Virtuoso - RainTemple - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia (2024)

Chapter 1: Grave Concerto

Chapter Text

“You should give it up.”

Five words that had shattered the confidence and dreams of the boy known as Izuku Midoriya forever. He didn't hear his mother's desperate words and the doctor's sober, clinical responses. The five words had struck his mind and skin like blades, his attention and hope bleeding from the gashes. They left him stunned like electricity, with nothing to think of but the pain. He should give it up. He was never going to be a hero. Not without a quirk.

“Typically, a second joint on the pinky toe determines if a person will develop a quirk. Unfortunately, Izuku does possess this joint.” The doctor sighed, with the false sadness only an uninterested medical professional could manage. “I'm sorry, but it just doesn't seem possible outside of a miracle.”

“I... I see.” Inko Midoriya said, with a sigh. She glanced to Midoriya, who remained distant. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped. Inko offered a sad smile. “It's okay, Izuku.”

“Everything will be alright.”

- - -

Izuku Midoriya sat in front of a computer screen, replaying the video of his idol, All Might, pulling people from a crash. The words in the video had become so ingrained in his memory he could recite the whole thing, start to finish, alongside what happened in every second. The man yelling, the triumphant boom of All Might's laughter, and the resonant words of "I am here!" that brought hope to good and terror to evil. He heard the door open to his room, and didn't even recognize that he had begun to cry as tears welled in his eyes and threatened to burst forth in a tidal wave.

“Izuku?” His mother asked.

“Mom... he's such a cool hero...” Izuku slowly turned, and pointed towards the monitor, finger shaking. “Can I... be a hero too?”

Inko broke down at that, and rushed the chair to embrace her son. Tears fell alongside her voice. “I'm sorry, Izuku! I'm sorry. I'm sorry...” The words poured out of Inko like a tide. She didn't know what to say, other than an apology. Or perhaps, she simply didn't understand it was the wrong thing to say. In that moment, Izuku Midoriya bid a tearful farewell to his dreams. All he wanted to do was make people smile. He just wanted to be remembered, and to be looked up to as a hero. Tears poured down his cheeks as he kept a false smile, something he couldn't wipe away, a memory of an ambition that was dead.

There is something powerful about the words of a mother, something that commands knowledge and respect. When one is so young, the words of your elder are something to be heeded, regardless of what you think. Young Midoriya had not broken from the clutches of unconditional trust in his mother, and her words sealed his fate with the certainty of nightfall.

His heart and soul had been ripped away in the span of a day. The dreams of Izuku Midoriya crumbled into dust that swirled into the void, and ceased to be without merely a sound.

But in its absence, other voices, once shackled within his mind, whispered.

- - -

The years afterwards saw a dramatic shift in Izuku. He no longer dreamed of being a hero, but even lacking said hope, he still approached life with unusual grace. Where once he felt joy in protecting others and seeing people smile, Izuku became absorbed in his own universe. Artistry and the human body fascinated him. His intrigue was so deep that it got the young man in trouble for peeping on girls and boys alike in the minutes after physical education had concluded. He could frequently be found drawing in his notebook, abstract pieces of humans in poses that defied bone structure, but were nonetheless enchanting. Where other boys and girls drew stick figure heroes and villains in combat, Izuku detailed poses of men drifting in an astral sea, and women eating apples from the tree of life.

The new approach to life was intriguing to his mother, who had never stopped to consider what Izuku would do without his previous ambition. Heroics seemed to define him from an early age, from his personality to the decorations in his room. She never thought of what Midoriya without being a hero would be. But she found delight in his love for the beautiful, and encouraged it whenever she could, buying him various notebooks and professional pens.

His patrician adoration of music was another change that brought joy to Inko, as his interests shifted from popular music to the more abstract and underground. Orchestral psychedelia ambient drones, and dark operatic tones surrounded by the slow thrumming of artificial violins emanated from his room. He would use this music to drift in his own thoughts, his ideas and mind alien to all but his mother. Even then, she barely understood.

He remained a model student, of course. From elementary to junior high school, Izuku obtained some of the highest marks in his class. He would be pestered frequently about help on homework, or leading study sessions; such tasks he took to with a cold and detached enjoyment. All signs pointed to young Izuku becoming a professional artist, especially as he gained fame and requests for commission-- the prices of which reaching into the triple digits.

The voices he heard in his youth had never stopped, however.

They demanded payment for the inspiration they had given him, for all the beauty he had the ability to bring.

One day, he did pay. With interest.

- - -

“... And I believe Izuku is also considering applying for UA, correct?” His teacher droned, looking at Izuku with a smile. Midoriya returned the gesture in kind.

“Of course.” His voice was as serene as a soft summer breeze in a forest, disturbing nothing and holding a distant warmth. “I am planning on attending for the general education course.”

“Well, I'm sure you will find great success there, Mr. Midoriya.” She nodded once, and returned to grilling every single student about their plans for the future. Izuku was about to return to drawing, when a hand pressed against his table. He didn't need to look up to know it was Katsuki Bakugo; his blonde hair framing red eyes that burned constantly. He was staring down at Midoriya with cold judgment, studying like a hawk studies the field mouse.

“What is it, Kacchan.” He asked with resignation, knowing that he was about to get an earful of some vitriol. To his surprise, the next words that came from Katsuki were calm, though carrying something like a growl.

“What are you doing, Deku.” The nickname of 'useless' barely stung Izuku now, not like it had. It was still unpleasant, of course, though it lacked the same venom as before.

“I'm confused as to what you mean.” Izuku flipped another page in his book, but it was snatched from his hands by Katsuki. Izuku flared with anger for the briefest of moments, before looking up at Bakugo with hunched shoulders and worry in his eyes.

“You know people only go to UA if they want to be a hero, you piece of sh*t. Still holding on to your dream? Want to slip into the hero course without putting in the work?” Katsuki leveled the accusations upon him, as he flipped a page in the notebook to a drawing of a viper eating a mouse. The detail was immaculate, and it pissed him off. Izuku sunk deeper into his chair.

“Kacchan, I... I really just want to go to prepare for college, alright?” Midoriya looked away, and towards the ground. “UA is a good school in general, not just for heroics.” Bakugo sneered.

“Yeah. Right. You expect me to believe that you've just given up on being a hero? Just like some bastard who wants to be a salaryman?” He considered burning the notebook for a moment, but grunted. He tossed it back down at Izuku's desk and buried his hands in his pockets, tromping back to his desk. “If that's true, you're more useless than I thought.”

Izuku didn't have a comeback for that. It had been the closest thing to motivation he had gotten in the last ten years, but still. Izuku Midoriya didn't have a quirk. He would never be a hero.

As Izuku walked home that day, he ran several thoughts through his head. The idea of becoming a hero had seemed lost to him. He gave it up, so long ago it felt like an eternity. Yet still, it rung in his thoughts. The hopes he had long since thought lost to darkness burned softly, like embers that had just felt the kiss of heat. He considered changing his declared course. There was nothing wrong in trying, right? He stepped into a long tunnel, the darkness and trash concealing much of the environment. Sure, he could try. But what if he failed? Could he still apply for general education? He didn't know.

Those thoughts slipped away when cold steel settled against the base of his spine. A small circle of pressure pushed against his backbone. Izuku became inhumanly still, a gravelly voice rumbling, too deep and distorted to be identified.

“Alright, kid. You seem smart, so do what I say. Empty your pockets.” He said, applying pressure. Midoriya's eyes dashed from left to right, up and down, searching for an escape path. Something. Anything. Finding little success, he slowly begun to reach into his pants, and he spoke.

“I r-really d-don't think y-you should do this.” Izuku stuttered as he began, pulling out his cellphone and dropping it with a clatter of plastic on stone. “I d-don't have m-much money, a-and we're in sort of a p-public space. I won't tell the c-cops if you l-l-let me go.”

“Aint happenin', kid.” He pushed the gun more. “Back left pocket.”

Izuku complied, pulling out his wallet, which was snatched by the mugger. There was a sound of fabric on fabric as the man looked at the contents. He chuffed out a breath.

“Izuku Midoriya... Aldera Junior High.” He chuckled. “Heh. My alma mater. Small world. Be a dear for your senpai an--”

The moment the mugger was too absorbed in gloating to notice, Izuku twisted his body to the left, grabbed the gun, gripped the muzzle, and pushed it to the right. It went off as the mugger realized what was happening, a bare moment too late to do more than graze Midoriya's pants. Izuku kept a handle on the gun, yelping as the explosion echoed from the walls of the tunnel and rung in his ears like a bell. He crashed a shoulder into the man and pulled the gun towards him, catching the mugger off balance. With a sound of pain and expulsion of air the man hit the ground, and released the gun.

It was too early to run, however, as the man coiled back and sent a boot flying at Izuku, which he caught on the cheek. Izuku grunted sharply in pain and felt a tooth come loose, finding himself lying on his side with the barrel of the gun still in his hand. He scrambled to his feet, but found a hand on the collar of his student uniform, yanking him down. The back of Midoriya's skull hit the pavement sending an explosion of stars and dull pain throughout his mind.

The man found the gun and pulled hard, but Izuku kept a grip-- up until a fist smashed into his face, of course. His nose crumpled inward, the sickening sound of cartilage breaking and blood gushing forth. Time slowed as Midoriya saw the man, lining up his shot, face twisted with rage.

He was going to die here. Izuku Midoriya's story would end, not as the number one hero or a great artist, but as a student, mourned for a month before being forgotten. This wasn't the fate he wanted, but it was the one he was going to get. Time stopped as Izuku enjoyed a final moment of serenity in life before tranquility in death.

It was only a few moments of waiting that Midoriya realized that he was still alive, and time did not stop.

The man had.

He made sounds of effort as something, some indiscernible force, held him in a vice grip. The mugger's teeth gritted and air escaped his lungs as he struggled against this force. A force that Midoriya felt connected to. Izuku felt himself move, his right arm slowly raising in an attempt to get his bearings. As he did, the man's right arm shot up with intense speed, and he let out a sound of pain. Izuku raised his left arm. The left arm shot up. He held the man like a puppet master. One does not truly learn to enjoy the beauty of holding another life in your hands until it is experienced.

With a scream filled with as much pain as anger, Izuku pushed, only wanting to will him away.

God has a strange sense of wish fulfillment.

The body of the man took this action literally. His spine bent backwards at a ninety degree angle with pops and cracks of dislocation and breakage in his vertebrae. His ribs pushed from beneath his skin and out, breaking from the sternum and the jacket he had on. The mugger's arms tore from their sockets and blood rushed in rivulets from torn skin and muscle at the shoulders. His ribs flowered out in jerky, manic motions, becoming like a rafflesia with a hole of gore in its center. At the end of this orchestra of shattering bones and ripping flesh, the man's neck snapped with the finality of a composition's final note.

Izuku Midoriya had killed a man with a quirk he had never known.

It took a moment to comprehend what he was looking at, some part of him hoping or believing he was dreaming. When he did, his stomach churned, and his eyes became as wide as dinner plates, a mix of horror on his face and... fascination in his eyes.

He ran from the tunnel, deaf to the sounds of sirens and the concerned questions of bystanders. He ran for what felt like hours, turning corners and ducking between pedestrians. He found some semblance of privacy, an area of sidewalk lacking onlookers, and dove into an alley, breathing heavily. The contents of his stomach could no longer be held back. Izuku puked, spilling blood, bile, and the half digested remains of his bento lunch. Izuku's back hit the wall and he slowly slid down it, weeping and brushing away the vile streams of vomit that remained on his lips and chin.

He had killed a man. The smell, the looks, the feeling... it all disgusted him. The way his quirk-- his quirk?-- had killed him was also utterly revolting. But the thing that made him the most sick?

He found it beautiful. The ribs in a flower around torn, pale flesh and tattered leather jacket, the blood running silently and deep crimson like paint across a canvas, the look in his eyes as--

Izuku realized the voices were silent.

For once in his life, they did not call for him.

And in that back alleyway, surrounded by garbage and stained with bile, tears, and blood, Izuku Midoriya smiled.

Chapter 2: Ostinato Arte

Chapter Text

When Izuku returned home, it was to a silent household. Though he knew his mother was out at this time of day, knowing she had not returned sooner than usual was relieving. He removed his shoes and dashed into his room, slamming the door shut, and slumping against the doorway. A hand flicked to the side to turn on the lights.

Izuku's room was reforged after his heroic obsession faded. Where once All Might figures and posters decorated the walls and floor, there were posters for bands few had heard of, and art that ranged from abstract and chaotic landscapes of color to meter long prints of angelic beings signed by the artist. The walls had been painted a dull blue-grey. His desk sat with blank and posed figures, his computer, several books, and his tablet. The welcome sight of his sanctuary brought a small smile to his face, but more importantly was drawing. The scene was still fresh in his mind. He couldn't allow inspiration to slip away.

He quickly moved to his desk, removed the tablet from its charger, placed the stylus against the screen, and drew.

When Izuku Midoriya creates art, it seems chaotic to the untrained eye. His eyes are perfectly focused, and his hand moves with a mind of its own in flowing lines and jagged edges. Typically, he doesn't blink more than once per few minutes. When he finally does, it's carefully measured, and placed at the instant between the stylus pressed to the screen, and the lift. He didn't need a background for this piece, only the person. He moved fluidly, the action as simple as breathing, as the work engulfed his thoughts and concerns.

At some point in his work, his mother had come home. He spoke on auto pilot as Inko Midoriya spoke from outside his room, offering greetings and sounds of confirmation as she prattled on about her day. She understood he was drawing after some time, and left him alone. To another, this would seem greatly disrespectful. After all, attention to one's parent is vital to the relationship. However, for Inko, it was simply her son following his passion, and that made her happy.

Before he finished his piece, Izuku left to use the bathroom, and observed himself. The fight had roughed him up, to be certain. An angry violet and yellow bruise colored his cheek, and his nose looked crooked. He opened his mouth and ran a finger across each tooth, to find that one of his molars had come loose. He had wiped most of the blood and vomit off of his face already. Izuku hated looking ugly.

From the medicine cabinet he brought out the first aid kit. He dressed his cheek and nose, and sat an ice pack on the side of his face. He didn't look great, but he had downplayed his injuries to the point where a simple excuse of clumsiness may suffice. With that squared away, he returned to his work.

After a few hours of work, it was finally complete. Izuku only had a few edits to make before he looked at his piece as something like a finished work.

It was bold, he decided. The scene was of a man, his torso puffed out, hands and legs bowing backwards in... Izuku went with ecstasy. From his chest, a great pink and red rafflesia burst forth, an anatomically correct heart resting at its center. The man's head had a mane of brunette hair, flowing in an ethereal ocean. His eyes and mouth leaked empyrean smoke, tinged white and gold. Other than a pair of plain pants, the man was nude.

Izuku sighed at his work, always critiquing himself, and saved it before leaving the room. He would need to fix it some more before considering it truly complete, but his empty stomach was of greater concern. Inko's head curved around the corner, that led to the dining room, and gave her son a grin.

“Done working, eh? All work and no play makes Izu a dull boy.” She teased. Izuku offered a small smile. When Inko got a better look at the bandages and weary look on his face, her face twisted in abject horror. “Izuku! What happened?!”

Izuku held up his hands. “It's fine, mom! Really. I just fell down some stairs on my way home.” He said, and offered a tilted smile. Inko gave him an incredulous look as she approached from around the corner.

“Did it have a bat, or... or brass knuckles? My god, Izuzu!” She babied his cheek, eliciting a small hiss of pain from the boy. Inko sighed, still giving him that look. “You really just... fell down some stairs...? You're not in trouble or anything, right?” Her gaze was piercing, but this was one thing he couldn't confess to. Izuku opened his mouth, and then simply nodded. He was a terrible liar, and sometimes actions speak louder than words. Evidently it had worked, as Inko let out a breath, and nodded.

“Alright, Izuku. I believe you, just... you know you can tell me anything, right?” She offered a sad smile. “Your old mom will always understand.” Izuku wrapped his mother in an embrace.

“I know, mom. Just don't worry about it, okay?” Izuku said. His mother huffed.

“You know saying that makes me worry more. Are you hungry?” She said. Izuku nodded, and she begun to cook up dinner.

The family sat in the living room and observed the television. Most of the news was uninteresting, and he found himself drifting into his own mind.

He had a quirk. All this time, and he had never activated it. He supposed it made sense, given the circ*mstances. Izuku had never tried to hurt someone, and whatever he did was definitely intended to harm. It was an emitter class quirk, that much was for certain. But what did it control? Blood? That didn't explain the ribs, unless marrow counted. Bones? Possibly, but also difficult to test out. He would have to test it. He had to be sure before he made rash decisions. Did it activate when he touched someone? Was it simply a will based affair? Did it--

“Now, for our top story of the night. This afternoon, a man was found dead in Asoka Tunnel in Musutafu City. Officials are currently unable to give any new details, but we do know the victim is named Akira Hyuga, age twenty eight. We go live to the scene now with our correspondent, Yuki Hanno. Yuki?” The newsman said, attentive and professional. Izuku snapped to attention, but checked if his mother had noticed the sudden change. She hadn't, and had her eyes glued to the television.

“Thank you, Tetsuo.” The blue skinned and white haired correspondent-- Yuki, he imagined-- said. “At about four o' clock today, residents in the area reported a single gunshot followed by screaming, which came to an abrupt stop. Eyewitnesses have been unable to provide consistent reports, other than a single individual entering the tunnel. We know the suspect was spotted fleeing the scene, though there is no identification as of yet.” Izuku breathed a slow sigh of relief. “Unfortunately the scene of the crime is too graphic for live television. We'll keep you updated as information comes in. Tetsuo?”

The camera returned to the anchorman, and he continued on with a story Izuku tuned out. His mother sighed, and shook her head. “Some people...”

Izuku tilted his head. “Uh... what do you mean?” He said, cautiously. She shrugged.

“Some people just like hurting other people.” Inko smiled, a sad little thing. “It's evil, and they should be brought to justice, but... I can't help but feel bad, to have to be born like that.” She looked up at Izuku. “But people will always be people. Some of them just can't change.”

The words struck Izuku like a lead pipe across his jaw, and he simply nodded, looking back down at his bowl of rice and meat. He had to consider those words carefully. 'People will always be people'. Maybe he wasn't at fault. Or maybe he was simply following what he wanted, or even needed, to do. Midoriya ate tentatively, as the news continued. Whatever the truth was, there was no going back.

- - -

Izuku checked his phone as he did his morning commute to school. Twitter had been blowing up for a few hours about the killing. Speculation, fuzzy photos of people that clearly weren't him, and some other rather strange posts (one thought he was actually an alien; that got a chuckle) flooded the board before it returned to business as usual.

Midoriya had been running plans through his head for a few hours. He needed to see how his quirk worked, and humans seemed like the only viable option. He didn't want to kill again, the thought of the blood and gore... he couldn't do it again. It made him sick.

But no matter how hard he tried to retch or throw something up at the thought, nothing came. He didn't want to make a scene on the train, but his face twisted in confusion. Why wasn't he getting sick at the thought? It didn't make sense. Any sane man would find what he did utterly revolting. So why couldn't he bring himself to think similarly? What was--

For a moment, it dawned on Izuku that he was in denial. In that moment. he remembered the rush and artistry of the whole thing. The feeling of liberation and fulfillment that came with the destruction of a human life. The inspiration to create art that came from bloodshed. The beautiful symphony of screams and ripping flesh.

He wanted more.

The voices wanted more.

Those feelings only burned brighter as he begun to scan the train. So many people, all of them simple, leading boring lives. Maybe they had families. Maybe everyone hated them. Maybe they were heroes. Maybe they were villains. He didn't know for sure. The first death was something he could argue was self defense. The next would have to be something careful. He could be a vigilante, killing only those who deserved it. That would satisfy him, right?

His gaze settled on a brooding young man, perhaps in his twenties, who had the distinct look of a salaryman. Simple clothes, an inexpensive suitcase, and bags under dim eyes. Someone nobody would miss, whose contribution to society was so minimal that a student would be of greater use. He seemed to be almost asking to die.

It was Friday. Perhaps this weekend would be the ample time to 'try things out', as it were.

For now, however, he had an exam to prep for. Even if he wasn't going to be in the heroics course, the entrance exams for UA were notoriously difficult. Nine months, and he'd be there. Nine months to test himself.

Nine months to spread beauty.

The thought was exhilarating.

Chapter 3: Orribile Crescendo

Chapter Text

It had been a week since Izuku had selected his target, and he had a plan; or at least, something like it.

Throughout the days he had remained a model of a good student, arriving on time (mostly) and participating as any other young man would. However, he found himself following his target and keeping notes religiously, not unlike the days of his youth when he would write down information on heroes. Sure enough, he was a regular on the train, and worked at an accounting firm in the downtown area. He hadn't paid attention to the name, it was irrelevant in the end.

Every morning at seven forty three, he would leave for his stop in the second station before the one Izuku used to get to school. He would walk down the stairs to the right, approach the building a few blocks away, and enter. Midoriya guessed the firm was in a complex with other businesses. He only missed homeroom once to get this down, which he excused as a missed alarm. The real trick was finding his home. He couldn't kill a man at his business and remain incognito. For that, Izuku would have to make an excuse to arrive home late, which he found to be simple. His mother would believe anything, though it pained him to be so dishonest.

Izuku waited for the man to get on the train on Wednesday, and sat silently for a few hours after school had let out. He finally spotted the man at around six. A lack of drinking friends was a good sign. Less people to miss him made the situation better. He boarded alongside the man, and rode to his stop.

He lived surprisingly close to Izuku, only one stop away from the one he would normally use to go home. For that day, the trailing would have to end. He lacked a way to make himself look inconspicuous.

When he returned home, he found himself looking for news on his murder in the tunnel. Of course, if they had found something, they would be knocking at his door, but that was irrelevant. It didn't seem as if police had found any evidence of his involvement. Izuku counted it as some blessing. He must not have left any blood on the scene-- or any that wasn't mixed in with the man's own. In addition, the only thing that would have left any skin or hair would have been when he was punched and kicked.

Fingerprints would also have been hard to get, as Izuku had held the barrel with the length of his fingers and palm, rather than the tips. Evidently, scent was also useless, as the pro hero Hound Dog (since when had he lived in Musutafu?) was unable to find anything.

He obtained more information on the man in the meantime. Job sites helped immensely. His name was Makoto Nishikiyama, age thirty three. He didn't have a significant other, which felt somewhat obvious to Izuku. He was plain in most everything, as his Facebook page suggested. He had standard tastes, and barely ever posted besides going to major events with his family, but he had no friends to speak of. Posing as an independent recruiter (complete with very convincing and private address), Izuku sent emails to his employer to obtain more personal information. It didn't really affect if he was going to die or not, but it helped Midoriya's conscience.

He wasn't well liked. His performance was unimpressive, and had no close friends in the workplace. He seemed antisocial, and lacked both the leadership skills and initiative to rise above his station. It made Izuku happy that his soon-to-be victim was unloved and barely wanted.

Somehow, that felt ironic.

Regardless, Thursday brought an opportunity to find the man's apartment. It was cloudy, and a hoodie seemed only natural, even if Izuku didn't tend to wear one. School was business as usual on that day, nothing that caught his interest or challenged him in any way. When he went to leave, however, he found Bakugo's hand pressed against his chest and pushing him back into his chair. He lacked his cronies, and looked at Izuku with that same cold judgement.

“... Kacchan, I--” Izuku began, but found himself cut off.

“Shut the f*ck up, Deku.” He growled. “We're not kids. Stop calling me that. What the f*ck is wrong with you.”

“I... I really don't know what you're talking abou--” He found a hand in his collar, pulling him up to Katsuki's eye-level.

“You know real f*cking well what I mean, you little sh*t.” He growled, pulling even harder. Bakugo was furious. “You're doodling in your stupid notebook more than usual. You're barely even paying attention to anything, like you're some pathetic turtle in his shell.”

“I... I've just been b-busy with studying, alright?” Izuku gulped. The excuse made Katsuki even more angry, and he tossed him back in his chair. Bakugo picked up the notebook, and held it above his head.

“Bullsh*t. f*ck have you even been doing these past few days?” He opened it, and Izuku found himself reaching. He had his notes on the man in there. He couldn't let Bakugo see them, but he also couldn't use his quirk to get it back. He was quirkless, for all Kacchan knew, and he wanted to keep it that way. Izuku panicked and pushed against Katsuki. He responded by shoving Izuku back hard, and the boy toppled over his desk head over heels.

Bakugo had found it. The notes. He knew he had, because he was reading something. Izuku's eyes were full of fear, wide as dinner plates. This was it. This was the end. He had to try again, someone else. If he went forward, Kacchan would know. Did he have notes on his quirk in there? He'd do... something. What would he do? He didn't know, and it scared--

“f*ck is this, more hero notes? You stalking some pro again, sh*tty Deku?” The book was thrown across the room. Izuku scrambled for it, and Bakugo sneered. “You're f*cking pathetic. Back on your dreams again? Don't f*cking bother. I'm gonna be the only one going to UA in this school, and I'm gonna be the one going pro, you quirkless nobody.”

The words stung, but Izuku was more concerned with the book. He knew Kacchan had read it, but he hadn't been able to tell the notes weren't about a hero. He had ignored something. It was a godsend. Bakugo walked out of the room, spitting in Izuku's general direction. Izuku didn't care. He rose, clutching his notes tight to his chest, and bolted from the school with his bags in tow.

He hadn't seen it.

Izuku found himself pressed against a wall a few blocks from school, book still held close, laughing in maniac triumph. More hero notes from the boy who used to love them would mean nothing, and Kacchan would forget about the details as soon as he had something else to be angry about.

Midoriya calmed himself as he walked to the train station, hoodie up, but he couldn't keep a smile off his face. He had to give Kacchan credit for remaining ignorant, and maybe even thank him for being so bullheaded. The idea was stupid, but he was in a stupid mindset. The victor's mind was not always rational. God was smiling upon him. He had to be, for such great changes to be made to his life in so short a time.

Izuku did the same routine, but this time, followed Makoto from his stop. He walked a few blocks from the train station, and strode into a compact apartment complex. Izuku watched from the outside, careful to keep his face concealed beneath his hood for any cameras. He went up three floors, down five doors. Apartment four oh six.

Four oh six. Four oh six. He wrote the number down in his notebook, and nodded, staying for a few minutes after Mr. Nishikiyama had dipped into his apartment before leaving.

Izuku fell into his bed, and curled up, keeping his phone near. He'd do it on Saturday, he decided. But he'd need to be even more cautious. If he was hurt again, his mother would know something, and he didn't want her to catch on. He'd need to sneak in. Maybe Makoto would leave his door unlocked. If he didn't, Izuku would have to break in. A window, maybe?

The plan was set. It wasn't airtight, but it was good enough.

There was one last thing he needed.

- - -

Izuku found himself in a shopping mall close to his home in the hours after school got out. He needed the tools for the job. Having a quirk made things infinitely easier, but evidence could be found even if his power was remote. Hair, skin fragments, little things that go otherwise unnoticed. He'd need a smell to throw Hound Dog off as well.

The first purchase was a pair of leather motorcycle gloves, thick and lacking holes. The knuckles were protected by some plastic, it seemed. If he had to fight, it would make the ordeal easier. In addition, having some cover between his fingerprints and the outside world would be a major bonus.

The second purchase was another hoodie. He couldn't use the one he already owned, as it would be all too easy to trace back to him, should the footage on security cameras be good enough. He went for a crimson fabric with a white line going down the seam of his arms, armpits, and torso. It was a bit tight, but enough wear would break it in. The red might even help with bloodstains, were that a concern. The new fabrics smell could throw off a hero, if Hound Dog or a hero with an intelligence quirk got involved.

The final purchase was the one that had to have the most care put into it. This would be his face to present to the world. When people thought of his work, this would be the face. He found himself outside of the mall at five o' clock, searching for a mask. As the sun slowly set, Izuku seemed disappointed for lack of results, and begun to consider simply walking away. Perhaps he didn't need something to cover his face. Perhaps he'd continue to work in secret, lacking some visage. But that was so boring, so dull. What use is art without the face of an artist?

That all changed as he walked by a small shop on a nigh abandoned street that led back towards the train station. All the shops surrounding it were delis, butcheries, fish shops, and varied grocery markets, but this store was different. A book and oddity store, suggested by the window's display of several books and western items that had an indiscernible purpose. Deeper within, he could see the outline of a rack that held... masks.

Bingo.

He opened the door carefully, bells jingling. An elderly man behind the counter gave him a greeting. “Anything I can help you find, young man?”

Izuku shook his head, and gave a smile. “No, that's alright. Just looking.” He scanned the store until he found them, nestled into the back of the store with lewd magazines. The clerk gave him a reproachful eye, but Midoriya was settled on the masks. He didn't have time for his hormones, intriguing as the female form was.

The price tag may have made him flinch, but they were genuine. Wood carved, and unpainted. That wasn't an issue, as Izuku had paint at home. As he scanned the masks, all of them seemed relatively inoffensive, and lacked the message he was looking for.

Up until the last one.

It had small horns, sharp nubs that wouldn't mess with the hoodie. The face was incredibly done, with furrowed brows and a sneering maw of sharp teeth. Incisors pushed from the upper and lower lips, pointing outward. It would restrict his breathing, but that didn't matter. It was a terrifying facade. A demon, hated and feared by all.

A perfect face to present to the world.

Izuku bought it for the not-so-modest price of 30,000 yen. It was a steep price tag, but worth it.

When he returned home, the purchases were kept hidden from his mother in a large, unmarked plastic bag. She chose not to bother him about it, likely figuring it was more art supplies. By all means, they were. The moment dinner was complete he excused himself to be secluded in his room, paints out the moment he found them.

It would take a few hours to dry, but a few hours was all he needed. He poured black, white, and red paint into a pallet, and experimented at first, visualizing. At one point he pulled out his tablet and drew the mask, experimenting with color combinations.

He would make the thing an inverse of his hoodie, he decided. Mostly white, and a bit of red and black. The chin, cheeks, lips, nose, and forehead were painted white, while the jawline and brow were a perfect black. He painted the teeth and horns a brilliant crimson. He took an hour with each color, covering the pieces that weren't being painted (and those that already were) with tape to prevent paint bleed. The pieces he hadn't specifically chosen a color for were accented with red.

When it was done, Izuku was satisfied. A pale oni's mask coated with blood and shadow. It was about midnight by then, and Midoriya figured the time was about right. His mask was ready, his disguise well done.

It was time to perform.

- - -

Makoto Nishikiyama was awoken from dreamless slumber by a clattering sound of plastic on tile. He had no plans for the weekend, other than perhaps playing some MMO or buying a new game. When he turned his head to check the nightstand, the digital clock read '3:25 AM'. There was nothing he'd like more than to bury himself back into slumber.

Nonetheless, any man who finds himself awoken by something hitting the floor would investigate. After all, what if a clumsy intruder had broken in and was making off with something valuable? As if he had something valuable to steal. He blinked some crust from his eyes and groaned, figuring a stiff wind from an open window had blown something over. He almost wished a mugger had broken in to shoot him. At least he wouldn't have to go to work on Monday. He slid from the thick fabric of his comforter and his feet hit the floor.

He stretched out in his baby blue and white striped pajamas, slipping his feet into a pair of All Might themed slippers (he found them on sale, but also found the number one hero quite cool). With a mixture of a sigh and yawn he opened his bedroom door.

The apartment was dark, and no moon shone through the windows. One was, as expected, open. Of course, the light switch just had to be by the entrance. Cheap f*cking landlord who couldn't make any other switches for the main room. He had lived in the three room apartment for years now, but the indignation of having to stumble in the dark was an annoyance. Pair that with the general mess he remembered was strewn about the room, and he was stumbling over instant ramen bowls and game controllers left and right, likely making a fool of himself.

He thought he heard something as he approached the light switch. Fabric rubbing on fabric. It would have come from the kitchen, to his left. When he spun, he found nothing but darkness. Typical. Likely just his imagination, or his arm scraping against his pajama top. He stumbled to the entrance hallway.

Before he could flick on the lights, he felt a hand press gently on his shoulder blades.

Then, pain. Blinding pain. The kind that is spoken of in hushed whispers. The kind one has nightmares about the barest hint of its existence. The pain of flesh on burning metal pulsed in his mind and body, as if his bones were turned into blistering hot pig iron. The dark flames of malice ran over his flesh like a wildfire. He couldn't scream, for his jaws refused to move. He couldn't move, for his bones were paralyzed in fear and torment. He could only feel air passing through his vocal cords in the vaguest attempt to call for help. He begged for his body to move, to call out, to cry out, to scream; something to get the attention of his neighbors. Anything. Ryo from downstairs, he had a fire quirk, he thought. He could fight off the intruder. Right? There had to be some way out. Right?! His thoughts became panicked, looking for an escape route, but he couldn't move. He had to move. Had to... do something.

A smooth voice, serene as the summer wind and smooth like a glassy lake, came from behind him. It wasn't loud, but low enough to be almost intimate. It was the devil's voice. The angel fallen from heaven, whose voice seduced men and women. It brought such peace to his soul that, for a moment, it was more terrifying than the suffering.

“Don't worry, Mister Nishikiyama.” He said. “I only want to make your death into art.”

The agony of hell flowed through his body, and he couldn't scream. His bones twisted, his flesh ruptured, blood flowed in rivulets. His core broke, muscle screamed and ripped, and his skull was pulled from his shoulders in a crescendo of demise.

Makoto Nishikiyama died as he lived.

Alone, afraid, and full of regret.

- - -

When Izuku's work was finished, he breathed in almost sexual pleasure. By the lack of sound in the building, he hadn't woken anyone. That was a relief. He understood far more about his quirk now, as he looked at the enchanting remains. It required physical contact to be initiated, and it worked through bone. Of course, being so connected to muscles and blood, it affected them all the same. Like a puppet master, he pulled the strings, and his quirk made them dance.

He had made Makoto Nishikiyama into a beautiful statue that was oozing despair, and a question of 'why'. His bones had all been dislocated, stretching out his flesh to a vile degree, and one that was quite painful, if his sounds of struggle were to be believed. His skull had been pulled from his spine, but not enough to break the skin-- merely stretch it to its limits. His fingers were outstretched in a desperate reach to God, his pose one of kneeling in supplication. The face he wore was full of sorrow, but Izuku didn't have to do that one. His bones were set in place, in a solid arrangement that wouldn't topple save for rot.

He didn't even need to draw this one, as the stunning pose was all the art he needed. When they saw him, his audience would cry. Tears of joy, tears of sorrow, screams of fear. It was all the same to him. Tears. It brought Izuku such joy.

As he left, he flashed a security camera a look. His demonic visage concealed himself well, but for good measure, he closed his eyes as he mocked the security, and then made his slow and measured escape. He took off his mask and hoodie in an alleyway, careful to check for security cameras beforehand. The coincidence that he was dipping into alleys after each killing was not lost on him. This time, however, he did not vomit, or cry. He only smiled.

Once more, the voices were satisfied.

A new future dawned for Izuku Midoriya. The artist for life and death alike.

Chapter 4: Morte e Rinascita

Chapter Text

The connections weren't hard to make. Detective Tsukauchi had been in this game for years, and he knew a pattern to a killer when he saw one.

What made him angry was that the pattern gave no hint as to the killer's identity.

For months after the deaths of Akira Hyuga and Makoto Nishikiyama, Musutafu was plagued with the terror of the “Lotus Demon”, the serial killer who had a macabre taste in aesthetic. Deaths were almost weekly, and shared the same general trend. Corpses mangled and left in poses, using the victim's bones to create grotesque displays of art. Men reaching to god in the style of Michelangelo, heart caricatures formed from vertebrae, and the posing that got the killer his name-- a lotus styled from the ribs.

People were terrified. Pro Heroes stalked the night, while the police searched in the day. The witnesses to his little 'art displays' were psychologically shattered. He'd seen mothers and fathers driven to hysteria as they tried to cradle the shards of their son's bones. He'd witnessed men and women crying tears of sorrow and... insane joy, sometimes. Officers had harrowed looks in their eyes, the gazes of those who had seen the worst his fellow man could do. Five had signed off the case. One had quit the police force entirely, refusing to even voice his reasoning. They all knew why.

Sick bastards on social networks sometimes even encouraged the killings, giving the demon targets, and preferred ways to die. Sometimes he listened, sometimes he didn't. The government was forced to censor these targeting posts to stop the danger. At times, however, some slipped through, and some people died.

They had no evidence of who was behind the mask, that leering ogre's visage that came to taunt every screen. Even the best security cameras couldn't see the man's eyes, but he was either very young, or very short. He only spoke twice during the killing where they had the ability to pick up audio, and both times the voice was simply too garbled to be identified. They set up every trap, every potential way to draw the killer out, but there was nothing. He didn't target anyone in particular. Every body seemed random both in background and location, from poor men made into cadaverous scarecrows in the farmlands surrounding the city, to rich women in ballerina poses stuck to the ceiling.

There was no handwriting, no scent, no skin fragments, no blood. Nothing to track but a red hoodie and an oni mask. They were thorough to an infuriating degree. Not even camera surrounding the scenes of the crimes picked up anything.

Well, they did pick up something.

Izuku Midoriya, a quirkless boy who attended Aldera Junior High. He tended to be spotted in the areas around the killings, and at about the same time, but the idea that he was the culprit was damn near impossible. To not get one's hands dirty and do what the demon did, lacking a quirk? It just didn't fit.

He had a perfect track record, liked by students (if a bit distant), and always very pleasant to be around. His passion was for art. It seemed fishy, all things considered.

Even if he didn't have a quirk, there was a chance. The slightest one.

He had to be sure.

- - -

Izuku was on cloud nine.

He didn't show it, but he had never been happier than he had been in the past months. The voices were silent at worst, and encouraging at best. Every kill was another piece of beauty, and every statue of misery and blood made the audience even more terrified. They spoke of the Lotus Demon in hushed whispers. School was hollow, and easy. He hadn't targeted children, of course. They had too little blood and too soft bones to make a masterpiece. But still, having people afraid, even those who wouldn't be targets, brought a smile to his soul.

His home life wasn't affected as well. His mom didn't notice any major changes, and Izuku continued to perform his usual art in the day. She remained happy, even if she was a bit scared. They all were. He wasn't so stupid as the first killing, where he drew it afterwards. That piece had to be deleted, much as he hated to do so. A particularly wily detective would be able to make the connection at the snap of his fingers.

The more he killed, the more he learned. He refined his craft like the painter learns immaculate techniques, and every time he drew blood he grew more wise. His quirk became like a second muscle, and refined its movements to bring transcendent pain while being far more precise in its results. Where before he flung himself about like an idiot just to make people move, now he had truly become a puppet master.

Saturday was his favorite day. The anniversary of his first kill as the Lotus Demon. He hadn't struck yet this week, it occurred to him. Perhaps he'd stalk during the witching hour of Sunday morning and find some poor drunken soul to become beautiful. Or perhaps he'd wait until tomorrow, and break into a man's house. Or, better yet... kill his first Pro Hero. Divine. He'd do that. A good break in the pattern.

Of course, this fine Saturday, he found himself answering a knock on the door.

At said door was a man in a trench coat and a trilby, with a pair of white gloves adorning his hands. He was plain looking, symmetrical, and completely lacking in beauty. His corpse would prove to be a boring art piece. The detective nodded to Izuku and smiled, a blank thing.

“Hello. Izuku Midoriya, right? I'm Detective Tsukauchi, with the police department. I'd like to ask you a few questions regarding recent events.”

Midoriya froze for a moment, but nodded, beckoning him in. “Please, come in.” Izuku's voice was serene, but inside, he was somewhere between worry and panic.

The detective had come at an unexpected time. He had to be careful. This man likely had a quirk that helped with investigation. Perhaps something relating to interrogation? That would make sense, all things considered. He reminded himself to take calm, even breaths. Izuku motioned for him to sit, which Tsukauchi did.

“Would you care for some tea? Water? Anything like that?” He inquired.

“No, thank you. Please, sit down, Mr. Midoriya.” Tsukauchi said, giving that blank smile again. Izuku hated it.

He sat, blessing himself that his mother was not around. She'd already be panicking, and the less variables were better in this situation. He had to go into this calmly, hoping against hope that the detective wouldn't see right through him, even without the use of a quirk. Izuku didn't fidget irregularly, but did move. Inhuman stillness would likely be a sign of guilt, as would be rapid movement. The gaze of the detective was scrutinizing.

“Izuku Midoriya, age sixteen, quirkless. Aldera Junior High is your school, right?” Izuku nodded absently. Tsukauchi had a pen and notebook out in a blink of an eye, writing. “Good, now we can begin.”

What did that mean?

“Where were you on the afternoon of April 15th?” The day of Akira Hyuga's murder. Izuku had an alibi, and if it came to it, a way to feign innocence. It was quite dark in that tunnel, after all.

“Walking home from school, sir.” The vagueness in the answer was trained. Too many details might tip the detective off. Tsukauchi wrote, and his face became skeptical.

“What route do you usually take to get home, Mr. Midoriya?” He continued.

“I... typically go from the school to the tram station, and go a few stops to get back home.”

“Right. Asoka tunnel is the fastest route to get there, correct?” Izuku knew what the detective was doing, but he had no choice but to go along with it. He nodded.

“Are you aware that on that day, in Asoka tunnel, Akira Hyuga was murdered?” Izuku nodded.

“Were you there when Akira Hyuga was murdered?”

This was the critical moment. His answer to this question, the way he answered it, was vital to his survival. He could lie, yes, but there had been a reason the man had asked him an obvious question at the beginning to get his response. The reason dawned on him like the break of day. He had to see how Izuku told the truth.

The detective's quirk could tell if he was lying.

“Yes, I was.” Izuku said, his voice just a bit more hollow than it was when he had last spoken. It was the truth, but Tsukacuhi gave him another look of scrutiny. He wrote the answer down, and sat the pen and pad to the side. He clasped his hands and looked Izuku dead in the eyes. His next words struck Midoriya like a fist.

“Are you the Lotus Demon?”

Izuku was perfectly calm (really, he was! Not panicking inside, or anything), and remembered how he had acted when he said the obvious truth. The heart rate, the breathing, the action. He had to mimic it. He had to be perfect in the mimicry of the truth. Slow your breathing. Calm your heart. Clear your thoughts, and repeat until you can act. Repeat. Slow breaths. Calm heart. Clear thoughts. Repeat. Slow breaths. Calm heart. Clear thoughts. Repeat. Slow breaths. Calm heart. Clear thoughts. Act.

“No.”

“Liar.” Tsukauchi said, instantly. Izuku didn't freeze, didn't move, nothing. He simply shook his head. Slow breaths. Calm heart. Clear thoughts. Act.

“I'm telling the truth.”

“Does it feel good to kill?”

Slow breaths. Calm heart. Clear thoughts. Act.

“I'm not a killer.”

“You've butchered thirty four men and women who had families. How did you feel? Was it fun? Why? To make art? To send a message? Why?”

Slow breaths. Calm heart. Clear thoughts. Repeat. Slow breaths. Calm heart. Clear thoughts. Act.

“I'm not the Lotus Demon, and I never was. I'm telling the truth, Mr. Tsukauchi.” There was authority in Izuku's declaration, a lie powerful enough that he almost believed it himself.

Tsukauchi glared at Izuku for a solid minute, saying nothing, and judging. His eyes, once plain and uninteresting, now had the sharpness of a knife's edge and the scrutiny of the divines. Izuku kept his cool, fidgeting a bit under his gaze, but nothing a normal person wouldn't have done in that situation. He was worried, deep down. Worried he had messed up, given something away during that barrage of questions. But it didn't show. He hoped. After a subjective eternity, the detective spoke.

“Alright.” Tsukauchi's blank smile returned again with the speed of snapping fingers, and he rose. “Either you're a very good liar, or you're innocent.” He raised his hand in farewell, and made for the door. Izuku opened it for him, perhaps a bit too fast. “Should have figured, though! Not like a quirkless boy could do something like... well, all this. No offense.”

Izuku laughed, perhaps a bit tilted. “I don't take any offense, sir.” He didn't, and Tsukauchi smiled.

“Have a good day now.” The detective closed the door behind him, and Midoriya leaned against the wall with a slow sigh of relief and calming nerves. Just months ago he was awful at lying, but now? Now he lied to a detective, and got away with it. He didn't dare cry out in joy, but instead returned to his room grinning. He put on music and rolled in his plain bed sheets, silently congratulating himself for victory.

Now, what to do to celebrate.

Perform, of course.

- - -

Tsukauchi took his seat in the car, windows tinted and firmly up. Opposite him was another man.

This man had seen better days, all skin and bones. His lips were thin and cracked, teeth straight. The whites of his eyes were a perfect dark that drowned neon blue irises. His blonde hair was in a shock, as if someone had dipped it in water and ran jumper cables through it. His telltale horns of blonde hair drifted near his eyes, as was the case when he was out of his muscle form.

Toshinori Yagi, All Might, sighed as Tsukauchi entered. “Nothing?”

“Either the kid's a damn good liar, or he's really innocent.” He mused, looking forward to the driver. He nodded, and the car pulled away from the curb silently.

“You're sure? This is the most solid lead on the case you have.” Toshinori said, rubbing under his nose and watching as the apartment complex quickly faded into the white and blue buildings of Musutafu's residential area.

“I'm pretty sure. He's not written out of the books just yet. This many coincidences begs something to watch.” Tsukauchi nodded. “I'll try and get an officer watching his complex come Monday.”

“I'll do my part as well. He's supposed to be trying to get in to UA for general education, but that doesn't mean I can't keep an eye on the boy while he's there.” All Might said, leaning back in the seat.

“I appreciate it, All Might.” The detective smiled. He used the hero name to make the number 1 feel better, in times like these.

“And you're sure he doesn't have a quirk?”

Tsukauchi's smile faltered, and he became pensive, looking out the window blankly. “Medical records say the Midoriya's went to at least five doctors to check. He has two joints in his pinky toe. 9,999,999 times out of ten million, that means that a quirk will not happen. Ever. There's no records to suggest he ever manifested one as well.”

“But that one time in ten million...” Toshinori began.

“... That one time in ten million.” Tsukauchi didn't need to finish the thought.

