger than courage.
—As punishment... ha-ah...—he breathed, wiping the blood from his forehead. —I will take away your quirks. Pray that it's not your lives.
He didn't steal them or take them. He was cutting off the process. The strange energy, deprived of its host, didn't pass to him, but dissolved into the world, vanishing without a trace. No one was left with even a void. Nomura's hair darkened. About sixty percent turned black. The Taiko color was receding, like an unnecessary stage of development.
When the policeman finally brought in the man who, according to all the papers, was supposed to free Nomura, they froze. The men were scattered, beaten, some barely breathing. Nomura sat calmly in the cage, his legs crossed, both feet resting on the back of one of the men. He stood up, wiped his shoes on the other man's body, and spat out blood. It was clear from the policeman's gaze: he had now had to swallow all his indignation, fear, and questions.
Because someone very influential had come for Nomura.
It was Nomura's adoptive father.
Okutami-sama