[Musutafu Detention Center – Interrogation Room]
The cold metal table reflected the flickering fluorescent lights above. Kazuro Mori sat in silence, shackled hands resting calmly in front of him. His face, gaunt yet composed, betrayed no emotion. Across from him, a sharp-eyed detective tapped a pen against his notepad.
"Let's start with the basics," the detective said. "Why did you use your Quirk against civilians? Why go rogue after years off the radar?"
Kazuro lifted his eyes. "Darkbind is not a Quirk meant to be caged. It speaks in silence. And silence… turns into screams if you don't listen."
The detective frowned. "And the boy? Who is he?"
Kazuro let a faint smile cross his lips. "A kid. Just a kid who tore it from me like I was nothing. Honestly, its nice not having Darkbind nagging me 24/7."
"So you're telling me," the detective leaned in, voice sharp, "a teenager took you down and stole your Quirk?"
Kazuro nodded. "That's exactly what I'm saying. Him and little friend. She's super strong too for her age. Parents must be Pro Heroes."
In the adjacent room, Rottmaw snarled against his restraints, veins still throbbing from the remnants of his mutation quirk. His interrogation was less poetic.
"Big teeth, freakish jaw—yeah, that's me," Rottmaw said. "But that kid—he moved like shadows, punched like thunder. He didn't steal my Quirk though. But still! Made me look like a damn amateur out there."
The interrogating officer raised an eyebrow. "So both of you got beat… by the same kid? How is that even possible? You and Darkbind are both experienced Villains with records even All Might has seen. Being defeated by some random kid is unrealistic to be quite frank."
Rottmaw nodded, scowling. "Trust me, we know. It was definitely a kid with Darkbinds Qurik though. That quirk is unmistakable."
The two reports reached the police commander's desk within the hour. Notes circled in red: Unknown vigilante-level combatant. Teenager. Possesses former pro-level Quirk (Darkbind). Active in Musutafu.
The investigation had begun.
[Two weeks Later – Back Alleys of Musutafu]
Kael Ishiro walked in silence, his hood pulled low and his coat lined with reinforced plating. Shadows swirled faintly around his form—Darkbind responding to his will like an extension of himself.
The two-month time skip had forged him into something sharper, more precise. His movements were calculated, his restraint mastered. Gone were the flare-ups. Now, he commanded the darkness.
Tonight's targets were simple: a gang of petty thugs with second-rate Quirks robbing vending machines and mugging teenagers.
He found them in an alley behind a karaoke bar, kicking over crates and counting stolen coins.
"Yo, what the—who's that?"
"Back off, man. We got Quirks."
Kael didn't speak. A tendril of shadow surged forward, slamming one thug into the wall with a burst of compressed force. Another tried to breathe fire—Kael ducked low and swept his legs, knocking him unconscious with a palm strike to the neck.
"Two down," he muttered. The last one—a guy with stubby wings and weak gliding ability—tried to fly. Kael lashed a snare upward and yanked him out of the sky.
With the area secured, Kael placed a gloved hand on each thug's chest in turn.
Balancekeeper activated.
He didn't just take blindly. He read them. Evaluated. These were weak, useless Quirks—not worth keeping. He extracted and stored them in his internal Quirk space, but with no intent to use or redistribute.
"People like you don't deserve power," he whispered, and vanished into the night.
[Underground Safehouse – Later That Night]
Kael returned to the hidden basement beneath Aunt Nari's bakery. The lights buzzed softly as he entered, removing his coat and gloves.
Aunt Nari was waiting at the table, sipping tea. "Another successful sweep?"
Kael nodded, placing a small storage device on the table. "Three tonight. No resistance."
She gave him a look of quiet pride. "You're growing into it, Kael. But don't lose yourself. You're taking Quirks—but make sure you never take people's futures unnecessarily."
Kael's eyes flicked downward. "Only those who abuse their gifts. That's the promise I made."
"Good." She stood and walked over to the counter. "The world needs balance—but not at the cost of your heart."
Kael stepped back into the training room. In his hand, a small journal of names. Dozens of entries now—all villains, all Quirks confiscated. He was becoming something more than a hero, more than a vigilante.
He was becoming a reckoner.
[Meanwhile – Police HQ]
Detective Riku leaned over a corkboard covered in red strings and pinned photos. Kael's blurry image, taken from a rooftop camera, stood at the center.
"He's not in any registry," Riku muttered. "But he's strong. Too strong to be untrained."
His partner crossed his arms. "What if he's a student? Or connected to a hero family?"
"Worse," Riku replied, pointing to the map of crime scenes. "What if he's building something? A collection?"
They didn't know the name yet.
But soon… they would know Kael Ishiro.