The pair slowly rode out the daylight, and returned to their duties, unfulfilled and unsatisfied. A demon hunted the streets, and their most tangible lead was gone in one interview.

- - -

“Lotus Demon!”

Midoriya sighed, as he finished his work on the homeless man. He went for something different this time, separating his skeleton from his flesh and displaying it like a flayed man on a clothesline that drifted above. His hoodie was stained with blood, again. Hand washing it was difficult enough, but he'd really ruined it this time. His mask was no different, the white splattered with red. That came off easier. The voice from behind him made him smile behind the guise, and he turned his head.

A man stood, his costume neon green and accented with blues and whites. A large emblem sat on his chest, a stylized letter 'I'. He had a fire red cape and mask. It clashed so horribly it hurt Izuku's eyes. He couldn't help but chuckle, deepening his voice to the one he used when he spoke while in costume.

“Who...” He interrupted himself chuckling. “...Who let you wear that horrible costume? That's ridiculous. You look like a baby's first coloring book.” As always his tone was serene, but it just tickled Izuku too much to stay calm. He couldn't help but titter as the pro hero pointed in an accusatory manner.

“These colors are the lights of virtue, monster! I am Ignition, and I'll be the one to bring you to justice!” Ignition said. Many colored sparks of fire danced across his body, and the Lotus Demon sighed.

“Well, at least you arrived on que.” He mused quietly, spreading his hands and speaking louder. “Art does not obey justice or chaos, good or evil. It just is. I wouldn't expect a hero to understand that.” He crouched, hands low to the ground.

Ignition burst into a blaze, immolating himself. His flames were the color of the rainbow; blues, greens, whites, and reds. The demon understood now the purpose of the prismatic and clashing costume. A sort of prelude to the orchestra. It was a terrifyingly effective quirk, yes. But useless in close range, where Izuku shone.

The hero charged Izuku, swinging a fist downward in an utterly boorish display of martial prowess. It was avoided handily, but it did manage to break a piece of the concrete-- and melt it. Izuku's eyes widened. The hero took another swing, a flaming fist burying itself in the brickwork. The slag of the mortar and stone would have burnt hairs if he had bare skin visible, but instead gave Midoriya's costume a light singing.

The demon had underestimated the heat of the flames. They spewed forth from the hero's form in a blaze of hell that sucked the oxygen from the air and heated his suit from even a far distance. Trying to get too close would ignite him, he was sure. Making physical contact with the man would melt flesh from bone in a few seconds, at maximum.

He didn't have time to think of how to get close as a burning trash can lid flew only inches from his face. There had to be some gap in his attacks, some weakness he could exploit. But what was it? What was his Achilles heel? Another punch came towards him, and it was dodged. This time, however, Izuku evaded to get out of reach. He had to have time to consider, even a moment.

“What's wrong, Lotus Demon?! Can't fight in the presence of my radiance?” The hero taunted, continuing to chase him through the alley. It was true, Izuku couldn't fight him. That quirk was more useful than he thought. He had misjudged the hero's power to a catastrophic degree. If this continued, Izuku would be burnt to a crisp. He couldn't win.

But he could kill him.

Izuku stopped dodging, standing a few meters from the hero, and held out a hand in a gesture of supplication. “I surrender.” He may breathed a bit heavier than he needed, and made his voice a bit more desperate than he was. The plan was risky.

The action took Ignition by surprise, and the flames died from his body over the course of a few seconds. He gave Izuku a skeptical look, but the demon put his wrists together in the universal sign of surrender to being cuffed. The hero was wordless, and surprisingly wary as he slowly approached, pulling out a pair of yellow and black cuffs that were able to cut off the usage of a quirk, similar to Eraserhead's power. Four steps away.

Three steps.

Two steps.

The moment before he took the last step to get in range of cuffing Izuku, the Lotus Demon bolted forward like a coiled viper striking. Ignition had no time to do more than make sparks of fire burst on his costume as the masked killer shoulder checked him.

Izuku could tell the moment his quirk took effect. That face of pain and struggle, the look of despair and (most delightfully) the tears that dripped from his eyes, ever so slowly as the pro realized he had been deceived, and led to his death. The Lotus Demon laughed in the face of that pain, sighing in the ecstasy of victory.

“You played your part well, Ignition.” There was a taunting malevolence to his name. “Now, time for your finale. Break a leg!” The demon offered cheerfully, quickly snapping his left index finger to his palm.

Ignition felt his femur snap in two, and he tried to scream. His jaws were locked shut, and he could only weep and make inarticulate sounds of struggle and agony. The searing pain of a broken leg pulsed throughout his mind and muscle, his vision swimming. He could vaguely tell that the demon was laughing, as he tried to shake away the sparks of anguish that flowed in front of his eyes.

“Ohh... oh hoh... break a leg... oh. That's funny.” Izuku lifted his hands upward, and the bones of Ignition obeyed, flowing into the air. The hero's flesh protested, but it didn't give way yet. “Now. I'd like to make you into a statement. So, if you wouldn't mind...”

“Die slowly.”

The last minutes of the Immolation Hero: Ignition were ones of torment.

- - -

The first Pro Hero killed by the Lotus Demon was a beloved one. Ignition, known for his traditional views for heroics and flashy costume, was a contender to enter the ranks of the top ten heroes in Japan. In the span of a single day, those dreams had been stripped away, replaced with a mutilated and grisly corpse that could only be identified through dental records and the scraps of a neon suit.

Rain did not fall on the day of his funeral. It was mockingly sunny, the days before spring turned to summer blowing hot winds across the formal procession. The ceremony was closed casket, held with only his family and sidekicks. The news attempted to weasel through the cracks, but they found no purchase.

When they finally did get information enough to make a story, the headline was everywhere. “Pro Hero Ignition Killed by Lotus Demon”. Before, people could find safety in knowing the heroes were safe from the madman's path of slaughter. Now, they saw even the mighty fell. People were more afraid than ever, and it was on the faces of every man, woman, and child. The police needed to find the demon, and find him fast. The search was panicked, now, as the bodies continued to pile up.

It felt impossible.

However, two months, three Pro Heroes, and thirteen corpses later, the killings stopped.

It happened in the span of a few weeks. As suddenly as if a man had simply shut off a light bulb or opened the blinds, the killings ceased. Heroes still patrolled and police continued to investigate, but one day, the corpses simply stopped appearing. People thought the murderer had been killed, or moved to a different city. Even more thought he had been captured, and the government had refused to release details.

Joy returned to Musutafu, as the reign of the Lotus Demon came to an abrupt end. The case was never dismissed from the police's eye, but it faded in those weeks into a bad memory. The police had neither confirmed nor denied they had the killer behind bars, but that statement alone brought elation to the public. The city returned to business as usual.

Little did they know it was not the police who had the Lotus Demon's number, but another.

When Izuku had checked the mail on a surprisingly cool July afternoon (he was performing commissions as a job during the summer), he found a manila envelope addressed to him. He brought it to his room, tore it open, and spilled the contents on the desk.

He found a note, and three polaroid pictures. One was of his guise of the demon, pulling out the spine of a man through his stomach. He remembered doing that one. It was a piece that was, while somewhat obtuse, quite colorful. The second was of him, writing in a notebook, near one of his victims-- Misato Yamaguchi, he recognized the face. He had pulled her head off and placed it in a cabinet of wine glasses.

The third picture pulled his stomach somewhere into his legs.

It was a picture of him, pulling off the mask, and in the action of pulling down the red hoodie, in the shadows of a dingy alley. By all means, the quality wasn't superb, but it was enough.

Those three pictures were perfect evidence that made Izuku Midoriya into the Lotus Demon.

With shaking hands, he pulled the note closer to his face to read it. In scrawling text, it read:

“WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE”
“DINNER AT HARUKO'S GRILL”
“7:00 PM SHARP, SATURDAY JULY 12th”
“CONSEQUENCES FOR ABSENCE ARE DIRE”
“-TOMURA”

Chapter 5: Adagio per il Tradimento

Chapter Text

Izuku had to have gotten the wrong place.

It was just too fancy.

At 6:58, he stood in front of an upscale steakhouse at the pinnacle of one of Musutafu's greatest skyscrapers, known as 'Parupa Tower'. Even Izuku, as cultured as his tastes were, admitted that the monolith of blue glass and light was visually appealing. He had never been inside. When he did walk in, it was clad in business casual wear. He'd fetched suspicious looks from the staff. When he saw that Haruko's Grill lay only a few floors before the top, he knew that whomever this 'Tomura' was, they were serious.

He also noted that he had no escape route, should push come to shove.

There was no turning back as he stared down the glass doors and brass handle, the letters of the restaurant carved in gold and marble. Trembling, he pushed the door open.

The grill was mostly empty, surprisingly enough. Windows covered the outer walls of the restaurant, looking out on the skyline of Tokyo and Musutafu both. Only a few tables sat with people, and they looked insanely wealthy. They feasted on caviar and steak, with wine that practically oozed high class and divine taste. Any one of their suits or dresses could have funded his schooling. Part of it made him sick.

The other part of him cursed himself for not dressing more seriously.

The waiter at the desk offered him a slow nod, and spoke in a cultured tone. “Good evening, sir. Table for one?”

Izuku shook his head, and looked around. “Uh, no. I'm looking for a... Tomura.” He didn't see any who looked like a 'Tomura'. Or at least, not like the type to blackmail him and get him to dinner.

The face of the man rose in shock, but he inclined his head, gesturing to his left and into a hallway. “Right this way, sir.”

He was led into the winding hall of mahogany filled with art that was simply beautiful. Each piece had to have cost a fortune. Each candlestick would have bought him a new chair. When he stood before a door covered with red velvet and several brass buttons, he was snapped into reality. The waiter motioned to the door, and Izuku hesitated.

He still had a chance to back out of whatever was going to happen. This could be a sting by the police, a ploy to bring him out in the open. It could also be some hero trying to capture Izuku, and bring his head to the public. It could be so many things. None of them were good.

“CONSEQUENCES FOR ABSENCE ARE DIRE”

The words rung in his mind like a bell. He didn't have a choice, now or ever. He pushed open the door.

The private room was a re purposed meeting room for executives, it seemed. A bar sat to the left of a massive table, with several mahogany chairs surrounding it. Behind the table was a window that looked out on the skyline and the mountains that bordered the city, framing the towers of stone and glass like monuments to humanity. Cars rushed through the mountains and streets like babbling brooks of life.

More importantly, however, were the three people in the room with him.

Sitting behind a bar, in a tunic you'd find on any bartender, there was a man composed of steel bars and black smoke. Luminous yellow eyes flared in crescents from where one would assume his head was, but there was no mouth or other features. Even his fingers were nonexistent, but he cleaned a glass nonetheless. He offered something like a nod as Izuku entered.

The second thing was a man, or perhaps a young adult, who sat on a chair to the left of the head of the table. His skin was cracked and ashen, his hair baby blue and tousled like he had been in a storm of stiff winds just a few minutes ago. His eyes were beady and bagged, red like blood and crooked, somehow. He didn't offer Izuku a nod, only continued to scratch his skin. The navy blue hoodie he wore looked too big on him, and read 'OUCH!' in English.

The third thing was a laptop computer, an old model that seemed sturdy but lacking in power. The screen was purple, and held the red words “SOUND ONLY”, once more, in English. Beneath the text were sound waves that suggested whomever 'SOUND ONLY' was, they were not speaking.

Sitting at the end of the table closest to Izuku was a dinner plate that held food. Steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans were framed by a glass of white wine and cutlery. The smell of it all was entrancing, but Izuku was pulled from his stupor of hunger to the sound of a voice. It was deep, and came from the man of smoke.

“Welcome, Izuku Midoriya. Or should we call you 'Lotus Demon'?” The name made Izuku look around, panicked for fear of a camera or some audio capturing device. It elicited a low chuckle from the computer screen, as well as the smoke man. “Don't worry, Mr. Midoriya. There are no recording devices in here. Please, make yourself comfortable.” He motioned to the chair.

Izuku sat, trepidation still on his features as he picked up the fork and knife. He had the distinct sense these two could kill him easily, and he had no idea what the man behind the screen could do. He had no choice but to comply, and begun to eat.

All the fear in his face faded as he consumed the food, the sublime taste of perfectly formed mashed potatoes and vegetables steamed to just near scalding filled his mind. When he bit into the steak, he found it just rare enough that blood and fat filled his mouth along with the tender meat, but it wasn't so pink as to be raw. The chef had to be top of the line, and from one artist to another, he would have to tip his hat. Somehow, these people knew his tastes to the letter.

When he had finished, touching the wine only sparingly, he slumped for a moment before becoming alert again. He found both of the pairs of eyes watching him.

“I... thank you for the meal,” Izuku began, wiping away any excess food that was on his face with a napkin. “But can you tell me why?”

“Oh, I think you know why.” The crackling voice of the blue haired teen croaked out, his scratching reaching a crescendo. The black smoke man sighed, and continued for him.

“Allow us to introduce ourselves, before we continue. To your left is our leader, Tomura Shigaraki. Ahead of you is his teacher. You may call him Sensei. I am Kurogiri.” He motioned to each present, ending at his own. “We are the leading echelon in the League of Villains.”

Izuku's eyes widened, and his brows shot up at that. He had never heard of an organization bringing villains together that weren't some street thugs. To know that they weren't some back alley organization, and obviously well funded was a shock to his system.

“We wanted you to know we were serious, when we spoke today. We are not some gang of fanboys and irrelevant criminals.” Kurogiri continued.

“Not some bunch of low level nobodies.” Tomura echoed, in his own way.

“Which is why,” Kurogiri said. His tone darkened. “You must show us your abilities too.”

Izuku felt light headed. It wasn't from panic, but clearly from something he ate. Food poisoning, perhaps? His vision swam as he stood, pulsing with his heartbeat in something that wasn't quite pain. He could feel his guts churning as his blood ran ice cold, and he coughed, availing nothing but spittle and flecks of blood. He gripped the edge of the table. In stunning clarity, he realized he had been poisoned. The blue haired man held up a thin, corked bottle.

“You have one minute to obtain the anti--”

Before Kurogiri could finish, Izuku was running-- two parts panic, two parts focus. He may not have been strong, but all his work over the past few months had made him fast. So fast that Tomura barely dodged the hand that was going for the bottle. This 'Tomura' was quick, Izuku knew. Each dodge was calculated, and his movements were meant to create distance while also keeping the opponent just out of reach. It was a tactic he himself had employed on Pro Heroes before, to inflict the most despair before killing them.

This also meant Izuku knew its weak spots.

Coupled with the fact Tomura didn't know how his quirk worked, and Izuku was playing the player. Every movement was a feint, all leading up to one final blow.

It had been thirty seconds of dodging, and Izuku trying to get the bottle. He feigned desperation (though it wasn't hard, given he was currently dying from poison) well, and could tell the young villain was getting co*cky. Izuku lunged left and right, leading the villain backwards, and not giving him a chance to dodge left or right. Tomura didn't realize he was heading for corner between the bar and outer wall.

Up until his back hit wood.

The sound of impact sent Izuku lunging forward. Just as he had expected, Tomura pulled the bottle away, but not the rest of his body. His hand hit the hoodie, and Tomura's body.

Tomura tried to shout out in agony, but he couldn't, simply struggling against the invisible bonds that now held his bones. Izuku had won. He did not waste time in gloating, grabbing the antidote from the villain's hands, and chugging it.

Nausea flowed through him like a tidal wave of sickness. He dropped to the floor and retched out chunks of bloody pink and gooey white potato paste, the vile medicine working its way into his system and purging him of the poison. He could vaguely hear the sound of applause and laughter from behind him, modulated through the computer screen.

“As expected of the Lotus Demon! I had anticipated quick thinking skills and a unique form of combat, but I have been surprised. You have exceeded my expectations.” Sensei sighed. “Now, please. Release Shigaraki for me.”

Izuku looked back to the computer screen, then to the struggling man. It would be so easy to pull his bones in on themselves, so simple to kill him. But the voice-- Sensei-- didn't hold any ill will, it seemed. Izuku couldn't rightfully kill a man with allies just because of a trial by fire. With an effort of concentration and a flex of his hand, Tomura was released, yelling in pain and falling to the floor. He vomited up something. Izuku returned to his seat, still watching Tomura. As the villain rose, he sputtered and spoke, glaring daggers at Midoriya.

“You think you're... so cool. You f*cking... cheater.” He hissed between coughs. “I'll show you who's the real king, you second rate miniboss!” Tomura dashed for Izuku. The latter rose, prepared to defend himself once more.

When he did, however, he found a wall of black smoke obscuring his vision. When it faded, Tomura was back near his previous seat and looking angered. He spat, looking towards Kurogiri.

“Get the f*ck out of my way, Kurogiri.” He snapped. He tried to move again, and found black smoke in his way once more. Tomura roared in anger.

“That's enough, Tomura.” Sensei said. Tomura stopped, looking at the computer.

“Sensei, I--”

“You must exercise restraint, my student.” He said, lecturing as if he had gone over this matter several times before. “If you become angered at every practical test you put a recruit through, you will not have any recruits left.”

Tomura growled and took a seat once more, glaring at Izuku with undisguised hatred. Izuku withered a bit under that gaze, looking between Kurogiri and Sensei's screen instead.

“As I'm sure you have put together, you have passed our impromptu test. We'd like to extend an offer of membership to the League.” Kurogiri said. “We would be willing to not only provide compensation for your acts in the form of gear and money, but protection from the law in the form of a unified group.”

The offer seemed incredible to Izuku. Paid to create art and given the tools to be even better at it? Who would say no? But there had to be a catch.

“I... that... sounds incredible, sir. I'd love to accept. But what would you have me do?” He inquired.

Tomura spoke this time, evidently calmed down. “We need a party member who's not a party member. Somebody to scout the terrain while we take care of things, and kill the people that we can't reach.”

“What he means, is a man on the inside. A 'secret agent', if you will.” Kurogiri clarified. It made sense now. “We need a spy in UA High.”

“And you... want me to play the part? No other obligations?” Izuku offered, cautious.

“You wouldn't exactly be a very good spy if you showed up to our operations, would you. We may give you targets to kill, but nothing you cannot handle. You don't need to be in the hero course, just in a position to get near them if we need it. Perhaps you could kill a student in there and get in.” Kurogiri mused. Tomura nodded in agreement.

“So, sound good?” Tomura inquired.

“I don't really have a choice, do I?” Izuku said, a mix of humor and defeat in his tone.

Tomura smiled.

- - -

Izuku stood before the gates of the school, still a bit intimidated by the whole affair. Winter gear was needed on this chilly fall day, and he found himself sweating beneath its overwhelming warmth and the stress of what he was about to go through.

Matters were not helped when he stepped forward into the schoolyard, and promptly tripped.

He was about to yelp, but felt a hand briefly touch him. Suddenly, he was levitating in place, as if the gravity affecting his body simply stopped. He looked around, flailing a bit, and heard a feminine giggle come from his side.

“Ah, don't struggle too much, alright? I should release you.” The girl said, and Izuku felt gravity return to him, dropping his body into a crouch. When he looked to the voice, he found its source quickly.

A girl, relatively short and with bobbing brown hair, stood only a few feet away. Like him, she was dressed for the chill, but still looked a bit flushed with red circles painting her cheeks. Her eyes were wide and brown like almonds, her gaze kind. Izuku dully noted that she was very... inelegant. Her face was boring, but nice nonetheless. It would make a lesser man into a love-struck fool. She offered a smile and a hand, which Izuku took to rise.

“It'd be bad luck to fall before you even get in the building, right?” She grinned and looked towards the building. “I should be going, you should too! Good luck!” Those were her parting words as she ran off.

Izuku noted he hadn't said a word, but it had been the first words to a girl his age in many years. He hadn't really spoken to his female victims, and they weren't great conversationalists when in searing agony.

Even if he didn't really like the girl, it was still a confidence booster. He strode into the building.

- - -

The test was hard. For the general education course, the level of smarts needed to get in was something else. He had studied, yes, but he couldn't help but feel some doubt that he'd f*cked it up. If he had, would the League still take him? Even worse, if he had failed, would those three distribute those pictures to the public?

Anxiety flowed through Izuku as he sat in his room, scrolling through various news sites and the personal blogs of artists he enjoyed. He had already gone through most of them many times over, but if he stopped moving, he would have time to think.

His mother was no better. She paced restlessly between his room and the living room, trying to think of how to comfort him if he failed and congratulate him if he succeeded. Even if he wasn't going into the hero course, entering UA as a student was no small feat. Graduates got great jobs, nine times out of ten. This meant a lot for the future of the Midoriya family, but she couldn't say that.

When the mail came in, she practically burst down Izuku's door with an envelope sealed in red wax and stamped with the telltale symbol.

“Izu-zu-zu! Izu-zu! Izuku! It's from UA!”

Izuku grabbed the letter and closed the door. He tore it open, and sat a large disc on his table. For a moment, he looked at it incredulously, trying to discern its purpose. He ran his hand over it, finally finding an area on it that pushed inward when he applied pressure.

Carefully, he pressed it, and the disc hummed to life with a holographic projector. Staring back at him was the muscular form and blonde hair of All Might, giving him a grin. His suit was yellow and black striped, making him look like a giant bumble bee. The number 1 hero stared down at him in all his glory. It almost made Izuku scream in panic.

“I AM HERE! AS A HOLOGRAPHIC PROJECTION!” The video began. He nearly fainted as he realized that it was not a live feed, but a video sent by the high school.

“Young Midoriya! You've been watched for more than some time for both your excellence in school and in your creative mind.” All Might began, gesturing with gusto. “But, though you passed the written exam handily, all pupils coming into General Education must display another talent. From a quirk that could be considered powerful, to an mastery of a skill, such as sports! Especially if they are quirkless, only the most exceptional can be permitted. As you may remember, you didn't choose to send in any extra talents.”

Izuku's heart sank. He didn't know that. It only made sense, though. There were little to no quirkless kids in UA, and they had to be exceptional to get in. He slumped in his chair. That was it. His dream was gone, and this failure might mean the end of his life as well.

“However.”

The word made him perk, if only for a moment.

“Because of your outstanding score on the exam, and several people mentioned it, I looked into your artwork online.” All Might pressed a button on a remote, and a monitor next to him lit up with information.

Pictures. His, pictures. His art, drawings of the human body that he almost hated looking at. Posed figures in gardens, simple sketches of his work. It looked like trash to him, why would they show this? Just to taunt him? Where did they get off? The thought made him furious, but his anger was snapped away as All Might continued.

“You hold an exceptional talent for the creative, young Midoriya. Even if you lack a quirk, your skill is miles beyond what most people could do at this school. The beauty you bring to the table is astounding, and we would be foolish to not want to cultivate it.” All Might extended a hand, his grin becoming all the wider. Izuku's mouth dropped open.

“Come, young Midoriya! This is your school! I expect to see you shine.”

Izuku's mouth twisted into a grin. He laughed; he couldn't help it. Joy spilled from between his lips as he collapsed back on his bed, though the untrained ear would think he was hysteric. He rolled in his sheets for a solid minute, before opening his door and practically tackling his mother in a hug, weeping a bit.

She couldn't help it, and started crying tears of joy. They locked themselves together for what felt like hours, simply crying in happiness.

When they released the embrace, Izuku returned to his room, and pulled out a piece of paper from a drawer. It had been given to him after his meeting with the League, and he was only supposed to call it when he had been admitted to UA. Upon dialing in the number, someone picked up almost immediately.

“Yes?” It was Kurogiri's voice.

“I'm in.” Izuku mumbled, still unable to shake that grin off his face.

“Excellently done. We'll be in touch. Expect a package tomorrow.” Before Izuku could reply, he hung up.

Midoriya, Lotus Demon, whatever he was, he collapsed on his bed. The grin on his face threatened to break the skin and draw blood. He was going to UA.

A new stage for his art arrived.

What to do for opening night?

Chapter 6: Metamorfosi della Disparità

Chapter Text

The next day, an unmarked package stood at Izuku's doorstep. It was big, easily the size of his chest, and he could barely lift it. When he did, he found his mother whistling at him with obvious jest.

“Strong man Izu-zu! Need any help, honey?” She inquired. Izuku shook his head, but spoke through gasping breaths.

“I'm alright-- mom! Just-- open my door-- please!” She complied. When Izuku set the package down, he closed the door to his room. For good measure, he locked it. He grabbed a knife from his desk, and slowly cut open the tape to reveal a parcel. It was bound in twine, and held a small note in its loop. He started there, taking out the piece of paper, and reading.

“Mr. Midoriya,”

“Consider this your first payment. Enjoy the new toys.”

“-K”

He took the knife to the twine, and beheld the funding of the League at work.

The item on top of everything else was a mask, much like the one he used as the Lotus Demon, but obviously different. There were some pieces of tech around the eyes and mouth piece, and he noted (to his chagrin) it was better painted, and with some extra detailing on the cheekbones and brow. Emblazoned on the forehead were the two kanji for demon-- Akuma. He noted, with mild amusem*nt, it smelled lemony fresh.

The next item was a hoodie, similar to the red and white striped one, but the fabric was clearly different. It felt stronger, and a bit lighter. When he tried it on, it fit snug to his body, and the hood fit perfectly. It was not so tight as to be constricting, but it lacked any flimsy areas one could get a hand under. It lacked an abdominal pocket too, something that seemed to only be a liability.

The next item was a pair of leather gloves. The bumps of plastic on the knuckles seemed larger, and when he tapped them, felt the telltale solidity of steel. Knuckledusters inside of his gloves would help in any hand to hand combat. Those were the essentials to his costume, but there were clearly other items.

In the depths of the box were three black plastic cylinders with a red button at the top, a utility belt, and a sheath that held a handle. Upon pulling it out, he saw cold steel reflecting his face back at him. It wasn't fancy, but a durable US army style, with a long blade and modest handle. The cylinders had a note attached, and he read it.

“Be careful with these. Press the button to arm them after a three second delay. Do not use them unless you plan to be out of the area. They're motion activated.” The lack of signature suggested whomever had written it was not with the League, or didn't want to be identified otherwise.

With his new “toys” all squared away, he tried them all on, and looked at himself in the mirror.

He looked good.

The hoodie meshed well with the mask, almost making it look skintight. Whatever tech was on the eye holes, it seemed to create a sheath of darkness over his eyes. That would be useful. The gloves felt snug, and the knife felt natural. The utility belt held both the cylinders and his knife. Izuku grinned beneath the mask, and peeled it off. The gear would be stowed away in his closet for the time being. He didn't have any better place to put it, and his mom never really looked in there regardless.

“Izuku! Dinner!” His mother called from outside the door.

“Coming!” Izuku called, and he grinned at himself in the mirror.

He hoped that UA high would be ready for his first performance.

- - -

Izuku stood in the entrance to UA, utterly shocked at a few factors.

Firstly, the glass buildings that made up a stylized letter 'U' and 'A'. They were enormous, and their sheer presence nearly floored him. The people who rushed around in the entrance and dashed into the building shocked him with their rampant use of quirks. There was a young woman who hopped in her school uniform, a young man who was discharging electricity to show off to some people, and--

Bakugo.

The young man was trudging into the school, and hadn't noticed Izuku. With a small counting of his blessings, Izuku tried to slip by unnoticed. Obviously he had failed, when a telltale explosion and roar of anger came from behind him.

“DEKU!”

When Izuku turned at a speed just sort of mach 3, he found Bakugo only a few feet away. Months ago, he would have cowered. Now? He stared back at his former tormentor with nothing more than trepidation. Kacchan sneered at him, eye twitching.

“So you made it in, huh?” He hissed between gritted teeth. Izuku nodded.

“G-general education.” He said simply. “I should go. Don't want to be late, y-you shouldn't be either.” Izuku turned to leave, but felt the rough hand of Bakugo on his shoulder, turning him back towards him.

“I don't know what the f*ck you're trying here, Deku.” He hissed the name again. “But you're not getting into the hero course. I'll make sure of it myself, you piece of sh*t. You better write that in your goddamn eyelids, because I will cripple your ass before your pathetic face gets anywhere near MY course! You got that?”

Anger welled up in Izuku like a hurricane. The voices screamed in protest of Bakugo, roars of illogical fury that threatened to break through his lips. He wanted so desperately to push Kacchan back and turn his bones into a masterpiece of flesh and bone. He wanted to make more use out of the boy than he ever was in life, and turn the courtyard into a performance the likes of which the world had never seen. It would truly be an opening night worthy of his name as the Lotus Demon.

But he was in the belly of the beast now. To kill Katsuki here would defeat his whole purpose of joining the League. Not to mention the fact he'd be swarmed by heroes and students the moment Bakugo's desecrated remains hit the pavement.

So, in lieu of slaughtering his childhood bully, Izuku nodded.

It seemed to appease Bakugo as he walked into the school. When he had left, a boy with blue hair and spectacles dashed up. His back was rigid, but offered a precise bow towards Izuku. He spoke formally, but was clearly sincere in his words.

“I deeply apologize for Bakugo's words! He has no right to be doing that to a fellow student, especially on his first day!” The sheer volume of the man's words made Izuku cringe. He was flamboyant, but that was about it. He wouldn't be a fun performance. Before he could realize, the boy had extended his hand. Izuku took it.

“Ah-- Izuku Midoriya.” He said, blankly. The boy gave him a quizzical look, and nodded.

“Tenya Iida! It is nice to meet you, Mr. Midoriya! I'm sure we'll see each other around!” He too walked into the school, but at an even pace. A good boy, to be sure. He wouldn't need him for his performance anytime soon.

Behind him, a familiar voice giggled.

“So your name is Izuku? I didn't get it before.” The girl from the testing grounds stared at Izuku, giving him a wide smile. Izuku returned it with one of his own.

“It's good to meet you, miss... uh?” He extended his hand.

“Ochaco Uraraka. Friends call me Ochaco.” She took Izuku's hand with gusto and shook it. The action made the boy grin. Friends or not, she was a nice young woman. He was sure she had some stories to tell, perhaps something was more interesting about her than he gave her credit for.

“Ochaco, then. Good to meet you. Izuku Midoriya. Kacchan calls me Deku.” She blushed a bit at the use of her first name, and giggled again, beginning to walk into the school. Izuku followed.

“Deku... I like that! Even if I'm sure it's rude, but it sounds like 'you can do it', not whatever Bakugo said it as. Do you mind if I call you that?” Ochaco said. The words made Izuku flush a bit as he thought about it, and she was right. Deku did kind of sound like that. Only one letter away, really. In a single sentence, a girl he had just met had turned one of the oldest insulting names he had attached to him into something of encouragement.

“Uh... yeah! You can call me that.” Izuku smiled, and Ochaco blushed even more. They ascended the stairs to the second floor, but Izuku stopped there. Ochaco gave him a strange look.

“Aren't you in the Hero Course?” Izuku shook his head.

“General education.” Ochaco shrugged, and kept on smiling.

“That's a shame! You seem like you'd be a good hero. See you around, Deku.”

The words had lashed Deku. Like a whip they left a searing pain across his mind, as he realized what he was doing. By signing on with the League, he had condemned that nice girl to death. He had essentially signed the death warrant of every man, woman, and child in UA. Could he do this? Was art worth this?

He thought.

And thought.

When he found his class for general education, 1-C, he took a seat and continued thinking. Some people were chatting, but none of them had approached Izuku yet, and it gave him time to wallow in his own consideration.

He didn't have time to answer his own question before the bell rung, and students were in their seats. He looked attentive too, gazing at the door as the teacher entered.

The man who pushed through the door was a massive one, and he held a very literal lion's mane complete with cat face and fur. His eyes were golden and were, predictably, slitted. His hands seemed normal enough, but had claws and pads on them like a big cat. He scanned the room and nodded at each student. When he had finished scanning, he cleared his throat, and spoke with a commanding basso resonance.

“Right. Good morning, everyone. I'm sure you're all waiting for orientation, but in the meantime, I'd like to learn all your names. To begin with, I'm Mr. Asuran. Let's go from left to right from the front, and get a name and your quirk.”

Izuku idly took note of the names in his class, and their quirks. It figured that most of them were unimpressive, such as a boy who could change data on a screen by looking at it, a young man who could bleed acid, and a girl who could change the color of wood by touching it. All aesthetically pleasing, none meant for hero work. One name and quirk, though, caught his attention.

“Hitoshi Shinsou. Quirk, brainwashing.” The purple haired and tired looking youth refused to elaborate, and sat down immediately afterwards. People stared at him like he had dropped a bomb; and by all means, he had. How could a boy with a quirk that strong not make the hero course? It baffled Izuku.

A few more names and quirks later, and it was his turn.

“Uh... Izuku Midoriya, and I'm quirkless.”

It turned heads. Even the teacher gave him a look of shock.

More to Izuku's surprise, not a single look was pity.

“Well, Mr. Midoriya,” Mr. Asuran said, a smile curving up his 'lips'. “I expect to be impressed by you. Not many get in to UA without a quirk.” Every other student seemed to smile at the boy, and it was the last thing he would have expected.

When he sat, Izuku realized just where he was. He was in a place filled with exceptional and (mostly) kind students, most of which had quirks that, if not explicitly made for hero work, were impressive. He was few among the few. He wouldn't even be surprised if he was the only quirkless boy in the school. Not only did that make him a target, but it stood him on a pinnacle.

You seem like you'd be a good hero.

You can do it!

The words of Ochaco continued to ring in his mind. He couldn't help but be filled with doubt as he sat among his peers, listening to the lecture and considering a million issues at once. Could he really do this, and be who he wanted to be? Could he really remain a citizen, and a villain at the same time?

Doubt consumed him as orientation came and went, and the school day ended with little more than introduction to his homeroom and picking up a syllabus. He numbly walked the streets, passing by Asoka tunnel. Much of it had been turned into a memorial. He still remembered the sounds of ripping flesh and crackling bone as he looked at faded bloodstains and flowers set on one of the walls.

He found himself looking forward with glassy eyes, as he boarded his train. Could he really be a killer in the face of such goodness? Was this the right thing to do? The buildings passed by and people rushed past in a tide of faceless muscle and skin.

Was he truly an artist?

All that doubt changed when he saw some graffiti on a wall at the train station. It was only a few simple words, and an image of the oni mask he had used as the Lotus Demon, sprayed from a stencil on the brickwork.

“THE DEMON IS STILL OUT THERE”

He looked at that graffiti for what felt like hours.

Then, he smiled.

The answer became clear.

It made him laugh inside. He couldn't help it. How could he have ignored it all this time? The answer was so simple, yet he had never even considered it.

Izuku Midoriya and the Lotus Demon were never one and the same.

The clarity struck him like a physical blow, and he couldn't help but chuckle as his thoughts broke out into hysteric exuberance. Right now, on this train? He was Izuku Midoriya, artist and student at UA. When he put on the mask and hoodie, and when he prowled the night, he was the Lotus Demon. The personalities were different. The methods were different. They were two different people. How could they be the same?

Deku 'you can do it' Midoriya couldn't kill a man.

But the Lotus Demon could.

His flesh and blood face was never a lie, nor was his mask. They were just different people.

When Izuku ate that night, he thought as the demon. He wasn't doing anything wrong. Everyone simply misunderstood. Art cannot be evil, nor can the artist. It doesn't conform to the law, or to morality. Art should terrify as much as it should please. The world had to exist in contrast. Without evil, what use was good? And without good, what use was evil? He was simply doing his part for the world of the aesthetic, applying the darkness that the community of beauty so desperately needed.

Izuku sat in his room after dinner, simply thinking. He couldn't help but slip on the mask and feel the thick polymer constrict his breathing and consume the face of Izuku Midoriya. He couldn't help it if he slipped on the hoodie and the gloves, and put a knife at his waist.

He couldn't help it if opening night had a prelude.

- - -

Tsukauchi slammed his desk as he watched the news. Anger and disbelief overtook his features as the story plastered the screen, complete with a talking head and helicopter flyover of the scene. It showed police cars surrounding an apartment complex, with one door in it surrounded by officers and yellow tape.

“NOTORIOUS LOTUS DEMON STRIKES AGAIN”
“Miki Ryuzaki, 25, Found Dead”
“Pattern Matches Lotus Demon Murders, Experts Say”

When his aide entered the room in a panic, he opened his mouth, and then tracked Tsukauchi's gaze to the television. The aide looked to the detective.

“Sir, what are we going to do?”

Tsukauchi said nothing as the leering demon's mask stared back at him from the television screen. Black eyes, a new mask, and a new hoodie, but it was him. He could feel it in his soul that this wasn't some imitator, nor was it some cheap trick or two bit Yakuza underling trying to pass the blame off a hit. No quirk could imitate what the demon did.

This was the Lotus Demon.

Tsukauchi looked to his aide, a serious look in his eyes. “I want security footage from every camera in the area. I want heroes back on the streets at night, and I want to see the body. While you're doing that, get me some tea.”

The aide rushed out, and Naomasa bridged his fingers, continuing to stare at the TV.

The nightmare had returned.

Chapter 7: Duetto di Agonia

Chapter Text

The news struck UA and, by extension, the rest of Musutafu, like a hammer blow. Schools continued, and workplaces remained working of course, but an air of despair had settled soundly over an already cloudy day. Rain misted the streets of the city. People were glued to their phones. Mothers hugged their children like it was their last day.

Terror had returned.

It pissed Bakugo off.

Sure, he was always pissed off. Seeing everyone worried like they were pissed him off even more. It wasn't like the masked moron was going to slice every one of their throats in a dark alleyway. If it was really going back to how it was, it'd be once a week at most. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops and drill it into everyone's f*cking skull, but it didn't work like that.

Deku made a bad day even worse.

He wasn't like the others. It was the same as every other day for him, not like the killer that plagued the city had come back in the span of a night. He just looked so goddamn peaceful, like a rock in a storm.

He wanted to pummel him.

Seeing the half and half bastard was just enough to make him boil over.

Every time he saw that scarred face and half red, half white hair it made him angry. Was it because he had been a strong competitor on the entrance exams? Maybe. Was it because he showed him up at the practical quirk tests? Probably. But every time he looked at that cold face, so aloof in the world, it made him want to scream.

He yelled at him today.

“HEY, HALF AND HALF! YOU THINK YOU'RE THINKIN' BETTER THAN THE REST OF US TOO?!” Bakugo called.

Half and half regarded him for a moment, and turned away.

It pissed him off.

He decided to yell at Deku too. Maybe that'd make him feel better.

“HEY, DEKU! THINK EVERYTHING'S GOOD NEWS, HUH?” He yelled. “MAYBE THAT KILLER'S DOIN' YOU SOME FAVORS ON THE SIDE!”

Deku looked at him, and gave him a little smile. Bakugo felt his eye twitch. He almost didn't hear the quirkless f*ck's response.

“Uh, no Kacchan!”

Deku strode on by like it was nothing.

For a moment, Bakugo noticed his knuckles looked raw. Like he had been punching something. Maybe a bag, or he was training with someone.

Since when did Deku work out? Since when did he train?

It pissed him off.

- - -

Tsukauchi nearly threw up when he saw the remains. It smelled like sh*t, and the look of it was unlike any of the demon's previous murders.

Hell, it looked worse.

It looked as if the skeleton of the woman had exploded from the inside of the corpse. The grisly remains of rotting muscle and sagging, desiccated skin lay spread eagle on the floor. The bones had been completely removed from the body, and spread across the home like some sick Easter egg hunt. When one of the responding officers had found a pelvic bone in the oven, still slick with drying blood and strands of muscle, she retched.

The skeleton had left the body from the back, but that didn't help much. Her face was one of agony, which was somewhat expected given the circ*mstances.

What was different were the bruises.

Peppering her skin on both her face and chest were bruises, purple and yellow, that were in the telltale patterns of knuckles. He inspected the bruises with care. It appeared as if the perpetrator had done it several times, aiming for the face and breasts, and once for the stomach. There was no sign of struggle against them, save perhaps the gut punch. He counted fifteen punches. It sickened Tsukauchi, but it also made his face twist in contemplation.

The demon was known for his efficient manner in killing. Eyewitnesses never reported seeing the man torturing or abusing a victim before. His longest killing on record was when he had fought the Pro Hero Nightbringer afterwards, and that had solely been because of Nightbringer's strength.

This was different. The demon was indulging.

“Alright.” He looked to his aide, the wiry young man almost jumping. “Tell me what we know.”

“At about 2:10 this morning, witnesses think they saw a man in a red hoodie open the door to the house. For three minutes afterwards they reported what they thought was a sound of struggle, before silence. Because Ms. Ryuzaki's boyfriend has a history of domestic abuse, they didn't think much of it and called the police ten minutes after the hooded man left.” The aide began.

“Typical. His first killing in months and people get held up in reporting it because of history.” Tsukauchi sneered. “Go on.”

“At 2:43, the first officer on the scene, Officer Katsuragi, reported the smell of decaying flesh.” The aide continued. “Officer Katsuragi became sick upon seeing the scene, and after he had attended to himself, reported the incident as a homicide. Forensics has reported no hair or DNA left on the scene that isn't out of the ordinary.”

“Anything on cameras?” Tsukauchi inquired.

“No, sir. The suspect fled the scene and was able to find an area where cameras were unable to see him, in the industrial park. Per your request to investigate it, Izuku Midoriya was not spotted in the area.” The aide frowned.

“The industrial park?” The detective frowned. “That doesn't make any sense.”

“Well, that's just what I got, sir.” The aide shrugged.

Tsukauchi frowned deeper, looking at the man. “Mr. Nishimura, you are in training to become a detective. Put the pieces together.”

Nishimura grunted. “Well, sir, if I had to guess, he's using the industrial park's decommissioned buildings to either live in or get out of costume.” He blinked at that. “Hell, I'd probably do the latter if I was a serial killer, and a good citizen.”

Tsukauchi smiled. “Well, it's a start, but how would he evade cameras after getting out of costume? Or if he's living there, how would that escape detection?”

Nishimura thought. “Well...” He began. “Coverage around the industrial area has been light ever since the Wakamoto Clan stopped using it to conduct business. It's likely he could have found a blind spot to rejoin society in.”

“Or...?” Tsukauchi leaned in, with a raised brow and encouraging smile.

“Or he... could be...” Nishimura sighed. “I don't know.”

“He could be using cameras on privately owned businesses to slip back into the crowd.” Tsukauchi smiled, and patted Nishimura on the shoulder. “You're learning, kid. Keep it up.” The aide smiled at that, and followed the detective as he left the building.

“So, where to now sir?” He inquired.

“I think we have some abandoned buildings to visit.”

- - -

Kurogiri watched the news, with Tomura sitting at the bar and watching with him. The computer that connected to Sensei was blank. While the young successor to the League of Villains scratched at his neck, Kurogiri tended to the glasses. After the report had ended and the topic shifted, Tomura groaned.

“Damn brat.” He spat. “Let's just hope he didn't get himself found out. He's on a stealth mission.”

“Patience, Tomura.” Kurogiri chided, his attention fully shifting to wiping down mugs. “This may be a way of practicing for the boy. It may also be a form of stress relief. So long as he's staying hidden, it shouldn't be a concern.”

“Still,” Tomura said, facing Kurogiri. “Our first quest should happen soon. We have the Nomu ready, and enough supporting NPCs to make a dent. We gotta make ourselves known. Shouldn't we set him on a little intelligence gathering quest before?”

Kurogiri shrugged, eyeing Tomura. “What would you have him do?”

Shigaraki smiled, a skin crawling thing. He had a good idea.

- - -

When the burner phone rang, it was in the time between modern history and lunch. Izuku ducked into the nearest bathroom, finding a stall, and sitting himself down. He kept his legs above the spot between the floor and door, a way to deter any unexpected people from thinking he was there. He flipped open the phone, and pressed the 'call' button.

“In school. What's happening?” Izuku muttered, barely audible even to himself. Kurogiri answered, his voice deep as usual.

“We have your first assignment.” He said.

“Alright.” Izuku responded, anxiety flaring up in his stomach. What would his first assignment be? How complex was it? Would he have to kill for it? What information would they have him gather? So many variables, but all of them faded on Kurogiri's next words.

“Remove a rat from the family. Discover any significant point they're away from the nest. Do you understand?” The code words weren't all that complex, and Izuku understood.

“I do.”

“We'll be in touch. Be discrete.” Like he had to remind Izuku. The phone line clicked dead. Izuku snapped the phone in half (with a bit of effort) and dunked it in the toilet, flushing.

The first part of the assignment was easy. He just had to remove one of the students from the playing field, permanently. It didn't matter which, but someone who lived alone would be easiest on his conscience. He couldn't stand to think of a mother and father walking in on their child turned into a beautiful cadaver.

The second part would require finesse. To find out where the hero course planned to be when they were away from UA would mean getting the information out of someone in the faculty. Only they knew where the students would be at any given time. He'd have to steal plans from someone in the teachers. Killing one of them was out of the question; not only due to the difficulty of such a venture, but the witch hunt that would happen on campus because of it. A student and teacher working at the same school, dying at about the same time? The perpetrator would have to be someone there.

The detective from before was smart. He could make the connections easily.

So he'd do one and then the other. May as well get the easy part out of the way, but who to kill would be the real question. He would need to observe the hero courses to get a good idea of who to kill.

Observe he did. In the week that followed, Izuku kept up on his studies (which was proving to be the challenge he expected), while also watching the hero course students. 1-B proved to be fairly tight nit. They all seemed to be family, united in the spirit of competition against 1-A. The last thing Izuku wanted was that level of passionate retribution coming down on his head when he pulled the trigger.

1-A, however, was a different story. They all seemed to have little groups, between the girls and the boys. A red haired boy and a pink skinned girl had surrounded Bakugo, the latter of which seemed unwilling to have their friendship. They offered it nonetheless. It confused Izuku, but killing Bakugo was out.

Kacchan would be a special affair. He couldn't exactly waste him on opening night, could he?

Cliques had formed already, with the exception of those who seemed to be the class leadership. All of them seemed astute, and none of them seemed like bad people.

All except the dwarf with the bulbous hair.

That one was an outcast, and for a good reason. Izuku would notice him looking at girls with a lascivious gaze, constantly trying to look up the skirts of any woman who would let him come near. A perverted young man, controlled by hormones and emotions. Someone that, while briefly mourned, wouldn't be missed by any real stretch.

