Chapter 65: Wolves of the Press and Glass Walls
[The Morning After - Tokyo Skyline]
The sun climbed over the Tokyo horizon, casting long, pale shadows across the metropolis. It was a beautiful morning, scientifically speaking, but the city felt devoid of warmth.
In the bustling districts of Shibuya and Shinjuku, the usual sensory overload of the giant screens had ceased. The colorful pop idol music videos, the frantic commercials for energy drinks, the neon flashes of consumerism—all were gone.
In their place, every single pixel on every single Jumbotron was dedicated to one static image. It was looped, burned into the collective retina of the nation.
A skeletal man. A pointed finger. A dying ember.
"Next... It's your turn."
The streets below were packed with commuters, yet the atmosphere was schizophrenic. Half the population walked with heads bowed, sniffling into handkerchiefs, mourning the death of the Age of Peace like they would a close relative. The other half looked around with darting, anxious eyes, gripped by a cold, creeping terror. The roof that had sheltered them from the rain for decades had been blown away, leaving them exposed to the storm.
"He's really gone..." a salaryman whispered, staring up at the screen, his coffee forgotten in his hand. "All Might is retired. Who stops the villains now?"
"Look at the news ticker," a student beside him pointed out, her voice trembling as she clutched her backpack. "It's not just All Might. They're turning on the school."
The bold red headlines scrolled relentlessly beneath the skeletal hero's face, feeding the public's anxiety:
"SECURITY FAILURE: U.A. BREACHED AGAIN."
"STUDENT BLACKMAILED FOR MONTHS UNDER HEROES' NOSES."
"IS THE PRESTIGIOUS ACADEMY STILL SAFE?"
The wolves of the press were not just howling at the villains anymore. They smelled blood in the water, and they were turning on the guardians.
[U.A. High - Press Conference Hall]
The interior of the conference hall was a cauldron of hostility.
Hundreds of camera shutters clicked simultaneously, creating a sound like a swarm of mechanical locusts. The flashbulbs fired in a relentless, blinding stroboscopic barrage that turned the room into a disorienting lightning storm.
Principal Nezu and Shota Aizawa (Eraserhead) sat behind a long table draped in white cloth. They faced a firing squad of microphones. The air in the room was hot, suffocating, and thick with accusation.
"Mr. Aizawa!" a reporter from a major network shouted, leaping to his feet aggressively. "This marks the second major breach of your security protocols in a single semester! First the training camp, where two students were abducted. And now we learn that one of those students—Kuzan Aokiji—had been under threat from the League of Villains for months!"
Aizawa, dressed in an unfamiliar, stiff black suit, looked exhausted. His scars were visible under the harsh lights. His eyes were dry, but his gaze was sharp as a knife.
"How could the premier hero school allow a student's family to be held hostage?" another journalist screamed, bypassing decorum. "Does U.A. have no intelligence network? Were you waiting for a tragedy to happen before acting?"
"Please, settle down," Nezu said calmly into the microphone, though his ears twitched with tension.
"We demand answers!" a third reporter yelled, pointing a finger at the teachers. "The footage suggests Kuzan Aokiji went with the villains voluntarily at first! Was he a traitor? Or was this another failure of your supervision that forced a child to bargain with terrorists?"
Aizawa leaned forward. The movement was slight, but the room went quiet.
"Kuzan Aokiji," Aizawa said, his voice low, gravelly, and vibrating with suppressed emotion, "acted with a maturity that exceeds his age. He did not surrender out of cowardice, nor out of malice. He surrendered to protect his loved ones and his classmates."
Aizawa scanned the room, daring anyone to contradict him.
"Furthermore, the events at Kamino suggest a coordination. Kuzan risked his life to infiltrate the enemy lines, creating the critical opening for the heroes to act."
"But the result!" the reporter shot back, unwilling to yield. "The result is that All Might is broken! He saved your student, yes, but now Japan has lost its Symbol! Was one student worth the safety of the entire nation?"
Aizawa stood up.
The cameras zoomed in.