It was the perfect target.

The plan Izuku had formulated would be even better. It was bold, daring. It would break the mold of his previous murders. It would leave the audience breathless.

It was opening night.

One day later, and Izuku faced the mirror in full costume. He had earbuds set in, and he took a glance at his phone. The playlist was only one song, but on loop, it would be divine. Jesus Bleibet Meine Freude, performed by Jan Panenka. Music filling his mind, he snuck out of the house as the sun began to set.

The orange glow of the fading sun and the subtle purples and pinks that danced across the sky were the perfect backdrop to what would be a concerto of death. Autumn winds brushed through the mask and across his face.

Places, please.

- - -

Minoru Mineta was just like any other guy.

He liked big tit* and nice looking women.

Of course, he found both of them to not like him very much. It didn't bother him, really. Sexy bitches and him never meshed. It wasn't his fault, he knew. They just didn't have the standards for poor old him. Sure, he'd like a one night stand, maybe, but everything attached to the T and A just didn't interest him.

On this fine autumn night, he was strolling home from the park. Girls still played tennis this time of year, and watching those fine pale legs twisting to handle balls was something that piqued his interest thoroughly. What he wouldn't give to have one of those sporty ladies riding him.

Today, though, was a weird day. As he was strolling home from the park, the sun was starting to set. Shadows drew long over the buildings and vehicles. Cool winds brushed past him and kicked up debris and fallen leaves.

And someone was following him.

He couldn't make out the face beneath that weird red hoodie. Coupled with the shadows that sprung from sundown, and anything beneath the hood was completely concealed. Sometimes he thought he saw a brow, or maybe an eye, but he just couldn't make it out. Maybe they were on the same route home, or maybe it was just some weird dickhe*d who got his kicks out of following people and spooking them. Mineta wasn't spooked, of course. Why would some asshole trailing him be cause to be scared?

He did start to sweat when he noticed the man was a few paces nearer, though.

At this time of day, nobody was really around, except some cars that zipped by. He knew that Pro Heroes weren't going to be around at this time of day. They had started patrolling more heavily at night, but at sundown? They'd be less likely to be around. Maybe he could--

Wait, what was he thinking?

He wasn't in danger. He couldn't be! Even as he glanced back and saw the man was trailing him only a few meters away, Mineta was still convinced of that. Who would want to kill him?

Okay, actually kill him. Like, slit throat dead. Sure he had the ire of some chicks at UA, but that wasn't enough to be a death warrant, right? It was him! Pervy old Minoru Mineta, the resident punching bag and skirt creeper. People didn't want him dead that much, did they? He passed an alley, and turned a corner.

Then, the footsteps faded.

Mineta stopped for a minute, and then looked behind him.

Nobody was there.

He chuckled a bit, a mix of relief and worry still fresh on his face. Was he just imagining the whole thing? Some bullsh*t that he made up? Oh, the vaunted justice of all the girls he had enjoyed would definitely be coming! It made him happy. He was looking forward to going in tomorrow. Maybe to celebrate, he'd buy that p*rnhub pass he had been saving up for.

Mineta passed by an alleyway, and didn't notice as the shadow from within it reached out and gripped his shoulder.

The thoughts of women and the joys of life were burned away by a tidal wave of searing torment. His bones turned into a rushing river of fire and rage, his body feeling like it was burning from the inside out. Whomever had him was still in the alley, and he couldn't see him. He was panicking. He had to get out. Now. He tried to move, and felt his muscles twitch, but his bones-- his f*cking bones!-- didn't move with them. He tried to scream for help, but his jaws were locked shut.

sh*t. sh*t sh*t. f*ck. Ow. sh*t.

The pain only became greater as he felt his body lift itself into the air, obeying the will of... someone. He felt his body cry out in anguish, but he could only cry wordlessly as he felt his body drifting. Tears painted his face, his eyes bulging and dancing wildly. He was helpless to the villain that had him.

When he was turned to face his assailant, his blood ran into the arctic temperatures, and his mind swam with fear and agony. Chunks of vomit flowed up his throat, but couldn't release it because of the hold on his jaws. He felt himself swallow it the acidic sickness and the remains of his bento, and throw up again in a vicious cycle.

An oni mask.

A red hoodie.

The Lotus Demon.

“Ahh. Minoru Mineta.” A smooth voice droned from behind that mask, betraying no emotion or expression. It was modulated, but he knew he had heard it somewhere before. It was familiar, yet he couldn't put a face to it. “Welcome to opening night. I hope you prepared for your role.”

He tried to speak, tried to cry, tried to scream, something to dull the pain, if only for a moment. He felt his limbs twisting, which made him scream between a closed mouth, as his limbs began to bow backwards. He tried to resist with all his might, but try as he did, the only thing that obeyed his mind was his muscles that burned as they pushed against the solid bone.

“Music!” The demon called, a taunting cheer in his voice. Minoru felt his jaws come back to his own control.

He screamed. He wailed. He couldn't help it, as all he could feel was blinding agony. He swore like a sailor, and when he couldn't scream anymore, he babbled insanely. He vomited, finally, the semi-liquid barf staining his lips and chin like a glaze and painting his uniform. Minoru heard the demon breathing in deeply.

“Breathe it in. The captive audience. The smell of the inner you. This is what beauty really is.” The demon crooked his fingers in his right hand in a beckoning gesture as he looked at Mineta, and the student felt invisible hands gripping his ribs.

“Scream for me, please. It is time for your finale.”

His sternum broke.

He screamed.

Minoru Mineta was just like any other guy.

But he didn't expect to die a virgin.

- - -

Nobody had expected the demon to make himself known in broad daylight. It was a co*cky move, but warranted. Who could blame the killer for wanting to make a move like that when the police hadn't caught him in the span of months.

Even more infuriating was that none of the evidence stuck. Tsukauchi and Nishimura had staked out the industrial park from sunset to sunrise the night before, and they got nothing out of it. When the murder had been reported they drove back to the park, guns practically out and ready to jump on anybody who had a hint of red on them. They were both on edge.

Nothing.

The killing today was a callback to one of his titular murders, a lotus flower formed from ribs and other bones. IDing the body was difficult to find, given the boy's student card had been stolen. However, looking at his hair and DNA, results came quickly. Minoru Mineta, first year at UA high school. He was in Class 1-A, as it turned out. A student assigned to All Might. The number one hero had to be taking the loss hard.

The question that rung throughout the detective's mind was why.

Why had he struck at this child in particular? The demon seemed to pick people at random, but this just seemed targeted. He hadn't killed a kid before. Mineta's grades were average, and in the days following, people at the school seemed to regard him with disdain. Of course, nobody wanted to admit it. You don't go around openly stating your hatred of a freshly dead man.

Nobody, except for one miss Mina Ashido. When questioned, she very openly detested the boy. The violence in her words almost shocked Tsukauchi.

“What, Mineta?” She sneered. “Yeah, that guy was a creep. I know it might be rude to say, but I'm kinda glad the guy's gone.” She paused, and raised her hands. “Don't get me wrong! Nobody deserves to get murdered, especially by someone like the Lotus Demon. I'm just glad he's not going to be around anymore, right?”

“I... understand, Ms. Ashido.” Tsukauchi scribbled on his pad and paper. The interviews were happening during math, something Class 1-A silently blessed the detective for. “Did you know anyone who would have wanted Mineta dead?”

She chuckled, the sound a bit hollow. “Ask any girl in our class.”

“Right, right-- perhaps I should have phrased that better. Do you know anyone who wanted Mineta to be killed, or would have done it themselves?” Tsukauchi inquired. Ashido thought.

“Not really. I mean, maybe Bakugo, but he wants to kill everyone.” Mina shrugged. “Everyone else is too nice.”

“And did you notice, maybe, anyone watching Mineta in the days leading up to his death?”

Mina thought, her face scrunching up in contemplation. “... No, not really.” She shrugged. “I mean, we had some other classes in to watch our battle trials, but I didn't notice anyone really watching Mineta.”

Tsukauchi nodded, and gave her his typical smile. “Well, thank you, Ms. Ashido.”

The interviews with the rest of 1-A went similarly. Nobody liked him, and nobody knew anyone who would actually kill him. Nobody saw anyone watching him either. It just didn't fit. He'd need to question the hero courses in particular, as well as the faculty. Then, if nothing turned up, he'd be back on the streets.

The detective couldn't help but feel like he was being led around on a wild goose chase.

- - -

Izuku leaned back in his chair, his attention squarely on the blackboard. The voices were fairly calm today, and left him alone for the most part. It was nice to get a bit of peace and quiet, and focus on being a student for at least a day. Had to enjoy being young while he still was. He felt as if he had outdone himself for his first performance at UA. Stealing the student ID was a bit of a risk, but he figured it would come in handy.

Now, he needed a plan to get one of the hero course teacher's syllabuses, and as soon as possible.

One job down, one to go.

Chapter 8: Incursione Notturna

Chapter Text

With a killer on the loose, and a UA student falling victim to their path of blood, security around campus was tight. Night time security had even been put in place, with a few pro heroes and security staff placed on-site to watch over the area. An air of fear had settled in the gut of administration, and they had been quick to 'batten down the hatches', as it were.

An empty seat in Class 1-A presented a near animal dread in any who saw it. There was no memorial on its seat or table, no flowers or candles, no pictures or writing. Nothing but an empty chair and table that gathered dust. Students and faculty alike looked at it with apprehension. Shota Aizawa barely gave it more than a glance of strange anger.

Some simply wondered how soon a new hero course initiate would arise.

Izuku had no time for such simple thoughts. After all, he had a job to do. The voices were silent and his gut was appeased. He had no need to create art. Still, it gave him an odd bit of joy to know his work had struck the hearts of many.

While working at his studies, finding math to be difficult and art to be his strong suit (a great surprise to none), he was also hard at work on analyzing security.

He had no way to know actual patrol routes, of course. Sneaking in to two faculty offices would be a pain in the ass of its own, and one would be for the sake of another. He had to act with utmost discretion, and account for all aspects of not only regular guard rotations, but for the campus guardians.

Namely Hound Dog.

All Might may be the greatest concern in the day, but come the night time? Hound Dog was on it. The Pro practically lived on UA grounds, and he took cycling shifts both in day and night times. Every Monday, Hound Dog would be off in the day, and working at night, before working on Tuesday. He would take Wednesday off, and on at night. On the weekends, he was replaced with a regular security contingent. The trick would be to enter on Tuesday night.

He spent a night staking out near a small tree, observing the movements of guards flashlights. He had a decent idea as to where the hero course faculty offices were, but they weren't that heavily protected as compared to the areas around the entrance to the campus. Two guards were at the gates, three patrolled the walls, and at least five were inside the school rotating floors every hour. Sometimes, the guards would abruptly change floors and cycle around the building. It seemed random, and that was likely the trick. Having inconsistent paths would make windows of opportunity unreliable.

However, this was Izuku.

Throughout the months of murder and running, close calls and heroes coming to stop him, his senses had been honed to the point of near paranoia. He had to kick himself to not look over his shoulder at shuffling feet and not go for a weapon when his mother approached his room. Getting around the guards would be difficult, but far from impossible.

He needed something to get into the faculty's office, however. He couldn't bash in the door with a bat, of course. He needed a code.

So, he decided to do a bit of stalking. On one day, he found the perfect opportunity. Between lunch and his next class, he found himself trailing one of the hero course teachers. Spiky blonde hair, leather jacket, and trademark shades made it easy to identify Present Mic. The flamboyant hero whistled as he jaunted down the hallway, not a care in the world. Eraserhead would have been far more difficult to trail, and Izuku silently thanked God that he had the most carefree teacher to get the code from.

The moment of truth came as Present Mic stood before the faculty offices, and Izuku caught up near him. He was just far enough away to look inconspicuous, and just close enough to read the keypad. He kept his eyes trained on Mic's wrist, just enough to watch the keys as they were pressed but enough to be considered a passing glance rather than something malicious.

0.

4.

5.

1.

Pound key.

The door chimed and swung open. Izuku walked by, his eyes staying near the spot he had gazed at, before looking forward again. He couldn't help it a small smile plastered to his face. Lucky breaks came all day today.

So it was just his luck that he nearly ran into Shota Aizawa.

The Pro dodged him easily, but Izuku stumbled a bit as his oh-so-keen senses failed to pick up on the teacher's approach. In his hero costume, sans goggles, he was damn intimidating. Tall, scraggly and long black hair, and a dead stare filled with something between anger and boredom. Izuku could see why nobody wanted to mess with him.

“And just where are you going, smiling like that?” Aizawa inquired, co*cking a brow. “People don't usually find school work here a happy matter.”

Izuku began sweating

“S-sorry, Aizawa sensei. I'm just going to art history. Deepest apologies, I don't want to be a bother.” Izuku bowed and apologized profusely. It was fake, but it seemed to take a hint of the anger out of Aizawa's face.

“Your apology is accepted, Izuku Midoriya.” Aizawa said the name with something near interest. “Ensure it doesn't happen again.” He began to walk away. Izuku did as well.

“Oh, and one more thing.”

Izuku stopped.

“We're watching you.”

Izuku began to sweat again, his eyes dilating a bit as they faced towards the floor. What did that mean? Did they know something? Did they catch on? How f*cked was he? Could he do something to escape this situation?

“Just kidding.” There was something like a cruel smile in Aizawa's voice. Izuku didn't dare turn to confirm his suspicion. He offered a small chuckle in return, and hustled away and to class.

Perhaps Hound Dog and All Might weren't the only Pros that could be an issue.

- - -

One week later (with the added practice of wall running in the gym for a few days) and Izuku found himself outside the school, a safe distance away and behind a tree. He had stuck on a too large hoodie that completely covered his face, and leather gloves. He couldn't go as the Lotus Demon, that much was obvious. Though the hood would give him some tunnel vision, it was needed. On the off chance Hound Dog would be on unexpectedly, he had sprayed himself with a citrus air freshener. It would leave him smelling fresh, but a scent that the hero would hate to pick up on.

He stalked around the building for a minute, before he found a point where the guards at the gate had a blind spot, and there was an opportunity to get in. A small window opened every five minutes where guards didn't see a small spot on the fence.

He timed himself, watching the bobbing lights as they danced across the walls and courtyard. They scanned over his area.

Five seconds.

The lights passed through.

Three seconds.

The guard was gone.

One second.

He was out of range.

Now.

Izuku dashed across the street and scaled the wall with a leap and a reach. He had fifty three seconds before a guard could detect him. He leapt for the wall, took a step to reach higher, and elevated himself to grip the edge. Izuku pulled himself up, and over the railing on the top. After a moment of struggle, he had landed on the other side of the wall. He had used up thirty seconds, which was more than he'd expected.

What he hadn't accounted for was a silent alarm.

As he landed, Izuku heard a faint beeping noise, and silently cursed himself. He heard footsteps rapidly approaching his position. Twenty three seconds had just become ten. He made a break for the entrance of the school, a mad dash to the sparse foliage around the courtyard. Izuku hid himself in the nick of time, as a pair of uniformed security scanned where he had just been. Faintly, he could hear their words.

“Central this is courtyard patrol. Silent proximity alarm tripped, but no sign of the culprit. Anything on cameras, over.” One of the guards said. He could barely make out his radio replying.

“Negative... it is has... blind spot. Over.”

Good. Izuku had judged the security camera's area of observation right. Now he just needed to dodge and weave through the cameras and security, get to the faculty room door, and get a schedule. Easy, really!

“Roger. All units, be advised a bogey may be in the courtyard area. Need one patrol from the top floor down here ASAP.” The guard said. Izuku ducked near the doorway. The main doors would likely be locked, but a guard opening them could provide an opportunity to enter. He waited for a minute with bated breath, before he saw a bobbing flashlight approaching the front door.

When it swung open, Izuku waited for the door to reach its apex before silently creeping behind the man.

Just as expected, the guard begun to turn.

Izuku locked the guard in a headlock, choking him out. He gagged and struggled to try and grab for his radio, or perhaps an alarm, but a quick activation of Izuku's quirk cut that off. He tried to scream at the pain that now ran through him, but combined with the lack of air going into his lungs, he was out in the span of a minute.

Midoriya sighed with relief, and dragged the man's unconscious body behind the bushes. Sure, he could kill him, but that would be a terrible idea. Izuku grabbed the man's keys and found himself inside the building. As he entered, he could hear the man's radio come to life.

“Central to fourth floor patrol. Come in. Cent--” The doors closed silently and cut off any more sound. It was a risky move to go in through the front door, but Izuku had found a spot near the door and right wall that made identification difficult. It was dark in the school, but he knew its halls well. No doubt night vision cameras, or something with high saturation, was watching him. Izuku slowly begun to stalk through the halls. His little stunt in the courtyard had alerted the guards, and they were cautious. He had found a way around the cameras, sure, but security being paranoid was the last thing he needed.

Izuku crept up the stairs to the floor of the faculty office. He ducked behind a wall as a guard approached and passed right by him, flashlight missing his hiding spot as it scanned. Izuku waited for the sentinel to be practically gone, before he found himself at the faculty office.

0451, followed by the pound key. It didn't chime as loudly as he had expected, but it still made him jump. Quickly, he opened the door and ducked inside.

The faculty office was full of desks that held names and decoration. Some of them, such as Eraserhead's, had barely any extravagance to it save for a cat picture. Others, like Midnight's, were prettied up to a great degree. All Might's desk was fairly spartan as well. Eraserhead's desk was the one he wanted, and he found himself near it.

Izuku scanned over the messy pile of documents, scanning each. Many were simple grade reports and lesson plans, nothing too out of the ordinary. As he was looking over a calendar on a wall, however, he noticed something that was off. On the board for tomorrow, Wednesday, something was marked down in simple pen.

“USJ, 12:50”

USJ. The Unforseen Simulation Joint. Tomorrow. This was it, the point where the League could get in. He knew pictures of the USJ were online, so Kurogiri's warping would be able to get in easily. Without a sound, Izuku slunk from the room.

With some additional effort and care, Izuku dipped from the building and wormed his way out the way he had come in. The moment he had touched the ground outside of UA, he was off like a bolt to the nearest payphone. He pounded in the keys to Kurogiri, and waited.

Once more, it took about a ring and a half before he picked up.

“I certainly hope this is worth the wait.” The villain didn't sound impatient, but the words were clearly a message all their own. Izuku cleared his throat.

“UA students will be at the USJ at about twelve fifty tomorrow.” Izuku muttered. Silence reigned, until Kurogiri chuckled.

“Excellent. We will take care of the rest.” Kurogiri said. “Expect us to be in contact soon.” The line went dead.

Izuku found his way home with nothing short of a manic grin on his face. His first two missions from the League of Villains were successes. Now, the fun would begin for them, and for now? He could sit tight. Perhaps he could create some more art to celebrate.

But for now, he found himself curled up on his bed. The League had this operation down pat. Kurogiri and Tomura were strong, and their subordinates would likely be powerful.

What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter 9: Anima della Dualità

Chapter Text

“I can explain.”

In the bar of the League of Villains, Tomura sat brewing in his fury. His plan had been ruined by the entrance of All Might and the heroes. The Nomu was gone, and all the villains he had amassed were under arrest. Every single television read the following, practically taunting the young man.

“VILLAINS ATTACK UA, REPELLED BY ALL MIGHT AND HEROIC STUDENTS”

Reporters talked and talked about how awesome All Might was, and how bad a job Tomura had done, and how much damage would be sustained, and on, and on, and on. It made him want to scream, throw a table, break something. It would make him feel better.

Tomura spat at a laptop set in Kurogiri's hands. On it was the icon of an oni mask, with soundbars beneath it. As soon as they stopped saying 'I can explain', he went to disintegrate it. Kurogiri's mist was faster, and Shigaraki's hands were diverted from the laptop to a few feet away from it. The voice on the other end of the laptop yelped a bit, as Tomura growled.

“You gave us sh*tty info, you useless f*cking rogue! You didn't tell us that all those heroes would be right there, or that all those brats were actually useful!” He hissed, still trying to decay away the monitor without any success. Kurogiri sighed as Tomura continued his tantrum. “If you had selected, oh, I don't know, name a spot, we wouldn't have lost!”

“Tomura.” Kurogiri groaned. “He did as you inquired and I asked. We underestimated the resistance the students would give, and the speed of the heroes' response. There's nothing more we can do.”

“Like hell there isn't!” Tomura pulled away his hands and sat on the ground, cross legged, and scowling at the floor. “We were so close to success, and then it just got all messed up. You could have killed one of the more powerful targets, but noooo. All because of you, you sh*tty goddamn--”

“Tomura.”

The second monitor in the room finally spoke, the words 'SOUND ONLY' scrawled across it. Tomura stopped, and looked to it.

“... All I'm saying is that someone f*cked up.” Tomura grunted. “And it was probably him.”

“The fault does lay on our spy...” The laptop chimed with a gulping sound. “... but it also lays upon you and Kurogiri. An instrument is only as useful as it must be. If you do not grant it insight into your plan, you will fail.”

“So it's my fault, then?” Tomura said, incredulous.

“Yes and no.” Sensei said. “You must communicate your desires to a person. A greater scheme behind the action must be present, for it to be successful in the long term. Context is a key part of any plan.”

“I don't get what you're saying.”

“I'm saying that you weren't specific enough.” Sensei spoke like an elementary school teacher lecturing a somewhat dim child. Tomura looked down, pondering. “So, with that in mind, what was your plan with the death of the child, hm?”

“I just thought taking one out might make things a bit easier, if he hadn't gone for a useless--”

“Tomura.” Sensei chided again. “Realize opportunity exists in every failing. Though your ambitions were high today, this action has made a possibility into reality. Both in the reformation of the League, and in our young spy's ability to succeed. Form a more efficient group. Take all the time you need, Tomura. Giran will help you along the way, as he always has.”

“And what about the brat?” Tomura vaguely motioned to the other laptop.

“Your mission for him to kill a student in the hero course has presented a new avenue of approach that was not considered before. With an empty seat, they will seek to fill it.” With that, Sensei addressed the other laptop. “Lotus Demon, how are your grades?”

When Izuku spoke, it was somewhat shaky, but held control. He still hadn't completely calmed down from Tomura's threats. “E-exceptional, Sensei. I have the third highest marks in my classes overall. Why do you ask?”

“Then it is time for you to become a hero, young Midoriya.” Sensei said, a smile in his voice. “Let us meet at Haruko's Grill tomorrow night.”

“Uhm... u-understood, sir. Will that be all?”

“Of course. Have a pleasant evening.”

Izuku's computer screen returned to the web feed it had been previously. The news was everywhere. Villains attacking UA. Though they had ultimately failed, it still shook society to its core. Questions were everywhere. Who was Tomura? Who were the League of Villains? How did they know that the students would be in the USJ? Who? What? Where? When? Why? All questions, and no answers. It was suspenseful, to know that one error could lead to ruin, both for the League and for Izuku.

He settled back in his chair. How had everything gone so wrong, yet so right?

And what the hell did Sensei mean?

- - -

So it was that for the second time in a few months Midoriya had found himself in Haruko's grill. This time, however, he was in far more formal wear.

His business casual from before was replaced with a nice black suit and tie, alongside black slacks. He had a white business shirt beneath it, unbuttoned at the top to not look too formal. His shoes were leather, far from some exorbitant Italian brand. Just something simple he picked up and fitted at around the last minute. His mother had said he looked dashing.

As he entered, the waiter bowed to him. The motion was unexpected.

“Mister Midoriya, correct?” He looked down at his hands. “I was told you would be arriving. Please follow me.” Once more, Izuku was led down winding hallways to the same velvet and brass door. It sat, foreboding as it was before.

Now, however, there was something different.

There was a presence behind that door.

Even without walking in Izuku could feel it. It was the presence of a hungry cougar to a lost house cat; the sheer existence of a fire to the tinder. Powerful, inescapable, and there. It turned his legs to jelly and sent rivulets of fear striking up his veins like ice water. Was this how his victims felt when he had them in his grasp? When they were struggling, full of fear and pain, knowing that they could do absolutely nothing against the thing that held them?

He opened the door.

Sitting exactly opposite him, in the same position the laptop had been when he had been to the room last, was a man.

He wore something much like Izuku did, but far more expensive. He lacked a tie, instead opting for a simple business shirt under an elaborately tailored suit jacket. A triangular carbon fiber texture glinted in the light as he sat. The same detailing was on his business slacks. From the neck up, however, was a whole new story.

He was in some sort of life support system, with plates of dark metal surrounding his neck. Steel tubes sat feeding into what seemed like an elevated series of ridges by his trachea. His face was obscured by black tinted glass, made with the appearance of a leering skull. Pipes ran into the back of his head, four in total. Izuku could barely see some of his skin in the gaps between black metal and glass. He sat perfectly still, staring at Izuku.

“Ah, Izuku.” The voice was modulated beneath that life support system, but it was unmistakable. Sensei, in the flesh. “Please, sit down.”

The door swung closed by its own accord. You do not question the force of nature when it asks politely. There was no food in front of him, and Izuku sat, politely and formally rigid as he took care not to stare at where Sensei's eyes would be, instead finding a spot at where the bridge of his nose would have been.

“S-sensei. I wasn't expecting us to m-meet like this.” Izuku offered, quietly.

“Neither was I, to be frank.” He chuckled, a low thing. It felt hollow, to some degree. “But necessity has dictated this meeting. I would like to cut to the chase, if you wouldn't mind.”

“Of c-course.” Izuku nodded, almost bobble headed.

“Tomura's mission was, while short sighted in his mind, actually quite subconsciously ingenious. You have opened a spot in the hero course. I presume it remains unfilled.” Izuku nodded. “And I have been made aware students with sufficient aptitude and grades can be admitted into the hero course, should they apply for it and succeed.” Once more, Izuku nodded.

Sensei stood, and begun to walk with deadly slowness towards Izuku's side of the table. “Because a spot remains open, and because information on the hero course and its movements is vital to our operations, a spy in the course is more useful than one outside of it, wouldn't you agree?”

Izuku gulped, his eyes wide. “I-I... I don't have a quirk, n-not officially. I-if I use the q-quirk I have, p-p-people will ask questions. I-it would m-make me look l-like t-the Lotus Demon.”

Sensei laughed. “You are quite astute, young Midoriya.” He leaned down, and whispered the next words with perfect precision and clarity. His voice oozed almost supernatural charisma.

“Would you like a quirk?”

The words pulsed both fear and anticipation into Izuku. He could feel an arm on his shoulder as All For One, symbol of evil, loomed over him. Izuku nodded once, not daring to try and look at Sensei's face, or even a shred of his clothing. He could feel that arm run to his neck, and then to the top of his head. It was a steady pressure, absolute and unmoving.

“Then allow me to give you a gift.”

The world went black.

- - -

When Izuku awoke, it was in his own bed. It was Saturday, the clock said. Nine oh five. Sunlight flowed in through the windows, barely open save for a small crack that let the cool autumn morning air blow in. Next to his bed was a note. He rubbed at his eyes and climbed out of bed, drifting over to the bedside to open it.

Scrawled in simple text was a spartan message.

“Izuku,”

“Will yourself to ascend.”

“-Sensei”

What a cryptic note from Sensei. How long had been out? What did that note mean? It didn't exactly fit. It was nice words of encouragement, though; if a bit unexpected. Izuku threw on whatever clothes he could find, feeling light on his feet. It was odd to be feeling this energetic on a Saturday morning, but not unwelcome. He pushed open his door and found his way to the living room, where he found his mother cooking up breakfast. She hadn't looked back yet, but smiled as she heard him enter.

“Izu zu! I didn't even see you come back last night.” She turned to face him. “How was yo--” Her face dropped into pure shock. Inko's eyes went as wide as dinner plates, iris and pupil dilating. She dropped the plate she was working on serving up, scattering eggs and bacon onto the floor. The sound of it shocked Izuku to lucidity.

“What?” He asked, looking around. He found himself next to the plate, scooping it up with a brush and dustpan. His mother gripped the edge of the kitchen bar, slack jawed and staring. Izuku looked up to his mother again, panic in his eyes.

“Mom, what?!” He asked, urgently. She pointed towards him, and Izuku looked at himself. “There's nothing wrong with--”

Izuku Midoriya was floating a few feet in the air. Wind swirled around his clothes as he floated.

He was flying.

He screamed.

His mother screamed.

Saturday morning was weird.

- - -

“Well, Ms. Midoriya, by all accounts, it doesn't make any sense.” The doctor looked between his chart and the Midoriyas. “You were tested about ten years ago, and since, saw nothing. Now a quirk just... suddenly manifested. It's almost unheard of.”

Izuku sat on the chair, still a bit shocked by the whole thing. He knew he had a quirk now, but he had also had it gifted to him. They didn't know that part. Nobody could know that part. He had a quirk, a real official quirk. The doctor continued speaking, and Inko simply continued to nod. Regardless of the shock she had felt when she first saw her son flying, it was now replaced by nothing short of exuberance. He would have to register the quirk with UA, and have it evaluated by them before he could make it into the hero course.

A flight quirk, however, would be a shoo-in if he knew how to use it. He just needed practice.

“--ny idea what could have caused this?” The doctor inquired. It took a moment to realize he was speaking to Izuku. He shook his head.

“No, sir. I just woke up, and I... guess I was flying.” He shrugged, and smiled. The doctor smiled back, writing down information. After a few more seconds of writing, he spoke.

“Well, from all I can tell, this seems like a simple flight quirk. Emitter, unless you can't stop flying-- which obviously you can.” He chuckled. “While not a unique quirk on paper, its limits may be greater or lower than an average flight quirk. As you said before, it seems to manipulate wind to work. With that in mind, would you like to give it a specific name?”

Izuku thought. This would be what his quirk would be known to the world as, and how it would reflect him. This was what he would be known for, for the time being. He continued to think.

“... I want to be optimistic. Hypersonic Flight.” Izuku smiled. The doctor gave him a grin.

“Hope is a good quality in a hero, young man. You have quite the heroic quirk indeed.” He wrote down the name, and nodded. “Let's head down to the evaluation center and see if your assumption is correct.”

One elevator ride later, he found himself in an open field surrounded by concrete cubes of buildings. He stood in the afternoon light, cool air brushing past him. It didn't feel like he had a quirk, yet here he was, being evaluated for it. His mother gave him an encouraging grin, and the doctor began to slowly type in on instruments, bringing out a clear blue box. He opened it to reveal several pads with what seemed like antennae on them.

“Remove your shirt, please.” Izuku did, and the doctor applied the patches over his sternum, heart, trachea, stomach, arms, and legs. “These will monitor your blood flow and heart rate during the test. Step into the circle near the center of the field, please.” Izuku walked to said circle, a solid thirty yards away.

“Is this alright?” He called.

“Yes. Now, activate your quirk.”

Izuku stretched and sighed, remembering what he did when he got out of bed, and when he floated. He felt wind rushing around him, around his body and across it. It felt like a second muscle to him as he slowly begun to rise from the ground, his clothes fluttering in the breeze he had conjured.

“Let's try to stretch it more than you have.” The doctor called. “Try reaching the end of the field and back.” Izuku looked behind him to see a solid one hundred yards between him and the other end of the field. Focusing, he flexed out a bit, feeling the air caress him and slowly bring him over. However, he made the fatal mistake of impatience halfway through, and flexed some more, feeling the winds rushing him forward in a wave of force.

He lost control, watching as his speed increased and his lack of control became evident. As he almost crashed he set his feet to the ground and jumped, feeling the gale around him respond to the action with gusto. He was propelled at least a hundred feet in the air, reaching far above the field.

Izuku did not, however, account for the descent speed.

He screamed as he begun to plummet from the sky, his jaws loose and eyes wide with fear. Tears flowed from him as the ground became nearer and nearer. This was how he died. He desperately put both arms in front of his face and turned his head to the side, as he impacted.

Pain shot through him like a firecracker as he struck the earth, feeling it bend beneath the force of his impact, parting as he collided with soil and turf. Though it hurt like hell, and his arms stung with cuts and bruises from the sudden fall, he was otherwise alright. Slowly, Izuku rose, finding himself on the other end of the field-- or just about. He looked back and offered a thumbs up to the doctor, perhaps a bit woozy. Izuku shook dirt and grass from his hair, and wiped himself off.

“Well done, if a bit sloppy. That's to be expected.” The doc's voice was modulated, as it came from loudspeakers around the field. “Now, let's test your speed. Try getting back here as fast as you can. I'll time you when you begin.”

Izuku's eyes went wide. As fast as he could?! He could barely control it at the speed he was at before! How could he expect Izuku to go faster than that? It couldn't be done. He would fall again, and hurt himself. He couldn't hurt himself again.

The words Sensei had given him came back in a tidal wave of clarity. It may have been about how to activate his quirk, but there was no doubt that it was also words of encouragement.

Will yourself to ascend.

He had to stand up. He did. Izuku took a knee, his palm down on the grass as he felt the winds move and rush about him. Once more they responded to his call, but it felt even more natural. They pulsed and shuddered at his grasp. They wanted to serve, and he wanted to be served. They sung in response to his probing, his clothes billowing around his form as air gathered and shuddered with the energy of potential.

Winds flowed around the turf. Soil slowly rose and brushed away from Izuku, as his eyes set dead center on the doctor and his mother.

Ascend.

He flew. The feeling was unlike anything he had ever even considered before. More pleasurable than art and more beautiful than anything his eyes could grant him. It was freedom felt only by god and the birds. It was love and life, and it was beauty. If he could paint what his mind felt, it would be a masterpiece unrivaled by any.

The coolness of the wind flowed in his wild green hair, slicking it back against his already sweaty head. He cried from both the excitement and pleasure of flight, and the force of the air that pushed against his skull, stinging his eyes. His flesh felt like it was going to tear itself from his bones at the slightest errant twitch, yet that pain was almost org*smic.

That pain was the pain of life, and of liberty.

He rushed past the doctor's station and ascended the hospital, feeling the sound barrier crackling around him in a wave of electricity and force. He didn't dare break it, but he felt that he could with just the slightest push. He was barely in control as he ducked around the cubes of buildings that bordered the field, seeing awed faces look up to him as the young hero soared. Izuku may have flailed a bit here and there, but he felt he looked quite cool as he shot through the skies and around the buildings with childlike abandon.

Finally, he landed near the doctor and his mother (he stumbled and fell as he hit the pavement). Inko wasted no time in wrapping her child in a hug, but the doctor was slack jawed as he looked at Izuku. After a tearful embrace, he cleared his throat.

“Eh... eh-hem. Your improvement of your quirk in such a short amount of time is nothing to scoff at, Mr. Midoriya.” He said, writing. “I'll be sure to pass on the results of this test to your high school. You should find yourself in the national quirk registry by Monday.”

Izuku smiled, still next to tears. “I... thank you, sir.”

“I'm sure you'll want to pursue heroics with that quirk, young man.” The doctor gave him a sincere grin. “You'll be a great hero.”

- - -

As expected, the exams to get into the hero course were intense. Given it was nearing the middle of the fall and few new applicants were being tested, Izuku would be tested by himself. On Wednesday, he remained after school to take both portions of the exam.

The written portion was similar to what he had done to get into the general education program. It was mostly stuff he remembered, but changed to add a bit of difficulty. In addition, there was a section where he needed to write down why he wanted to become a hero. He made his excuse quite convincing; he wanted to be seen as a ray of hope for the world, soaring through the sky and bringing joy. It was cheesy, but he thought it seemed heartfelt.

The real test, however, would be in the practical exam.

Izuku stood before a large building-- it was apparently known Gym Delta-- composed of concrete and glass. It looked sturdy, and that was likely the intent. Students with destructive quirks would ask to go all out, and if they did, they could break a lesser building. Izuku walked through the doors to find himself, without ceremony, in a massive court of stone. On the far end of the wall were mirrors.

No, windows. One way windows stared at him, silently judging. How many people were watching his exam? How many people would be judging him? Just one, or the whole of the hero course faculty? It made his skin crawl. He realized soon after that thought passed over him that it was the intent. He was supposed to be nervous.

“Izuku Midoriya.” A voice called over the speakers. It was Aizawa's voice, he figured. The tiredness in it gave him away completely. “This is your practical examination for entry into the hero course. Do you wish to proceed?”

“I do.” Izuku replied, already feeling himself gathering air to circle about his feet in an invisible tornado.

“Let's begin with your quirk's name. I have it listed as 'Hypersonic Flight'. Is this correct?” Aizawa inquired.

“C-correct, sir.” Even as he felt himself steeling, that trepidation assaulted his senses and caused him to stutter subconsciously. It was shameful, but this was a moment of truth.

“Then let's begin.”

Five doors opened to reveal bipedal, forest green robots. They were about twice Izuku's height, and they came out of the gates running at him. Five red eyes stared at him with unflinching and blank precision.

The machines didn't have a chance to reach Izuku as he lifted off the ground, pushing himself away from the metal tides that would have crushed him. As he did, the direction of the bots shifted suddenly, and they jumped. One of their hands grazed Midoriya's leg as he dodged the attack, while another got a glancing strike into his side. Izuku begun to circle higher than the jumping robots could reach, up to the ceiling.

He had to formulate a plan. He could brute force them, yes, but that would also hurt like hell. Perhaps he could trick--

Before he could finish his second thought, the sounds of jetting flames came from beneath him, and he narrowly dodged an uppercut that came from one of the robots. Fire billowed from its back in a precise cone.

It was flying too.

Planning was no longer an option as Izuku begun to soar away, the other four robots following the first to fly. They roared after him in a cacophony of shifting metal and burning air. He was leading them in circles for the time being, bobbing and weaving to evade. Thus far, he was doing no combat. Simply escaping their grasp while he thought. There had to be something he could exploit. He wasn't strong enough to punch through metal, how could his quirk--

Izuku realized it in the blink of an eye, and turned in mid air as one of the robots broke away to push forward. Rather than continue to evade, Izuku willed himself in another direction.

He was jetting straight for the machine.

He soared at something approaching sonic speed, rearing back his fist. The robot's flight was clumsy compared to his control over the wind, and it didn't have time to evade as Midoriya rocketed towards it. Izuku gritted his teeth and gave a fierce smile.

His arm and fist flew forward as it met the robot, meeting the glass and metal behind it with a sickening crunch of impact. It hurt like hell, but his fist had struck with such speed and force that it ripped clean through the robot's head. It hung in mid air for a moment, and Izuku took the time to pull out his fist and let the automaton drop.

He had no time to celebrate as another machine roared toward him. He used the remains of the destroyed robot to duck behind as a fist slammed into steel. Luckily for Izuku, its hand embedded in the metal, which gave Izuku an opening.

With a scream of battle-lust, Izuku rapidly spun once, twice, thrice in the air as his leg extended in a savage arc. Once more, the speed and momentum of the blow multiplied the strike's strength a thousand fold, and tore through the metal monster's neck like stiff tinfoil. Once more, pain flowed through his leg, but the robot had been decapitated with frightening efficiency. Adrenaline was pumping fast through his veins.

Two down, three to go.

He bobbed around another strike, but couldn't stop a leg of a robot from striking him. He flew to the side as pain flared in his ribs. He suddenly remembered the robots had legs. As he glided to the side in a simultaneous reaction and evasion, he ducked beneath the bots and rocketed back to them.

With a heave, he grasped the leg of one of the automatons. On the ground, it would have been too heavy to even consider lifting. However, mid-air, gravity obeyed only the whims of the things that defied it. Namely, air. Izuku pulled on the robot's leg, and just like he had with the kick, begun to spin. Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Five. While the movement was building up momentum, it was also a chance to aim. With this, he could take out both robots, if he got lucky. Though, it was best not to get greedy.

On the seventh rotation, Izuku let go, and sent the machine crashing into its compatriot. The force of the strike filled the room with a deafening boom, almost like a car crash, as the second robot and the thrown one flew into the wall. It cracked the concrete as both robots exploded into steel and wires.

The last robot would be simple. The machines were strong, but they had strength in numbers. One on one, it was barely a contest. Izuku led the final robot on a wild goose chase, perhaps adding in some cinematic flare. After he felt it had gone on long enough, he finished the final machine like he had the first, but with a variation.

As the chase continued, Izuku abruptly stopped and ducked beneath the charging iron monster. Its course wasn't corrected, and it flew past. He shot above the robot, and closed his left hand around his right fist. With a roar of triumph and adrenaline filled excitement, Izuku brought down his elbow on the robot's head with the force of an industrial hammer, crunching metal inward and sending the robot-- and Izuku-- hurtling towards the ground.

When they struck the floor, Izuku rose triumphant, and surveyed the carnage.

One robot lay on the ground in a twitching mess. One was separated from its head by several feet. Two were a mess of oil and burning metal in a crater on the wall. The last was beneath him in a crumpled heap. With that manic grin still plastered on his face, he looked towards the one way window. Realizing what he was doing, the grin was wiped from his face and replaced with a humble smile.

“Examination complete.” Aizawa said over the speakers, placid.

- - -

On Friday morning, Izuku stepped into Class 1-A. He found the seat of the former Minoru Mineta, and sat in it. He was next to a young woman in a spiky ponytail. She offered him a polite smile and a wave, which was returned. The class was a bustle of activity before Aizawa walked in.

He looked worse for wear. Izuku had heard the Nomu had left its mark on Aizawa, but he wasn't expecting the hero to be mummified. None of the students seemed to pay it any serious mind. Of course, they had all found themselves in their seats almost instantly. Izuku felt a bit nervous, surrounded, and only a few seats away from Kacchan. Bakugo had given Izuku a death glare for the last few minutes.

“Alright, alright. Let's begin with a new introduction. As you know, we've had an opening for some time, and just got it filled.” Aizawa looked at Izuku, and inclined his head. “Name and quirk, please.”

Izuku rose, and smiled as he spoke. Though he stuttered a bit, he spoke solidly.

“My name is Izuku Midoriya. My quirk i-is Hypersonic Flight.”

Kacchan was slack jawed, and looked furious.

The class looked at Izuku with a mix of envy, interest, and friendliness. The friendly girl-- Ochaco-- gave him a wide smile. The spiky red headed child offered Izuku a thumbs up. The half white haired, half red haired boy looked at him with interest.

He was Izuku Midoriya.

He was going to be a hero.

Chapter 10: Strategia e Rivelazione

Chapter Text

“The Sports Festival.”

The moment Izuku's shining moment was over, the teacher had said given little preamble save a 'good morning' to the bomb he proceeded to drop. Some smiled, others gawked in horror. Some just looked on blankly, though their eyes betrayed the mask their face sought to forge. Izuku was somewhere among them, though failing to hide a wavering gaze and sweat that beaded on his brow.

“If you didn't know it was coming, you clearly weren't paying attention.” Aizawa grumbled, ordering a sheaf of papers. “This is your chance to shine in the public eye. The UA Sports Festival is watched by just about everyone; the sharks from Hero offices are no exception. Make an impression. You have two weeks.”

The classroom was abuzz for the whole thirty seconds Aizawa allowed it to be, in which Ochaco declared (quite loudly) her determination to win. The powerful visage she radiated in the statement shocked Izuku, to a degree. Contrast is an art all its own, of course.

Perhaps he was hasty in his dismissal of her.

Regardless, a rather boring lecture later, and Izuku found himself alone in the hall, striding towards the lunchroom. Millions of thoughts ran through his head, though many of the 'worst case scenario's had been pushed away. Thoughts such as accidentally revealing his original quirk, his relation to the League, his identity; those were an afterthought.

He looked to the positives, instead. Perhaps he could make himself known to a Hero agency, and score an internship when the time came. Perhaps he could train his quirk in the coming two weeks. Perhaps, even, the Lotus Demon could make an appearance at the Festival.

The voices liked that idea.

Everything was cut off as he felt a hand grip his uniform, and tear him into a side hallway. It slammed him against a locker, and when the stars cleared, Izuku faced the raging visage of Bakugo. Unlike other times, however, his rage was not flaming, but ice cold. Those red eyes bore into Izuku until he spoke.

“K-k-kacch--”

Izuku was unable to finish before the locker next to him erupted in a detonation of flame and smoke, and made a dent. Katsuki's fist sat in its place, as he sneered.

“You little f*cker.” The hand on Izuku's shoulder transitioned to his collar, hoisting him up an inch.

“What do--” Once more, Izuku was erupted.

“SHUT THE f*ck UP.” Kacchan roared. “YOU TALK WHEN I'M DONE, sh*tHEAD! UNDERSTAND?” Izuku nodded. “Good.

“So let me get this straight.” He begun. “You're a quirkless loser for fifteen years, doing nothing but doodling, then admiring heroes and nipping at their heels like a pathetic puppy. THEN, suddenly, you get into UA on some sh*tty merit-- god knows what that is. AND THEN, the grape freak dies, and his seat is replaced by you, who MIRACULOUSLY develops a quirk.

“I get all that right?” Izuku nodded frantically. Bakugo dropped him, and Izuku panted, not daring to move. Kacchan sneered down at him. He seemed to be thinking about something. When he spoke, it was calm, and lacked venom. Clearly the firebrand was still angry, but his tone lacked vitriol. It was calm.

“There's something different about you.” The statement was simple, but it carried weight. Izuku cringed. “I don't know what's up, or how you developed a quirk so goddamn late, but I'm watching you. Got it?”

Deku nodded. It seemed to placate Kacchan, as he rounded a corner and was off with little more than a grunt.

Thoughts once more pounded in Izuku's skull. That little exchange had spooked him, but it had also made a problem self evident. With Kacchan watching him, he wouldn't have opportunities like he would. Depending on how serious he was about watching, he'd be found out sooner rather than later. That could not happen.

Kacchan needed to die.

Not now, obviously. It would be too soon to their little confrontation. No, he had to kill him before he found out anything damning. Which, of course, he eventually would. Izuku was careful, but Bakugo likely knew most of his tricks. He would need a quiet and slow strategy. Something unlike his usual inclinations.

Such thoughts needed to wait for the time being. For now, he needed to be a student, up until the League needed him again.

To that end, lunch called. A conference call was to be held this afternoon with the League. Perhaps then, the next move would be more clear.

- - -

“Patience is vital in the coming weeks.” Sensei's voice filtered through the laptop onto Kurogiri and Tomura, sitting attentively. Another laptop lay on the bar, Izuku's line. “We cannot risk an attack on the UA Sports Festival, as much as it would be an opportunity for publicity.”

“We don't have the party for a full raid,” Tomura began, and glanced at Izuku's screen. “... but we do have a man on the inside. What can we do with that?”

“Think, Tomura. There are endless possibilities to be had with a wolf in sheep's clothing. What would be effective?” All For One's tranquil voice oozed like dark wine from the speakers. Tomura's face twisted in thought for a minute, before he spoke.

“An assassination quest would be too simple, too risky.” Sensei made an approving sound. Tomura seemed to think even more, but he was quicker to speak this time. “Brat.”

“Y-yes?” Izuku mumbled.

“Internships. They tend to judge people for them at the festival?”

“Well...” He thought. “I... would assume so.”

“Then get in with a Hero.” Tomura spread his hands. “You're a part of their faction on the side. So why not?”

“A good idea.” All For One said. “Is there someone in particular he should try to impress?”

“Funny you mention it...” Tomura's cracked lips spread in a wicked grin. Izuku gulped behind that screen. He suddenly had the distinct feeling that this mission would be far more difficult than he had initially assumed.

- - -

“Relying on speed as you are, it is less the force in the blow that matters, and the momentum behind it.” Iida spoke clinically, detached from all but his mode of 'teacher'. In this case, he was teaching Izuku in Gym Gamma-- the pair had been granted authorization to use it for this chilly Saturday afternoon. Given the Class President's disposition and quirk, Izuku had found him to be an excellent candidate to teach him more about his quirk. Of course, peppering it with science as he was made the teaching session a mix of classwork and practical application.

To his credit, Izuku was keeping up well enough. The physics theories regarding mass, acceleration, momentum, etc. were a bit over his head, but he got it well enough in layman's terms. 'Thing small but fast equals thing big but slow'.

“... That being said, I haven't exactly gotten a chance to see your speed.” Iida had been continuing as Izuku was thinking. He seemed to notice it, and snapped loudly. It startled Izuku, but he rebounded quickly.

“Uh, so... you want a demonstration?” He asked. Iida smiled.

“Of course. How can I tell what to teach if I don't know your speed and style?” Iida took a few steps back, facing towards the furthest wall. “Therefore, we'll start with a race to ascertain your speed and maneuverability. Let's go from here, to outside the building, circle left, and come in through the back. Sound good?” Izuku nodded. Iida took a running position. Izuku did not, and simply tilted forward.

“On three.” Iida said.

“One.”

“Two.”

As Iida said three, Izuku was off in a burst of wind. He cleared the distance from his position to the door within the span of two seconds, and burst through the steel entryway and into the temperate noon. At first blinded by the sun, he quickly corrected his course, the gales flowing him to the left. Behind him, he heard the sound of feet on concrete, before a deep impact of launching.

Above him he saw Iida, the steel pipes in his calves burning with blue fire. He sailed over Izuku and twisted mid-air, landing on his feet only twenty feet away-- easily clearing the corner. He was off in another lunging step and a burst of dust. Izuku sneered for a moment, but adjusted to curve around the barrier. He found himself quickly catching up to Iida.

Just as he was about to overtake him, the corner that lead to the back of the gym came up. Iida set his feet towards the side, one in front of the other, stance wide. In an incredible show of skill and dexterity, he drifted and changed direction without losing momentum.

Izuku made the same turn, but lacking the same movement. It cost him fifteen feet, and that (combined with another drift into the gym) had cost Izuku the race. When both came to rest, Iida was grinning and glistening with sweat, whereas he had barely begun to exert himself.

After a quick drink of water and drying off with a towel, both reconvened.

“Well, endurance wise, it seems you're the one with the edge.” Iida said, gesticulating madly. “But in terms of speed, I seem to have the handle on techniques. I take it you haven't practiced much in skill?”

Izuku cringed, expression changing to embarrassment. “Uh... n-no.” Iida seemed to realize his mistake, and clapped a hand on his forehead at mach speed.

“My apologies Izuku! I meant nothing by the question, I didn't think before asking. Please forgive me. I was not considering what would--” Izuku waved a hand, finally cutting off the tirade.

“I get it, Iida.” He smiled. “You're right. I haven't developed much in the way of tactics yet, or even ways to apply my quirk. Truth is I developed it only recently, so I haven't had much time.”

Iida looked thoughtful, before nodding. “That makes sense. You're a rarity among rarities, it seems.” Once more, he looked deep in thought, pinching his chin. He snapped. “Training, then! For the next two weeks, up until the Sports Festival. What do you say?”

Izuku nodded without hesitation.

- - -

In the two weeks that led up to the Sports Festival, training was nearly day in and day out. Even in school, at lunch, Iida would drill Izuku on applications of his quirk and theories he had about it. Using this time, and in the short breaks for actually eating food and socializing, Izuku became close to Iida's own circle of friends.

Tokoyami was intriguing. A versatile quirk, and a mostly quiet individual. His demeanor was introverted, but he was surprisingly amicable when they actually spoke. Yaoyorozu had an incredible quirk, but seemed to lack imagination and social skills. In its place, her intelligence was off the charts. How a girl could be so intelligent yet lacking so much skill in innovation eluded him.

The last was, who would have guessed, Uraraka Ochaco. While she was not as booksmart as Yaoyorozu, nor had a quirk as versatile as Tokoyami, Ochaco was a well rounded individual. Modestly attractive, kind, and moderately intelligent. Izuku found himself hitting it off with her in the few moments he got between exertion.

In training, Iida concentrated on sparring with Izuku and cultivating his speed. Izuku took to the techniques easily, focusing on hit and run tactics. Due to his quirk's nature, he could easily get fast strikes in, before ducking away. It wasn't a tactic that would fit a battle of attrition, but effective in most other circ*mstances.

Izuku had even developed a pair of super moves. He was eager to try them out, but time had run out. The Sports Festival would have to be his stage to shine.

He sat on the roof of the Gym as the sun begun to set, both indulging in a sports drink and post training rest. The scene was remarkably tranquil, and Izuku barely felt the chill seeping into his bones. Still, night would descent soon, and winter's bite would come soon. As he turned to say his goodbyes, Iida seemed sober.

“What's wrong?” Izuku inquired, standing fully. Iida remained sitting, and was silent for a few moments.

“Don't take the Sports Festival personally, Izuku.” He sighed. “In it, we will all compete for glory and opportunity. Friends become foes, all fighting for themselves. It is not selfish, only nature.” He looked to Izuku, an empty smile on his face. “You understand why I'm unhappy now, right?”

Izuku nodded. “We know each other's strengths and techniques, our weaknesses. If we fight...”

“You'll win.” Tenya said. Izuku seemed shocked, but Tenya explained. “Your quirk outstrips my own in maneuverability alone. Given how quickly you've taken to assaults and hit and run tactics... well. There's not much of a question in my mind.”

Iida stood. “Therefore, I can only hope that we face each other in the finals, so I can at least obtain second place.” A smile found itself on his face. Izuku couldn't help but mirror it, and gave a bark of a laugh.

“I'll be sure to make things interesting, Iida. Good luck.”

“To you as well.”

On the walk home, Izuku, bundled in a jacket and scarf, felt himself in a contemplative mood. The next morning was the Sports Festival. It would be a competition to see who was the best among the class, and to be noticed by his target, he would have to do great. He would need to be the best, and that meant to trample over all others-- just like he already had been.

So why was he finding the idea of stepping over his classmates so difficult?

What was he feeling? These ideas, this notion of pity, of companionship... it was wrong. It did not fit. Something brewed in him, a fire forgotten fifteen years ago. A fire snuffed out by the words of doctors.

Was he a hero? Was he a villain? Which was the lie? Was it the murderer, ripper, slaughterer, and artist? Or was it the hero that he wanted so desperately to be? Who was Izuku Midoriya?Contemplation of this manner had to wait. He couldn't doubt himself; not now, not at this critical time. He needed to have resolve, skill, and strength. He had to win.

After all, how could he become the intern of the number two hero if he couldn't beat his son?

Chapter 11: Velocità del Suono

Chapter Text

The front of the structure known as (much to Izuku's chagrin as an artist) the Sports Festival Stadium was packed.

Scratch that, “packed” didn't do it justice. A small army could have come into the area, and it would have looked small. Helicopters buzzed overhead, camera crews rushed like a wave of flesh and technology to get even snapshots of the students, and security was clearly top of the line. Upon a cursory inspection on some of the heavily armed and armored guards, he made out an insignia of a crescent harvest moon and the words “REDMOON PRIVATE SECURITY”.

That was a new development. An American private security firm, REDMOON was known for their work on high profile events, like presidential rallies and foreign dignitary visits. For them to be handling security at the Sports Festival meant that UA had pulled out all the stops expecting an attack, and would be ready for it.

Unfortunately, that would mean the Lotus Demon would remain benched for the time being. Disappointing, but he could manage. After all, there wouldn't be much time to mull it over in the thick of combat.

Presently, he found himself in the Class 1-A waiting room. An air of quiet, broken by murmuring and hushed chuckles had overtaken the area, all of the students consumed by their thoughts. Even the boisterous Tooru and Mina had become quiet in the face of the festival's daunting prospect.

Izuku was in much the same boat, hands clasped in front of him and staring at his fists. Introspection would only lead to weakness, so he thought on his classmate's abilities.

Todoroki, Bakugo, and Tokoyami would be the greatest threats. Their quirks were versatile, powerful, and would either hold up against his hit and run tactics (Tokoyami) or overpower them (the former two). Kirishima was top heavy. Strong, but easily toppled. Iida had revealed his weaknesses as they trained. Most of his classmates would fall relatively easily before his quirk's capabilities. Most eyed Izuku with wariness.

So why was he so nervous?

The answer came with the appearance of white and red hair that gazed down on Izuku with cold indifference. Izuku rose in a beat, eyeing Todoroki with apprehension. The youth had said nothing, only staring.

“You think you have everyone figured out, I assume.” Todoroki finally said, barely tilting his head to the right.

“B-beg your pardon?” Izuku stammered.

“You have an analytical mind. You're trying to figure out your best chances, and I assume you've settled on at least Bakugo and I as your biggest competitors. Perhaps Kirishima and Tokoyami as well.” His words were like a compliment, but lacked the tone of one. “But let me tell you this, Izuku Midoriya.

“You will never beat me.”

Anger, trepidation, and an animal's response to challenge flowed through Izuku. They fought for dominance of his visage, and he settled on determination. He straightened, staring at Todoroki head on.

“I'll beat you, Shouto Todoroki. I'm going to go beyond your strength, and win without a doubt.” No more words were needed. If the room hadn't been dead silent before, it was a grave now. Eyes were locked on the pair, and they remained in a staring contest.

The buzzing of the intercom broke the contest before a winner could be decided. A voice, unknown, droned.

“All competitors to stadium floor. Repeat, all competitors to stadium floor.”

- - -

As the classes strode from various hallways, they were deafened by the boisterous cheers of the crowd. Humans of all shapes, sizes, quirks, and creeds cheered with incredible enthusiasm. The students of UA assembled in blocks of five-by-four rows in a neat formation. They stood surrounding an arena of concrete, checkered with squares. A small podium had been raised from the arena, holding a stand for a microphone.

Midnight stood, holding her whip in both hands, scanning the classes. All of them bore red white and blue outfits, and the procession was an azure sea of anxious teens. The arena slowly quieted.

“Katsuki Bakugo!” Midnight called. “Please come to the stage for the pledge!”

The spiky blonde hair and angry form of Bakugo strode from the group, tromping up to the podium and facing away from the other classes. He leaned in, close to the mic, and growled.

“I pledge... that I'm gonna place first, and none of you losers are gonna get in my way.”

The crowd and classes alike erupted in rebuke, a chorus of booing that darkened the mood significantly. The act took Izuku back, expecting something like embarrassment, or even, god forbid, regret, on Kacchan's face. He'd made targets of himself and Class 1-A. Instead, he snarled.

“You're all gonna see the next number one hero out here, and spoiler alert, it's ME.” Midnight pinched the bridge of her nose, and after a few more taunts and rounds of booing, Kacchan was ushered from the stage. Midnight took the podium once more, clearing her throat. The screen on the top of the arena changed from a live feed of the stage to a black placard of the UA logo.

“Ahem! Well, with that out of the way, let's get on with the show!” Cheers returned before Midnight continued, the screen behind her becoming a roulette which settled on the words “OBSTACLE RACE”. “The first event is a kicker, and the 'make it or break it' for most students! The Obstacle Race!

“The race begins and ends at the east end of this arena. The total race is four kilometers. There are three stages to the race, each about one kilometer, plus one kilometer of non-obstacle zones. Only a select number of students will move on to the next round, which will be revealed once the race has concluded. As long as you stay on the course...” She licked her lips. “It doesn't matter what you do.”

Nervousness flared up in Izuku, starting at his stomach and ending at his face. He knew he was fast, perhaps one of the best fit for this stage, but fighting against other students would be an issue. He had enough to worry about with Todoroki, but he barely knew the other courses' quirks, and couldn't formulate a strategy around them. He'd have to hope none of them could manipulate air, or gravity like Uraraka.

The classes were herded from the stage and to the east end of the arena, but through it, he barely heard Present Mic and Eraserhead, the former yelling, about the race to come. The blood pounded too hard in his ears to hear more than Mic's shouts of play by play information, the beeping of the countdown timer, and the dead silence of the stadium.

The roar of the buzzer.

Winds rushed around Izuku as he took off a bare inch from the ground, but found himself pinned between waves of flesh. He was floating, but found himself caught between the pressing of the crowd. The claustrophobic entry to the race course itself was the first obstacle. There had never been four stages, but five. Izuku struggled. He wouldn't have a chance if he couldn't get some breathing room.

With a snarl, he placed his hands on the two people beside him, and activated his first quirk. The action would go unnoticed if he froze them for an instant. In that instant, he could use the opening to lift off the ground and instantly take the lead. In theory, at least.

Muffled yelps of pain came from the faceless enemies, and in the window he had pushed open, Izuku lifted from the crowd, and deactivated his quirk. A scream of agony barely had time to ring out before something else roared even louder.

The rush of cold wind.

Ice filled the chamber's floor and air, choking out heat and sound as the area froze over. People were pushed out, including Izuku, who flew (both voluntarily and involuntarily) out into the open. Todoroki broke away from the crowd, muttering, followed by Bakugo, Yaoyorozu, Yuya, Kirishima, and Izuku.

“How naive, Todoroki.” Yaoyorozu chided.

“YOU'RE NOT GETTING AWAY THAT EASILY!” Bakugo yelled.

Speed and momentum picked up as Izuku jetted in front of the group that trailed Todoroki, wind flowing against the trees that bordered the wall. He was second to Todoroki, racing forward in a roar that didn't quite reach peak speed. He could accelerate from zero to one hundred and thirty kilometers per hour in the span of four seconds, but even that wasn't enough when faced with Todoroki's active cooling of the air around him. Izuku passed Todoroki as the arena broke away into a clearing, and--

And found himself flat on his face, feeling as if a brick had been thrown at his cheek. Stars swam in front of his eyes as he spat out dirt, bells ringing in his ears. When he came back to bare lucidity, he heard Present Mic shouting.

“--SUDDENLY! Starting with... the FIRST BARRIER! ROBO INFERNO!”

As Izuku rose from the dirt, he found himself staring at Todoroki, spewing a hellish blizzard of ice at a massive green robot. It froze, covered in opalescent blue crystals, as the prodigy son slowly exhaled mist. He ran through the legs of the robot. Other students begun to follow, however the mech slowly crumbled, ice having broken its circutry and made its limbs brittle. It toppled forward on the group.

The arena went dark with icy fog and dust.

- - -

“AMAZING MOVES FROM TODOROKI!” Present Mic shouted, as he watched the bot topple onto the entirety of UA's students. “Offense and defense, in one single strike! That's what you get from someone who gets in on recommendations! Everyone else can't keep up with those elite moves!”

“I wouldn't be so sure.” Eraserhead breathed.

“Eh?” Mic grunted, before looking back at his screen, his jaw dropping, as an object broke from the confusion. “THAT'S--”

- - -

Izuku burst from the steel chassis of the zero point robot, covered in oil and scratches from the impromptu move. As the robot had toppled, rather than going straight forward, he had careened around the falling machine, and used the obscuring air against the robots. Within five seconds he had reached two hundred kilometers per hour (one fifth the speed of sound), and used the momentum to crush a path through a robot's head, and take back second place.

He called it “Momentum Breaker”.

He had a birds eye view of the track, making sure he was still in the course's boundaries, and not too far up. Shooting back towards the ground, he heard Mic continue to scream.

“CLASS 1-A'S IZUKU MIDORIYA BREAKS AWAY AND AHEAD TO REGAIN SECOND PLACE! A MODEL OF ZERO TO HERO RIGHT HERE, FOLKS!” Izuku kicked up dust as he drifted. He set a foot on the ground, pressed it deep, and used his quirk plus the extra boost of the ground to shoot forward.

In a second, he had passed Todoroki, who looked on in astonishment.

“... Scratch that folks, HE TAKES THE LEAD!”

Izuku soared past the competition, and into the second stage. He looked down at the canyon with a sneer of almost contempt. What pathetic sadness to be slaves to the ground, when he was in the--

- - -

A sickening crunch resounded as Izuku Midoriya, Mic's student, hit a pillar that raised up suddenly, and was out cold. The arena resounded in an 'OOH!' of sympathetic pain. Mic grinned as he saw the boy fall, into the rubbery abyss below. He'd be out for a minute or two at most, but in that time, could he regain that lead?

Eraserhead lowered his hand that pressed on a remote, the pillars beginning to rise and fall in rhythm. The brutal hero leaned in and muttered.

“No free rides, folks. The quirk doesn't make the hero. The hero makes the quirk.” A mix of laughter and cheering erupted as the classes reached the second stage, but silently, Eraserhead was thinking.

He couldn't help but replay the beginning of the match in his head. There shouldn't have been room for Izuku Midoriya to take off from the crowd, not without some sort of instant of opening. Even then, said instant would be hard to pull off, or even find, in the thick of the struggle. Yet, he had, and taken second place in an instant.

On another screen, as mic commentated, he replayed the opening of the course, frame by frame, searching for something. He scanned, and scanned, until...

Two of the students, one from the general education course, and another that he couldn't make out, froze for a moment while that window opened for Izuku. In the next frame, he was lifting off the ground, and the next three, ice was beginning to fill the corridor, essentially blinding him.

It could have been a camera malfunction, or a stroke of dumb luck.

Or, something about the sudden 'zero to hero' could be more than meets the eye.

- - -

“Ballsy moves, paying off and not in the same five minutes.” Tomura croaked, scratching idly at his neck as he watched the festival from his room. Sensei's screen sat a few inches from his main computer, and the smooth voice echoed in a chuckle of agreement.

“Quite. Let us hope our young informant doesn't choke on his ambitions.” All For One sighed. “Amusing as this may be, what do you hope to gain from watching this, Tomura?” The question was less of an inquiry, and more of a question the Symbol of Evil expected the correct answer to.

“I want to put our assassin with someone who he'll work well with on the field.” Tomura grunted.

“Oh? So you're planning on placing him on field work?” All For One inquired, something like smug satisfaction in his tone.

“Yeah. No point in having a cloak and dagger if you don't use the dagger.” Tomura said, glancing to the screen. “Once we get this whole Stain situation figured out, maybe they can work together. Seems like a good pair.”

“Perhaps.”

Tomura sighed. “With respect, sir, can you give me a yes or no?”

“Take no offense, Tomura Shigaraki.” All For One chuckled. “As usual, I merely want you to figure things out by yourself.”

“Right, right...” Tomura returned his attention to the screen, and smiled. “Let's just hope our pet demon is up to it.”

Chapter 12: Ruggente Conclusione, Guardando Nell'Oscurità

Chapter Text

Humiliating had not even begun to cover what Izuku felt. As he rose from the actively rising pillars, he found himself facing students maneuvering through a long stretch of dirt covered in mounds of dirt. Mines, he figured, as a pink explosion sent a student flying backwards. Todoroki and Bakugo were already close to the end.

Izuku lifted off the abyss and shot forward, quickly overtaking the stragglers of the group and quickly opening onto the minefield. Like the rest of the obstacles, it wouldn't be a challenge unless something was put in place for him, or Bakugo.

He got his answer when Kacchan tried to explode his way over a mine, only for it to blow up. Present Mic guffawed and screeched over the mic.

“Flight school's out boys and girls! These mines are bouncers, which means they'll fly up and hit you wherever you try to hide!” He followed this with a laugh.

Izuku tripped one of the mines and found a sphere of blinking pink and chrome metal staring at him, a moment before it detonated. It felt as if he had been smacked in the face by a cinderblock of force, as he tumbled out of the sky and onto the ground.

This would require some finesse.

How to regain his position using his quirk? Already there were maybe thirty yards between the leaders and the end of the minefield, and fifty yards to the end of the obstacle course. He had to think fast. He couldn't get through on legwork alone, that would be foolish. He couldn't get through with his quirk, or those mines would slaughter him. Not even his original quirk would help him, unless mines had bones. There had to be some other way.

Clarity arrived as Izuku looked behind him, past the pillars.

He was off like a bullet, sending several students in his wake flying into mines. Present Mic made a sound of confusion.

“Seems our little hurricane is going the opposite direction?! What on earth is he doing!” The winds flowed around Izuku as he reached 400 kilometers per hour, returning in a near blink of an eye to the first obstacle.

The robo inferno was a twisted graveyard of metal, ice, and flame, each of the machines having been decimated by the quirks of the class. He looked around, desperate, among the bots. One of them had to have something like what he needed.

There, on one of the ruins of the smaller bots. An arm with a wide metal berth. He grasped it, twisted, and broke the metal off the arm, heaving under its weight. Solid steel was heavy, but he managed, barely. Izuku shot back towards the mines, the winds roaring. As he returned, he spotted Todoroki and Bakugo only twenty yards from the end of the obstacle course, both of them running as fast as possible.

Showtime.

Izuku situated the metal shield between him and the field, using the air current around his body and his own strength to keep it in place. Rather than maneuvering, he shot forward.

The sky lit up like a war movie. He was reminded of scenes where aircraft fly overhead and flak rounds explode all around them, as he tilted the shield forward and flew. Pink explosions erupted, deafening him and pushing against his shield. It slammed against his arms and body, but the pain was a sidenote. The strategy was working. He was adding the force of the detonations to his own flight speed, shooting forward and being flung at the same time.

He cleared the obstacle course in the span of two seconds, and threw down his shield. Todoroki and Bakugo were fifteen yards away from the end. He was forty. They ducked into the long tunnel between the course and the arena's interior.

They were five yards away from the end. He was ten. It looked like a shoo-in.

A blast of arctic air slammed into Izuku like a hammer, throwing him back. Todoroki's work, and it hadn't cost the boy more than a moment of concentration. Said moment was far from enough to lose his place to Bakugo, but it had been enough to secure his victory. It may have cost Izuku first place, but he would not lose to Kacchan. Kacchan was two yards from the exit. Izuku was eight.

Air screamed as Izuku did. Kacchan screamed as well, explosions flowing from his palms like a firework factory on fire.

Then, they crossed.

- - -

As the first three students emerged, their names and placement arrived on the board. Shota watched it with contemplation, arms crossed. He, and three others, stood in the broadcast station. The other two were looking at a small screen set into a console.

TODOROKI SHOUTO - #1
MIDORIYA IZUKU - #2
BAKUGO KATSUKI - #3

It had been close at the end. They had to use a high speed camera to confirm, but Izuku had won his place by the width of three hairs. As the other students filed in, most were from Class 1-A, with the remainder from 1-B. The only exception to this was Hitoshi Shinsou, someone Shota had an eye on for some time, and Kyodo Kiryu, another General Education student. Both of them were Izuku's former classmates. The remainder had been eliminated.

The Cavalry Battle would be a true crucible to see if Shota's suspicions were correct. Izuku's quirk was designed for lone combat, rather than teamwork. If he truly did have a more nefarious, secondary quirk, it might make another appearance.

Naomasa Tsukauchi stood nearby, taking a look at the frames Shota had brought up. His eyes were furrowed. Nishimura stood nearby, in much the same state of concentration. He turned towards Aizawa.

“You're sure this wasn't a camera glitch?” Nishimura inquired. Aizawa shook his head.

“One hundred percent. I had all our equipment checked, and all the camera crews reported no malfunctions. The logs support it.”

Tsukauchi crossed his arms before speaking. “This could mean any number of things. He could have gotten lucky, or found some opening.”

“Bullsh*t, with respect, detective.” Shota crowded around the screen like the detective and his apprentice. “You don't find a square inch of opening in the tunnel unless you make one. That's the point.”

Nishimura and Tsukauchi shared a glance. The latter continued. “Then he may have a second, unregistered quirk?”

“I'd consider it likely, if completely outrageous. Modern society hasn't encountered any individual with multiple quirks before.”

“Except...” Nishimura started.

Tsukauchi thought of All For One.

Shota and Nishimura thought of Nomu.

The end of both of their trains of thought were not good. Silence fell upon the room like a sheet for a solid minute, as all within were consumed by thought.

“Are... are you both implying that this boy could be associated with the League of Villains, AND be the Lotus Demon?” Nishimura stated, incredulous. The others looked at him with sober looks.

“We're implying the Lotus Demon may work for the League. We can't determine if Izuku Midoriya is the Lotus Demon yet. He's been on our watchlist from the first murder, but my quirk wasn't able to pick up any lies when I interrogated him.” Tsukauchi said, looking at his hand.

“Shouldn't that be enough?” Shota's eyebrow raised. Tsukauchi shook his head.

“My quirk can be... circumvented. Like a normal lie detector, if the person is so convinced of a lie that it's the truth, or if the person is a very good liar. I covered those bases with cursory interviews with his classmates, and some communication with his mother through email. The boy hasn't lied a day in his life.”

“Then something doesn't fit.” Shota said. Tsukauchi nodded sagely, pinching his chin and looking down. Anger began to twist his face, a sneer curling up his lips. He slammed a fist into the console.

“f*ck this case.” Tsukauchi said, anger bubbling in his words. “Nothing makes sense. We're chasing a grisly ghost.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. Nishimura set a hand on Tsukauchi's shoulder.

“We'll get him, Naomasa. Today, next week, five years from now. We will get him.”

“How many bodies have to pile up before we do?” Tsukauchi said, rage mixing with sadness as he leaned against the console. “How many mothers have to die? Fathers? Sons? Daughters? Just so some madman can get his sick artwork.”

None of them had an answer for that.

- - -

“Well done on the race, students!” Midnight called over the microphone, to the cheers of the crowd. It had been a solid ten minutes of rest time before the next event had begun, and Izuku noted that the crowd was far thinner than it had been. “As you may have noticed, many of your classmates are absent. That's simply because the first forty two students have been selected to move on!”

It made Izuku's heart sink. How many would move on to the third round, if well over one hundred students had been eliminated just like that?

“Don't despair. Even if you're not in the main course, you'll always be able to shine as a hors d'oeuvres!” The metaphor was confusing. “Now, time for the real competition.” Midnight cracked her whip, and the ticker begun to roll. It was ceremonial, as events were pre-planned, but it still added an air of tension and mystery. It stopped.

“CAVALRY BATTLE”

A team event? Izuku's face felt tight. It wouldn't work out well, unless he used his original quirk. In the battle, even if he was the lead, he would need to have additional support to make his flight work. Could he even make other people fly? The thought hadn't occurred to him.

Speaking of quirks, what was he going to call his original quirk? The thoughts were enough to pass the time while he thought up his dream team. It wouldn't be on a public registry until he was found out, which he was NOT planning for. Original quirk wouldn't work, that was simply too bulky. Something bold, something interesting. Bonesinger? A bit much. Control? Too simple.

Puppetmaster. Now there was a name. Puppetmaster it was.

Students spoke, but Midnight shut it down with another crack of the whip. “Alright, kids, settle down. As you may have gathered, you've been assigned a point value based on your placement in the obstacle course. For example, forty second place has a point value of five, forty first has ten, and so on. Third place has 200. Second place has 205. And first place, the grand total of ten million points!”

Everyone's head snapped towards Todoroki. Izuku did as well. The boy betrayed no emotion as the predators sights settled on him, but Izuku had to feel like he was sweating within.

“That's right. It's a chance for anyone to rise the top. Survival of the fittest with a single stroke! Let's see you shine. You have fifteen minutes to decide on a team.”

Some had already agreed on a team to work with (namely 1-B), but others were clearly looking for someone to team up with. Izuku begun to wander with haste, hoping the team he had thought up wouldn't be taken by the time he had asked them. The first on his list was Uraraka, whose face lit up when he approached.

“Hey, Uraraka!” He begun, but without even having to ask, Ochaco nodded.

“I'll be on a team with you, Deku.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Truth be told, I honestly thought about it since you showed off your quirk. I feel like ours would work well together.”

Izuku smiled. He felt bad, in a sense. The girl was clearly head over heels for him, more or less. He could make her do most anything he so desired, but that wasn't his modus operandi. Sure, he was a serial killer, but even they have standards sometimes. Right now, he just needed reliable teammates that synchronized well.

“Right.” Deku said, and looked around. “The other two...” He searched the crowd, and his heart sank. Iida had already selected a team, it seemed, as he was being herded into a group with Tsuyu, and Shoji. Their strategy would surely be something else. But his second pick still hadn't been selected. Indeed, he was simply standing still, looking around with tired eyes. Izuku approached.

“Hey, Shinso!” Izuku called, giving the boy a wave. Hitoshi turned towards Izuku, and gave him a tired smile. The two hadn't been close friends in General Education by any stretch of the imagination, but they had hit it off quickly as black sheep. Hitoshi gave a still hand of greeting, and approached.

“Let me guess, want me to be part of your team?” Shinso said it with an air somewhat like derision. Izuku gulped. Would this work out? “Because sure, why not.”

Deku fist pumped and raised a hand for a high five, which Hitoshi laughed at. He didn't mean anything by it. He glanced to Uraraka. “This our other teammate?” He inquired. Ochaco smiled, and spoke.

“Yeah, I'm--”

Her eyes went blank and her face drew, becoming a blank mask. Izuku rolled his eyes. Shinso liked pulling this every time he met someone he was going to work with. Her face quickly returned to normal, Shinso chuckling and her adopting a defensive position.

“W-what the heck was that for? Was that your quirk?” Ochaco asked. Shinso nodded.

“Handy, huh? Nice to meet you, Hitoshi Shinso. Let's get our plus one and get this show on the road.” Ochaco scowled at the boy, but looked to Izuku. He nodded with a smile, and that was enough to placate Uraraka. Given the fact Iida was working with Shoji's group, there weren't a lot more options. Most students had been picked up already, and there were maybe five minutes left to decide. Who would be the last member of their team?

The answer came in a set of footsteps that approached slowly. Izuku turned towards the owner of them, and his eyes were wide. How had he not been selected for a team? His quirk was incredible, and his point value was nothing to scoff at, either. Maybe it was because of that.

“Hey. Nobody wants to team up with me, and you seem to have an empty spot. How about it?”

- - -

“Alright ladies and gentlemen! Time to go over the teams!” Midnight called, cracking her whip towards the big screen.

“TEAM 1: Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu, Ibara Shiozaki, Juzo Honenuki, Yosetsu Awase”
“TEAM 2: Hanta Sero, Denki Kaminari, Momo Yaoyorozu, Toru Hagakure”
“TEAM 3: Mezo Shoji, Tsuyu Asui, Tenya Iida, Tokoyami Fumikage”
“TEAM 4: Kyoka Jiro, Koji Koda, Rikido Sato, Yuga Aoyama”
"TEAM 5: Itsuka Kendo, Reiko Yanagi, Kinoko Komori, Setsuna Tokage"
“TEAM 6: Katsuki Bakugo, Eijiro Kirishima, Mina Ashido, Hatsume Mei”
“TEAM 7: Neito Monoma, Kosei Tsuburaba, Sen Kaibara, Shihai Kuroiro”
“TEAM 8: Nirengeki Shoda, Mashirao Ojiro, Hiryu Rin”
“TEAM 9: Yui Kodai, Kojiro Bondo, Manga f*ckidashi”
“TEAM 10: Jurota Shishida, Pony Tsunotori, Togaru Kamakiri, Kyodo Kiryu”
“TEAM 11: Izuku Midoriya, Uraraka Ochaco, Hitoshi Shinso, Shoto Todoroki”

The eleven teams were arrayed in pairs on each side of the arena, with three of the sides having three. His team composition was simple. Shinso would sit at the lead, Izuku at the front, Ochaco and Todoroki at the back. They, alongside Team 5 and Team 1. All eyed each other. It was clear what was going to happen right out the gate. Midnight continued, “I hope you're ready for a roaring second event, because IT!”

“Three.” The mechanical announcer begun the countdown.

“IS!”

“Two.”

“SHOWTIME!”

“One.”

The alarm exploded into noise.

Chapter 13: Demone e Usurpatore

Chapter Text

The game begun in a roar of cheers and stamping of footsteps. Everyone but teams 9, 10, and 1 were headed straight towards Izuku's team. Panic hadn't had time to worm its way into Izuku's mind. All he could do was forge onward, thinking of the plan they had in mind. They would only have a moment to pull it off, but that seemed to be a trend as time went on.

“RIGHT OUT THE GATE, A ROARING CHARGE FOR THE TEN MILLION! WHO WILL GET IT?” Mic yelled. “OR WILL IT STAY ON OUR VAUNTED CHAMPION'S HEAD?! YOW! ITS HOT!”

Shinso glanced towards the nearest team, team 4, which barreled towards them. Jiro already seemed to have her earlobes ready to strike out.

“Feeling lucky?” He offered a grin.

“What?” The word was simple, and presented challenge and confusion at the same time. It was enough to trigger his quirk, and Shinso's command was simple.

“Go ahead and stop for me.”

Jiro ground to a halt, disrupting the formation instantly. Koda and Sato were forced to halt, and Aoyama almost went tumbling right over the lead. As one group was eliminated, other teams paid attention to the strategy, or at least the strategy to begin with. Everyone knew at least a hint of how Hitoshi's quirk worked.

“Impressive display of mind games from our purple prodigy! Not the most legal move, but hey, he didn't say to knock down his team!” Mic reported. He was clearly getting into it.

It wouldn't matter. The next move would win the match, if they were so lucky that it worked and endured. During the confusion, nobody had paid attention to Ochaco making contact with each of the horses, freeing up their gravity. Izuku looked back, and nodded once. Uraraka nodded in confirmation. Izuku looked to Todoroki. The youth nodded once, curtly.

Now or never.

Winds kicked up beneath the group, and begun to make them rise. The last one to get their feet off the ground was Todoroki, whose right foot lingered for the span of a second. In that second, a rush of frigid air spilled from his left side, and coated the cement floor of the arena in ice. With the trap complete, Izuku lifted the group off the ground completely.

It was hard. He knew his flight power worked off manipulation of wind rather than his own personal gravity, like some flight quirks did. But he hadn't expected just how much wind would be required to lift four people off the floor. It was helped by Uraraka's quirk, which, once they were in the air, made keeping the group afloat effortless.

Now it was time to try maneuvering. Izuku twisted the winds with an effort of will to make it almost like a treadmill, or a slipstream. Air flowed beneath them, pushing forward and up, keeping them barely afloat. It was like balancing an orb on his head. He called up to Shinso.

“Alright, I don't think we'll be able to engage in combat like this. I'm having a hard time moving us around as is.” Izuku said. Hitoshi sneered at the situation, eyes down towards the arena. They were about twenty feet up.

“Then we focus on evasion for now. Bubbles.” He looked down to Ochaco, who seemed to be squirming a bit. “How long can you keep us up for.”

“U-uhm...” She said. “T-two or three minutes, a-as long as w-we don't move.”

“Alright then. Deku, don't move us. How long do you think you can keep us flying when the gravity turns back on?”

Izuku thought, looking down and feeling the strain it had taken to float them up. It may be easier to keep them up than it was to move them. Even as he tested it out, keeping them from floating out of bounds or too high above the stadium, it felt like pushing a bowling ball across a table. He looked back up to speak.

“I'll try for four or five minutes.”

“Let's assume the midway on both of those. Two and a half and four and a half minutes. That means we'll be out of play for seven minutes total. That's almost a third of the time limit.” Hitoshi grumbled, glancing to Shoto. “Think you'll be able to keep them off us for twenty three minutes, icy hot?”

Todoroki grunted in the affirmative. Shinso nodded.

“Let's just observe how things go for now. Maybe we'll be able to tell some of their strategies.”

And so, Team 11 floated above the carnage.

- - -

“And with that move team 11 hangs above the arena like a pinata! Expert use of every single team member's quirks for some immunity! But how long will it last?” Mic yelled, pointing and observing. He truly was into it.

Shota was annoyed.

The opening moments of the cavalry battle would have been a great opportunity for that theoretical melee quirk to come out. Of course, he had to commend the tactic they had come up with. Some may see it as cowardly, but that was the only way to survive the mosh pit for the ten million. When the contestants were sure they couldn't get to him, they would begin to fight among each other, and would be to preoccupied to break away and try the swarm again.

How the hell this once quirkless young student was able to think up such a good plan in so short a time ate at him. Maybe it was just paranoia. Paranoia had gotten him this far in life, however. But, it could have also been Todoroki's idea, or even Hitoshi's. Both of them had astute minds for the strategic.

Tsukauchi's words rang with him, even as he had departed to the precinct with a promise to keep an eye on the festival. To think this wide eyed young boy had the capacity for such cruelty and cunning...

It made him angry.

Mic seemed to notice, and moved away from his microphone to speak to Shota. “Hey, Shota, everything alright?” Aizawa regarded Yamada, through the mummy-like covering of bandages.

“I'm held up on stuff. Keep it going, Hizashi.”

“O-K!” He said with gusto, and continued yelling commentary. Shota drowned it out, as he continued to bore holes into that student.

- - -

The moment Uraraka released the group from her gravity, Izuku braced himself to have his quirk fail and drag down everyone.

Luckily, that wasn't the case. He may have felt like he was carrying several thousand pounds of air, but he was sustaining it. As Ochaco rested, Izuku kept the bubble of wind. They floated for what felt like hours, observing the battle below. Some of 1-B's headbands had been taken, and even team 6 had lost their headband, much to the frothing fury of Kacchan.

After five minutes Izuku felt sweat running from his brow and dripping down, stinging his eyes with salty fluid. His entire body felt slick and exhausted, like he had gone on a nice long run. He had to keep his concentration, but felt like he needed to let them down at any moment.

It didn't help that the voices were screaming at him. They had been filled with rage for some time now, but being as tired as he was, he felt them clawing at his psyche. They demanded blood. The Lotus Demon wanted to come back in, to be unleashed into the world like a torrent of fire and suffering. Release. It wanted out.

He couldn't. He was being watched. But the voices didn't care. They wanted to exit. They needed to...

Talk?

Izuku felt his vision going black as his teammates screamed at him to release the winds, to let it go naturally. He couldn't. Deku could still hold on, he knew it. But he felt the wind fail to meet his commands, and they plummeted.

Darkness took his vision as Izuku fell.

. . .

He awoke in a field of flowers, completely nude. It went on for a theoretical infinity, stretching in all directions and covering the world in shades of violets, reds, and yellows. When he rose, he couldn't speak, and could barely move. He looked down and found himself covered in scars of an unknown nature. Since when was I this cut up? he thought.

He was staring at himself.

It was a rugged thing, almost just like him. Nude, as he was, wrapped in rusted wires that stuck from the ground and constructed the other Izuku's form. It held onto the wires with a vice grip, pulling against... something. Something deep and vast rumbled beneath their feet, like the motor of an angry machine that had taken up residence in the crust of the earth. This version of Izuku was covered in lines of cosmic red, dancing like veins. Violins played somewhere in the distance.

“H... hello?” Izuku called, the figure turned towards him. It really was Izuku, down to the freckles and hair. It was like looking in a ragged mirror.

“Us! I didn't expect you to be down here. What are you--” It struggled against the wires, face twisting in concentration. “You shouldn't be here. If you're here for too long, He'll be here.”

“Who's... he? What are you talking about?” Izuku asked. He had no idea what was going on.

“He's the reason... the voices. You give them form. It was because of the voices that He took--” Chained-Izuku pulled once more, his arms trembling. It was clear he was giving out. His foot slipped. “I... sh*t. sh*t. He's coming. Hide! HID--” The chained one was pulled into the flowers, and became a puff of pollen and sunlight.

The sky began to darken as clouds of ash and soot roiled. Like a great volcano had burst from the earth the sky was choked into starless night, a lightning storm of acid rained down and rendered the field of flowers to choked and dead dirt. From the chains rose... Him.

It was him, again, but it was the costume he wore as the Lotus Demon. The eyes were very literally aflame, the hoodie made of something like skin. Bones adorned the creature in a necklace and wrist bands, jingling as it struggled to work a massive, fanged mouth. Its jeans were ripped and caked with gore, its shoes torn to reveal gnarled and blackened feet. In its gloved, clawed hands it held the ends of two long wires that led into the dirt.

Izuku took a step back, and the noise prompted the demon to look to him. It radiated malice. Hatred, and a longing for beauty. When it spoke, it was with thousands of voices of countless tones, as if a massive crowd had come to simultaneous and spiteful consensus.

“Ah, good. We wanted to talk to you.”

It was the voices. All of them.

“Wh... what do you want with me?” Izuku took a step back, adopting a defensive position. He tried to call upon his quirk, but it was worthless.

“What we've always wanted, Izuku. To make art. To kill. It's what you want too, isn't it?” The demon set its hands on its chest in a placating gesture. “We're the same person, after all. Don't you recognize your brrrrrother?”

“I... uh... I don't know.”

“Of course you do, brrrother!” It chuckled. A horrible sound, filled with cruelty. “Don't listen to what that little sunspot says. That little usurper. We're your family. Your wants and desires. We are...” It was tugged back for a moment, its feet dragging in the polluted earth. “We're... the voices. And we want.”

“What if I say no?” Izuku said, more of a question of intent.

The demon snarled and took a step forward, still being pulled back. It spoke through grunts of effort. “You... won't. No matter how long... that usurper holds us back... you'll come back to us. We'll always... be...” Its back bowed backwards as its hands were drawn to the dirt. “NO! YOU WILL LISTEN! YOU... WILL...”

Just like that, it disappeared in a blast of screaming smoke. The clouds dispersed, and flowers grew once more. Sunlight flowed down in shafts. The chained Izuku rose from the soil, looking as if he had been in a fist fight. Peppered with bruises and cuts that hadn't been there before, he breathed heavily. The usurper, he assumed, looked at Izuku with rebuke.

“Why... didn't... you... hide?” Its voice was broken by pain. “You need to... get out... of here.”

“I-I still have no idea what's happening here! I gathered who 'He' was, but who... who are you?” Izuku asked.

The chained Izuku merely smiled. It was warm.

A great gale blew in the field and tore Izuku from it, sending him hurtling through the sky. His vision began to swim with spots, and it went dark.

. . .

“--GREAT TIME TO WAKE UP, IZUKU!” Hitoshi was screaming. The crowd was screaming. Izuku just wanted to go back to his nap, but nooooo, they had to--

Oh, that was happening.

Izuku found himself being dragged, Shoto having taken the lead from him while he was knocked out. When he looked to the ticker, it showed there was three minutes remaining. Deku scrambled and got his feet under him, barely keeping up with the pace that they were running at. It was clear they were being pursued, but when he looked around, the teams were blurs with vague shapes.

“Ah, so sleeping beauty arises.” Hitoshi gave a grin. When Izuku looked to his face, he saw two headbands.

Neither were the ten million.

“Wh... what uh... huh...” Izuku slurred, barely managing to keep running. “Huh?” He managed. Hitoshi pointed to his head.

“When you got knocked out, team 3 came out of nowhere and snagged the ten million band. I got a couple more, so we're still in the game. Just being trailed by--”

“DEKU!” The telltale scream of Kacchan came through the haze, like a bullet through water. When Izuku looked back, he found team 6 barreling towards them, with their headband on. Todoroki was expelling ice, but against Ashido's acid and Mei's technology that adorned them, it was just an annoyance.

“Yeah, that one.” Hitoshi said. “He's so pissed off at you that any time I try and talk to him he's not chatting.”

Deku finally felt his head clearing, his brain churning a mile a minute as it processed what to do next. They had two headbands, which would probably be enough for second or third, but they needed to be sure. Plus, he just wanted to beat Kacchan. He looked up to Shinso, and nodded.

“Alright, here's the plan.”

. . .

It had been explained. The team continued to barrel towards an edge, and Mic was yelling.

“Team 11 is heading straight for the edge! Think they have something in mind, or are they just following the reigns? Let's see!”

“I'M GONNA KILL YOU FOR THAT EMBERASSMENT, DEKU!” Bakugo screamed. Izuku looked back, a mix of challenge and fear in his eyes. He grinned at Katsuki, which just made him snarl incoherently.

As they reached the ledge, the plan kicked in. Izuku yelled only four steps from the left edge of the arena. “URARAKA, NOW!”

In a moment, all of them were at zero gravity, and Izuku's winds had formed a bowl. They scaled the wall of twisting winds with Izuku's command, and were shot back the way they came like paper in a jetstream. The now upside down team 11 drifted at extreme speeds, and at Kacchan's astonishment, Hitoshi took it as the chance to grab his headband.

Torn from Kacchan's head, he grasped in vain for its return, but to no avail. Izuku moved the winds, and they found themselves back on the ground. With a scream of triumph from the crowd and awe from Mic, they had secured a placement, if nothing else.

One minute remained. Team 3 still had the ten million, and was being swarmed by 1, 4, 5, and 8. The rest were barreling towards 11, as they had the most points. Kacchan was at the point of it, filled with fury.

Todoroki slammed his foot on the ground, ice bellowing out from it like a hurricane's eye, spreading outward. Most had grown wise to the tricks of the prodigal son, but others slipped over the slickness. Others began to maneuver for the other teams, including... team 6.

Team 6 grasped two headbands, one from 9 and 10. They remained in the game.