He bowed deeply—a perfect, ninety-degree angle of apology. It was the cultural gesture of taking full responsibility.
But when he raised his head, his eyes were burning with a fierce protectiveness.
"We accept full responsibility for our intelligence failures," Aizawa stated, his voice cutting through the noise. "However... do not dare to weigh the value of a student's life. Aokiji and Bakugo fought like true heroes. If you want to blame someone for All Might's retirement, blame the villains who destroyed the peace. Do not blame the children who stood by his side when the world was crumbling."
[Outside Central Hospital - The Main Gate]
The scene outside the hospital was a riot. A sea of microphones, satellite vans, and desperate reporters blocked the main entrance, hungry for a comment, a soundbite, anything to feed the 24-hour news cycle.
A sleek, black limousine pulled up to the curb, pushing through the crowd. The door opened, and Mr. Kuzan stepped out.
Immediately, the swarm descended like vultures.
"Mr. Kuzan! Mr. Kuzan!"
"Is it true your son was the bait?"
"What is your comment on the League targeting your family?"
Mr. Kuzan adjusted his jacket. He looked different today. The chaotic, weeping grief of the hospital room was gone, locked away behind a mask of cold, razor-sharp intensity. He was no longer just a father; he was a force of nature.
A financial reporter shoved a microphone dangerously close to his face.
"Sir! The stock market opened ten minutes ago! Kuzan Corp shares have plummeted by 39% due to the scandal and the association with the League! Investors are panicking! Will you disown your son's reckless actions to save your business empire?"
Mr. Kuzan stopped.
The cameras zoomed in on his face, expecting a PR statement, a deflection, or a stutter.
Slowly, deliberately, Mr. Kuzan reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his latest-model smartphone. The screen displayed a trading app, showing the jagged red arrow of the crashing stock price.
He held the phone up for the cameras to see.
Then, his hand began to glow with a faint, pale mist.
Crackle... Snap.
A spiderweb of white frost raced across the gorilla glass. The internal circuits hissed and died as the liquid crystal display froze solid. The expensive metal casing groaned under the sudden thermal shock.
With a look of utter boredom, Mr. Kuzan tossed the frozen brick of technology into a nearby metal trash can.
CLANG.
He looked directly at the financial reporter. The temperature within a five-meter radius dropped noticeably, causing the journalists to shiver.
"Let the stocks go to the abyss," Mr. Kuzan said, his voice carrying a chill that silenced the mob. "You ask about my empire? My son is my empire."
He stepped closer to the cameras, his eyes flashing with a dangerous light.
"He didn't just save a city. He saved the honor of this family. He stood beside the strongest hero in history and helped secure a total victory. Compared to the sacrifice of my son... what is the value of your paper money? What is the value of my public image?"
He turned his back on them, walking toward the hospital doors with long, confident strides.
"He is the true hero of the Kuzan name. Any journalist who blocks my path to see him... will be bought and fired before the sun sets."
The reporters parted like the Red Sea, stunned into silence, lowering their cameras as the Ice King passed.
[Hospital Room 304 - The Interrogation]
Inside the quiet sanctuary of the hospital room, Aokiji sat up in bed. He was slowly spooning lukewarm soup into his mouth with his right hand, staring blankly at the wall.
Knock. Knock.
"Come in," Aokiji mumbled, swallowing the broth.
The door opened. Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi entered, looking exhausted. His trench coat hung loosely on his frame, and his tie was askew. Behind him hobbled the short, elderly hero, Gran Torino.
"Yo," Aokiji greeted them casually, putting the spoon down.
Tsukauchi didn't smile. He walked to the foot of the bed and pulled out a leather notebook. The atmosphere shifted instantly from a friendly visit to a formal police inquiry.
"Kuzan Aokiji," Tsukauchi began, his voice strict and official. "I am here to discuss the legal ramifications of the Kamino Incident."
Aokiji leaned back against the pillows, wincing slightly as his ribs protested. "Straight to business, huh?"
"You are a student," Tsukauchi continued, reading from the mental law book. "You possess a provisional license, but it does not cover unauthorized combat in a civilian zone without pro supervision. You engaged the League of Villains. You used your quirk with lethal intent. You caused massive property damage and severe injuries to multiple individuals."