Others began to head towards Izuku. Todoroki was running out of ice. Everyone was at their limit. Heavy breaths. Sweat. The sound of the crowd.

And a blaring alarm.

“TIME'S UP!” Mic roared. The crowd nearly drowned out his voice.

Bakugo face-planted a few meters away, growling as he had launched himself from his team in an attempt to snag a headband.

“Contestants, dismount. Scores will be displayed momentarily.” A far more professional voice than Mic said.

It was indeed a few moments as the teams assembled into groups of four. Izuku held his breath as he watched the results come up on the screen, commentated by Mic as they arrived.

“1st PLACE (NUMBER 1!): TEAM 3!”
“2nd PLACE: TEAM 6!”
“3rd PLACE: TEAM 11!”
“4th PLACE: TEAM 1!”

They had won. Healthily, even. A flow of relief went through Izuku, as he and his team endured in the competition. Next would be noonday break. It would be handy to be able to sort through the five million thoughts that ran through his head. He absently strode from the stage alongside the others, convincing those concerned that no, he only needed some food and no medical attention was necessary.

There may have been more to what was going in than he thought. Who was the chained version of him? What was that creature that bore his mask? He didn't understand what the hell was going on in his head.

He couldn't let it cloud his focus. There would be plenty of time to have a therapy session with the voices inside his head later. He just needed rest. Rest he did as he chowed down on takoyaki and a pork cutlet bowl.

Eating prevented him from thinking. Thinking was the last thing he needed right now.

- - -

“We didn't have any mics that were close enough to the boy's face at the time. Even with modern tech, you can't exactly get muttering from fifty yards.” Shota spoke into his mobile, secluded in a blue and grey hallway. The number on it was unmarked, as if it hadn't been put in his contacts yet. The voice on the other line hummed.

“You're sure nothing was close enough to pick it out? They certainly got the voice of the exploding kid well enough.” Tsukauchi said. Shota shook his head with a grunt in the negative.

“Positive. I checked to be sure, but nothing got anything coherent.”

“Well then, I guess we're back to watching. Still, how common is something like that? Muttering while you're out.” Tsukauchi said, the sound from his end sounding as if he was adjusting in a chair.

“If you're not out cold, it can be common.” Shota explained. “Using the knockout as a faux dream state. Some people talk in their sleep, or are barely able to recognize the world around them. Had a villain ask to turn down the radio while they were knocked out in a cop car once.”

Tsukauchi chuckled at the story, but it was equally to calm his nerves. He continued. “Give me a call if anything comes up. This is my personal number, but I'm sure I can trust you with it.”

“Of course.”

“Good luck.” The line went dead.

Aizawa slammed his phone on the ground, the screen cracking, but remaining operational. Rage filled him like a fountain. He went to pick up his mobile, but couldn't help but sneer at the dead line. What bullsh*t. The detective had to know more than he let on, or was the Lotus Demon just so goddamn good at cloak and dagger that he was able to outwit the police for over a year?

Things just didn't piece together.

He needed to have a talk with the emerald child. Only then would he know for sure.

Chapter 14: Nemici Nascosti, Fiamme di Conflitto

Chapter Text

Izuku was torn from his viewing. A TV in the waiting room was playing highlights of the last round, and many of them had drawn some special attention to his little wipe out. His attention to the talking heads and highlights was broken by a knock on his door. He went to open it, hesitated for a moment, and turned the knob.

Aizawa wasted no time in grabbing the edge of the door and pushing it. It almost sent Izuku sprawling, but instead, he found himself half bent backwards over the table with his bandaged teacher staring daggers at him. His eyes glowed a soft red, and true to his quirk, he couldn't feel his control over the winds.

“Hello, Izuku.” He said. His tone was an inch away from murderous. Izuku already felt his knees quavering.

“S-sensei! I didn't--”

“Expect me. People don't tend to. That's my job when I'm dispensing discipline.” He stalked forward two steps.

“D-discipline, sir? D-did I d-do something w-w-wrong?” Aizawa knew something. Did Kacchan spill to him? Did he catch on? Oh god, was he going to have to kill his teacher to keep his identity secret? This was another do or die situation, just like when Tsukauchi first came to his apartment. He couldn't betray anything. One misstep would spell the end of everything.

“That depends. I'll be able to discern that based on the next few minutes.” Aizawa's quirk faded, and he pointed to one of the two chairs. “Sit.”

Izuku did, setting his hands between his legs and staring attentively at Shota, who took the chair opposite him.

“I don't know what you are, Midoriya.” Aizawa set both arms on the table. “You're going to listen to what I say. There are so many threads that connect these Lotus Demon murders to you, and every single one has died. You were spotted near some of the murders, and yet it was always for a good reason. You have a late part time job, if I recall correctly.”

It was true. He had recently started working as a bus boy in a coffee shop in downtown Musutafu. It was late work, typically on the weekends (when he was out performing), and nobody but his manager and mother knew his hours. It was a good cover up.

“See, everything just keeps dying. Any lead that connects to you. And yet, conveniences happen all the time. The detectives don't have enough evidence to try you. Nothing but ghosts in the machine and half truths. Not a single piece of DNA can be found in all that blood and gore. Whoever the Lotus Demon is-- you, or some other psychopath-- they're thorough. They keep saying, how can a high school kid be this thorough?

“See, Izuku, I do think you're the Lotus Demon. But I don't know. And that means you're on the razor's edge with me.” Shota glowered even deeper, if such a thing were possible. “I'll watch every step you make, every breath you take, every twitch and date you go on. You're a danger to my students, even if you are one of them. You are my enemy. I am your teacher, but you are my foe.”

There was no point in hiding it anymore. That pretense of being a student was gone. There were no cameras in the waiting room, nothing to record audio; though Izuku could say nothing, in case Shota had a tape recorder. All he did was lower the guise of fear and smile serenely. Shota's eye twitched. Izuku spoke as if he was still afraid, but never dropped that taunting smile. There was no point in showing his teacher any doubt.

“You're wrong, sensei. I'm not who you think I am.” He grinned just a bit wider. “You'll see. I'll prove to you my innocence.” Shota twitched with anger. He rose suddenly, as did Izuku. The two didn't dare break eye contact.

Aizawa's gaze broke first, and he spoke. “I don't know what you are. No human would do what you've done. But you won't lay another hand on anyone.”

Izuku said nothing. He continued smiling. Aizawa stalked out of the room. He shut the door, and returned to the television.

The hunt was on.

- - -

“I'm telling you, he's f*cking it!” Shota all but roared into his mobile.

“Calm the hell down!” Tsukauchi said in a placating manner. “Slow down, for God's sake. What did he say, -exactly-?”

“He said 'I'm not who you think I am', 'You're wrong', and 'You'll see, I'll prove my innocence'. All with that f*cking grin on his face. I'm telling you, the little bastard knows that I know.” Shota slammed a fist on the wall of the lounge, causing some pictures to rattle in place.

“That's not enough for us to try him. Did you record your conversation?” Tsukauchi inquired.

Shota pulled out a tape recorder. It had been on when he was in the room, hoping to catch something. Any misstep. There were no bugs in the waiting rooms, no cameras either. It was just the tape recorder, and even then, it couldn't catch anything that wasn't audio.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Send me the tape. I'll try and go through it, but if what he said is what he said, that's far from a confession. Until we get something solid, this case will go belly up in court.” Tsukauchi massaged the bridge of his nose. “We can't risk mediocre connections. We need something solid.”

“Then I'll get you something solid.” Aizawa said, almost desperate.

“How? Quit teaching, put a camera on your head and stalk the boy? You need to sleep too.”

“No, but I'll find a way.” Shota replied. Tsukauchi sighed from the other end of the line.

“When you do, send it to me.” He paused, and spoke reassuringly. “I get it, Eraserhead. We want this nightmare to end. We all want the nightmare to end. But we can't go on American witch hunts burning everyone who might be involved. Just give it time. He'll slip up.”

“Every day he's not behind bars, people can die. My students can die, as shown with Mineta. I'll personally drag this bastard to hell before he takes another body.” Before the detective could reply, he closed his phone.

For the second time in one day, Aizawa threw his phone at the ground in rage.

The screen cracked this time.

- - -

The students were ushered onto the stadium floor, and it was packed. Clearly, the next event was something that nobody wanted to miss. What could it be? Izuku hadn't been paying attention. He stood among sixteen other students, the winning teams from the Cavalry Battle. These were the best of UA high, and Izuku stood among them. It was incredibly stressful. Midnight had taken the podium once more, the great screen behind her.

“Welcome to the final event, you beautiful youngsters!” She called out. The crowd roared, as they were so inclined to. “This last one is the most famed event in the UA sports festival, one nobody will want to miss.” The spinner began to rotate rapidly, and finally settled.

“BATTLE TOURNAMENT”

The crowd went wild, and Midnight continued. “That's right, children. Each one of you are going to be in one on one matches against your fellow students. It might be against your own team members from the cavalry battle, and it might be with your arch nemesis. Who knows!

“The rules are simple. When a combatant is unable to fight or is pushed out of the bounds of the arena, they will be eliminated, and the winner will move onto the next round. No lethal attacks or extreme wounds. This is a single elimination tournament setup, sixteen matches in total. Winner takes glory. The brackets have been decided, courtesy of our lovely judges.”

Izuku scanned the brackets. It started with Shoji and someone from Class 1-B, and went down. Uraraka was fighting Ashido-- that would be something to watch. And below...

“TENYA IIDA VS IZUKU MIDORIYA”

It would soon be time to see if Tenya was right. And depending on who won the match after them, Izuku would either have to fight Kirishima or Shinso. Shinso would be simple. Kirishima, less so.

But before all that, Izuku had to make a call.

- - -

“Your performance in the festival thus far has been admirable. What is this call about?” Kurogiri spoke over the line. Izuku had secluded himself in a bathroom, sitting on a toilet. It seemed to be a good spot when making inconspicuous calls to enemy number one of Japan.

“I've been picking up some heat from the staff and... janitors. I may be on the edge.” Izuku tried to use code words, but it was hard. Kurogiri seemed to get it.

“Far from unexpected. We need to get the attention off of you.” Kurogiri paused, and spoke to someone (probably Tomura) away from the phone. “He'd like to speak to you.” The phone was passed off. Izuku's palms became sweaty.

“Hey, rogue. Seems like your streak's getting a bit hard to stay hidden.” Tomura's (creaking, was what it could be described as; was that an accurate way to describe someone's tone?) voice came over the line. “Lucky for you, I have a good idea.”

“What's that?”

“How do you feel about going quiet for a while, after a field trip?”

- - -

The plan, as laid out by Tomura, was incredibly simple. It would also require another cloak and dagger mission into the staff lounge for a schedule for the summer. Easier said than done, and the prospect of working with a new aspect to the organization was stressful. Even still, he was hopeful. Perhaps a sporting round of beating up one of his best friends would get his mind off it. He turned to face the TV, and found himself looking at the eight-armed form of Shoji staring down a girl with vines for hair.

“Let's hear it for a roaring round one, folks!” Present Mic was back on the commentary. “We have the octo-armed apocalypse, Mezo Shoji, versus the shiny viney hardline, Ibara Shiozaki!”

“BEGIN!”

Chapter 15: Figli di Momentum

Chapter Text

Shoji dashed forward without delay, forming multiple hands balled up in fists. He was impressively fast for someone his size, Izuku noted. It wasn't faster than the vines of Ibara, which impaled the arena and curved beneath the Earth. Shoji went for a gut punch to the woman, but found his arms restrained.

He broke the first set of restraints to his credit, but more simply kept coming, until he was overwhelmed. Shoji pulled in vain against his bonds, and with an effort of will from the girl of Class 1-B, was sent flying out of the stage. The crowd cheered, and the alarm buzzed to signify her victory. A versatile quirk indeed. Midnight pointed with her whip.

“Mezo Shoji is out of bounds! Ibara Shiozaki wins!”

“Incredible display from the nature loving girl!” Present Mic commented. “Never bring a fist to a vine fight, ladies and gentlemen.”

Shoji rose, and seemed to offer a nod to the girl, before striding off. Izuku had to respect the young man, so taciturn and exuding confidence. His quirk didn't seem great in combat, however. Perhaps he would be better in a recon situation.

The next fight would be Mei against another student from 1-B, Yosetsu Awase. While he had no idea what the hell the support course firebrand would bring to the table, he had to keep an eye on the 1-B hero. All of the hero course students would be both his competition, and when they became heroes, his enemy. Given that he'd all but screamed that he was the demon to Aizawa, he had to step carefully with his class. Deaths in the hero course would be investigated up and down, faculty and student both.

Still, the voices itched in the back of his mind. They didn't want to talk, like that little confusing blackout during the cavalry battle. They just wanted a bit of release. He needed... something. Needed a little blood, a little action. But he was in a cage. If he was to kill, it had to be incognito like he had never even considered before.

But the idea he had pitched to Tomura would be unlike anything else. Revolutionary. It mostly banked on the capabilities of Sensei, and the kidnapping ability of the league. But if it worked out...

The Lotus Demon could go full-time.

The thought tickled him.

Mei's battle occurred about ten minutes after the first, and her battle was actually quite short. Equipped with several pieces of technology she affectionately called her 'babies', Mei used every opportunity to demonstrate each and every one. Mics close to her (that was new) allowed her to detail the specifications of every single machine in detail. He had to admit, the girl had talent. If only he could put her on the League's payroll. Her opponent, a boy from 1-B, actually seemed to have trouble keeping up with her movements.

He did have an interesting tactic, though. Using the rubble of her machines, he threw a rock in the air, and fused it with a smaller rock. The momentum generated from such an action was enough to act as a very crude bat. It wasn't really working, but credit where credit was due.

After she had used her gadgets, Mei simply strode off stage, waving like an athlete after being presented with a medal. Midnight reluctantly called the battle in favor of the 1-B boy, and most of the crowd shared an equally reluctant cheer of approval.

The next would be Tokoyami against another 1-B student. From what he had seen before, he had a quirk like Kirishima's. The two took the arena, both looking quite serious and facing each other.

“Let's hear it for round three's terrifying teens! Tokoyami Fumikage, shadowy slayer, versus Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu, steel slayer!” Mic said. The alarm blared. “BEGIN!”

Tetsutetsu was metal in an instant, and Tokoyami's dark shadow emerged. Both dashed toward each other, intent on a clash. Tokoyami remained low to the ground, while Tetsutetsu seemed to think of this as an American football match, and was going for a shoulder check. Dark shadow twisted from Tokoyami, and went in for a devastating right hook, tanked in the jaw by the steel boy.

It wasn't enough to send him out however, and Tetsutetsu began to wrestle with the shadow. With the steel boy's intents settled upon dark shadow, he wasn't paying enough attention to Tokoyami. Izuku began to see his classmate's intent.

It was another lesson he had learned from Iida, in terms of utilizing one's momentum and center of gravity. If you had a top heavy style, an attack from the lower quadrants would send you off balance. If you had a bottom heavy style, there was very little an opponent could do to counter it. It was why Izuku favored his legs using hypersonic flight. With puppetmaster, it mattered very little. One touch was enough to kill. Tetstetsu had a top heavy style, and Tokoyami knew it.

Which was why, as the metal boy continued to grapple with dark shadow, Tokoyami came with a sweep of the legs. He went for Tetsutetsu's ankle, which sent the boy sliding just enough for dark shadow to get a chance for a heavy blow. Sent off balance, the clawed strike to the chest sent Tetsutetsu sprawling. He attempted to rise, and found himself beaten back by a pair of flashing claws.

The rest of the match was laughable. Tokoyami was still hobbling after kicking pure metal (that had to have hurt), but it wasn't bothering dark shadow. It slammed into Tetsutetsu again and again, and finally pushed him out of the stage.

“Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu is out of bounds!” Midnight called. “Tokoyami Fumikage advances!” The crowd cheered their approval, and both dark shadow and Tokoyami gave a bow before the former returned to the latter's body. Izuku had to admit, it wasn't just the benefit of having a stronger second body that made dark shadow so effective. It was the fact that said second body was independent. It thought by itself, though it took orders. It was creating a strategy. In a sense, it was like fighting two people at one, if the second person was a bit dumber and a bit stronger.

Izuku watched the placements moving. Next up would be...

… the two strongest kids in Class 1-A. It was strange they were fighting in round one. He had anticipated the judges to try and put the pair in a winning situation. Then again, it was randomized, and whomever won this coming match would likely take the sports festival with them.

This was an important match to watch. Kacchan and Todoroki would both be some of his biggest threats in the days, months, and maybe years to come.

- - -

Bakugo took the arena, as did Todoroki. The pair stared each other down unflinching. Before Midnight and Present Mic could give the introductions, Todoroki called out. He was looking more nettled than usual.

“Don't blame me for what happens here. I won't use my left side.”

Bakugo bared his teeth in a snarl, and yelled out in challenge, “Give me everything you got, you lukewarm loser!”

No reply came, and Present Mic began to speak. “A flaming--” Todoroki cringed. “fourth round's coming right at you folks! We got the coldflame avenger Shoto Todoroki versus the firecracker himself, Katsuki Bakugo!”

“BEGIN!”

Both had anticipated the others first moves. As Todoroki sent a tidal wave of ice towards Bakugo, the latter stretched out both arms and roared with effort, sending out an explosion that shattered the wave into shrapnel. The massive cloud of smoke that followed was a perfect screen. Bakugo followed this up with a series of explosions behind him, propelling him upwards.

This is where Todoroki miscalculated. A pair of spires of ice wrapped from his foot and arm to the left and right of the cloud, but not in the center. Bakugo came screeching from the center of the cloud and let out a series of explosions a few meters from Todoroki's face. Unfortunately for the former, he found a wall of ice answering the deafening report of bursts. Though parts of its outer layer shattered, it remained strong.

Katsuki reared back and slammed his fists against the wall, explosion after explosion creating a tunnel in the wall. Todoroki had stepped back from the wall, waiting for Bakugo to come through. As he burst, Todoroki went to grapple with the boy.

It was a mistake. Bakugo quickly gained the upper hand in the wrestling match, pushing Todoroki back. In the bare moment the young prodigy was off balance, Bakugo circled around and wrapped his arms around Todoroki in a tight hug. He stepped backwards, and threw him over his shoulder, falling with him. The crowd loved the supplex, and some made 'ooh'ing sounds of sympathy as a loud smack of flesh against stone resounded.

Katsuki rose to deliver a kick to Todoroki that sent him sprawling.

“You're f*cking pathetic.” Bakugo called, slowly advancing. “Don't tell me I'm not worth your fire. Don't you DARE make a fool out of me, you bastard. I'll kill you.”

“I don't have to try to make a fool out of you, Bakugo.” Todoroki slowly rose, coughing up a bit of blood. “You're a fool. Blinded by your anger. You're nothing.” Todoroki used the stunned silence to extend his fist outward, a wave of jagged (but dull pointed) ice following the motion to slam into Bakugo's chest. It sent the boy into the half shattered wall of ice from before.

He used this as opprotunity, however. Bakugo lifted off the wall using his quirk, and begun to spin in in a circle. Air collected around him. Todoroki extended his left hand.

“HOWITZER...” Flames began to leap from Todoroki.

And slowly faded.

“... IMPACT!”

An explosion just short of military grade lit up the arena, shattering Todoroki's walls and leaving only rubble of solid ice and concrete. As the smoke began to fade, Katsuki rose. He searched for his opponent with a triumphant grin on his face, but it slowly faded as the high of victory faded.

He hadn't used his flames.

“You... you bastard.” Bakugo said. He spotted Todoroki's form, crumpled and unconcious against the ice. He stamped up to it, and pulled the collar of his shirt to look into his eyes. “Don't f*ck around like this, you... dumb son of a...” He was next to tears. “You made me look... like a...”

The pink smoke of Midnight's quirk filled the area, and Bakugo slowly crumpled in a heap. Midnight called over her microphone.

“Shoto Todoroki is unable to continue. Katsuki Bakugo advances!” The crowd approved, and both the boys were pulled out of the arena.

- - -

What that had all been about, Izuku couldn't tell. What was Bakugo thinking? Letting out such a massive explosion, he could have killed Todoroki if the boy wasn't stronger. Was he so dead set on winning that he really would kill another person to do it? And what was that whole exchange at the end about? He'd never heard Kacchan close to tears like that, almost caring for another person...

How disgusting.

It wasn't that he couldn't care for another person, but to be moved to tears like another person was a work of art was impossible. People weren't beautiful until he had made them so. Pale skin, bones and blood, twisted into beauty. That was art. That was something to cry over. Not the contrast of Todoroki. How would he look as a masterpiece? Perhaps he could put his cold half into his house's oven, and his hot half in the freezer. A bit of dramatic irony. Something to keep in mind for later.

Asui's match was simple, and over relatively quickly. The softening powers of the 1-B student were formidable, but not against someone with Tsuyu's agility and the strength of her tongue. The strangely shaped boy was thrown out of bounds.

Next would be Uraraka and Ashido. The match started out interestingly. Ashido seemed aware of Uraraka's quirk's power. She didn't have any way to counter having gravity removed from her like someone such as Bakugo or Tokoyami. So, it was a cat and mouse game to start out with. She dodged and weaved, using the acid to skate around Uraraka's attacks, quick jabs and lunges in an attempt to turn the pink girl weightless.

Mina ducked and twisted herself around, and only after a solid minute of the running did Ashido put the 'hit' into the equation. It started out subtle, as Uraraka seemed worn down. Shoulder checks and elbows to throw her off balance. Then, it became more overt. Ashido would shove her fist into Ochaco's stomach, a slap across the cheeks, and a kick to the shins. Ochaco was being led in circles, falling into the trap that only the audience seemed to see.

It came to a head when Uraraka ran out of room to lunge and dodge, and slipped into Ashido's acid. Through all of her movements she had made the entire area they fought in into a slip and slide of acid. For Ashido, maneuvering through it was simple. For Uraraka, she couldn't get her footing, and it was enough to allow Ashido to drag her by the ankles and throw her out of the arena.

Izuku hadn't taken Ashido for a tactician. It was smart, and it belied her lower marks in the class. Having a strong quirk like that made a strategy of that caliber just that much easier. Izuku slowly rose, and found himself wandering towards the arena. He was next, against one of his better friends.

- - -

Izuku stood opposite Iida, the two youths serious. Though, finally, Izuku let a little smile dance on his lips, and he called out.

“May the fastest and smartest win.” Tenya smiled, and replied in turn.

“My friend, I am smarter. You are faster.”

“The penultimate punishment for the first set! The high flying speedster Izuku Midoriya facing off against the high running speedster Tenya Iida!” Tenya adopted a running position, while Izuku called to the winds. They answered his command, swirling detritus and the barest hints of acid and frost from the stage.

“BEGIN!”

Flames roared from Tenya's calfs as he begun to run, but Izuku was already off the ground. He hovered only a few feet from the surface of the earth, as to let Tenya believe he had an opening. Iida likely realized it was a feint, but--

His thoughts were cut off as hotter fire erupted from the steel pipes on his legs and Iida jumped swiveling. It was only the grace of god that allowed the winds to pick up in time, sending Izuku just out of range of the spinning kick. This did not save him from the second strike, which had curved upwards to strike Izuku's hip.

Pain lanced through his abdomen as the winds broke, sending Izuku flying for a moment. He rose with the assistance of the air, and pushed forward. He noted, much to his own surprise, he had almost been tossed out of the arena by that stroke. Tenya had regained his footing and was already after Izuku, who had taken on a more streamlined pose. He flew in a circle around Iida. Then again. And again.

Izuku was spinning in a circle and whipping up air in a miniature tornado. Iida, in the eye of the storm, had nothing to worry about from the raging winds that roared just a few feet away. Still, he looked around as the storm had its intended effect on Izuku.

He was invisible.

Not really, but close enough. He was moving at enough of a speed and staying far enough from the tornado's edge that Iida couldn't get a bead on him. This would be the perfect opportunity for the super move he had created. He ducked away from the hurricane, letting it begin to die down.

He begun to spin. Over and over, end over end, Izuku spun in place, keeping his eyes trained on where Iida would be. If this hit his skull or his limbs, he might break something, and that wasn't his intent. If he hit Iida's back, it'd hurt like a bitch, but he'd be alright. Izuku's leg outstretched, he spun at high speeds, over and over again, and finally, rocketed towards Iida. He barely saw the blue haired and bespectacled boy's expression of shock.

“HURRICANE STRIKE!” The spinning kick found its mark in Iida's back, sending him flying out of the remains of the tornado at fifty miles per hour. He bounced three, four, five times, and finally flew out of the arena and onto the grass.

“Tenya Iida is out of bounds!” Midnight called. “Izuku Midoriya advances!”

The crowd erupted. He noted, much to his enjoyment, the triumph had brought more applause than Kacchan's bout. That being said, he rushed to Tenya's aid, helping him up and chuckling.

“What'd you think of the move?” Izuku inquired. For the fact Tenya had just lost, he had taken it well, and grinned right back at him.

“Hurricane strike? Seems a bit generic. How about monsoon kick, or tornado blow?”

They shared a laugh, and were ushered out of the arena and to the infirmary for a brief checkup.

- - -

“So, inform me about the plan.” Sensei asked. Tomura steepled his fingers, reclining a bit in his chair. He seemed proud of the latest exploit. Kurogiri gave him a pointed look, and he began.

“We need the Lotus Demon for outings. If he's absent at school on the days said outings take place, it'll practically scream to the fuzz that he's the culprit.” He spread his hands wide. “Sure, a call out sick might get a tentative pass the first time, but after that? You'd be hard pressed to find a suitable excuse.

“So, we need to get him a chance to break away. We need to kill Izuku Midoriya.”

Kurogiri's eyes widened. Sensei was silent, but then spoke, still perfectly placid. “Explain.”

“We need to capture Izuku. Fake a bit of torturing, maybe make a video out of it and send it to the press and the school staff. If Izuku wins this whole sports festival thing, it'd make sense for us to try and capture him. Get the number one student in the class, torture him, leave him scarred and broken. That way, nobody would ever think he'd work for us.”

“I assume this is where I come in, given no part of this plan has involved me as of yet.” Sensei said, a hint of humor in his voice.

“Sensei, do you have a quirk for mental scarring? Emotional trauma.”

“I may.”

“We need to traumatize him. It needs to be real. That's where you would come in.” Tomura finished, and sat as if awaiting praise. Sensei hummed.

“By going through with this, you forget the fact you mentally scar the boy. An insane madman with an incredibly powerful quirk. You think we can keep that on a leash and keep it as a spy?” Sensei inquired. Tomura shrugged.

“From what I understand, he has split personality disorder. Isn't it possible to just traumatize one personality and leave the other intact?”

“If he does have dissociative identity disorder, it's subtle.” Sensei said. “By doing this, we would forcibly create two different Izukus. One loyal to the cause, and another a shell of a traumatized hero. I'm not saying your plan isn't impossible, but it does rely on unknowns.”

“Then let me explain his plan B.” Sensei made an intrigued sound.

“And what is this mysterious plan B?”

. . .

“... Unprecedented.” Sensei said letting out a breath. Even Kurogiri was shocked by the idea. “It would require outside resources, a lot of money, and my quirks. But... if you're truly dedicated to this idea, it just may work.”

Tomura smiled. This plan reminded him of a game.

Chapter 16: Guardando in Avanti, Camminando All'Indietro

Chapter Text

“Now arriving at Shinjuku station. All passengers are required to depart.”

This is the story of Shiki Mukomen.

Shiki was born to the middle class Mukomen household. His mother takes on a role of housewife, his father a salaryman working in the sprawling metropolis of Shinjuku ward. His mother was born with the quirk of being able to boil water by touching it, and his father with the ability to shape air into things like simple panels, orbs, etcetera. Most had assumed Shiki would inherit one of those quirks, or some combination.

He was born without a quirk.

As the minority when it came to the human race, Shiki was mocked for his bad luck. Like others, he had thought of suicide and reincarnation to be perhaps blessed with a quirk. Rather than wallowing in his own self pity, however, he chose to stick it out. He receives average marks in his classes, and seems destined for a life much like his father's; in a cubicle.

He stepped from the train in Shinjuku station. Not entirely out of choice, but a swarm of people is a swarm of people. It was nine o' clock, and raining steadily. Thunder was absent, just a steady drizzle of droplets. This was the normal for Shiki, going to school, and working late at his part time job. His parents thought nothing of a boy who came home from being out late. It was just his way of being, and they were alright with that. For all intents and purposes, Shiki was normal. Inoffensive. A person you would see on the street and mark down as another human being, but nothing more than that.

He extended his umbrella and made his way down the south exit and onto the busy street. Nobody paid a young man with a cell phone any mind. He scrolled mindlessly through social media, occasionally liking things from his acquaintances and reading more detailed posts about manga.

The rain certainly didn't help his appearance. He was 5''5', green eyes, and messy black hair. It was the only part of him left unkempt, to perhaps add a bit of spice to his otherwise plain appearance. Earbuds trailed from his ears to his phone, playing some song or another. They all blended together in his head.

As he begun to leave the main roads, he found himself alone with his thoughts, and the steady footsteps of another individual behind him. It was odd, since he didn't have many people that were on the same route, but he thought nothing of it. Shiki looked over his shoulder after a few minutes of walking.

It was a tall young man, a bit taller than him, wearing bright red sneakers and black jeans. His rain jacket and the night sky obscured vision of his face, but he thought he saw a hint of pale skin beneath it. Sort of creepy, but still, it couldn't be anything major.

Still, the young man was following him, it seemed. Mirroring his movements, and every time he looked behind his shoulder, he seemed just a bit closer. This was beginning to become a problem. A black car pulled up on the road beside them, moving slowly. There was nobody on the street. He heard the car door open.

Hands grasped him and threw him into the car, followed by the young man closing and locking the door. Shiki screamed, yelled for help, kicked at his attacker, but his feet were restrained by the firm grip of his assailant. His kidnapper grabbed one of his school shoes off, and held it only three or four inches in front of his face.

The shoe began to dissolve into dust.

The message was clear, but to add to it, the equally dusty voice of his kidnapper shushed him and spoke.

“Struggle, and I'll make you into nothing, NPC.”

The car slowly pulled off the curb, the black mist of a driver tinting the windows.

- - -
Two days ago...
- - -

After the break and medical examination Izuku sat in the waiting room once more. He was joined by Uraraka, who seemed a bit puffy eyed for some reason. Had losing to Ashido really done that much of a number on her pride? Or was it not her pride, but something else that hurt? He didn't really care deep down, but it was something to fill the thoughts.

There was a brief break before the first and second rounds, some time for the last combatants (Kirishima and Shinso) to recuperate. They didn't really need it, as Shinso's match was about ten seconds long. He had simply asked Kirishima a question, Kirishima had answered, and then walked out of the stage. Hitoshi's brainwashing quirk was powerful. That much was certain. But, if someone knew how it worked, it would be damn near useless.

Izuku did know how it worked. So, as long as he kept his damn mouth shut, and Hitoshi didn't pull some trick, their match would be over in a moment. He couldn't let his guard down, not for a moment.

The first fight of round two would be two 1-B students against each other. It shocked Izuku that they were still so far in the game. Wasn't 1-B supposed to be the rejects of 1-A? At least, that's what he had heard. The nature girl had shown up Shoji just fine.

Their fight was over about as it began. Shiozaki was merciless, her vines entangling Yosetsu and eliminating him within the span of about three seconds. Awase was hilariously outclassed.

The next fight, however, would be far more interesting. Minutes later, he was watching the match between Tokoyami and Bakugo. Both had very powerful quirks, but dark shadow was struggling against Bakugo. Wisely, Tokoyami focused on the defense as Kacchan unleashed blow after blow against the shield dark shadow had created.

“Tokoyami's gotten this far with his invincible quirk, but he seems to just be on the defense this time around!” Present Mic commentated as Bakugo went for an aerial strike, which was foiled by a quick command of dark shadow. Kacchan landed a few meters away, and pressed his hands together, creating rapid explosions. Izuku recognized this technique; Kacchan had used it a few times to blind him temporarily while his cronies stole his lunch.

“STUN GRENADE!”

The arena was filled with smoke. It slowly cleared to reveal Bakugo with a hand on Tokoyami's beak and a rapidly exploding palm.

“Tokoyami Fumikage gives up!” Midnight called, cracking her whip. “Katsuki Bakugo advances!”

Another one sided match. It made Izuku's blood boil. If it came down to it, he would have to fight Bakugo. Both of them hated the other, and it was time to have out their differences in honorable one-on-one combat. But how to defeat Bakugo was the question. The air was his domain, but forcing Kacchan to enter his parlor would be difficult.

He would have to whittle him down. Hit and run, just like he had practiced with Iida. If he whipped to much air like his tornado maneuver, Bakugo could use that in an absolute apocalyptic explosion. He would have to tempt Kacchan into entering the air. There, his movements would be sloppy. It would be like a man fighting a fish in water.

That would be the trick. But, the road to the goal was long and hard...

Mina versus Tsuyu.

He had almost forgotten all about it while going over battle strategies against Kacchan. He looked to the screen, and found them in the midst of their fight. Mina was keeping her distance from Asui's tongue for the time being, sliding on her acid and keeping just out of reach. One could tell she was trying a tactic similar to her match against Uraraka, rapidly melting the arena to make the match close quarters.

It was almost working, but slowly, she was running out of room to avoid Tsuyu's lashing tongue and agile movements. This was the time for choice. The more she restricted the arena, the more of an advantage she would have. However, if she stayed too long, there was a greater chance of being wrapped in Tsuyu's tongue and thrown out of bounds. If she lunged in for Tsuyu she could try for some sort of acid punching technique to try and drive her out of the arena, or even incapacitate her, but Asui was agile.

Mina chose poorly.

She continued to shrink the arena, constantly looking for some way to get in close. She never found one. Asui's tongue wrapped around Mina's torso, and sent her flying out of the arena.

“Mina Ashido is out of bounds!” Midnight called. “Tsuyu Asui advances!”

Tsuyu's quirk was really something. Izuku rose and offered a small wave to Ochaco, who offered one in return. He strode from the room, still thinking. If he was to fight anyone in his class as the Lotus Demon, the biggest challenge was obviously Todoroki and Bakugo. After that would have to be Asui and Tokoyami. Unlike Bakugo, he had no way to produce light to weaken dark shadow, and the quirk's versatility was insane. Asui was in much the same boat. Strong, agile, and able to perform incredible feats.

There was no time for further ruminations. It was time to fight one of his old friends.

- - -

“GIVE IT UP FOR THE FINAL MATCH OF ROUND TWO!” The crowd went wild, and flames leapt from the braziers at each corner of the arena. Izuku stood face to face with the tired, purple haired Hitoshi Shinso.

“So, tournament, huh?” Hitoshi asked. Izuku said nothing, only glowering.

“We have the high flying hurricane Izuku Midoriya, versus the brain powered buster Hitoshi Shinso! God I love doing these titles!” Mic roared. “BEGIN!”

Izuku wasted not a moment in lifting up the ground and barreling towards Hitoshi. He willed himself to keep his mouth shut as Hitoshi continued to speak.

“This is really unfair, you know--”

He was cut off as Izuku went for a soaring right hook that would have hit his ribs. Hitoshi had ducked beneath it and dodged a few feet away.

“The hell you trying for?” Hitoshi asked, dodging another pair of strikes. “You want to be a hero? Yeah, no, that can't be it. You're not a hero. It's not in your eyes.

“You're a killer.”

That made Izuku pause, his mouth opening. Rage begun to fill him as he feinted a kick, and went for a gut punch. That sent Hitoshi back a few feet, sneakers squeaking against the smooth cement arena. He rose, wiping off a bit of blood with the back of his hand.

“Everyone has a look in their eyes. Hope. Love. Anger.” Hitoshi dodged another pair of strikes, smiling tauntingly at Izuku. He was starting to get mad. “But not you. I watch American documentaries on serial killers, sometimes. You know what you see when you look into their eyes in pictures?” A kick landed square in his abdomen, but Hitoshi was doing a damn good job of making it so most blows would simply push him to the center of the arena. “You don't see anything. No soul. No light.”

“You're rotten to the core, Lo—”

Izuku's foot was lodged squarely in Hitoshi's stomach. The boy gagged and fell to the floor, spitting up a gob of stomach acid and mucus. He looked down on his brainwashing friend with undisguised contempt. He hoped the cameras and Shinso couldn't see the absolute hatred in his eyes. Izuku grabbed Shinso's collar with both hands, floating above the ground, and tossed him out of bounds with a terse motion.

Midnight paused, but then called. “Hitoshi Shinso is out of bounds! Izuku Midoriya advances!”

Izuku still stood over Shinso, who now looked right back up with a bored glance. Both seemed impartial to the other. They turned and strode from each other. The crowd's applause was subdued.

Had Shinso meant what he said? Had he been able to see through the veil? It was terrifying to think he may have figured it out. But just like Eraserhead and Tsukauchi, there was no proof. There was still nothing. He was beginning to get sloppy, and one misstep or one smug f*cking smirk would basically scream guilt.

He only ached for the League to initiate the plan as fast as possible.

Time was running out.

Chapter 17: Tutto (Niente) va Bene

Chapter Text

“Everything's arranged?”

This was the second time in the day Izuku had found himself standing on a toilet, whispering into a burner phone. He kicked himself for using the same one more than once. If the police were monitoring lines in and out of UA, he would have likely been picked up already; but it never hurt to be certain. He kept another burner phone in the depths of his backpack.

“Our associate did good work on the package.” Tomura said from the other end of the line. “You'll see it soon. Relevant to that line of questioning, are you ready to meet a new associate to the business?”

“That depends. I'll be expected soon.”

“It won't take more than a few minutes.”

“Then I'll be there.” Izuku ended the call, snapped the burner in half, and flushed it down the toilet. It was becoming routine. This new associate had been mentioned before, but who was he? It could be any number of villains, but that did nothing to inspire confidence. He only hoped the little upcoming conference call would be quick.

He dug out his laptop from his backpack and vacated the waiting room, which he found empty (thank god). He ducked into darker unlit hallways and found an isolated stairwell, plugging in earbuds. Opening up the encrypted chat program the League used, he dialed Tomura.

And there, he beheld a crimson bound man among his people.

- - -

“So I see. You were the ones who attacked UA, hm?” The main said, standing and staring down Tomura and Kurogiri. “And you intend to add me to your numbers, I assume.”

“Yeah. Put simply, you have more experience as a villain.” Tomura said, idly scratching. One desktop held the signature “SOUND ONLY” of Sensei, and another held a simple icon of an oni mask; the Lotus Demon's calling card. For the sake of this call, they had applied a voice modulator to make it seem as if he had a high, low, and slightly adjusted pitch to his voice, all overlapped. The villain glanced to the laptop with a squint. He quickly looked back to Tomura.

“What are you after?” He said. Tomura shrugged.

“Right now, I just want to kill All Might. I want to turn everything I don't like into ash.” He lounged back in his stool against the bar. Stain glowered.

“I was foolish to be interested. You're the exact kind of person I hate the most. Selfish, unthinking, and immature.” He begun to draw his blades. “You want me to go along with this childish tantrum? You think that I could stand with you in this pointless chaos? What point is there in killing without conviction, without meaning?”

“I'm inclined to agree.”

All three heads whipped towards Izuku's laptop. Sensei made an interested sound. There was an uncertain pause, but Izuku inquired.

“Ehm... it is acceptable if I speak, right Sensei?”

“Feel free. This is not a lesson that can be taught with words, but I encourage your input.”

“Right. Well...” Izuku cleared his throat. With the modulation, it sounded strange. “While it's true that killing without conviction seems pointless, sir, try and take it from our point of view. We seek to change society through death, wrenching it from the hands of heroes and into our hands.”

“Oh? And who are you to make assumptions like that?” Stain said. Tomura said nothing, but gave the laptop a glance that implied similarly.

“I am known as the Lotus Demon. You may also know me as the Virtuoso Ripper of the Tokyo Prefecture, or perhaps as the Death Artisan. All titles that point to me.”

For a moment, the room held in stunned silence. Izuku had never flaunted the fact of who he was before, and especially where he was at that point of time, the act seemed insane. What if someone caught him? How confident was he in his current position? How could he simply give out a confession so blatantly? On one hand, Tomura admired that confidence. On the other, he was being a f*cking idiot. He didn't say anything. Stain simply gaped.

“The killer for art. You fight alongside these agents of chaos?” He pointed a knife at the screen. His surprise slowly melted into rage. “You killed people. Normal people. Some false heroes, but you expect me to admire the fact you butcher for a sick conviction?!” His voice had slowly risen into fury. “I will track you down and gut you, you subhuman madman!”

“You'll do no such thing.” Tomura rose, hands out. “That's my rogue, jackass. I sure as hell won't let your idealist tantrum take him from me.”

As Stain and Tomura devolved into fighting, Kurogiri shut Izuku's laptop. He was returned to looking at a blank screen, with a call ended sign upon it. Immediately following, a message was sent to Izuku's phone. It was from an unknown number, but he was able to tell who it was from tone alone.

“Well said and well tried, but I would allow Tomura time to cool down after that. He may blame you for shaking up Hero Killer: Stain's introduction to the League.”

Izuku quickly texted Sensei back. “It was dumb of me to speak. Tell Tomura I'm sorry”

“Sorry will not work, I'm afraid. Just let him calm down. We'll be in touch soon.”

Izuku rose and made for the waiting room once more. Perhaps he would be in time to see Ibara and Katsuki fight.

- - -

“I will pray for thy immortal soul.” Ibara spoke as a jungle of vines roared towards Katsuki. An explosion roared out, and they were seared.

This had been the trend for the last three minutes. Ibara was keeping Katsuki at bay, but the inverse was also true. They had reached a stalemate, an unstoppable force of explosions meeting an immovable object of vines. It seemed as if Shiozaki was simply fighting to retain her position, but Bakugo was also driven to stagnation.

The match was getting boring, it seemed. The crowd had stopped cheering, and simply watched silently as the pair rapidly turned the arena into a vaguely square shaped pile of rubble. Vines would rise from the debris and strike like vipers, only to be destroyed. From the stands, however, one could see Shiozaki's plan.

After a few strikes with a vine, Ibara would take a step forward, and continue the onslaught. Bakugo was holding his own against the obvious threat of entanglement, but he seemed to ignore the bigger picture; every explosion was propelling him, however subtly, backwards. As his attention was kept on the rapid rises and strikes of vines, Bakugo wasn't afforded a second to think of his positioning. This was very intentional. She had been delivering surgical strikes, while keeping the bulk of her vines hidden for the grand finale of pushing him out of the ring.

He was slowly approaching the edge of the arena. The crowd was beginning to get riled up as they saw and respected Ibara's strategy.

Then, the floor exploded.

Though Katsuki had not expected the strategy in the first place, instead expecting an all out frontal assault, he had caught on quicker than most had expected. The drawback to fighting a person who became stronger the more they sweat was that said individual would benefit from a battle of attrition. Exertion would lead to more sweat, and more sweat meant a bigger explosion for when the time came. Ibara, for what it was worth, did not know that the explosions were directly tied to Bakugo's sweating.

And so, when Bakugo ignored another strike of vines to point downward, it took her by surprise. There was no call of a super move, no name. Just a roar of anger.

The ground shook and exploded as a detonation the size of a small house lit up the stage and sent debris flying. Though it was not the overall intent of the blast, the rocks flying outwards like a frag grenade were an added benefit. It forced Shiozaki to recall her vines to shield herself, followed by a roaring Katsuki flying over the shield and grasping her by the neck, pinning her down.

“Thou... brute.” She coughed. “Didst thy father not teach thou manners with a frail woman?”

“Frail?” Bakugo sneered and grinned. “What part of you is frail, dumbass?”

To that, Ibara offered a far less haughty grin bordering on approval, and called out. “I am defeated.”

“Ibara Shiozaki admits defeat!” Midnight called out. “Katsuki Bakugo advances!”

The crowd erupted into cheers. It was interesting to watch them egg on Bakugo, especially after he had garnered a reputation as a violent brute. Then again, people didn't exactly come to these events to see heroes. They came to see teenagers compete and beat the sh*t out of each other. Sure, some people did come to see heroes in training, but most did not.

Izuku lounged in his chair as he observed. He would have to fight Tsuyu soon. He had no qualms about beating the girl, but what he had in mind did seem somewhat cruel. But the pain of hurting someone who had been somewhat nice to him was immediately drowned by the fact he was livid.

He felt like such an idiot recently. He had been brash, impulsive, and smug to the point of lacking any level of care. As he rose, he clutched the side of his head, looking down and angry. He had done nothing but made matters worse, wherever he had gone. Quickly, he realized, he was allowing the worst of both the Lotus Demon and himself as a hero get the better of him.

Shinso was one of the least of his concerns.

He himself was the greatest of them.

- - -

“Let's give it up for the sky high slayer in the flesh, Izuku Midoriya! Facing down the terrible toad terror, Tsuyu Asui!” The crowd, as usual, cheered. Izuku's look was dark, and Tsuyu faced him lightly.

“You're probably going to win this, Izuku.” She said, pressing her index finger to her lips. “But that doesn't mean I won't go down fighting.”

Izuku said nothing in return.

The moment they were called to start, Tsuyu's tongue lashed out to ensnare Izuku. It worked, as Izuku didn't struggle, or move against his bonds.

“Asui goes for the early ring out! Probably the best decision in this--”

“Sorry.” Izuku said.

Wind flowed through his clothes and around Tsuyu's tongue, allowing him enough room to rise out of his bonds. In the moment he was freed, he rocketed towards Tsuyu, who looked at him with wide eyes. He wasted no time in grabbing her by the shoulders and flying forward, throwing her out of the ring before she could react. By far, it had been the fastest match of the day, and the most one-sided.

Midnight paused. “T-Tsuyu Asui is out of bounds. Izuku Midoriya advances!”

The stadium was quiet. From the stands, someone called out.

“It's okay!”

Izuku spared a glance towards the stands as the crowd began to call in unison; “It's okay! It's okay! It's okay!” He had nothing left but disgust for those masses. His attention was drawn towards Tsuyu, who rose, looking a bit sour. That hateful fire on his face faded a few degrees.

“Sorry, Tsuyu. I was just a bit angry.” He turned to leave the stage.

She shook her head. “It's fine. And call me Tsu-chan.”

That made him stop for a moment, considering. He looked back and gave a small smile.

“Call me Deku, then.”

For a few moments, he forgot about that rage, all that hatred. He remembered he was still a high school student, deep down, even past the killing and spying. He still had people who wanted to be his friend.

Part of him hated that. Part of him loved in. Nothing so confusing as the soul racked by disparity.

- - -

Tomura nursed his wound, looking enraged. Kurogiri sighed as he applied gauze and a balm to the massive cuts that Stain had inflicted upon him. Sensei watched silently, judging as always. Once the care had been delivered, Tomura tore away.

“Call the rogue.”

“Tomura, he was not--”

“I KNOW.” Tomura spat, glaring at Kurogiri behind father, tense as piano wire. Slowly, that tension released into Shigaraki's usual self. “I know. I just want him to kill this bastard, this goddamn Hero Killer. I want him to turn his corpse into a Michelangelo and hang it from the rooftops.”

The room was shocked into silence. None of them had expected Tomura to come up with such a strangely articulate plan. Kurogiri had expected a tantrum which Sensei would have to deal with, and Sensei expected him to demand his spy's death. None of these options involved mercy for the rat in UA. All For One gave a quiet sound of approval.

Kurogiri whipped out a burner phone.

- - -

Another phone call came for Tenya Iida. He looked at the screen and saw it was his mother calling, silently cursing himself. He had expected to get a bit further in the sports festival than the first round, but whatever god was up there decided to put him against one of his biggest counters. He couldn't simply ignore the call, however, and pressed the green button.

“Mother, I regret not doing better in the fe--”

“That's not what I'm calling about, Tenya. It's your brother.” She sounded as if she was next to tears. Iida's face grew into a mask of shock.

“Wh... what happened to Tensei?”

“The hero killer.”

Chapter 18: Crescendo, Piacere Dall'Agonia

Chapter Text

Izuku stood in the arena. Voices were roaring, and the two rivals faced each other down.

Bakugo and Izuku. The flames roared golden red on the four corners of the arena as deafening cheers came from the stands. They looked at each other with undisguised animosity. Present Mic, as usual, announced them.

“THE GRRRRRRAAAAAND FIIIINAAAAALS!” He announced, which riled up another scream of approval from the audience. “Here's our contestents, folks. The god of explosives and detonations versus the god of the sky! Two titans in the arena, and one will leave as champion!”

“You're always there.” Bakugo said, sneering. “Always as a challenge. After you got your quirk, all I can see from you is a challenge to my dominance.” He clenched a fist. “I'm going to beat you.”

“Trust me, Kacchan.” Bakugo's eye twitched. “You'll get exactly what's coming to you.”

“STAAAAAAART!”

Izuku lifted off in an instant as Bakugo screamed towards him, his advance a burst of burning air and force. He had crossed twenty yards in a second, and Izuku's speed let him get just ahead of him, carrying him in the air. He looked down at Bakugo, who spat. He pulled his hands up towards Izuku, letting out a pair of explosions. They were dodged effortlessly.

“Just gonna hide in the sky, coward?!” Katsuki taunted. “Come down and fight like a man, dammit!”

“As you wish.” Izuku said, almost pleasantly. Bakugo could barely react as he found a fist glancing his shoulder and rapidly exiting his reach. He let out an explosion following the green and blue blur, but to no avail. He watched once more as Izuku shot towards him, and delivered a painful strike to the back of his knees. Another explosion without contact as Midoriya shot past him. He felt a bruise beginning to swell on his shoulder, his knee crying out in pain.

Another punch came to the side of his chest, but Izuku had become co*cky with his success. A full body shot was more difficult to pull away from. This explosion definitely grazed Izuku, as he yelped out in pain and dived away. That little bit of success was enough to make Katsuki smile, and forget there was a flesh bullet hurtling towards him to punch him in the ribs. That glancing blow hurt.

Quickly Katsuki was able to assess the situation. He was a sitting duck on the ground, allowing Izuku to dive in and out without repercussion, unless he got co*cky. There was only one way to fight Izuku, and that was in his home territory. It wasn't a great idea, but it was better than sitting on his hands and losing.

Kacchan let out a pair of explosions that sent him hurtling into the air, intercepting Izuku as he came in for another glancing hit. Clearly the suddenness of the act surprised Midoriya as he struggled to get out of the way of the human cannonball. He wasn't fast enough, and Bakugo caught him with the full force of his body. An expulsion of breath and pain came from Izuku as Bakugo kept up the momentum, letting out another explosion and a punch to Izuku's gut.

That was enough to make Izuku wary. He flew back a few meters, coughing up a glob of blood and phlegm. Green irises and red eyes (from exertion or rage, Bakugo couldn't tell) stared back at him unflinchingly, calculating.

Bakugo saw what he hated in those eyes. That cold stare, those dead eyes. He hated them. He wanted to pluck them from their sockets just to make them stop staring at him, just to not look into those lizard's eyes and see animalistic hate staring back.

And so, he used his own hatred to let out one explosion from his left hand, and one from his left foot, both tilted forward, to fly towards Izuku. Midoriya dodged the obvious threat of the punch, but also neglected that Bakugo's proximity allowed him to be picked up by the shell of winds. He attempted to will them shut from him, but not before Kacchan's fist met his jaw. Stars exploded in his eyes as he flipped over once and hovered, wobbling, and barely able to see Kacchan as more than a blur.

This was not going to plan.

f*ck the plan, he concluded, and chose one of the most unexpected routes; a one on one fist fight with Kacchan. He didn't seem to expect it either as a foot came hurtling towards his ribs and sent him off balance, a followup punch finding its place squarely in his gut. Bakugo hurtled away, but regained his positioning with another set of explosions. He wasn't given any time to consider a next move as a fist was put in between his eyes, stunning him.

He wasn't able to respond, letting out random explosions, as Izuku circled around. The boy grabbed him by the waist, and used the air to assist in lifting the still stunned Bakugo above his head. He then proceeded to shoot towards the earth at eighty kilometers per hour.

“SONIC PILEDRIVER!” He screamed, slamming Bakugo into the stone with a sickening crunch and explosion of rubble.

“PIIIIIILEDRIIIIIVEEEERRRR!” Present Mic shouted as the dust settled, revealing Izuku standing tall and placid above a fallen Bakugo. Midnight begun to raise her whip, but stopped as Kacchan stirred. He pulled his hands beneath him, and rose, revealing a bruised and bloodied face of rage. He breathed heavily, hands hanging limply. Izuku regarded him with distance, but was tense.

“This is shameful, Kacchan.” He said. “Give up. You lose.”

“I'm not... giving up... to you.” He gasped, and slowly advanced. He threw a lazy punch, easily dodged with an effort of will slowly floating Izuku away. “I'm... not gonna lose.” Another punch, followed by a weak explosion. “Not... gonna...”

“It's over.” Izuku tripped Kacchan, sending him on his face. Once more, Bakugo slowly rose.

Only this time, Izuku was staring down a strong hand and a wild grin from Bakugo.

A detonation the size of a parking lot lit up the stage as Izuku was hurtled backwards into the blast, one last desperate attempt to send his foe out of the ring. It was clear this was Bakugo's last ditch effort, as the smoke curled and obscured vision. Silence fell over the arena. The stygian gas obscured everything in front of Bakugo, flames crackling from the aftershocks of the almost nuclear detonation. Nothing. Once more Midnight went to raise her whip to call the match.

Then, Izuku burst from the cloud.

He was missing half his face.

The other half was filled with utter and incomprehensible fury. He grasped Bakugo's face and slammed him against the concrete, flying as he did. He slammed his face multiple times against the arena, before throwing him out of bounds with a scream.

The crowd, once more, was silent. They watched a scarred man scream in pain and fury as he clutched the side of his face. He felt blood and muscles twitching beneath, staining his hand crimson. He screamed with agony and frustration, sorrow, as his ruined eye tried desperately to ascertain the world.

Izuku Midoriya screamed.

Silence. Pink smoke. Darkness. Rage.

Darkness.

- - -

The steady whirring of machinery and steady beeping of a heart monitor woke Izuku, one eye slowly blinking away the blur of coming out of a deep slumber. He murmured incoherently, attempting to look to the left. As he moved his right eye he cringed in pain, and settled, realizing he could only barely see out that eye. What he could see was wrapped white cloth that covered his gaze tightly.

He felt his face and found it covered in bandages He chose to leave it alone, and glanced idly about the room he had found himself in.

He was in a hospital room, in one of the buildings in Musutafu. In the room was a table, a series of instruments connected to him, and windows that looked out on the city. The bright oranges and purples of dusk had settled over Musutafu, his hospital having a view over a few of the rooftops. It was an oddly beautiful sight, and he found himself transfixed upon the sunset. Slowly, however, he tore his gaze away, the sun flash burned into his eyes as he gave himself a once over. An IV needle was in his forearm, and he was dressed in a plain white gown. If he had been in a coma, it hadn't been for long, it seemed.

A plain looking nurse opened the door. Black hair and brown eyes, she seemed to have an arthropod's arms, ending in clawed and five fingered hands. In said hands was a clipboard. She looked at Izuku in shock. She pulled out a radio and spoke. “Doctor Hirose, Izuku Midoriya is awake.” She then approached, all smiles. Izuku tried to mirror the action, but found his face in pain as he tried it.

“I wouldn't be trying to move your face around much if I was you, kid.” She chided, checking various instruments.

“How long... whus I out?” Izuku slurred. Again, talking elicited a bout of pain. He was going to have to get used to that.

“One day, five hours. You were awake a few times through it, but you must not remember.” She said, checking down a few boxes on a sheet attached to her clipboard. She nodded to herself and faced Izuku fully. “We had to operate on your face, even after Recovery Girl took a look at you.”

The memories of the fight slowly flooded back into his mind. The combat in the sky, the piledriver, the explosion... screaming. Izuku looked down at his lap, contemplative.

“How bad is it.” He asked simply.

“Doctor Yagami will explain it to you. He should be here shortly. In the meantime, I was told to give this to you.” She presented Izuku with a simple beige box, unbound. He slowly lifted off the cover.

Within was a gold medal with the logo of UA, and a crown above it. It was attatched to a white and red ribbon. A note lay on the inner side of the lid, written in a flowing and professional writing.

Izuku Midoriya!

We're sorry you weren't able to accept your award at the ceremony, but safety and health comes first! We at UA hope you're feeling better by the time you read this note. This competition is one of personal growth, and I hope you have improved and grown throughout the experience. Please, I'd like to speak at the earliest convenience.

Plus Ultra!
-All Might

Izuku read over the note, then nodded, with a smile. He set the lid back over the box and handed it back to the nurse. She went to set it on the table, speaking as she went.

“I watched your match in the finals. Honestly, that boy needs to learn restraint.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I guess he will. Rumor is they're talking about suspension or expulsion for a stunt like that.”

Izuku looked down, and nodded. “Well...” He said, giving a half of a look that indicated his thoughts on the matter. The nurse shrugged, indicating much the same.

- - -

“The damage to the right side of your face is severe.” Doctor Yagami was saying. He was dressed in blue hospital scrubs, a name tag sitting in his breast pocket. “Luckily we were able to get Recovery Girl to restore most of the nerve damage before we operated on you. Your eyesight out of the right may be a bit dulled, but it should get brighter over a few years. Same with the numbness, but much quicker; maybe a month.”

Izuku nodded slowly. He felt tired once more as night begun to fell over the city, deep purples filling his room and fluorescent white lights illuminating the rest.

“And the pain?” He asked warily.

“We'll be putting you on some painkillers for the next few weeks while your face recovers. I won't lie to you, Mister Midoriya, that blast could have killed you if he was a few inches closer and to the left.” He smiled. “Though you may have come out of the experience damaged, you're alive.”

“It still doesn't exactly feel great half of my face probably looks terrible.” Doctor Yagami shrugged.

“Understandable. Scarring's been minimized and accelerated by Recovery Girl. It should be mostly restored by tomorrow.” He rose. “We'll only ask you come back in tomorrow to get the bandages removed. Until then, you're free to go. Your mother and some of your friends are waiting for you in the lobby.”

One change of clothes and checkout later (sure to grab his medal box), Izuku found himself embracing his mother, who wept nigh inconsolably, Ochaco, Kirishima, and Tokoyami. The latter seemed reluctant to get in the hug, but a pointed stare from Ochaco rectified that. Doctor Yagami allowed the exchange, before giving Inko information on his painkillers. Half a tablet of oxymorphone every day for a week, then down to a quarter tablet. When it ran out, he said, Izuku should be fine.

“...Seriously, what a fight.” Kirishima continued in his tirade. Ochaco gave him a hard glance, but he seemed far too involved. “Those glancing hits, that piledriver! You should have seen the look on Todoroki's face when you introduced Bakugo's kisser to the pavement!”

Izuku laughed. “I'd been working on that one specifically for someone like Bakugo. Sort of risky, but as long as you don't drive them face first and try to go for the jaw, shouldn't kill them.” He spoke nonchalantly. The group nodded.

“Truly a dark battle, and a darker conclusion.” Tokoyami said, arms crossed and eyes closed. “What a horrid act of desperation from Bakugo.”

“I don't think he knew it would be that harmful.” Kirishima said, frowning. “I mean, sure, he was going for a one hit KO, but not to kill him.”

“Still, that was incredibly dangerous and irresponsible.” Inko fumed. She had clearly been crying for some time, and was only now beginning to calm. “I hope Mitsuki gives that boy a thrashing.”

“Probably will.” Kirishima said. “It was weird to have the awards ceremony with just third place present.” Izuku perked at that.

“Kacchan wasn't allowed to go on stage?” Izuku inquired, tilting his head. Kirishima looked back at him, troubled.

“Yeah. After that match, Ibara and Tsu-chan fought. Ibara won, and then the awards ceremony was just a couple of empty pedestals and Ibara. They said you'd get your medal once you were recovered enough.” Kirishima sighed. “Still, sort of a downer to end the festival on. Winner hurt badly and second place the culprit.”

“I'm kinda glad.” Izuku shrugged, and then cracked a smile. “The alternative would have been that I was rolled out on a hospital bed and Kacchan was there in handcuffs.”

Most of the group laughed at that. Inko did not. They said their goodbyes, and Izuku and his mother drove drearily home.

- - -

“Congratulations on your victory.” All For One's placid voice drifted through his monitor and reported through Izuku's single earbud. Given his other ear was wrapped tight, he covered the sound of that earbud with his hand to be careful. “Hard fought. Believe me when I say I know what it feels like to take a wound like that. It is far from enjoyable.”

“Thank you.” Izuku replied. He had settled back into his room after responding to several messages from his phone, and entered a conference call with the league. “Tomura, I'm sorry--”

“Don't be, rogue.” Tomura said, barely visible in the bar. “Stain probably wouldn't have joined anyway. Ideals and all that.” He said the word 'ideals' like it was filthy. “I have a task for you.”

Izuku sighed. “Alright.”

“I need you to kill Stain.” Tomura said. “As the Lotus Demon, please. Make his body some sweet concept art or something, would you? Plus, check the mail tomorrow. We were able to get Giran to procure you a new costume, with some stat ups as well as that cosmetic upgrade you wanted.”

“Great.” Izuku said, smiling. If this was the case, then potentially, the rest of his plan was being realized. “And the decoy?”

“We have a target selected, just waiting for a good time to move in. In the meantime, make yourself busy.” Tomura said. “Stain should be in Hosu. Find a way to be there in the next few days.”

“Will do.” Izuku said.

The call unceremoniously cut off. He rose from his desk and lay on his bed, drawing a hand lazily down the bandages. He slowly found himself frowning as he continued to feel it, those subtle wrinkles and deep depressions of rent tissue and bone. Each touch elicited pain, and he found himself clawing at the bandages, trying to get that pain. His other hand slowly drifted down to his nether regions, and pulled down his pants.

It felt beautiful. The agony, not only physical, but mentally. He was no longer conventionally beautiful, but his very visage had taken on a divine contrast. In striving to forge art, he was a work of art now, worthy of the greatest painter. He felt his body curling and spasming, moans drawn from his lips as a deep crimson blush colored his face. He felt the delicious agony as it flared like a flame in his mind and body. The heat of the pain filled him with pleasure from his head to his feet as he tore a bandage.

He paused, the pleasure subsiding, as he looked down at his bare abdomen. Staining his hand was his own seed, drawn out by the intense feeling of pleasure born of deepest pain. He stared incredulous at the sight, testing its viscosity against his fingers and palm.

“Sublime.” He said, and laid his head to rest.

- - -

“Endeavor, sir, are you sure these are the two you'd like to send offers to?” Endeavor's wiry aid held out a tablet with two photos.

“Correct.”

“I'll send the offer right away.” He tapped at a few buttons on the screen, and sent out an email to UA.

Izuku Midoriya and Shoto Todoroki were formally invited to intern for the number two hero, Endeavor.

Chapter 19: L'innocenza Muore

Chapter Text

A light shone. Blink blink. Where was Shiki Mukomen? Shiki was sitting in a chair, and as he moved, he felt cold metal answer him on his wrists and ankles. He was bound. He was blinded by the massive floodlight that made him try to squint.

He couldn't.

In fact, he couldn't move his eyelids. His eyes could move just fine, and they saw little but his own illuminated form. He was nude, and needles had been stuck into his arms. They were fed into by tubes, which snaked out of his field of view beneath the armrests of the chair. His chest had been shaved, revealing him to have a modest physique--

Wait, when had he been working out?

What had they done to him while he was out?

Since his eyes couldn't be trusted, he turned to his ears, straining to hear what was going on around him. The electricity feeding into the floodlight hummed softly, and water slowly dripped from somewhere in the room with him. A sound of music seemed far away, a dull pounding of bass and muffled lyrics. Farther away still, there was the unmistakable sound of tires on pavement. He was still in a town, if nothing else.

A door opened. Shiki seized up. Metal scraped on concrete once, then twice, the second time causing a boom to resound in the room. Footsteps approached. Shiki began to breathe faster.

“Ah, Shiki Mukomen.” The voice, masculine and soft, said. It was serene, almost fatherly, but it held an edge to it. It was modulated by something he could not discern. A pipe, maybe? A mask?

“Welcome to your chrysalis.”

He tried to open his mouth to speak, but found cloth that tasted metallic. Why hadn't he thought to scream before? He tried it now, but it surfaced as a dull yelling. He struggled against his restraints with the screaming, hoping to make enough noise for someone to hear him. The voice clicked its tongue against the roof of its mouth several times, stepping closer. It kept itself hidden through the light.

“Now now, Mr. Mukomen. You'll find these walls to be thick concrete, and within a larger building. Nobody of consequence will hear you.” A calloused hand was placed suddenly on his shoulder. It was clammy. Shiki shrieked, which elicited a sigh from the man. “When you calm down, we will have a civil discussion.” After a solid minute, in which Shiki's vocal cords began to scream in pain at the stress they were going through, he finally became quiet, instead settling to focus on the sounds of his breathing.

“Are we calm? Good.” The other hand of the man was placed on his shoulder. “I hope you enjoy the physique I granted you. A combination of hastened muscle growth and forcible quirk activation got you in shape quickly. You'll need it for your upcoming assignment.”

Suddenly, Shiki's head was grasped. A feeling like ice cold water rushed down his spine, and he screamed in pain and shock. He could feel... something enter his body. Not physically, but something deeper than that, a power that he could not understand. It almost made him black out, but something was keeping him from going out cold. Adrenaline in one of the IV drips, maybe?

“Good, you're still awake. I suppose I should probably explain your assignment, given you won't remember a thing once you wake up again.”

Sensei explained.

The cloth was removed from his mouth with a yank. Shiki spoke, wavering and hoarse.

“W-w-why would I d-d-do t-that?” He said, with a mixture of defiance and fear.

“Silly boy.” The voice chided, patting him. “Because you won't remember anything but your new life. Lotus Demon, if you would.”

Into the light, another boy strode into view. He had a similar look to Shiki, but with a few differences. Most notably being his hair and eyes carrying a green hue, and his face holding a multitude of freckles. He was about the same height, and now, the same build.

Well, and also the small detail that half his face was massively scarred.

Izuku Midoriya was the Lotus Demon. The child from the Sports Festival. He remembered the fear he had felt as that explosion had taken off half his face, and that pain that he must have been going through. He recalled the excitement of watching that boy beat his enemy and cheering at him from his living room. The first place winner of the Sports Festival, and Hero Course student, Izuku Midoriya, was also the horrible ripper who had struck fear in the hearts of heroes and men alike. It couldn't be real.

His stomach was somewhere in his feet at this point. Fear looked wonderful compared to the absolute terror he was now in.

“Now then, let's get the transfer over with.” Izuku stepped towards Shiki, looked down at him for a moment, then up to the figure. “Empathy transfer plus tissue sculpting plus mind wipe.” One hand was placed on the head of Izuku, and another on Shiki's.

“This will hurt, by the way.”

After but a few seconds, the pain was so great he had been knocked out.

- - -

Izuku gazed on Sensei's work. To be sure, it would work out as he intended. Once Giran had completed his work on the boy's scheduling and data manipulation, there would be no doubt about the boy. All that would be needed was one little show from the boy, and all would be completed. He had been particularly impressed by Sensei's ability to transfer a combination of quirks that would closely mirror his own. Just how big of an arsenal did he have?

“Again, this is quite the scheme. I don't think I have to remind you that this will also require discretion on your part.” Sensei turned towards Izuku, who nodded.

“Of course. This should line up nicely with the plan for Hosu.” Izuku turned and met Sensei's masked face. “Have we confirmed that is where Stain will be hunting around this time next week?”

“His trend in murders do not seem to indicate he'll be moving anytime soon.” All For One said. “I assume you've also had our various contacts set up the display display?”

“Correct.”

“Then we appear to have a plan.” Sensei opened the door. Izuku sat a box by the feet of Shiki Mukomen, and went to follow him out. As Sensei left, Izuku lingered in the doorway, turning back towards the unconscious boy.

“See you soon, Lotus Demon.”

- - -

It was on a train the next morning that Izuku found his usual calm disrupted by prying eyes and mouths. They crowded around him, all eyes filled with excitement and intrigue. Some apologized on Bakugo's behalf for the damage to his face, which still lay beneath a heavy layer of bandages. Some congratulated him on his victory, to which he replied with hasty thanks and dismissive gestures. Yet still, they wouldn't stop disrupting his tranquility.

It was in these times that he wanted to kill. When people so desperately tried to bring him into their world that they tore him apart. He clenched his fist, bit on his tongue until he tasted metal, and fought against the urge.

“All of you are being incredibly disrespectful!” A voice boomed over the ruckus, which calmed it for a brief moment. It was most certainly Iida, whose bespectacled face and blue hair appeared in Izuku's line of vision. “Have you any shame to be trying to dissect a student as he's coming to school?”

“Buddy, we're just trying to get some info!” One of the passengers said. Iida snarled.

“You can obtain information through public channels, rather than hounding an injured and shy boy on his commute!”

Iida's words seemed to make the crowd die down, as most returned to their seats or minded their own business. Some still shot inquisitive looks at Izuku, but none approached with Tenya acting as his watchman. Covertly, Iida bent down to whisper to Izuku.

“That was incredibly rude of them, but you know how the paparazzi is. How are you feeling? Physically and emotionally.” Izuku let out a breath before replying.

“My face is sore, and I'm feeling antagonistic towards the people on this train.” He muttered. Iida chuckled.

“Now now, we're heroes in training, not villains. Temperance, always.”

There was a grim irony in that statement. The rest of his commute was subdued.

- - -

In class, there was a subtle air of tension. Bakugo was missing from his seat, which looked scuffed up by something recent. Most eyes were trying to hide it, but they tracked Izuku and his face. Still, he offered a placid smile to attempt to reassure the class. Tokoyami, Kirishima, and Ochaco offered him thumbs up and smiles of approval-- Kirishima's perhaps a bit more boisterous than the others. As Izuku sat, Yaoyorozu leaned over to whisper to him.

“Forgive me for prying in such a boorish way, but do you know what the consequence for Bakugo's actions will be?”

Izuku shook his head, but he had thought up a number of potentials. Suspension would be the least of his worries-- maiming a minor could catch him some time in juvenile detention. Izuku reported these ideas over to Momo, who nodded softly.

“That is as I assumed as well. It would be a fitting punishment.”

Izuku smiled to himself. “I hate to sound to vindictive, but that seems fitting for a guy like Kacchan.”

“You two were friends, correct?”

The question was far more loaded than it seemed. Had they been friends? In the golden days of yore, they had been; watching videos of All Might beating up villains and cheering him on, those hours spent in front of the computer before Izuku's world came crashing down around him.

“... When we were very young.” Izuku conceded. “Now, he'd probably punch a person who insinuated that.”

“I see.” Yaoyorozu looked like she wanted to say something more, but the door suddenly open to the mostly recovered visage of Aizawa. He looked across the class, glowered briefly at Izuku, and then continued to track the room. The class bowed on Iida's word, and sat once more. He said nothing for about thirty seconds, before croaking out.

“Hero names.”

This elicited a quiet murmur of excited words from the class, who were then silenced by Aizawa's gaze.

“This is one of the most vital parts of your identity as a hero. A catchy name that will put hope into the common people and fear into the hearts of villains. This may not be your permanent hero name, but it will be your working one.”

A feminine voice called from outside the classroom. “And without offense to Shota, but he's not exactly the greatest judge on public appearance!” In walked Midnight, clad as she typically was in dominatrix gear and a mask. She stood beside Aizawa, who rose and strode to his yellow sleeping bag.

“Midnight will be leading this discussion and the selection of hero names.” Without any more preamble, he slipped into his sleeping bag.

- - -

Most of the names had gone by quickly, though some such as Mina's had been shot down. Tenya seemed to write something down before erasing it, and simply listing his name as his own. It elicited a confused reaction from the class, but Midnight seemed to approve. Sato would become Sugarman, Ochaco became Uravity (a boring, but cute name, Izuku noted), and so on. All the while he became embroiled in his own name. Even if it was a front, this was important. He could be co*cky, swaggering about his true identity in masterful fashion, or he could choose something with some flash. Nothing seemed to catch him, until he remembered back to Iida's words on the train.

Temperance, always.

He wrote down his name, and soon after Shoto had also used only his name, Izuku rose and went to the front, setting down his name.

Midnight glimpsed it, and gave a wide smile as Izuku read.

“Soaring Hero: Jetstream.”

Everyone in the class seemed to like it. Even Shoto, famously blank, arched a brow at it. Ochaco gave a wide smile. Midnight nodded.

“Catchy and strong! Should do you nicely.”

Not too long after the last of the hero names had been solidified, Midnight had left and Aizawa had returned to the front. He pulled down the screen behind him, and pressed a few buttons to reveal a large bar graph.

“These are the results for your internship offers. I don't think I have to spell it out for you, but in case you weren't paying attention, you're going on an internship next week. Even if you didn't get an offer, there are offices directly tied to UA that will take you in for the week. While there, you'll receive some vital on-the-job experience. Be sure to value it.”

Izuku looked at the number of offers he had been presented, and was floored. Over four thousand offices had requested him. He and Shoto had the most, with Todoroki coming just ahead of him at about four thousand seven hundred offers. It went in order of placement in the sports festival from there, with the exception of Bakugo who received only seventy offers. Having a violent child in your office would likely be unfortunate, so Izuku got it. Papers were handed out detailing each office that had offered; Izuku's and Shoto's had been condensed to three pages of names. Izuku searched each one for the hero he sought.

He found it.

Endeavor Hero Agency.

He couldn't help a grin crawl across his features. Bakugo, his forefront rival and suspicious person in the student body had been all but eliminated. He had the perfect chance to get to Stain and Endeavor now. All he needed was Shiki Mukomen to do his job, and Hosu would be undefended for La Danse des Fleurs.

He couldn't wait.

- - -

He was the Lotus Demon. He had a job to do. In his backpack was his hoodie and mask, carefully hidden as to conceal his identity. The whims of his mind had carried him here, onto this train, shooting into Hokkaido. He had always wanted to visit Hokkaido, to see its almost untouched beauty outside of the cities; but he wasn't here to sightsee.

He was here to kill.

Shiki had always been the Lotus Demon, that much he knew. He was the Virtuoso Ripper, and he had people to slay and make into beautiful art. He'd choose a target at random, and turn them into art. As he stepped off the train he watched the faces of those fellow commuters, trying to find one who would be perfect.

There he was, a salaryman whose slouched back and dead gaze were the eyes of a man who was already dead. A man who would not be missed.

And so he followed.

Chapter 20: Concerto nel Fiore: Prelude

Chapter Text

“f*ck!”

Detective Tsukauchi threw a mug of coffee against a wall as he read the headline. That name that taunted his waking mind and dreams alike. The Lotus Demon, once more striking-- though this time, he was caught off guard. Somehow the most vicious serial killer at large in the modern day had teleported to Hokkaido.

INFAMOUS LOTUS DEMON STRIKES IN HOKKAIDO, THREE DEAD

As he went to collect the spilled mug, Tsukauchi's door opened. Nishimura was calm in comparison to the rage of Naomasa Tsukauchi, holding a manila folder. He sat it on his desk and watched the television, brow furrowing.

“Before you ask, I got you a copy of the passenger history for the Hokkaido-bound bullet trains for the last week. No suspects on the list, not even any missing persons that jumped out at me.” Nishimura said, crossing his arms. “3D analysis of the crime scene is available in the visualizer.”

Tsukauchi ran a hand across his face and through his hair, appearing to restore some semblance of placidity to the man. He smiled a hollow smile and rose. “Let's get going, then.”

Minutes later they stood in a stone room with lights affixed a foot apart from each other in orderly rows. At the center of the room was a pedestal with a large black box of electronics at its apex. This was the visualizer, a piece of technology derived from a quirk. It was able to perfectly model any three dimensional space, given the correct analysis. Due to the distance between Hokkaido and Tokyo, the scene had been fully analyzed and sent to the Tokyo precinct. The scene was for two of the murders, while the third was still being analyzed.

He looked at an all too familiar scene. A living room in a farm house, furnished comfortably with a sofa, coffee table, dining table, and entryway to the kitchen. The bodies lay, both on the couch, both appearing to have been posed in the middle of coitus. A woman rode a man, both naked, though their heads had been swapped(quite the disgusting little show) and their arms had been removed. The latter organs sat in a flower vase on the coffee table. Without the smell of decay it was easier not to gag, but Nishimura visibly turned a bit green as he surveyed the scene.

Tsukauchi had grown numb to the gore and horror of the Lotus Demon's artwork. He was only intrigued, where months ago, he would have been nauseated and horrified. He strode to the vase, and picked it up, interacting with the virtual replica like it was real. He rose it to eye level, and squinted.

“Nishimura, tell me; what's the consistent factor of the Lotus Demon's murders, each tentatively owed to his quirk?” Tsukauchi asked, never breaking his sight from the vase.

“Osseuos manipulation, sir.” Nishimura squatted and observed the bodies, tilting his head. “With the ability to change it and control it at will, even when it's not physically possible.”

“Right. And what are you noticing about this scene?” Tsukauchi tilted the vase down, prompting the four arms to pour out and onto the table.

“Well, warping of the marrow.” Nishimura lifted up the arm stump he had been observing. The bone marrow had been warped in a spiral pattern. “That's new. Or, did we miss something?”

“Could be the latter. He's not exactly partial to dismemberment in such a rough fashion as this. Then again, he never really cut bones apart in the previous murders.” Tsukauchi rubbed his chin, and rose, grasping one of the arms and observing the spiral in the marrow. “This is too convenient.”

“I'm inclined to agree.” Nishimura looked up to Naomasa. “A sudden three deaths in Hokkaido, a thousand kilometers from his old hunting grounds, with a new factor in the murders we had never seen before. An imposter?”

“Hard to have a copycat replicate a quirk like that...”

“... Unless they're using marrow manipulation.” Nishimura finished the thought, and they locked eyes.

Tsukauchi powered down the visualizer and pushed open the door, his subordinate hot on his heels. Naomasa looked back towards him, and smiled.

“Let's go grave digging.”

- - -

Izuku stood with his fellow classmates and Aizawa. Each of them held a solid steel suitcase, and were being spoken to by their teacher. Izuku held onto his own briefcase with a level of exhilaration he hadn't felt since forging the first Lotus Demon costume. After all, a similar situation was now happening; he was going to get to bear his costume as Jetstream. It had been a plain design, almost painful to think he had considered it worthy, but he needed something unassuming.

“Alright, kids. If there's any problems with your internship, give me a call. See you in a week.” Aizawa droned, and remained still as his students began to depart. As Izuku turned to head towards the Shionosisu city train, Aizawa spoke up again.

“Izuku.”

Midoriya blanched for a moment, before regaining his composure and turning back towards Aizawa. He remained stoic until the class had mostly cleared out, and the station was mostly empty.

“I'm sorry for doubting you.” He slowly strode up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don't think we're not still watching you, but as of this morning, chances you're the Lotus Demon went down significantly.”

“I-I didn't see. What happened?” Izuku inquired, feigning ignorance.

“Struck in Hokkaido. Given I saw you yesterday, you're off the hook. Mostly.”

Izuku smiled, and breathed out a sigh of relief. This one he didn't need to fake. “Thank you, teacher.”

Aizawa left, and Izuku was left heading towards the Shionosisu train. As he approached, he found Todoroki's half and half visage staring at him with indiscernible intent. As was the usual for the son of Endeavor, he was quite emotionless. That coolness made him worry.

“I saw you signed on to my father's agency.” Todoroki said, all but monotone. Izuku gulped before replying.

“I-I did. I didn't t-think he'd offer me one, and i-it's good to get a look at the top.”

“Are you thinking to become the number one hero?” Todoroki asked. Izuku nodded.

“Then you're another obstacle on my path.” Todoroki squared off with Izuku, turning to face him fully. That inscrutable visage darkened. “I want to fight you.”

Midoriya swallowed. He beat Bakugo, who in turn beat Todoroki, but Shoto was a different story than the melee oriented rage machine that was Kacchan. Where he beat out Todoroki with an onslaught of massive and unavoidable strikes, it remained true that he hadn't even used his flames. What if Todoroki would fight Izuku with both? What if he held nothing back, where Izuku had already shown off his most devastating abilities? Too many variables. He hated too many variables.

“U-uhm!” Izuku smiled awkwardly, shuffling in place. “M-maybe later!”

Todorki's dark gaze softened by an iota, and when he spoke it was far less hostile. “Well, that was my intent. I'm sure my father will want to test you against me.”

“I-I'm sure.” Izuku clenched and released his left hand, subconsciously. He was saved from the awkward silence by an intercom calling the arrival of the Shionosisu bound train.“We should b-be going.”

Thus, the son of the number two hero and the winner of the sports festival sped towards Shionosisu.

- - -

“Sorry to say, Naomasa, but this seems like a stretch.” All Might, in his unmuscled form, lounged on a white couch within UA. Across from him was Tsukauchi, clad in his trench coat, looking distraught. Evening had slowly fallen upon Musutafu, coloring the leaves and buildings gold. The low sun accented the shadows on both the hero and invesigator's face. On the table before them sat a half open manila folder.

“Even still, we can't deny this is strange.” He opened the folder to reveal two side by side pictures. Both held cross sections of a femur, but the second one held a spiral pattern on the marrow. “We checked multiple cross sections of the previous murders, and none of them have this pattern. This is, more than likely, a different quirk.”

“Have you considered that the pattern may decay after days? Weeks? Months?” All Might took a drink of his tea. “It does beg consideration that this may be a decoy, but how?”

“If our suspicions are correct, All For One.”

The hole in All Might's chest ached at the very mention of the name. Leader of the League and criminal mastermind, the same man who he beat at great cost so very long ago. If the Lotus Demon was indeed connected to the League, it would follow that All For One would be able to create a decoy of some sort to draw attention away.

“It just doesn't make sense.” Toshinori sighed, rubbing the side of his face. “Why would he create a decoy and send you on a chase up to Hokkaido? There's no point in it, unless you were close to a suspect. Even then, wouldn't said suspect become even more suspicious?”

“We can't tag any of our suspects on any hard evidence. With the attention to detail the Demon has, he's able to keep his DNA on lock and key. With that outfit, he keeps himself completely concealed. Most we've gotten is some skin around the eyes.” Naomasa grunted. “He even changes his voice, for christ's sake. Only talked four times on tape, and every time, it's too garbled. We can hound Izuku Midoriya all we want, but unless he cracks and blurts something out, we won't be able to pin him. And now this.”

“Seems like you need a trap of some sort.” All Might commented.

“Easier said than done. He targets randomly. At one point we thought he would never go after children, but after Minoru Mineta's corpse turned up...” Tsukauchi rubbed his eyes. Weariness beset him in a sudden wave. “The most we can do is put Hokkaido on high alert until he slips up.”

“Then that's the plan.” Naomasa stood, taking the folder with him, and All Might sighed. “Are you going there?”

“I need to be there when he trips. I need to see his face. And hell, I need to be the one to cuff him.” Tsukauchi opened the door, and looked back, his once plain face twisted by fatigue. A few strands of his hair seemed to be greying. “Toshinori, for my pride and for Japan, I need to slap the iron on this f*cker's wrists.”

“Then beat him, Tsukauchi.” All Might smiled, approvingly. “I want to see you on the TV as a hero among heroes.”

A smile returned on Naomasa's face, if only for a moment. He closed the door, the sound of it echoing in the otherwise empty room. Toshinori Yagi's smile slowly faded, and he looked down at his hands. If All For One was truly the patron and protector of the most notorious killer in Japan, then who knows what they had in store?

- - -

The enormous tower of Endeavor's hero agency, nestled in the heart of Shionosisu ward, was utterly baffling. Just how much money did the number one hero have, let alone the number two? Several sidekicks and heros were seen milling about the reception area. With a word Izuku and Todoroki were permitted to enter the posh elevator up to Endeavor's office. All the while, Todoroki had said little more than pleasentries.

The silence unnerved him.

The doors opened onto a room easily the size of one of the UA gyms, built out of wood and plastered with beautiful artwork. At the far end of the office was a small desk where the towering form of Enji Todoroki sat. His hair was a shock of crimson, his eyes an icy blue, and his form an imposing bulk. His hero costume spat flames, only adding to the intimidation. He looked up from a laptop, pushing back the chair and circling around the table to face the pair. Izuku gulped and approached.

“I'm pleased to see that you both chose my agency to intern at. In fact, it was my hope the two of you would be together.” Endeavor's basso voice said. “Shoto, have you decided to follow in my path?”

Shoto's visage changed at that, growing a pinch more annoyed. When he spoke, it was gruff. “I'll follow my own road to becoming number one, father.”

Endeavor scoffed, and glanced to Izuku. “And you. Why did you choose my agency.” It was framed as more of a demand than a question. Did Shoto really live with a father like this? Better than having no father, he supposed.

“I-I wanted to s-see what it was like a-at the top.” Izuku replied, clutching the briefcase close.

“Hrm.” Enji said, spreading his arms. “Then how do you like this glimpse?” Clearly he indicated the office. As Izuku looked, he smiled. The elder Todoroki had a clear taste in aesthetic that Izuku appreciated. The office was intricately forged, but spartan in accommodation. He loved that sort of dichotomy.

“I... like it. Simple, but showing off your prestige.”

Enji sniffed. He seemed to approve, and glanced to Shoto.

“Have you two fought?”

“No.” He replied.

“Then that shall be the first order of business.” Endeavor clapped, and stepped past the pair. “Before we hunt the Hero Killer, we shall test your mettle against one another. It seems only fitting to make up for your failure at the sports festival, Shoto.” Shoto's face darkened further, and stepped after his father. After a beat, Izuku followed, and the trio entered the elevator once more. Endeavor brandished a key, turned it in the elevator, and pressed a button that read B-8.

It was a long descent, and after what seemed like many minutes, they arrived at B-8.

The elevator opened on a massive concrete space, something closely resembling UA's gyms. It was easily the size of a football field, and if there were any questions of Endeavor's affluence, this made them even more pressing. It was mostly smooth, but pockmarks and craters showed some evidence of wear in the training zone. Painted on the ground in white paint was a massive square. Shoto strode to the far edge of the arena while Izuku remained at the closest end. Endeavor stood in the middle, arms crossed and looking interested. He glanced at Izuku.

“Costume.”

“O-oh!” Izuku said, and sat his briefcase on the floor. He opened it to find what he had spent a whole night designing, his ideal costume for use. He pulled it out and glanced to Enji and Shoto, who looked away. Izuku subconsciously blushed as he stripped and quickly put on the suit.

When it was done, he looked himself up and down.

The suit was tight and form fitting, accentuating every detail of his body. He bore a bomber jacket over the main suit itself, concealing a kevlar weave within for an added edge of defense. The bodysuit itself was rubber, colored a deep violet, and lead to an almost stygian black cape. The cape was both to give him a certain flare, and conceal a pair of miniature oxygen tanks that rested on his lower back. Said tanks connected to his mask, a large steel covering that would fit to his mouth and nose. On his head fit a pilot helmet, the forehead bearing the word “SUPERSONIC” in flowing cursive. The visor, flipped down, would conceal his eyes. On his arms and legs were steel braces and knuckledusters concealed in large gloves, as well as steel toe boots.

He was satisfied with the quality of the support department. Yes, whomever had forged this outfit would be spared from artistry. Izuku flipped down the visor.

“Fight until the other is unable to continue or is pushed out of the arena. Yielding will not be tolerated.” He unlocked one hand, raising it high.

Izuku had no idea how to approach this. How much of a command over ice did Shoto have? Could he really fire off ice into the air like missiles? And if he did choose to use his flames, that would add another layer of difficulty to the situation. Air only stoked the flames, after all. He would have to be careful. Shoto would easily be more challenging a fight than Bakugo.

“Begin.”

In the opening stroke, a wave of arctic air and ice shot at Izuku. Using a bit of physical effort and his quirk, he dodged the move with ease. Ice crashed into the far wall, shattering. It was then that Shoto's move begun to take form as the wave of cold slammed into the wall and curved backwards like an ocean wave, threatening to consume him. Izuku dodged forwards, and used the momentum to get in close to his opponent.

Izuku whirled as he flew, using the momentum to bring a massive kick into Shoto's ribs. It sent him back a solid meter, his feet briefly lifting off the ground. Izuku could not allow the younger Todoroki any time to recover, and so begun an onslaught of punches and kicks to his arms and legs, kept in a protective position. Shoto was being backed against the proverbial wall.

That was when his right arm shot downwards and billowed out a blast of chilling air. Air outside off his own control clashed against him and sent him backwards, which was an opportunity for Shoto. He swept his right hand upwards, sending a massive barrage of ice at Izuku. He barely dodged this one, flying just out of range, but still being clipped.

Izuku hovered just out of range, and called out. “This is pathetic, Todoroki.” The words made Shoto pause, as Izuku's face twisted in rage. It closely mirrored his feelings as a fury unlike anything he had felt consumed him. With ease Izuku could beat him, but he needed to destroy Todoroki. That meant drawing him up to his greatest peak, and pushing him off all the same. There needed to be no doubt in Shoto's mind that he had failed. So, Izuku would help him.

“You stand there, so proud of yourself, so goddamn arrogant it makes me sick.” Izuku spat. He pulled up his visor to reveal the glare he had been concealing. “Grow up.”

“What did you--”

“Shut up.” Izuku growled. “So co*ck sure you are, so naive to think that you're so above your father, and so trapped in his shadow you are that you can't even use a spark of heat. You're afraid that you'll become like him if a few sparks of fire come out of that pathetic drag you call a left side. So afraid that, even when it means losing to your inferior, that you'll do it anyways. You're a coward.”

At this point, Enji had begun to gape at the verbal barrage being thrown at his son. Shoto's eye twitched in undisguised rage. Izuku continued. “I have to wonder who's more insulted. Me, your dad, or yourself, knowing that you have the potential to act, and yet you never do. It's your power, Shoto. No one else's.” Izuku clenched a fist. “So stop holding back, or I will end you.”

“Mama, I don't want to be like dad.” Shoto said. “I hate him. I don't want to be a hero like he is.” His mother cradled his head in one hand and placed one hand on his leg, smiling.

Izuku begun to jet down to Shoto.

“Oh, Shoto...” She cooed, slowly brushing his hair. “... It's okay. You don't have to be like him.”

Sparks rose from his left.

“You can be whoever you choose to be.”

“Let go.”

A veritable inferno of energy flowed off of Shoto's left, blazing bright as the sun and almost as hot. Ice that had collected around him slowly melted, and his right side's ice turned into water. Izuku was thrown meters away, and beneath his mask, he smiled. He flipped down his visor. Shoto half snarled and half grinned.

“You're really a f*cker.” Shoto swore, one of the few things Izuku hadn't expected. “To make your enemy go all out.” He paused, that grin growing wider. “I... I want to be a hero too.”

“SHOOOTOOOO!” Enji called. “YOU'VE ACCEPTED YOURSELF! GOOD, VERY GOOD!” He got dangerously close to the ring. “THIS IS WHERE YOU WILL GO BEYOND ME!”

Izuku grinned and called out. “Finally showing your teeth? Good.” He braced. “Now I can crush you utterly.”

Shoto's grin faded. “We're not done yet. Let's see you give it your all too.”

Todoroki pressed his foot to the ground. Ice begun to rise around it as flames billowed from his left side, creating a maelstrom of opposing energy that met in the center as deafening explosions of steam. Izuku clenched and roared, wind flowing around him like the eye of the hurricane. This would hurt like a bitch if it connected, both for Shoto and for Izuku, but this was the final stroke.

A wave of ice nearly the size of a building rushed towards Izuku, which he dodged. The sudden increase of speed towards Shoto clocked the speed of sound, breaking the barrier and sending an utterly devastating explosion of force to shatter that first wave of ice.

The torrent of unrelenting heat followed, an inferno that rushed towards Izuku. He met it head on in the bare moment it took to bridge the gap.

“Midoriya.”

“SUPERSONIC BUSTER!” A leg was sent hurtling towards Shoto.

“Thank you.”