Tsukauchi closed the notebook with a sharp snap.
"The law is clear. Vigilantism is strictly prohibited. This violation typically mandates immediate expulsion from U.A. High and potential juvenile detention."
Silence filled the room. Gran Torino watched Aokiji closely, his eyes narrowed.
Aokiji looked out the window at the clouds for a moment. He didn't look scared. He didn't look remorseful. He simply shrugged his shoulders.
"Well," Aokiji said, his voice completely devoid of panic. "It was a fun time at U.A. anyway. To be honest, being expelled sounds like a relief. No more exams, no more training... I can finally catch up on my sleep."
"Pfft—BWAHAHAHA!"
Gran Torino burst into laughter, leaning on his cane and wheezing.
"He's exactly as you described him, Tsukauchi! Look at this kid! He's looking for the slightest excuse to quit and be lazy! A true ice block!"
Tsukauchi sighed, his stern mask cracking. He rubbed his temples in frustration.
"You... you really have no sense of tension, do you? I was trying to make a point about the gravity of the law."
Aokiji smirked faintly. "I knew you wouldn't arrest me, Detective. Not after I did your job for you."
Tsukauchi shook his head, a small, genuine smile forming on his tired face.
"Under normal circumstances, yes, you would be finished. But... considering the chaotic nature of the event, the fact that you were acting in self-defense against a target that had specifically threatened your family, and your pivotal role in assisting All Might..."
Tsukauchi bowed his head slightly—a gesture of respect from an officer to a civilian.
"There will be no charges. The police report will list your actions as 'Emergency Crisis Response under Pro Hero Guidance.' Just this once, Kuzan. Even though you have no full license... let me call you a Hero. Because you truly were one."
"Don't get used to it," Gran Torino grunted, poking Aokiji's leg with his cane. "Next time, run away like a sensible person."
"Now," Tsukauchi's expression turned serious again. "To the other matter. The loose ends."
Aokiji's gaze sharpened instantly. The laziness vanished. "My family."
"We have been conducting a massive sweep," the Detective explained. "Since All For One's fall, the villain network is crumbling. We captured three surveillance operatives camping near the perimeter of your family's estate this morning."
Aokiji tensed up, his knuckles turning white. "Three? Is the threat still active?"
"Not anymore," Tsukauchi reassured him quickly. "During the interrogation, they admitted they hadn't been paid or contacted in 24 hours. Without the Master, the money flow has stopped. They have no loyalty to a ghost. The contract on your family is effectively null and void."
Aokiji relaxed, sinking back into the mattress, the last weight lifting off his chest. "And the others? There was a man... a fire bow user. Pyre.."
"Ah. The mercenary," Tsukauchi flipped a page in his notebook. "We are in contact with the Chinese Hero Public Safety Commission. Intelligence suggests he fled the country the moment the news of All For One's defeat broke. He is likely back in the criminal underground of Shanghai. He won't be returning to Japan anytime soon. It's too hot for him here now."
"So it's really over," Aokiji whispered, staring at the ceiling.
"For now," Tsukauchi nodded. "The head of the snake has been cut off."
The Detective turned to leave. "I'll let you rest. You've done enough work for a lifetime in one night."
"Detective," Aokiji called out.
Tsukauchi stopped at the door, his hand on the handle.
"Thank you," Aokiji said, his voice sincere and quiet. "You played a huge role in our secret story. You, me, and All Might. Thanks for keeping the secret all this time."
Tsukauchi smiled, a look of shared history passing between them.
"No, Kuzan. Thank you for betting on All Might when the odds were impossible. He bet on me once, years ago. And you bet on him last night. Trust... it's the most important principle we have."
The Detective and the old hero walked out, closing the door softly behind them.
Aokiji stared at the closed door.
The legal threats were gone. The assassins were gone. The secrets were gone.
He picked up his spoon again, stirring the cold soup.
"Finally," he muttered to the empty room. "I can just be a student."
.
.