Chapter 21: Concerto nel Fiore: Crescendo

Chapter Text

“Les Danse des Fleurs? What the hell kind of event is that supposed to be?” Tomura inquired, lounging on the bar. He continued to nurse the wounds that Stain had given him. Kurogiri assisted, though seemed more interested with Izuku's words.

“I-It's french for 'The Flower Dance'. I thought I may as well put some flair to it.” He cleared his throat. “T-this would be a rather wide scale attack, including multiple civilian casualties on top of heroes.”

“So be it. Now spit it out.”

“Well, to start out, we'll need about three hundred of those canisters you sent me, and a lot of a specific chemical.”

- - -

Izuku stood in the center of a clearing, the towers of Musutafu about a mile away from the mountain he had chosen as a testing ground. Here he would not incur any civilian casualties. Typically that would sparsely be a concern, but given he wasn't in costume, care was of the utmost concern. Hell, he could be being watched at that very moment, and unknowing of it. It'd be a risk he'd have to take.

He grasped one of the black canisters he had received so long ago, and pressed the red button, dropping it nervously and dashing away to a tree. It waited for about ten seconds, before opening like an agave plant, spikes jutting in an almost 360 degree cone. Izuku, hidden behind the tree, grasped a stick and fidgeted with it.

If this didn't work as he intended, he'd be minced.

He tossed it into the clearing, and prayed.

From the trap rose a tinny sound of a violin being played, followed by an explosion and countless spikes of jagged steel being launched. He cringed as he heard those spikes cutting through trees near him, splinters shooting out as daggers launched in every direction.

He felt the sting of blood as a spike flew just past his cheek, the splinters in its wake scratching his face. Though the pain was meaningless; in fact, it made him giddy as he pulled himself from the tree.

Effective, fast, and gory. Incredible.

- - -

“Three hundred?” Tomura said skeptically. “Those are about a hundred thousand yen per trap. You expect us to be able to get that much?”

“Then the lower estimate would be about one hundred and thirty. One for almost every intersection in Hosu.”

“A bit more manageable, but still a hell of a lot. Just what's the plan?”

Izuku explained.

Both of the head villains were left speechless. Silence consumed the room.

“... You've lost your mind.” Tomura said, the words hollow. “You'd commit the single largest act of terrorism this world has ever seen.”

“Lotus Demon, this does seem a bit extreme, even for my tastes.” Kurogiri shifted. “Though it is not up to me to decide. Sensei and Tomura will discuss it, but we can guarantee nothing.”

“U-understood. Give me a c-call when you've decided.”

When the laptop feed cut off, there was nothing but a somewhat shocked stillness in the room. Without delay, however, Kurogiri entered in the number of All For One, whose easily recognizable “SOUND ONLY” card filled the screen of the desktop. After a few rings of the chat program, he picked up, letting out a bored yawn.

“This is important, I assume.”

“Izuku pitched us his... plan.” Tomura said.

“And?”

Tomura relayed it, almost word for word. Certain points garnered the boys disgust, sneering. For a time after Shigaraki had stopped speaking, a quiet had overtaken the room. Finally, Sensei was the one to break it, with a thoughtful sound.

“Interesting. Doable. Impactful. I don't see why this is a point of contention.”

“Sensei, I...” Tomura sighed. “... There's limits to what we should do as a League.”

“Ah, one of the sins of childhood. Believing in limits when we live in a world without them.” Sensei leaned back in his chair, the sound creaking through his computer screen. “Tomura, what we are creating, this foundation of darkness and rebellion, it's not an order with a range of who we effect and who we destroy. It is these self imposed limitations that define the downfall of an organization such as ours, and prevent us from greatness.

“That being said, this is an admittedly extreme plan. Going through with it would change the way the League operates forever. I'm sure Izuku perceives this, as do you.” Sensei paused. “Correct?”

“Yes.” Tomura replied.

“The decision ultimately comes down to you, Tomura. I am your guide and teacher, not your ruler.” Sensei let that sink in, and Shigaraki, silently, resolved his stance.

- - -

“Alright, so you'll be able to patch in this camera to the major news networks?” Giran stood behind the man, a chubby and bespectacled Russian. When he spoke, his Japanese came out with an unmistakable accent, but was otherwise quite decent.

“Audio visual yes, but it will only be for a limited time. I can set the audio override for about as long as they keep their servers running, or until police get wise and take care of it.” He explained, leaning back in his chair. The pair stood in a dark room, lightless, the hacker with three screens, two of which seemed to be compiling code. He adjusted his glasses, and sniffed. “I assume this completes our arrangement?”

“Long as it works, we don't have a problem.” Three slips of paper carrying a seemingly random jumble of letters and numbers were handed to him. Without delay he opened a new window and to his bitcoin wallet he went, and proceeded to type. Fifty bitcoins had been added without a hitch. He pointed to the camera on his table.

“Switch it on when you're ready, and give me a ring on your van.”

“Will do. Pleasure doing business with you.”

- - -

“We've adjusted the trucks to spray as they go and then detonate on a timer that starts once the key is turned.” Giran stood beside one of his many associates in the depths of the Matsura Iron Factory, about 50 miles north of Kamino ward. Above them the sounds of machines clanked away, with workers to match, cleverly masking the illegal manufacturing that lurked in the depths. “Since you like to work through sh*ttily paid intermediates, I assume you don't want the chance of them spilling?”

“You read me like a book, Kira.” Giran clapped the arms dealer on the back. “That gonna cost me any extra?”

“Nah.” He shrugged. “Just as long as you got the fee.”

“Right, how much is this gonna be?”

“Three million yen.” He grunted, jutting his head at the array of eight trucks, outfitted very plainly without marking or license plates.

“Yeesh. Make me sell my lungs while you're at it.” Mumbling, Giran pulled out his phone and made the transfer. Kira, satisfied, nodded.

“I'll have them delivered to your garage.”

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

- - -

“So, uh... whadya want me and me boys to do?” The mutant hobo, face of a fish, asked Giran. The well dressed swindler sighed as he closed the suitcase full of cash. He pulled from behind him a pair of massive crates, pre-opened to reveal about a hundred of the canisters, traps of death ready to be sprung.

“Two days from now, at exactly 7 o' clock PM, place one of these on every street corner you can find. Spread it out if you can, but really, I don't care.”

“... And yer givin' us all this money to do that?”

“A vow of silence goes with the amount of cash. If you break it, I'll have you skinned and turned inside out.” Giran's voice never lost the tone of a sleezy businessman, but the casualness in the threat sent a shiver down fish face's spine.

“G-got it.”

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

- - -

“Then we're ready, and right on time.” Tomura flipped close his burner phone and lounged on water tower in Hosu, Kurogiri nearby. Both of them were unusually quiet, simply feeling the cool winds of a fall twilight brush past them. They looked down on the city, so full of lights and life. They looked out and felt numb, knowing that so many would be extinguished.

There was nothing more to say until Izuku called.

Nothing but the winds, so enviously dead.

- - -

Izuku had awoken in his hospital room, and just seemed tired. He looked out at the twilight, and glanced to the clock on the wall. 5:10. About two hours until the show. He looked at himself up and down, sighing at the punishment his body had taken. Burns had covered most of his body following the fight, but they had been healed quickly. It was the soreness that was the issue. He was set to be discharged in about an hour, and the next day they were to go on the hunt for the hero killer. Little did they know...

Todoroki and him had not held back, but even strong as Izuku was, Todoroki had been the victor. That last attack had injured both of them to the point they had both been put in the hospital. Endeavor had paid for all of it, of course. Doting father or a hero trying to cover his ass for encouraging blood sport between his son and an intern? Who could tell but Shoto.

Speaking of which, Shoto sat awake in the bed next to him. They had been in a shared room since internment, and neither of them had really talked much more than a few phrases while they healed. Izuku felt that silence weighing heavy on him now.

“Todoroki.”

Todoroki perked, glancing at Izuku.

“I... didn't mean what I said back there. Even if it was a bit convincing.” Izuku rubbed the back of his head, hissing at the soreness in his muscles. “Just thought you needed something to push you over the edge and use your full power.”

“I appreciate it, Midoriya. I really do.” Todoroki looked away, towards the windows. Silence threatened to set in once more. Izuku would not allow it. It took some time before he spoke again, but his words were measured.

“Todoroki, do you think that even the worst person alive, even one who has committed countless sins of hedonism... do you think they could become good?”

The question made Todoroki perk, and he looked at Izuku intently. Izuku met his gaze with trepidation, neither of them blinking for some time. The thick silence was cut only by the steady whirring of machinery.

“Who knows.” Todoroki rested his head back on the pillow. “Maybe what that person thinks they're doing is good. Maybe they don't, and they just like doing it. I think the first one is more dangerous, and is one who can't be shifted into doing good.” He glanced at his head. “The person who just enjoys being terrible... well, maybe they could be terrible for a good cause. Like my father.”

“You think he enjoyed being terrible to you?”

“I don't know.” Todoroki looked out the window once more, and held his gaze there on the Shionosisu skyline. “I think he wanted to do it, but I don't think he liked it. Like he keeps saying, its for this grand dream of surpassing All Might.”

“And... do you want that dream?” Izuku asked. The question made Todoroki seize up for a moment. He relaxed just as quickly.

“I do, but not for him. Never for him.”

“Ah.” Izuku said, resting his head against the pillow. He then perked, and asked. “For yourself?”

“Maybe someone else.” Todoroki shrugged. “But also for me.”

“That's nice. Fighting for yourself and others is the important thing.” Izuku said, a small smile crossing his lips.

“And what about you? Do you think the worst person could reform?” Todoroki asked, finally meeting Izuku's gaze again. Midoriya fidgeted under that cold stare, but this time, was able to muster up words.

“I think so.” Izuku said. “I think that even people born evil can do good, even if they don't mean to. It may not make them good people, not immediately, but it does change something in them.”

“Hm.” Todoroki nodded, conceding the point. He went back to looking blankly forward. “You sound like you know from experience.”

“I've just seen things online.”

“Hm.”

An hour passed quickly in silence, and the two were checked swiftly by a doctor in blue scrubs. He seemed satisfied, and affirmed their suitability for release. The pair changed into their usual casual clothes. They strode out of the hospital and the two went to go their separate ways out into the bustling Shionosisu city evening. Izuku stopped before he went, and turned back towards Todoroki.

“If not only for yourself, then who?”

Todoroki paused, not turning back towards Izuku.

“I'll figure it out.”

The half and half son disappeared into the crowd. Izuku followed suit, dipping through the crowds. He felt himself enjoying the cool night air as he weaved through people, and finally found himself alone in an alley, deep in downtown. He flipped open his burner phone and sent an image of his location to Kurogiri.

A black gate opened before him, and without pretense, stepped inside.

Izuku stood on a water tower beside Kurogiri and Tomura, both of them regarding him silently. Tomura sat with a pair of briefcases beside him, and Kurogiri stood stoically, observing as night began to descend upon the world.

As 7:00 rolled around, Tomura slid him the larger of the two breifcases. Izuku opened it, and stripped out of his impeding clothes to slip on his new outfit as the Lotus Demon.

It was far more intricate than the last. Framing him was a massive crimson and scarlet red cloak, frayed at the top and bottom into large curling spikes. The spikes at the top seemed to become similar to a cowl of sorts, framing his head. He slipped a balaclava over his head, covering his hair and anything that would spell out his identity. Onto his legs went black slacks with steel shin guards and wicked, spiked boots. Onto his hands went gloves with long talons on each finger, hooked for hand to hand combat if it proved necessary. Lining his cloak's interior were a series of wicked and curved knives.

Over his face went his iconic Oni mask, with slightly longer horns curving up and outward. The tech within it shrouded his eyes and mouth to a point of being unrecognizable. It would also shroud his voice, and had a built in gas mask for heroes such as Midnight.

This was his magnum opus. The last costume he would ever need. He would die in this skin, this mask of hate and violence.

Tomura opened the second suitcase, pulling out a video camera. He handed Izuku a silver remote with a key inserted and a pair of buttons. He observed it, and nodded, glancing to Tomura.

“Turn the key, press the top button?”

“Yep.” Tomura confirmed.

“How long?”

“Two minutes.”

“Then let's begin.”

- - -

“... NASDAQ was down three points at close today, and the DOW JONES was up two. Back to you, Koichi.”

“Always good to hear the markets doing well.” The talking heads nodded at each other behind their desk. “When we come--”

A loud screech of static rolled through the studio, a few of the techs holding their ears, and most of the newscasters wincing. It lasted for a few seconds, before it went silent again. The anchors looked between each other, and then at the techs, who were scrambling and fidgeting with the cameras.

“What's going on, are we still live?” One of the anchors asked.

“No, uh...” A voice came on over the intercom. “We're dark. Audio and visual is being routed somewhere else.”

“Is it live?!”

“Yes, it's live. We're trying to pull the damn plugs.”

Techs watched in horror as the demonic visage of the Lotus Demon leered back at them. It had stood there, motionless. The director had burst into the tech room, and when he saw what they were seeing, he blanched.

“Get STV on the phone.” He directed, but almost a moment later, his secretary burst into the room with him.

“STV is on the line. They say their broadcast has been hacked.”

“W-we're seeing it too.” He trembled, looking at the screen. Still, the demon was silent. Or was he not connected through sound? A realization shot through him, and made his blood run ice cold.

If the STV network was getting the same, then every TV screen in Hosu was showing this.

What the hell was going on?”

- - -

“Detective.”

Nishimura prodded his superior, who awoke from his music and pulled out his earbuds. The bus to Kitami was about fifty minutes from their destination, and night had fallen quickly upon the car. Most passengers were asleep or reading quietly, but most looking at their twitter feeds were wide eyed.

“What's happening?” Tsukauchi looked around, then to the horrified face of his apprentice. He looked down to Nishimura's phone, which held a live broadcast of STV.

Looking back at him was the Lotus Demon.

The killer they thought was in Kitami.

- - -

Izuku's words were changed to many voices through the mask, but they remained intelligible. He was placid, almost bored, this man with the blood of so many on his hands.

“They called me mad, when I performed my first kills. They called me insane for using the body as the canvas, and for using the blood as paint. Perhaps they were right. Perhaps I am mad. But all artists are mad, are they not? What drives an artist to pull themselves from their bed and forge color and light and time into being? Madness.

“I ask you, people of Hosu. To what end does this madness grip us? To money, to fame, to prestige? Nay, these are the false artists. These are those who care not for their work, and simply hope to coast through life on the sickening providence of the wealthy.

“I... I am a true artist.” Izuku brandished the remote, twisted the key, and pulled it out. “Behold my finest masterpiece, this transcendent work of suffering and bliss, of torment and joy! Dance, my actors, and behold, ye critics, Les Danse des Fleures! Set to Dmitri Shostakovich's Waltz No. 2.”

He pressed the button.

- - -

The joyful music of the waltz piped through the speakers. People began to scream, but were cut into silence as the agave traps exploded into daggers of steel flying at well over fifty miles per hour. On almost every street corner in Hosu, explosions and violins sounded, steel flying along with the sound and cutting through glass and steel.

In their cars in the main roads, businessmen's faces were pulped, and in the red light district, prostitutes were torn to ribbons by flying metal shards. Some of the steel pierced the gas tanks of cars and detonated them, fireballs of carnage that engulfed city streets. Mothers were impaled along with their wailing babes, men stumbled through screaming civilians with blades stuck in their sternums. Some men were simply trampled by the panicking crowds, screaming instinct taking them over. But running would not save them, as an ethereal threat had already taken hold.

All the while, white trucks had been steadily going through the city since 7:00, the pipes in their cabs pumping out pure sarin gas across the streets. Men and women collapsed and begun to vomit out their insides. CEOs and the homeless alike were struck by spasms and vomiting, collapsing on the streets as the gas took their lives.

Families in their apartments. Salarymen with no future. Bright eyed students. Farmers briefly coming through the city. Police officers on patrol. Dogs. Cats. Heroes. Villains.

All dropping dead.

And while the screams filled Hosu, Izuku Midoriya, the Lotus Demon, waltzed with an invisible partner, on every TV screen in Hosu.

After eight minutes, each and every one of the white trucks exploded, releasing even more of the gas and killing their drivers instantly. As people ran from the infernos they carried the nerve agent with them, clinging to their clothes and infecting almost anyone they came near to.

Izuku hummed with the music as he went.

Tomura trembled as he watched the city burn.

“Ahh... and as the screams subside and the blood runs through the street, you shall know art.” Izuku finished his waltz with a flourish, the sounds of panic dying down. “Please, a round of applause for our performers.”

Shigaraki shut off the camera, letting it drop to the roof of the water tower. Silence, true and complete, filled the air, with only the winds carrying on screams and explosions.

“How many. How many did you think died?” Tomura asked, the wariness in his voice dropping into cold numbness. Izuku did not answer for a moment.

“Not enough until I confirm that Stain was one of them.”

- - -

Stain looked around himself, horrified as he had a knife to Tenya Iida's throat. He heard the sounds of screaming and then silence, but didn't dare walk into the streets as he saw cars slamming into each other and civilians vomiting blood and spasming. He was absolutely livid as he watched a child scooped into his father's arms, and both of them twitching and spewing their life bloods out.

“The League...” Stain felt his knife drop from his fingers as he knelt beside Tenya. “Those... those monsters... how could they... why would they...”

“Because, Hero Killer Stain...” A technologically modified voice droned from behind him. “... They did not have any life before me.”

He turned to see the cloaked and masked form of the Lotus Demon, not even as tall as he was. The figure that he found hatred for, the figure that truly inspired nothing but pure disgust in him. He stood before Chizome Akaguro, and looked as still as a statue. Standing there was a mass murderer, terrorist, and a person whose only ideal was his twisted art.

Stain lifted his sword towards the Lotus Demon, and glanced down at Tenya Iida. “Tenya Iida. Our fight for now is on pause.” He took on a fighting stance. “My conflict now lies with the Virtuoso Ripper.”

Tenya slowly rose, the effects of Akaguro's quirk slowly wearing off. He looked at the hero killer with nothing but hatred, but towards the Lotus Demon, he regarded him even harder. Side by side with Stain, Ingenium took on his own fighting stance, eliciting a sound of interest from the Demon. Stain looked at him with surprise, and no words needed to be exchanged to understand their agreement.

“Two on one, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Poetic, truly.” Izuku's shrouded arms reached into his cloak, and pulled out a pair of wicked and hooked daggers.

“Come. Let us dance until the moon drags high over the midnight sky, and paint this squalid city red.”

Chapter 22: Concerto nel Fiore: Finale

Chapter Text

A knife sailed from Stain, and there was no easier way to signify the start of the fight. The strike was probing, and was effortlessly swatted away by Izuku's right knife. Following this, however, the Hero Killer dashed forward, roaring as he swung his sword in a diagonal arc from the right, downward. Towards any other hero or villain unaccustomed to swordplay, it would have been a killing blow.

But, Izuku knew a feint when he saw it, and brought the hook of the knife to catch the sword. In the spare moment where Stain was stuck, Izuku brought that same right handed dagger in a wicked stab for Stain's skull, hoping to end the fight promptly.

Unfortunately, Tenya Iida's response time had not been taken into account. The teen had dashed a few steps forward using his quirk and sent a devastating kick to Izuku's right arm, likely dislocating something, but also sending the dagger flying. The Lotus Demon reached for Iida's leg, but he was just out of range for a safe hit as Stain pulled out another knife and made a slash at Izuku's arm.

Midoriya pulled himself and his stuck blade away, kicking at Akaguro to gain some distance. In the void of Stain backing off, Iida had returned to the offensive, his engines firing as he spun in mid air and brought his leg down onto Izuku's right arm once more. Pain shot through his muscles like an electric shock, but that pain only made him more excited. The feeling of adrenaline and blood pounding in his ears, the vibrations of steel and flesh on steel and flesh... he was having a hell of a time.

It was a shame none could see his exhilarated smile behind that mask. Izuku took a few more steps back, sure, to grab his right dagger from the ground again. Stain and Iida stood about 2 meters away, and Izuku slowly lowered himself into a crouching position. In that costume and stance, he looked like a vampiric cat, ready to strike.

“Tell me why.” Stain called out, his blade drooping near the ground, but far from giving up his fighting stance. He and Iida were tight like piano wire.

“Let me answer your question with another question.” Izuku said, voice coming out in varying pitches and tones. “What is art to you?”

“An expression of an idea, or of one's own idea of beauty.” Stain replied. Though it was nearly imperceptible, the Hero Killer's eyes slowly moved, as if making a plan.

“Correct. Is it evil?” Izuku replied, as he begun to do the same. Clearly, they wouldn't go for the exact same strategy, but would they come at him from a different angle or use a different tactic? There weren't many angles to use in a steep alleyway, outside of using the walls to jump or gain elevation. With both Iida and Stain's physical endurance and skill, he didn't doubt that they could.

“Art itself is not. What you do is.” Stain replied.

“See, this is where you, and society, is wrong. I am expressing my own idea of beauty through the creative form of death and suffering. I am the black that contrasts to this world of vanilla and softness.” He spread his arms. “Don't you see? I am at the bleeding edge of creativity and beauty. The first flower to blossom in the spring. I... am beauty.”

“You're a disgusting monster.” Iida countered, raising his fists. “This isn't art, it's madness!”

“Thus, the close mindedness of this society presents itself.” Izuku brought both knives to an X formation, in front of his chest. “Shall we continue?”

Stain launched forward, once more beginning his attack with thrown knives. He seemed to be using the same strategy as that sword came in a pair of quick slashes towards Izuku's torso. He felt his cape bearing some slashes as it missed his barely protected torso. Were they really using the exact same plan? Next would be Iida on the right. He looked that way.

Only to find Iida was sliding beneath Stain as the latter leapt up and forward. Tenya Iida brought his leg in a crushing strike to Izuku's kneecaps, sending a report of incredible agony through him and sending him down. If it wasn't enough, Stain's blade left a long slash on Izuku's mask, stripping the paint and leaving a solid mark in the mask itself.

Izuku let out a gasp and yelp of pain as he stepped back, the only thing he could do as his balance betrayed him. Stain sliced at Izuku once more, this time scoring a direct hit onto the unprotected flesh between his metal armguards.

Midoriya skittered backwards, gasping for breath. Stain brought his sword to his mouth.

He licked the sword.

A rush of a numbing chill ran through his body as Stain's quirk activated. He tried to move, willing his muscles to act, yet found his body unable to move. Desperately he grunted and spat, yet he could not find himself able to do more than move his mouth. Was this how his victims felt when he had held them in his quirk? Helpless, still, numb?

Terrified?

Izuku was terrified. He was at the Hero Killer's mercy as he slowly advanced, sword drawn and pointing down towards his prey.

No... this was not how this ended. There needed to be some way out.

Iida did nothing. Stain advanced. Izuku thought. He looked around, searching for something, anything. If only he had a way to make his body move.

Realization caught Izuku like a tidal wave. How could he have missed it? His eyes tracked to his hand, and found his finger in a good spot, bent towards his arm, but not making contact. Slowly, he felt his will pouring into that one finger like filling a goblet. Just a few more centimeters. Two.

“Lotus Demon. Virtuoso Ripper. Whomever you are behind that mask, you have committed innumerable sins against the society of heroes I will forge. For that...” Stain raised his blade high. “You will be executed.”

One more centimeter.

The blade fell.

Izuku felt pain indescribable flare up throughout his body as his bones turned into rods of solid, superheated iron. Yet he could move. In that instant of maneuverability, he grasped Stain's blade, and pushed it to the side. With his free hand he slashed at Stain's unprotected thigh, the long hooks in his gloves scoring a solid hit. Stain yelled in pain and surprise and lept back, as Izuku rose, almost flying.

He was being pulled like a puppet, his limbs dangling as invisible strings lifted him. He felt his legs catch underneath him, and there he stood, like a macabre and curious posing doll, barely obeying the laws of physics.

“This... is... the worst... pain.” Izuku's voice was breathy, agonized, and almost moaning. “Now I... know... how they... felt.” He pulled another knife, hanging limply from his barely gripped fingers. “Watch... me... dance.”

Izuku's body was hurtled into the air, and he brought the knife with him on a surprised Stain, who was barely able to bring up his blade to defend himself. Everytime he moved unnaturally, flight and such, it sent a shot of agony through his entire body... yet he seemed to relish in it. In fact, it was quite auspicious that his crotch was being covered by a cloak.

He brought the second blade down striking into Stain's undefended shoulder. The hero killer screamed and kicked at Izuku, gaining distance once more, but it wasn't enough. Izuku descended on Stain, slowly trying to crawl away, giggling giddily as he slashed his achilles heel and at his armpits, eliciting agonized screams from the man.

He felt Iida's legs hitting him again and again, but the pain of his own quirk overshadowed it like a candle to a forest fire. At some point, Iida had simply stopped trying, and watched in open mouthed horror as Izuku carved Chizome Akaguro like a thanksgiving turkey. After some time of enjoying himself, he deactivated his quirk.

The wave of sudden relief after such torment brought a wave of nausea upon him, but he suppressed it and remained standing. He looked at Iida, and then to Stain. Izuku pressed a hand to Chizome, and the roars of pain resumed in force.

Izuku slowly rose him, and created something beautiful. Like his early murders, he formed a lotus blossom from his ribs, poking outwards and through his clothes. With his other bones, he reversed the positioning of all of them, save for the spine, which he simply snapped. Hands and legs, arms and pelvis, skull, all of them reversed and framing the lotus blossom.

Hero Killer Stain was dead, turned to art as so many others had been.

Iida screamed, and dashed forward.

“RECIPRO...”

“Oh for god's sake.”

“BUR--”

Before Tenya could finish the call for his finishing move, he found a clawed hand around his neck. A moment later, pain filled his body. He was thrown into the wall behind him, cracking his armor and sending his glasses to the dirt. Now, Tenya Iida sat, broken and crumpled, bleeding and beaten. Standing above him, unbeknownst to him, was one of his best friends.

“I don't kill many children. Personally, at least.” The Lotus Demon looked down, judging this human not as his friend or companion, but as a piece of meat. “But you are looking like an interesting canvas.”

Tenya muttered something incomprehensibly.

“What?” Izuku leaned in, trying to hear better.

“... Do it.”

That struck him. Izuku rose, and tilted his head like an inquisitive cat. Behind that mask, his brows furrowed in thought. “Why?”

“Theresh.. nothting fur me left.” Tenya opened his eyes, tears streaking down his face. “I'vfe failed... ash a hero... ash a brother...” He sniffed. “...ash a human. I'm better off dead.”

Izuku slowly scratched his chin. He had a very clear choice. Killing Iida wouldn't directly lead the police back to him again, given the circ*mstances. One body among thousands barely made a difference. Still, there was something that was holding him back from obeying Iida's wishes. Something deep within him.

Pity? Some sense of friendship?

He couldn't tell.

“Well?” Tenya weakly spread his arms out, looking up at Izuku with those same dead eyes he found in Makoto Nishikiyama, almost a year ago. That acceptance of death. That willingness to be thrust into the fathomless abyss.

“No.” Life briefly flashed in those eyes again, as Izuku continued. “This is my mercy.”

Without further pretense, Izuku brought his right claws down in an arc across his face. Iida yowled as four long gashes of blood began to run down his face. Luckily, Izuku had barely missed his eye, instead grazing the eyelid. One slash to the right of his left eye. One down the center. One down the nose. One down into flesh. Tenya groaned in pain as he applied pressure to his wounds. Izuku turned and begun to walk away.

“Wh... why?” Tenya called after him, despair and hate mixing in his tone. “Why?!”

Izuku, the Lotus Demon, turned his head halfway back towards Tenya.

“I don't know.” Genuine doubt filled those words. There was nothing more to say as he stepped out into the street, over corpses, and into the darkness.

The unrelenting midnight darkness of a dead city, where the only sounds were the dying and the sirens.

- - -

“This is CNN.”

“We're back to you today with the currently developing story out of Hosu, Japan as a deadly coordinated terrorist attack occurred in the downtown and business districts at 7:00 PM last night. Survivors said that they were briefly taunted by the serial killer and villain known as the 'Lotus Demon', before several explosions occurred simultaneously and the nerve agent Sarin flooded the street. Current estimates place the death toll around seventeen thousand, with over seventy thousand reporting signs of sarin poisoning. We go live with Tetsuya Miyamoto, live with CNN's Japanese team. Tetsuya?”

The scene shifted from talking heads to a Japanese man, overlooking the carnage. He wore a gas mask and a specialized suit, as did most around him, people in hazmat suits milling about and emergency services actively entering Hosu.

“Thank you, Sarah.” Tetsuya said. “As you can see there's very little structural damage in most areas of the city, but several cars were reported to have detonated due to the explosives. We're getting reports that the sarin used by the assailants, confirmed to be the League of Villains following a post on their twitter, is very pure, which caused the extremely high death toll as opposed to the Aum Shinrikyo attacks well over forty years ago. The prime minister of Japan is set to give a press conference within the hour. Sarah.”

“Thank you, Tetsuya. The President of the United States is also set to conduct a conference within the next few hours. We will have that for you live, and continue to report as more details about this harrowing attack, and the single most deadly terrorist attack since the Red Square Massacre of 2023.”

Tomura turned to Kurogiri as the news continued to rattle on, and with a sigh, he lounged once more. He gazed into his drink, the whiskey he had been shooting back since the night before. Still awake, yet very drunk, Shigaraki had been drawn into his own thoughts.

“Isn't this what you wanted, Shigaraki?” Kurogiri inquired, glancing to the television. “We're famous now.”

He sighed, and buried his head in his arms. “I think I'm sort of jealous I didn't do it... but yeah, we're famous now.”

“This is cause for celebration.” All For One's computer reported. “Let us hope Giran was thorough enough to have scrubbed all evidence before the heroes had arrived. Otherwise, I believe there is no cause for concern.” He paused. “Smile, Shigaraki. The League is known worldwide.”

“Yeah... it is, isn't it?”

- - -

Detective Tsukauchi sat in his hotel room, the news having long been shut off. Three bottles of vodka, two of which empty, sat nearby. He rested his head on his arm and lingered just on the edge of consciousness. He considered those pills that sat almost two feet away. Just enough of them plus the alcohol he had drowned in last night might make him go quickly.

Nishimura opened the door, holding a couple of cups of coffee. He sat one down on the desk, picked up Tsukauchi's pills up, and threw them in the trash. Naomasa couldn't react, half dead from the booze as it was.

“Stop moping and get some coffee in you, Naomasa.” Nishimura sipped his own cup. “I swear to god if you decide to up and die on me, I'll kill you.”

Tsukauchi sighed, and grasped the coffee, taking a long sip. “f*ck you, Nishimura.”

“f*ck you right back. We're far from here for no reason.” He leaned against the table. “Death isn't an option now. If the Lotus Demon left some tracks up here, then we can follow something.”

“Stop trying to give me logic and let me think about the sweet embrace of death.”

Naomasa felt the heat of coffee splashing against his face. The suddenness of the act and the great heat woke him up almost all the way. He scrambled and looked at Nishimura, the lid of his coffee in one hand and the open cup in the other. He took a long sip, and then spoke.

“With respect, detective, if you don't shut up and do your job, we'll get nowhere.” He paused, tone softening. “We'll get him, Naomasa. Remember?”

Naomasa rose and promptly slapped his subordinate, the latter taking it without flinching. Tsukauchi smiled and embraced him roughly.

“You're the worst.”

“So are you.” Nishimura lightly patted his friend on the back. It was the first comfort he had felt in hours.

- - -

“Have all students' internships canceled, and have them return home.” Aizawa said without preamble. The room of teachers was solemn. They had received the news that Tenya Iida had been injured, and found near the scene of Hero Killer Stain's death. All Might was the only one absent from the staff meeting, as he was aiding in rescue efforts with the government. This was the one time All Might wouldn't be chewed out for leaving his 'post'.

“And on the week of their internships, too...” Midnight said, her head burried in her hands.

“I have a cousin in Hosu.” Present Mic said, hollow. “She hasn't picked up her phone.”

“We've all been effected by this. Everyone in Japan, and the world has felt this.” Aizawa glanced to Nezu. “We should give everyone some time.”

“Agreed.” Nezu had been fidgeting and ordering papers since they had begun. It was something of a nervous tick. “Have the students return home, and don't make them come back until next Monday. We'll hold an assembly. Hopefully we can get some therapists in the house as well.”

Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. Any objections?”

Dead silence responded.

“We'll meet back here on Friday to discuss the Monday assembly. General staff meeting.”

Teachers left, leaving Aizawa alone in the room.

When he was done with it, the table had been flipped over.

Again, he had failed a student.

Again, he failed as a hero.

- - -

Izuku Midoriya grasped his mother, and the two embraced for what felt like an hour.

Only one of them cried.

- - -

Shoto Todoroki held a phone to his ear, hoping the number would pick up. It did, and a gruff voice came out.

“What.”

“I want to talk.

- - -

Mina Ashido and Uraraka Ochaco sat in the former's apartment, only a few miles from Hosu city. They tried to suppress the horrors of the world around them by immersing each other in the littler things in life.

No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't block out the sirens.

- - -

“Citizens of Japan. This day extracts a heavy toll on the soul and mind of the Japanese people. So many lives have been callously stolen away by one whose cruelty is only matched by their depravity. On this day, this cursed and sorrowful day, our people weep. They weep for friends, for family, for loved ones and acquaintances, taken too soon.

“In this void, you may feel anger. You may feel a drive for vengeance, to strike back at the horrid perpetrators. I beseech you, the people, to let these feelings drive you to strike without violence. To show these terrorists that they have inspired nothing but disgust and derision, I ask that you work and love each other. We may cry together, we may pray together, but in this time of great loss we must come together as a society united not by fear or hate, but by brotherhood.

“As we speak, the top investigators of Interpol are working tirelessly at the scenes of the crime. We will defeat the League of Villains through force of will and fellowship. God bless you, and may God bless Japan.”

- - -

The sorrow of heroes. A leader, ensuring his people. Students coming together. A killer, uncaptured and unknown, a nuclear snake in the grasses.

And so, the world turns, and the stars above remain indifferent to the suffering below.

Chapter 23: I Tre Demoni

Chapter Text

The world had been destroyed for so many people only five days ago. Mourning services were being held back to back as Japan and the world grieved. Every newspaper that could publish any more information on the attacks was doing so, eagerly lapping up the shreds of gossip and conjecture that anyone could provide. The government remained tight lipped about any details dredged up by the investigation. Very little were, regardless.

Few people were calling it the Flower Dance as Izuku had wanted. Nobody would dare to call such a horrible act of mass murder anything short of a massacre, let alone an artistic name. Pictures of the Lotus Demon's mask painted the papers and news. Photos of the survivors were especially broadcast by the mass media.

The byproduct of the sudden death and hospitalization of almost ninety thousand Japanese was immediate. The economy went wild, panic selling of stocks and an almost crippling loss of value being expected the moment the markets opened. And so, when the shutdown was lifted on this very day, chaos ensued, the markets going down 900 points. 300 trillion yen was predicted to be lost in the span of the week. The media reported this eagerly, but none of them ignored the fact that 17,000 jobs had opened up. Some sickening sources even touted this as a way for the unemployed otaku to get a leg into industry.

One of the most popular photos the media used was an image of a man with a spike in his arm screaming in sorrow and cradling his young child, dead to gas more than likely. On every news site, and every few hours in the news, they would play it. Finally was the after-note about Hero Killer Stain's death, but in the face of seventeen thousand, few cared.

Izuku read the names of people killed in the attacks, slowly. The obituaries had been turned into nothing less than a phone book. What names could he recognize? He scanned these every day as more and more people died in the hospitals, the gas taking them days later.

This was also an experiment to see if he could feel... something. Every name of every victim. He tried to imagine them. Did they have a loving mother as well? A beautiful family, a prosperous life? Was this mother taken from her daughter, or did they die together in agony, comforting one another? Did this father die without regrets? Did this grandmother finish her welcoming home cake for her grandson, returned from America?

He thought about every name, every scenario. He wanted to feel something. Pain, sadness, a tear. Empathy.

He felt nothing.

Nothing but hollowness, and the voices that sung jubilance in his soul.

He closed the paper, sighed, and rose. His mother had been approaching life with shocking happiness. Perhaps she was happy Izuku was alright? It would figure, but would she be happy so many others died for her son to live?

Moreover, would she be happy if she knew her son was the one who did it?

No, decidedly not.

Izuku rose, dressed for school, and strode out for his mother to see. He offered her an empty smile, which she returned. For her, there was nothing to be happy about save the fact her son was still alive.

For Izuku Midoriya, he simply couldn't.

The students had all been shuffled into Gym Alpha, the more traditional sports oriented gym in UA. Something like 2000 students stood together, all silent, all somber. How many of them had been affected directly? Most likely all of them. Hosu was a bustling business zone, after all. Many had jobs that required commute through it, if not within Hosu itself. At the north end of the gym, a stage and podium had been set up. The entirety of the UA faculty sat, all of them silent.

Normally, in an assembly, there would be something like banter going on. Now, there was nothing but sniffles and coughs of students, crushed together and waiting. Without much time to spare, Principle Nezu stepped up to the podium, and cleared his throat.

“Students, honored faculty, there are no words to describe the tragedy we have suffered. There is no soothing motions or speech I can use to make this more easy on you. Seventeen thousand people are dead. Seventy thousand are in the hospital. More of the latter are dying every hour. This is a dark time for our country and the world, and all of it was orchestrated by one man.”

A screen had slowly been pulling down as Nezu spoke, and the projector showed him. That mask. That robe. That blank visage, one of nothing but darkness. The symbol of evil. “This is the symbol of evil and injustice in this society. This is the arch-villain, the one who likely leads the League of Villains. This is the Lotus Demon. Know his face, know his body, know his mind. Use it to drive your strength, and your training. Use the fury in your hearts at the face of depraved insanity and vile filth to make you go beyond.” Nezu threw up his hands, utterly furious.

“RAGE, MY STUDENTS! LET YOUR BLOOD BOIL AND LET IT FORCE YOU TO GO BEYOND! SCREAM, MY STUDENTS! FIGHT AND PROSPER, ETERNALLY!”

Nezu screamed.

UA screamed with him.

He screamed again.

UA, the hearts of grieving and raging students, the hearts of children who have known the horrors of murder and anguish, screamed with him.

“PLUS ULTRA!”

Izuku Midoriya, the Lotus Demon, screamed, though his heart knew only the serenity of silence.

Tomura stood on the same water tower as they did five days ago, Kurogiri alongside him. They looked out at this city, this graveyard of corpses and silence. Even after so long the city had still not returned to its luster, even after the emergency task force had been withdrawn and all sources reported that the sarin had become inert.

“It's like a grave.” Shigaraki commented, looking out.

“Silent as one, and with enough dead bodies.” Kurogiri said, nodding slowly. Silence fell for some time, before he continued. “Do you think we did the wrong thing, Tomura?”

“I don't know, Kurogiri.” Tomura said, hollow. “On the one hand, we're known the world over. People fear us. People know what we're capable of. On the other hand... People know him the world over. We will be synonymous with his name, no matter what we do. Trapped in his lunatic shadow... he's not a spy anymore, Kurogiri. He's surpassing us.”

“I believe disposing of him would be difficult. Sensei seems to be taking a shine to him.”

“Do you think he will be his successor over me?” Tomura inquired. Kurogiri remained silent.

“I'll die before I let that happen.” Shigaraki said. “Take me back to the hideout.”

As they returned, they spotted the laptop of the Demon open, and live. He had called in while they were away, and Tomura pressed answer.

“Tomura. I have a suggestion and another plan.”

“This had better not be another gas attack.” Tomura groaned, sitting on his stool and looking at the laptop.

“No, even better. To retain both a spy and a serial killer. Is Sensei listening?” Izuku inquired.

“As always.” The rather placid tone of the Symbol of Evil replied.

“Then hear me out.”

The only sound in the board room was the moving of the gears and clicking of the second hand of the clock. Thirteen men sat in a board room in Tokyo, overlooking the skyline. In the far distance, one could almost make out Hosu from the windowed room. On the tv screen at the far end, the face of Naomasa Tsukauchi, face creased with age, stared back at them.

“Detective, have your leads in Hokkaido turned up anything?” The man at the opposite end of the room from the screen inquired. One of his eyes was without any white, and colored a deep indigo.

“No, chief.” Naomasa reported. “Killings have stopped entirely since the Hosu Massacre.”

“Then we're back to square one.” The chief said, sighing. He steepled his fingers and buried himself in them. “We know nothing but a figure, and a mask. Nothing.” He sighed, looking down. “We're being outwitted by a person who we know nothing about. How can we still not have even a name?”

Nobody answered.

“The President of the United States has been in contact with the prime minister. He's directing us to send our investigator to a meeting with the PSIA.” The chief looked at Naomasa. “I haven't gotten much more info than that there is a plan to create a special task force to track the Lotus Demon. Interpol has signed on with the idea, and I assume you would be the one to head it.”

Naomasa's eyes widened, as he nodded. “I'd accept such a mantle with honor, sir. When do I need to be with the PSIA?”

“As soon as possible. Get an airplane to Chiyoda as soon as possible.”

“At haste.”

“As expected of the Lotus Demon.” All For One said, smiling behind the monitor. “A truly excellent suggestion. But are you sure about this? It will destroy a major part of your personality for quite some time.”

“I'm certain. This is the most efficient way of going forward. This is... admittedly quite a convoluted plan, but if it's pulled off well, we're set.”

“Agreed.” Sensei said, pausing. “Tomura. Once more, I will have you and Kurogiri capture two boys like Shiki Mukomen. I will recall Shiki at haste.”

“Understood.”

“Then let us proceed. The Recursion Plan.”

. . .

Seiko Kira. 5'6, sixteen, a girl with frizzy hair and modest proportions. She was unassuming at best, and could slip into the depths of the crowd without much of an effort. While it was true she had an attractiveness in her mind, the attractions of many men go skin deep. She slowly strode home on this night, watching her phone.

Her parents hadn't been caught in the Hosu Massacre, but her grandmother had. She was dead, and in the ground. Some part of her was happy that the old witch was dead, but it was still her grandmother. There was some remorse to be had in a dead family member, even if they were awful.

She lived in one of the suburbs, Harajuku. This required a train ride through Hosu, and as she watched the still silent city, she had to wonder if life would ever return to this place. Would it always be a mausoleum?

Her thoughts were cut off quite suddenly by a croaking voice. “Don't move.”

She felt a circle of cold metal pressing into the small of her back. The threat was unmistakable. A gun to her spine. One shot would cripple, another would kill. She felt her palms become slick, and her eyes widened. Sweat beaded her skin.

“My weapon is concealed. No one will see it if you call for help. I'm not a train molester. You will come with me, silently, at the next stop.”

She nodded. It felt like an eternity until the next train stop, but when it finally did, she turned to leave. The man followed, the gun clearly still where it was. There was no easy escape. She was offered the choice of going down, right or left. Where even was she? She didn't have the mind to check, being scared half to death.

“Left.”

She strode down the left stairs. At the bottom she was on a street, among other businessmen.

“Black car, first on the left.”

She nodded rapidly, and opened the door of the car. She was pushed in, with her assailant following, closing the door and locking it.

Kurogiri peeled away from the curb, as Tomura chloroformed the young woman. What terror she likely felt, thinking she would be raped or sold into slavery.

What a beautiful future she had.

. . .

Suzuki Matsuda, 5'5, fifteen, frizzy hair, modest build. He had lost everything in the Hosu attacks, save for himself. He was only a boy, and now he was on his street, the corpses of his mother and father six feet under. He felt anger and sadness still, holding onto the only emotions that kept him going. He was supposed to live with his grandparents in Osaka in another week, as arranged by his cousin, but right now he lived in the shell of his parents house.

He felt so alone, so cold in the early spring night. He wanted to call out for his mommy and daddy like a child, to seek some sort of comfort in this time. He just wanted someone to care for this friendless and family-less child.

He heard his front door open, and shot up in his bed.

It wouldn't have been out of the ordinary for someone to come in his house if it was earlier, but who could it be at this time of night? His imagination went wild, thinking that it was the Lotus Demon, come to turn him into art like he had so many others.

Slowly he climbed out of bed, holding a book. It wasn't much, but it was thick and hard. It would do for defense. He stalked out of his bedroom, looking down the flight of stairs that lead directly to the entry hall.

Nobody was there.

He stalked downwards, holding the book in a ready to swing position. As he reached the last step, he felt a chill run up his spine. He took the last step down, to see a man with green hair and a hoodie standing only a foot away.

The man was faster.

He had Suzuki in a headlock.

He felt a cloth smelling of chemicals close around his mouth.

Darkness.

Three people sat, bags over their head and out cold, in a cold windowless cement room. Two people stood, observing each and every one.

Izuku wasn't exactly happy that they had gone for a woman to try and seem like breaking the pattern, but it was what it was. He was far from sexist, and if she was effective, she was effective. He stood in the same room as All For One, his mechanical mask humming lightly as he observed the captured children as Izuku was.

“A fine catch you all have gotten. Now then, are you sure you are ready to do this, Lotus Demon?”

“In a few minutes, I will no longer be the Lotus Demon.” Izuku looked up at Sensei. “I will be Jetstream, hero in training, and spy for the league of villains.”

“Then it is settled.”

And so it was that three Lotus Demons were born.

Chapter 24: Volti Ombreggiati, Volontà Incrollabile

Chapter Text

“We give praise to the supreme lord, the demon come to rid the world of suffering! For it is said that in times of stillness and sin that we will be received, and that the judgement of God shall come with the righteousness of his right hand! For it is he who sent his angel of death to Hosu, once the very mirror of Hell!”

In the basem*nt of a warehouse in Hosu, candles with deep red flames colored the masked and black robed faces of the cultists. It had been two months since the Hosu Massacre, and people with nothing else to turn to had resorted to the most simple act of all superstitious peoples: belief that this tragedy was an act of god. Many had refuted the idea that the Lotus Demon was a true demon, but some didn't.

Small cells of cults had sprung up over the world, but the greatest of which had their spiritual center in the home of death itself. They were Danava Deshi, the Demon's Disciples. It had started small, as a front of therapy and yoga course for those who sought salvation in the wake of horror. But, over a small amount of time, one man had taken these people, seeking salvation, and turned them into followers of the great “angel”, the Lotus Demon.

“Can you not see that this beast has come as a result of our sins? The sins of stagnation, of debauchery, of anguish? God has sent his angel of death to our world to rid us of sin, and this is but his greatest act of destruction. He has grown impatient, for we refuse to listen to his words!”

The cultists all wore makeshift oni masks. They nodded among each other, some even cheering on their speaker's words. The speaker himself bore a white robe, in contrast to his followers. “He has sent the miasma of his terrible wrath, and he has sent the bearer of the knife to bring change to us.” The preacher threw up his hands.

“Who among you shall stand to meet our glorious savior? Who among you holds the will and the soul to follow our king of kings?!”

There was no shortage of volunteers. The speaker slowly scanned the crowd, and pointed to one, a person whose hand had been raised quietly.

“You!” He called, pointing. Without hesitation they were allowed to the small stage, the hands of cultists grazing them. “You shall be our messenger to the crucible of the new world. Remove your hidings, state your name, and what you wish.”

They removed the mask and robe.

She rose.

“I am Himiko Toga. I wanna kill the Angel, and bear his child!”

Two men sat at the bar, shooting down shots of whiskey. In the time since Hosu, it had been hard for those who had been followers of Stains ideology. Given he had been swept away in the face of mass civilian death, those few who remained devout to the Hero Killer's ideal of 'true heroism' were given very little time of day.

They listened to the hip hop droning over the speaker in the bar, in silence. The pair were clearly out to get drunk, as they had nothing else. One, reptilian, turned to the other, a scarred man with spiky black hair.

“Whaddya got in your life left to do, man?” He inquired.

“I wanna kill my dad...” The scarred man said, setting down his shot glass. “... and I wanna kill the Lotus Demon.” He glanced over to the lizardman, who nodded.

“Why?”

“Dad, because he did this sh*t to me...” He emphasized his scars. “... And left me to die. The Lotus Demon took away the hero killer, the only sane man in this world of caped morons and masked murderers.”

“... Wanna do it together?” The lizard asked.

“Heh. Why not?”

Finals were rapidly approaching. Izuku remembered how well he had done in the few short days of his internship, and how that little bit of combat experience against Todoroki had helped him out with his movements. As he glanced at Iida, the boy seemed more reserved than normal. Those scars... he heard Tenya had a run in with both the Hero Killer and the Lotus Demon at the same time. That must have been awful.

Bakugo still wasn't around. If it had been this long... he had to assume that his old bully was out of UA. That must be hard for him, but at this point the pity well for Bakugo was fairly dry. He felt his mangled side of the face clench up in memory, a phantom pain. People had finally come out of their shells after the Hosu Massacre. It was almost something that would make him celebrate, if it weren't for the context.

“Man... I haven't been up with the studying.” Denki said, sighing. “Been taking care of my Mom since after Hosu.”

“I just haven't been studying...” Mina sighed, nestled against her desk. Tokoyami nodded, grimacing.

“Several of my cousins were caught in the incident.” He reported. “None of them perished, but they were all sick for some time. That and my training has taken up time for studying.”

“Do your best, you all!” Izuku cheered on. “I'm sure you'll do fine with some studying!”

Deku's new and chipper attitude had not gone unnoticed by the class. It elicited some interested stairs, especially from Ochaco. A week after Hosu, Izuku had started acting... different. Filled with confidence and happiness. It begged the question, did something happen to Midoriya on his internship? Todoroki seemed a bit happier as well, but that seemed unrelated. Shionosisu and Hosu were about 60 miles away from each other, so that couldn't be an issue.

What had happened to that reserved, cold, and artistic Izuku Midoriya?

“Still, the physical portion will probably be a lot harder than the midterms.” Sato said, sighing.

“If you need assistance with studying, I'd love to help you.” Yaoyorozu said to the class. “Though, admittedly, I am less confident in my physical abilities.”

“I'd love to set up a sparring session.” Izuku said. “It did wonders with me for developing my quirk.”

“I actually think I need some help on studying.” Sero and Jiro exclaimed. Mina and Denki chimed in similarily, and soon the lowest ranking members of Class 1-A had all exclaimed their desire for a study session. Momo beamed.

“I would like some greater experience in combat myself.” Ojiro and Tokoyami exclaimed.

“Yeah, yeah!” Hagakure confirmed, chipper as ever. “I need to be practicing on fighting and studying, but I think practical fighting more than anything!”

“I'd love a chance to improve in combat!” Eijiro exclaimed. “May as well do good on the manliest portion of the exam!”

Izuku, mirroring Yaoyorozu, beamed.

Soon, he hoped, they would all pass and head to the forest lodge. What sort of exciting experiences could they have there?

“I-I'm telling you, man, I don't know sh*t!”

An explosion went off right next to the man's head. Night had fallen on Musutafu, and while most of the city was returning home or sleeping, there were some nightcrawlers who remained active. UA students had all returned to their abodes, but one former UA student was out and about. His fist lay parallel to the gibbering man's head.

“CUT THE sh*t, ASSHOLE!” He bellowed. “Everyone I know places you with Smallfish's gang. Smallfish got paid to drive the trucks in Hosu. SO WHO THE f*ck PAID HIM?!”

Katsuki Bakugo, now the vigilante known as Blast King, had been away from home for months. He had been kicked out of UA shortly before the internships had begun for seriously maiming Deku, that homicidal little maniac. Nobody understood what he did, and nobody seemed to care that there was a killer in their midst.

If he hadn't already killed, he would.

“L-l-l-look man, I didn't want to be in any of that sh*t!” The hobo exclaimed. Dressed in rags and with very literal talons for fingers, he looked mismatched to the core. “B-besides, pretty much all the gang died in H-Hosu.”

“And that's why I'm coming to you, dumb sh*t.” His costume's gauntlets and those explosion motifs had been lost, but the tunic, pants, belt, and mask had remained. “You don't start getting mouthy, and I'm gonna give you a taste of death.”

“HOW MANY TIMES I GOTTA SAY IT?! I DON'T--”

The man's mouth was covered by Katsuki's palm. Rapidly, he caused explosions to go off in his open jaws, emitting yells of pain as flames and force ruined his teeth and the inside of his mouth. The man tried in vain to pry off Bakugo, but there was no avail. Finally, he pulled away his palm to reveal a mouth of bloody gums and missing teeth.

“F-f-f-uck you, man!” He yelled, cradling his mouth. “T-the... the guy who b-bought ush had a misshing toof and gray haiw! T-th-that'sh all I know!”

Bakugo spat. “Coulda said that from the start, and maybe you'd have some more teeth, dumbass.” He flicked the hobo a ten thousand yen bill. “f*ck off.”

The hobo scurried away, and Katsuki grunted. He had no plans about returning to UA while Deku ran free. He was going to get the evidence he needed, send it to the people who needed it, and only rest when Deku was behind bars or being executed.

He dipped through alleyways until he found himself at the Todoroki residence. As was his routine, he launched himself over the wall, and flew into a window on the second floor. He glanced, left to right, and made his way to Shoto's room. He tossed open the door to the room, and closed it just as quickly.

“A simple 'I'm home' would be nice, if you're going to be living here.” Shoto typed away at his laptop. His room was relatively large, and held a desk for his laptop, as well as a large bed and several bookshelves. Potted plants lay scattered about, as well as a bonsai tree on his desk. The youth pushed his chair back and swiveled to face Bakugo.

“Eat me, halfy.” Bakugo spat. “Didn't get much more than I usually do.”

“Firstly, only if you ask nicely.” Shoto said, drily. “Secondly, grey hair and a missing tooth again?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, good. Just means you're getting consistent info.” Shoto went back to typing away. “I've narrowed it down to two suspects. Some of my... friends... on a forum have said they get their supplies from similar sounding men. One goes by the name of 'Sylpher', and the other 'Giran'.”

“Sylpher and Giran. People to look into then.” Bakugo grunted. “How the f*ck do you get in contact with them?”

“Sylpher apparently hangs out in the Sundew Hostess Club in Yokohama, so that's about an hour long train ride.” Shoto said. “Giran is apparently a lot more elusive. I'll get back to you on that.”

“Hrm.” Bakugo said, nodding, and going for the door. “Then I got a target.”

“You're not going to stay the night?” Shoto inquired, tilting his head.

“Like hell I am!” Bakugo exclaimed. “I got a target, and you gave him to me. Why wouldn't I be going?!”

“Because you need to wash the blood off your hands...” Shoto rose. “... And you need to be more receptive.”

“f*ck you.”

“f*ck you too.” Shoto approached, slowly.

The rest of the night was... enjoyable.

“Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi. Past this door, you are sworn to absolute secrecy. Information that is disclosed in this room will be kept in this room unless otherwise authorized. Do you understand?” The American, suited and sunglassed, said in rough Japanese.

Tsukauchi nodded. “I do.”

“Proceed.”

The intricate oak doors deep inside the PSIA building opened to a windowless room. It was shrouded in darkness, and held a long desk with about fifteen chairs. All the chairs were occupied by shrouded men, save for the fifteenth. An open laptop sat on the chairless end of the table, not facing Tsukauchi.

“State your name for the record.” One of the shrouded men stated. He spoke in English,and another translated.

“Naomasa Tsukauchi. 1st precinct senior investigator, Tokyo Police.”

“Not anymore.” A woman said in japanese. “You are now Number One, chief consultant and investigator for the Interpol Lotus Demon Task Force. As you have been working with the Lotus Demon case since the beginning, it seems only fitting given your experience.”

“I would... be honored to take up such a position.”

“Take your seat, then.” He was motioned to the unfilled seat. He slowly strode to it, pulled it out, and then sat. Like the others, his face was now shaded. It seemed there was some form of cloaking device active in the room, but for what purpose he could not tell. As he scanned the faceless bodies, he could make out vaguest ideas of complexion and facial structure. Some were American, others were European, others more Asian. He now noticed that the laptop had a completely blank white screen.

“This,” The woman who had guided him said, “... is Agent Blank. He is one of the most esteemed operatives in the FBI, and will be working on the ground in Japan.”

“Understood.” Tsukauchi paused. “So... where do we begin?”

“At the beginning.”

Tsukauchi explained essentially everything that had happened in the last year regarding the Lotus Demon's killings, down to his interviews with various suspects and their contents to the best of his memory. All the while, nobody moved, nor did they make a sound except for a few people adjusting in their chair. Once he had finished, the room remained silent. One man spoke, Japanese in a thick Chinese accent.

“I am confused as to why you chose to mark this Izuku Midoriya off as a suspect. It seems overwhelmingly suspicious that he suddenly manifested a gift...” A 'gift' is what the Chinese seemed to call quirks. “... and mastered it so quickly. This is in addition to his sudden shift to a heroics course.”

“It does seem like a front.” Another man said, this time with a very strong grasp of the language.

“How would he be able to travel from his internship, where his teacher reported seeing him last, to Hosu in such a short amount of time?” The original woman said. “It would be inconceivable he would have a teleportation quirk as well, and as One himself said, he was in the Shinosisu ward, several hundred kilometers from Hokkaido where the last killing took place.”

“I believe we are missing the fact that there may be multiple Lotus Demons.”

This drew multiple stares from the agents, who stared at the blank screen. The voice came through soft and masculine.

“Elaborate.” One of the agents said.

“One, you yourself said that the killings in Hokkaido appeared to have some form of... marrow manipulation, correct?”

“Yes.” Tsukauchi said.

“And it's not out of the question that another Lotus Demon, be it a copycat or on the League's payroll, does exist, bringing our attention away from Honshu.” Blank finished. Silence.

“How would they be able to control a copycat killer like that to such accuracy?” The Chinese agent inquired. “In addition, wouldn't suspects we looked at in Tokyo seem far more suspicious if they tried to lead us away?”

“It does seem quite... ham fisted, pardon the terminology.” Blank said. “But it would be a viable strategy, to make us try and think that their plot was some sort of basic diversion.”

“Then we'll need to open Izuku Midoriya up to questioning once more, in addition to the other suspects. Blank, I assume you have that covered?”

“Correct.”

“Then it is settled. One, we'll have your phone--”

The door burst open, and from it came the form of Shoichiro Nishimura, panting. He took a moment to gather his breath, and yelled. “Please excuse the intrusion!”

“Explain this interruption.” One of the agents (an American, it seemed) inquired, a touch irritated.

“News out of Osaka and Sapporo. Five more killings. Lotus blossom ribs.”

“What? Five? In both cities?” The room erupted into murmurs.

“It's like they're taunting us.” Naomasa grumbled, before speaking up. “I'll be en route to examine the Osaka corpse. We need to prove there's a copycat on the loose.”

“I will depart for Sapporo.” Blank said.

“You have your orders.” The woman reported. “Go in pursuit of justice.”

Naomasa rushed past Nishimura, clapping him on the shoulder and smiling. “Let's get this done.”

Nishimura grinned, happy to have his old mentor and friend back to his old fighting spirit. Though just moments before he was out of breath, he felt energy anew flowing into him, and with a nod, he chased after Naomasa. It was time to get something done.

Seiko Kira, the Lotus Demon, looked out at the pleasant and cool light of dusk, and smiled. She felt the knife dripping blood, and cleaned it on her robe, replacing it in her cloak.

It was a beautiful night to be alive.

Chapter 25: Il successore, L'inseguitore

Chapter Text

Osaka in May was quite temperate; not too hot, far from chilly. It was in these months approaching summer that people tended to exit their homes and find activities to do, alongside of work. This was a good time to be alive, and many took advantage. Recently, however, going outside after dark had cost five people their lives. It was here, at a scene of the crime, that Special Agent Naomasa Tsukauchi of the PSIA and Agent Shoichiro Nishimura found themselves crouching over gore and bloodstains. The heat had still caused some significant rot to the remains of the carcass unmoved by the police, stinking up the air. Behind them stood a shaking aide.

“Agent Tsukauchi, as you ordered, we did a cross section of the bone.” She said, drawing the pair's eyes.

“And?”

“The mortician didn't see the marrow pattern you were speaking of.” She finished, turning halfway away.

“So this is the real deal.” Tsukauchi rubbed his chin. “If this is the real Lotus Demon, then the one that's been hunting in Hokkaido is the false one. But why the sudden shift to Hokkaido, when he was just in the Tokyo area?”

“Maybe it has something to do with the attack on Hosu.” Nishimura provided. “He could be killing until a boiling point, performing mass murder, and then moving.”

“Plausible, but that's also a pattern. We've established he's not a fan of those.”

“Right, right. Chaos of artwork.” Shoichiro joined Naomasa in rubbing his own chin. “Could also be throwing us off before going back to killing in Tokyo, like with the double.”

“Plausible, but it would be too obvious if they went by train.” Tsukauchi rose. “Given these facts, junior detective, what's your guess?” Nishimura rose, and thought before responding.

“Lotus Demon is still in Osaka for now.”

“I'm inclined to agree.” Naomasa nodded, smiling that blank smile, and turned to the aid. “Get in contact with the local hero offices, have them patrolling at night. Give us a call if anything comes up.”

“Will do, sir.” The aide nodded quickly, evacuating the scene. The dynamic duo threw on their black shades and stepped out of the alleyway into the sunlight.

Somewhere, in that light, the killer lurked.

“Man...!” Tooru Hagakure complained, spread out over the lunchroom table. “That sparing session made me sore.”

“Well, you know what the Americans say!” Izuku smiled. “Pain is weakness leaving the body!”

The table at lunch was packed with the usual suspects. Izuku, Ochaco, Tokoyami, Kirishima, and new to the group's lunches was Tooru. She was a kind girl, but certainly tended to drift from group to group. The sparing session had been the day before, and was about as violent as one would come to expect from the 1-A firebrands. At Izuku's words, Kirishima clenched his fist and bit his lip, squeezing his eyes in that usual overdramatic style.

“That's so manly! I gotta use that one.” He said, nodding in approval.

“Indeed. It is also quite apt.” Tokoyami said. “I believe it applies to emotional pain as well, given it's not something seriously traumatizing.”

“Yeah.” Izuku nodded in agreement. “Like... getting rejected for something, or getting mad.”

“Precisely.” Tokoyami agreed, nodding. “That being said... did something major happen to you during the internships? Besides the obvious.”

Izuku grimaced, the scarred side of his face paining him briefly. Truth is, he didn't remember much of his internship, outside of having fighting Todoroki. He thought he had been helping in Hosu, but... it was like a big chunk of his memory was lost. Had the massacre been that traumatizing to him that he had actually started to forget events that occurred after it? He sighed. There would be no way to explain something like that without sounding suspicious.

“I... don't really know what you're talking about.” He said.

“Honestly, Deku, it's like you're a completely different person now.” Ochaco chimed in, before waving her hands. “N-not in a bad way, really! I'm happy that you've come out of your shell, but... it's different.”

“Well, I'm glad that it's different.” Izuku wanted to say 'but I can't remember it being any other way', but that would also sound a bit strange.

“What's a bit different? Could it be some doubts about the final exam, 1-A?”

That mocking voice and a blonde hair had said enough. Neito Monoma, Class 1-B's resident spite master, stood just a few feet away, carrying his lunch tray. That smug smile of him was far from endearing, carrying politeness and malice at the same time.

“Could it be that you're going to throw the exam and not get the chance to go to a retreat for the summer? How funny would that be!” Monoma's polite smile turned into one of undisguised and mocking malice. “Seriously, the high and might victors of the--”

A massive hand slapped Monoma over the head, sending him to the ground. The source was Itsuka Kendo, the far more temperate and kind of the most known of 1-B. Big sister indeed, she leaned down to chide Neito.

“Monoma, we're not out to try and sabotage 1-A. We're all classmates.” She sighed, glancing to the table. “Sorry about him.”

“No problem!” Kirishima grinned, nodding. “Super manly to look out for your school mates.” Kendo smiled, a bit lopsided.

“N-no problem. Speaking of different, I ran into All Might in the hallway.” That smile slowly faded, becoming serious. “Which one of you in 1-A is Kirishima?”

“Uh... me.” Eijiro said, tilting his head. “What's the problem?”

“Didn't seem like a problem to me, but he wanted you to meet him in his office.” She said.

That drew the attention of the whole table, though in varying ways. Ochaco and Izuku's eyes both widened, staring at Kirishima. Tokoyami glanced his way. Toru, invisible remained literally unreadabe. Kirishima himself felt his eyebrows raise in surprise and something like confusion. He nodded.

“Alright!” He said, that confusion disappearing. “Speaking of conveniences, I thought 1-B pretty much all sat on the other side of the hall.”

“Oh, right. The other thing.” Kendo chuckled. “I've been spreading the word since I overheard a couple of juniors talking about it. Apparently the practical portion of the final exam is against those robots that we fought in the Sports Festival and the entrance exam.”

That brought elation to the group. It was always a question of how the staff planned on testing the students. The written portion was just a straightforward test, but the fear of how they would be putting the students through the physical grinder was always there. To know they would just be fighting robots was great. From the ground, Monoma rose, scowling.

“We weren't supposed to tell them, Kendo!” He grunted. “We needed to use that to beat 1-A!”

“We're not out to beat them, for the last time.” She exclaimed. “Now let's go.”

The rest of lunch and the day passed with an air of relief. The lunch group spread the rumor Kendo had delivered to the class, much to the student's joy. Now, it was a concern of the written exam, which Momo's study sessions were helping with.

It was at the end of the day that Kirishima stood before the door to All Might's office.

He opened the door.

Dusk rolled gently over Osaka. Tsukauchi and Nishimura's car rolled down the street, the end of evening traffic allowing the pair to drive without much difficulty. Since the aim was to remain inconspicuous, they played smooth jazz just loud enough to be audible outside of the car, but not blasting. Following the investigation of the crime scene, the pair had gone to the easiest trick in the book: security footage.

What they had found had confused them.

Not only was Izuku Midoriya not in the area (which had remained a suspicion), but someone who wasn't even on their suspect list had turned up near every crime. A high schooler who had been put down as a missing person, Seiko Kira, was seen near every single crime scene. This brought the number of missing students to three, but they had never seemed related, given difference in gender and timing.

Now, he had to consider some sort of connection.

By cross checking records non-stop for the last nine hours, the police office had dredged up where she was staying. A small motel, Motel Namiba. They found themselves staring at it, the sign lighting up as dusk approached. It was a standard looking motel, two massive buildings stitched together, with two floors and a large parking lot in the center. They parked on the curb just outside and climbed out of the car.

Naomasa and Shoichiro had gone wardrobe changes since their unofficial promotions. Both wore black suits and slacks, white undershirts, and shades. The only difference was in their choice of ties; Shoichiro chose black with a carbon fiber texture, while Tsukauchi went for a dark red and blue plaid tie. The latter's choice had elicited giggles from Shoichiro at the store. The sharply dressed agents strode to the office and opened it without pretense.

“Welcome.” A kind looking old man with slitted, reptilian eyes, said. He looked up from the papers, eyebrows raising. “Uh... what can I do you for?”

“We're looking for a Seiko Kira.” Shoichiro reported, approaching the desk. Tsukauchi stood by the door, hands clasped in front of his crotch.

“Can I... uh... get some ID first?” The man said. Nishimura whipped out his badge, and if the man's eyebrows could climb any higher, they would have. He quickly broke out the ledger, and scanned it, looking for Seiko Kira.

“Room 208.”

This was it. This was the closest they had come to honing in on the Lotus Demon. Five kills in a row, spotted near the scene. How could it be anyone else? Tsukauchi opened the door, and Nishimura followed. They climbed the stairs to the second floor, and hustled until they stood in front of Room 208, marked in bronze letters above the peephole.

They had no need to knock on the door. Tsukauchi stood to the left of the door drew his gun, while Shoichiro stood to the right of the door, glancing at Naomasa for his go ahead.

He nodded.

Shoichiro Nishimura activated his quirk and reached around his hand to place it on the door, palm flat. Slowly, his hand began to vibrate, as if he had pressed it to a massage chair's machinery. It hummed softly with the energy he was actively putting into it, building up every second. After five seconds, those vibrations began to rattle the door.

“Impact!”

His quirk, Impact Palm, was simple. Like a strength enhancing quirk that also acted as an emitter, he was able to charge his hands with incredible force. He had never been able to become a hero, simply because of the time it took to have a significant amount of power. Given four seconds time, however, he was able to charge his hand with the explosive force of a breach charge. With five seconds, the door flew off its hinges and sat a few feet into the living area of the room.

“POLICE!” Tsukauchi held his gun outstretched and entered the room, scanning the barely used living area. He failed to look on the wall.

Click.

“GET DOWN!” Shoichiro tackled Tsukauchi to the ground just a moment before a soft violin hummed, and a detonation went off only a few feet from his face. If Shoichiro hadn't been faster on the draw, Tsukauchi's visage and right side would have been full of daggers. As it was, however, they both suffered hearing damage and scratches of the shards of metal flying out. The couch of the room was chewed up, the television destroyed, bookshelf ripped apart, and painting destroyed. Both of them quickly rose.

At the far end of the hallway, someone had thrown themselves out the window.

“After him!” Naomasa called. Nishimura nodded, drawing his gun and dashing down the hall. He faintly heard Tsukauchi calling for reinforcements over his radio. Shoichiro threw himself out the half open window, crouching into a roll as he came out into an alley. Sunset had made the area dark, but it was easy to see who he was after. A person, now a woman, in a dark cloak and balaclava. She was running deeper into the maze of alleyways. This wasn't a good sign, but he couldn't let the killer escape.

Shoichiro chased, ducking and weaving in the tight brickwork. He rounded a left corner and met the Lotus Demon throwing a trash can down in his way. He leapt over it the moment it came to him, and rounded another corner. He was beginning to gain on her. Another alleyway, and the girl used a shocking amount of strength to put a dumpster in his way. He activated his quirk, slammed his palm into the can, and was able to move it enough to slip past. They rounded another corner.

They found themselves in a long stretch of open space, and a dead end. There was nowhere for her to run. Shoichiro Nishimura had her. She came to a stop at the dead end, pressing her hands against the wall.

“Freeze!” Shoichiro called, gun trained on her chest. “It's over, Seiko Kira. Give yourself up quietly.”

“Are you so confident?” That modulated voice sent a shiver down Nishimura's spine. He had only heard it on television and CCTV before, but in person, there was a chill and inhumanity to it that couldn't be overstated. “Have you truly captured me? Then please. Cuff me.”

Shoichiro slowly advanced.

And in that same moment, she was gone.

Shoichiro looked behind him, in front of him, and above him.

She was gone.

Seiko Kira had a quirk, but they hadn't looked into it. Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit! They had been so stupid. Why did they gloss over that? Tsukauchi rushed to meet Nishimura, who looked back at him, disappointed. The agent shared the look, and covered their faces.

How did they make such an obvious mistake?

But, there was a shred of hope in knowing Seiko Kira was the Lotus Demon.

Soon, there would be nowhere for her to hide.

“Now, with the top story of the evening.”

All Might had a TV in his office that was turned to the news. His modest space held room for it, as well as the chairs that he and Eijiro Kirishima sat in. They both gazed at the television. The news continued. On STV, they had a special logo for Lotus Demon updates; a dramatic slideshow of the Hosu massacre's less gruesome images, as well as an Oni mask.

“We here at STV are the first to bring you new stories on the Lotus Demon, one of the most important cases of the modern era. Today, the police station in Osaka and the PSIA have confirmed that one Seiko Kira, age sixteen, is the lead suspect as the Lotus Demon.” The news showed a school photo of Kira. “Though Ms. Kira was reported missing two months ago, agents working with the PSIA tracked her through examination of CCTV footage to the scenes of the five grizzly murders in Osaka. Seiko Kira had checked out a room in her own name, where the officers entered and were almost killed by an explosive device similar to those seen in Hosu.

“There, Agent Shoichiro Nishimura gave chase, and was able to corner the Demon. Through use of an unknown quirk, however, the Lotus Demon was able to escape capture. However, it has been all but confirmed that Seiko Kira is the Lotus Demon. Please, keep an eye out for this individual, but do not approach as they are likely armed and extremely dangerous. If you have any leads, call the PSIA's Lotus Demon hotline.”

All Might pressed the power button on the remote, his muscly hand dwarfing the small block of plastic and wiring. He looked to Kirishima, grinning, though it seemed a bit more wilted than usual.

“Glad they got a line on catching that unmanly monster.” Kirishima frowned deeply. “He's taken so much... I wonder how people find joy in something like that.”

“I'm glad to see you're not simply thinking of villains as some faceless evil, even this monster.” All Might nodded, approvingly. “We must always recognize that villains are people that can be saved, not just demons that haunt us.”

“Hard to think of girl like that as anything but a friend, you know?” Kirishima said, sighing. “Sixteen... about our age, kind of cute. How could someone like that kill so many?”

“Sometimes, young Kirishima, the worst villains are those who look like heroes.” All Might sighed, and shook his head. “But this is not why I've brought you in today; it simply acts as a convenient way to show off the evils of this world.” All Might suddenly became very serious, his neon blue eyes shining.

“The things I am about to tell you are not to leave this room unless I say it is permissible.” All Might lowered his gaze even further. “And what I will show you must also remain a closely guarded secret. Do you understand?”

Kirishima tensed. What could the number one hero be telling him that would be such a closely guarded secret? He had no idea, and honestly, he didn't know if he wanted to know. He didn't want to suspect anything of All Might, but... to bring him in after school had closed, and to drop something so serious on him... what could he say?

“O-okay.” Eijiro gulped.

All Might stood.

And suddenly, standing in front of him was a skeleton of a man. All Might's yellow and well kempt hair turned to a shocked, somewhat paler arrangement, looking almost too large for his head. His neon irises were more visible, his body thin and lanky. His suit hung around his body, just a bit too big for him. He was, what, six five, six four now? Kirishima could say nothing as the hero, All Might, had become a somewhat scarred and broken man.

“Eijiro Kirishima, this is who I am.” All Might sat once more. “Years ago, I got into a battle against my equal, and won. But in exchange for this victory, I can only use the quirk I possess for a certain amount of time. The rest of the time... this is me.” He paused, sighing. “You must think me disappointing.”

Kirishima didn't know what to say. At first he gaped, but soon he grinned, once more biting his lip and closing his eyes as he felt tears threatening to break forth.

“That's... so manly.” Kirishima said, choked up. “To have sacrificed everything and keep on kicking villain butt, even if it might hurt, even if it's not who you truly are... you're truly the number one hero, All Might. Mind and body.”

The words brought a smile to Toshinori Yagi's face. Kirishima's words had been the last test he sat out before him. His reaction to this ultimate revelation was the last hurdle in Kirishima's path.

“Young Kirishima, this is why I enjoy you so. Your heroic attitude, your unwavering dedication, your skilled mind and your ideals of true heroism.” All Might extended a palm a short distance away. “But I more than enjoy you. Your words, this reaction... this was the final test, the test to know if you had the soul of a true hero.”

Kirishima looked at All Might soberly, tilting his head. “Test? What test?”

All Might's hand glowed, a brilliant and prismatic light. Kirishima felt its warmth, like the soothing summer breeze, brushing against his skin.

“You are going to be the number one hero, Young Kirishima. The beacon of light and hope for a new generation. Red Riot. Eijiro Kirishima. I offer you the strength once passed down to me by my master. The sacred torch of justice and heroism, the secret behind my power. I offer you the key to destroying evil like the Lotus Demon beyond what you would be capable otherwise.”

“I offer you One For All.”

Chapter 26: Loto Verdeggiante / Regola Del Tre

Chapter Text

“... What?” Kirishima remained utterly dumbfounded. One For All? Thin All Might? Beacon of justice? What? All Might chuckled at this, waving away the brilliant light from his hand.

“With less dramaticism... the power of One For All is a special quirk that has been passed down through generations. It is a union of an ability to stockpile power, and to transfer itself if the user is willing. This is the only known quirk that can do this, and you have seen it in action.” All Might said, smiling. Kirishima simply gaped.

“Y-you mean you're... o-offering your super manly s-strength... to me?” Eijiro gesticulated wildly. “T-that's a lot to take in the span of a few minutes!”

“If you need time to consider, that's--”

“Absolutely not!” Kirishima retorted, standing and flexing. “What kind of hero would I be if I needed to think about this?! No, what kind of a man could I be if I didn't take the chance to stand up higher?”

“Good, good.” All Might sighed, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “If you were a bit weaker, physically, I'd need to train you before taking it in. However, as it is, I think you'll be able to handle it.” He plucked a hair from his head.

“Eat this.”

Kirishima simply looked confused.

“Wh?”

“It... uh... doesn't really matter what it is, so long as it's my DNA. If you want me to get some blood instead--”

“No, no that's fine!” Kirishima held out his hand, and in it was placed All Might's hair.

He ate it.

. . .

Kirishima and All Might stood on the beach, both of them dressed in loose workout clothes. All Might remained in his thin form, arms crossed and standing a bit away. Kirishima observed the scene.

He had heard a lot about Dagobah Municipal Beach Park, and how it used to be beautiful back before rampant littering begun to turn it into a dump. Seriously, how inconsiderate could people be that they'd turn something like a beach into a junkyard? He didn't get it. It fit that description, with scrap metals and plastics stretching as far as the eye could see.

“For now, we're going to see what you can do. This quirk hasn't overtaken your hardening ability, so you should be able to use it in tandem.” All Might said. “For now, until you get a good handle on its strength, I'd use your hardening to compensate for the physical blow back the power of One For All can have.”

“Physical blow back?” Kirishima said, feeling his fist clenching.

“It's less of a concern for you given the circ*mstances, but... One For All is a two way street. For all the energy it puts forth, it also causes a lot of energy to go back into the vessel. This means that if you use too much of its strength, you may break a limb.”

“Huh...” Eijirou gulped. “... So... uh... how do I use it?”

All Might reverted to his muscle form, grinning. “Clench your buttocks, and yell this from the depths of your heart!” He reared back his fist. “SMASH!” All Might uppercutted, and it sent a geyser of air hurtling into the sky. Kirishima watched in awe as the clouds parted at it.

He returned to looking at his hand. Just how much power could he use? He felt that nascent heat at the bottom of his heart, dwelling like a comforting fire. He squeezed his cheeks, gritted his teeth, and reared back his fist.

From his arm rose a crimson flame. It enveloped his skin, crackling and popping, though it gave no physical pain; just some pleasant warmth. He felt raw power rushing through him; so much so that it begun to rip apart his jacket just by summoning it. This was the power of One For All? He had expected nothing less, but to damage his clothes just by its presence... that was incredible. He hardened his right arm, and yelled from the bottom of his heart, his target a rusted car that sat nearby.

“SMAAAASH!”

His punch not only obliterated the car, but the mound of garbage, and several other mounds of trash behind it. The explosion of wind and kinetic energy created a sound short of a missile exploding, and sent every piece of detritus flying. He screamed in pain as he felt his arm go numb, and looked down at it.

It wasn't broken, but it felt like it was about to burst. His hardening had cracked - it cracked?! - and his arm hurt like someone had shoved a train spike in it, but it wasn't broken. He gasped and breathed hard, feeling the power, and looking at what he had done.

Fifty meters in a cone in front of him, the garbage was decimated. All Might smiled.

“Incredible.” He said. “You take to it like a fish to water. It will take some time to be able to use it at one hundred percent at maximum efficiency, but for now, your quirk is complimenting One For All well. If you use your hardening quirk in addition to One For All, you should be able to use fifty to seventy five percent power easily.”

“Wow.” It was all Krishima could say as he felt the pain in his arm fading. He... had done that. That was his power now. The strength of All Might. “This is how strong you are?”

“Nope, that's stronger.” All Might pointed to Kirishima. It was almost getting comical how much the boy was gaping in the span of one day. “One For All gets exponentially stronger between users. Two times two is four. Four times two is eight, and so on. Where I was two hundred and fifty six, you're five hundred and twelve.”

Kirishima felt that fire overtaking him again. This time, it was his legs, and to his arms. He watched as flames sprung from his limbs, that heat the dull warmth of a summer's day. It was beautiful, wordlessly powerful, like the strength of countless men. Could he be stronger than All Might, now?

“Now... we're going to be up all night, and you're going to clear out this beach using the power of One For All.” All Might grinned. “Let's see you shine.”

The written exam had gone by in a flash. Izuku noted that Kirishima was carrying a surreal air of confidence about him now. What had changed? Maybe some of the studying, or the quirk training had assisted. Nonetheless, it was heartening to know most of Class 1-A had passed with ease. Today, however, someone had joined them. They stood outside near the gym nexus, an area to easily reach all of the various gyms. Ahead of them was a large TV screen above the nexus, and...

Oh yeah, most of 1-A's faculty.

Izuku shifted in place as they stared down the teachers of UA. Cementoss, Ectoplasm, Power Loader, Eraserhead, Thirteen, Principle Nezu, Present Mic, Snipe, Midnight... where was All Might? He looked down the line of students, and they all seemed to be antsy.

“Hey... uh... what's the final exam set to be here?” Sato asked. He likely had forgotten.

“We're fighting against robots, like in the entrance exam.” Mina exclaimed, happily as the day she had learned the news.

“Sorry to disappoint, kids...” Nezu interjected. “But that's not going to be the case this time around.”

The class blanched.

“Given the fact you've had experience fighting villains first hand back at USJ, we of the faculty figured it would be a step down to go back to fighting robots. So, to keep up that plus ultra momentum, we'll be having you in teams of two fighting against one teacher!”

What.

“And, as an added bonus, we'll be having a new student in to try out for the hero course today! You saw him in the Sports Festival, and this will surely be a way for him to develop his own skill and some rapport with you all.” Nezu sweeped a hand towards the side.

From the shadows of the gym nexus stepped a man Izuku had worked with some time before. His purple hair was, as always, in a shock. His eyes were bored, but now he was dressed in something different. His mouth was covered by a metal mask, and his neck covered by restraining cloths similar to Aizawa's. The largest difference was in the kevlar jacket he wore, which Izuku noted contained concussion and smoke grenades.

“Hitoshi Shinso will be acting as a tryout of sorts for the hero course! Be sure to impress him, and show him the 1-A spirit!” Nezu said, enthusiastic as always.

“I've made these pairings based on grades, interpersonal relationships, and quirks. You'll note, if you're smart enough, you're at a disadvantage.” Eraserhead smiled, that taunting grin of his making him leer. “That's plus ultra for you.” Aizawa pulled a remote from his belt and pointed it above him, the screen buzzing to life.

Placards buzzed across the screen, announcing the teams.

“FIGHT 1: CEMENTOSS VS HANTA SERO, RIKIDO SATO”

“FIGHT 2: ECTOPLASM VS TSUYU ASUI, TOKOYAMI FUMIKAGE”

“FIGHT 3: POWER LOADER VS TENYA IIDA, MASHIRAO OJIRO”

“FIGHT 4: ERASERHEAD VS SHOTO TODOROKI, MOMO YAOYOROZU”

“FIGHT 5: THIRTEEN VS OCHACO URARAKA, YUGA AOYAMA”

“FIGHT 6: NEZU VS MINA ASHIDO, DENKI KAMINARI”

“FIGHT 7: PRESENT MIC VS KOJI KODA, KYOKA JIRO”

“FIGHT 8: SNIPE VS MEZO SHOJI, TOORU HAGAKURE”

“Now, for the last fight, we figure we may as well explain our reasoning.” Nezu began. Given Izuku, Kirishima, and Hitoshi hadn't been listed yet, he had a very bad feeling about this. He gulped, looking to the crimson youth, who looked back at him uneasily. He glanced to Shinso as well, who didn't even look at Izuku. Did he do something wrong to him? Question for later.

A bellowing laugh came from the sky, crashing down.

And before them, in all his glorious red, white, blue, and yellow outfit, stood the hulking form of All Might. Number one hero and symbol of peace. When he landed, he cracked the stones beneath him, and rose, towering two feet over Izuku. Kirishima looked up at him as well. They both stood slack jawed.

Midnight, too, stepped forward.

“On the personal recommendation of All Might, and consideration of your abilities...” Midnight licked her lips, and grinned sad*stically. “We'll be having some fun with you three personally.”

The placard showed up on the screen, affirming their fears.

“FIGHT 9: ALL MIGHT, MIDNIGHT VS IZUKU MIDORIYA, EIJIROU KIRISHIMA, HITOSHI SHINSO”

. . .
Two days prior...
. . .

“So, that leaves the final three. Which means that either one of the students will be going one on one with Midnight, or we'll have all three fight Midnight and All Might together.” Aizawa announced, looking up at the faculty. This raised brows, including Nezu's.

“While it's true a one on one battle against All Might himself is likely too difficult for any of them, we must consider that a three person dynamic with unrelated abilities may be difficult to pull off.” Nezu stated, bridging his fingers.

“My quirk would be hard pressed against Izuku.” Midnight said. “Since his flight controls wind around him, there's no guarantee that he can't use it offensively. Speaking technically, he'd beat me handily.”

“Shinso and Midoriya do seem to have some sort of hostility between them, ever since the Sports Festival.” All Might stated. “Perhaps having them on a team would rectify that. In addition, any of them could likely tough it out against Midnight, save Shinso. No offense.”

“None taken. It's wise to understand your weaknesses before your strengths.” Midnight grinned.

“So the best route is a three on two, then. Not only will it be a challenge of teamwork, but martial skill between Izuku and Kirishima's more assault oriented quirks, and trying to factor in Shinso's quirk as a support.” Nezu nodded, looking at All Might and Midnight. “Give it your best and make them learn something, you two.”

The present...

. . .

“Seiko Kira's quirk was the primary factor in not catching her, and we have an example of someone who has multiple quirks. Funny how the first known person to have this is also a psychotic killer.” Tsukauchi said, sighing. The duo sat in their hotel room in Osaka, Nishimura rapidly typing away on his laptop and Tsukauchi lounging on the bed eating takeout and pouring over files. Ever since the bust at the motel, helicopters had been patrolling the city practically non stop, heroes as well, all looking for the Demon. If someone was killed, they would know, and they would be there.

“Read back her primary power, please.” Nishimura said.

“It's listed here as 'Perception Warp', a Class C mental manipulation quirk.”

“Class C?” Shoichiro inquired. “What's the distinction?”

“When it comes to mental abilities, they're classified on range. It goes from F, being a quirk that only effects the person using it, to A Plus, which can cause illusions and mental effects on a city scale. Remember Mindfreak about twenty years back?”

“Yeah, the villain who caused that huge crash on the train lines.” Nishimura said. “So what does a Class C mean?”

“It means she can manipulate the area around her.”

“So she must have made a door, or a pothole or something invisible, then made herself invisible and went through it.” Nishimura said, sighing. “If it's a good enough quirk, she can go undetected. We'll be searching for days, all for glimpses and ghosts.”

Tsukauchi put down his files, slowly, and looked at Shoichiro, grinning. The latter looked back at him, confused.

“What?”

“Say that again.” Naomasa said.

“If it's a good enough quirk, she can go undetected?”

“YES!” The agent shrieked, throwing the files down. “I knew something about this didn't make sense!”

“Woah, woah, woah. Back up a minute.” Nishimura said. “Explain.”

“Okay. Let's say, for a moment, Seiko Kira is the Lotus Demon like we've said.” Tsukauchi got up, and begun to pace as he spoke. “The records have shown that every time there's a Lotus Demon killing before now, they spot someone leaving the scene. The one eyewitness consistency that has remained true for every killing, even the ones here, it's always been a person running from the scene. They have SEEN a person.”

Nishimura began to get it.

“If Seiko Kira was always the Lotus Demon, why didn't she use her quirk on herself to make her invisible when she left a crime scene? Why lay low for so long when, with two quirks, she could have just killed at will, whenever, wherever, and never been caught? And, if there is another Lotus Demon in Hokkaido, and HE is the original Lotus Demon, then why does he have a markedly different quirk than the original killings?”

“This is opening up even more questions.” Nishimura had been writing all of Naomasa's speech down. “Like, how did Seiko Kira acquire the Lotus Demon's quirk?”

“I don't know.” Naomasa said, lying. “But there's one thing that I am ninety nine percent sure is correct. We're dealing with three Lotus Demons, and all of them are in the League of Villains' pocket.”

“How should we distinguish them?” Shoichiro asked.

“Let's call Seiko Kira 'Red Lotus', the Hokkaido Lotus Demon 'Blue Lotus', and the original, the one behind it all, the one who somehow lost his quirk and gave it to Seiko Kira, the one whose body count is eighteen thousand...

“We call him Verdant Lotus.”

Chapter 27: Detonazione

Chapter Text

“The most amazing hero always wins... no matter what!”

Bakugo watched his younger self in the void, so eager and full of joy. The young Katsuki Bakugo who wanted so desperately to become a hero, to become a symbol of justice above even the incredible All Might. He opened his mouth.

“But you're not gonna be a hero anymore.”

Bakugo was awakened by the horn of his train. He had boarded only an hour before, and his phone was blowing up about updates on the Lotus Demon case; seemed they had some lead on a bitch named Seiko Kira. Almost irrefutable evidence, and all that.

Bullsh*t.

He looked at his phone, casually swiping away the messages from his mother. She would never understand what was happening, and until he had the proof he needed to oust Deku as the killer he was, he had no plans on returning home, no matter what the old witch had to say. This task was not his penance for hurting poor little Izuku, some cross to be beared. This was just what he needed to do with his life, and if it labeled him a criminal for doing so, then that was society's fault.

His train had slowly pulled into Yokohama, and people got off in a rush. He too rose to leave, pulling his hood further over his head. He already had about four charges of assault and illegal use of a quirk to his name, and he didn't need the cameras to pick him up. Maybe it was sh*tty to use his dad's credit card to buy tickets, but he wasn't about to risk it.

Out of the covered area he went, feeling the rain pelting the fabric of his jacket. He had a date with some bastard named Sylpher, while Todoroki was working on getting in contact with Giran. That half and half bastard was good for a few things.

Namely his company, but that was less important.

He checked his phone. The Sundew Hostess Club was apparently a three star establishment in the depths of the red light district, but he wasn't exactly in the area to have a good meal and a good f*ck if he coughed up enough yen. Ten thousand to get through the door, five thousand for some drinks to look legit, and then the rest was up to his fists.

As he meandered down the streets, following his phone's GPS, he had enough time to think. Back then, as a child, he wanted to be the world's greatest hero, the most amazing one who had ever lived, who never lost and beat every villain. Now he was just a step above said villains, breaking the law to help people. He was still helping people... right?

Keep telling yourself, Bakugo. Keep saying it in your head until it becomes real.

He stood before the club twenty minutes later. His hoodie covered his face well, and it would make his armament difficult to pick out. The club's entry was essentially an awning that covered a stairway that went downwards into a large building. He descended, and stood before a muscular reptilian bouncer. The mutant, dressed in a cheap black suit and shades, looked Bakugo up and down, and snorted.

“Get out of here, kid.” He said, simply. “We don't serve minors.”

Bakugo sniffed, and pulled the ten thousand yen from his jacket, handing it over. The bouncer took it, and flipped through the bills with a clawed finger. He snorted again, and jerked his head into the establishment. Katsuki pushed open the door, and was faced with a long hallway, with a frosted glass door at the end. He pulled one earbud from his mobile up to his ear, pushing it in and pressing Shoto's speed dial. It took one ring for him to pick up.

“You're in?” The half and half bastard asked.

“Yeah.” Bakugo replied.

“Good. I got more info on Sylpher.” Shoto reported. Bakugo began to walk down the hall, noting that it sloped downward. “He's big into weapons and villain costumes. Info costs a pretty exorbitant amount, but I think a few black eyes and second degree burns will loosen his tongue.”

“f*ckin' better.”

“You're appointment is under the name 'Shoko Hirohito', and you're looking to buy info. He's got two bodyguards, Yen and Ying Le Tan. Chinese, twins. No info on quirks. Be careful.”

Bakugo did not reply, and pushed open the door.

It opened up into a basem*nt the size of a modest warehouse. The booths were built into the ground, with steps leading down into pits where beautiful women sat. The booths were situated in blocks of nine, four blocks in total, with a raised circular dance floor in the center. The Sundew was relatively barren, and was dimly lit by golden lights. The dance floor itself was illuminated by dully pulsing lights. To the left-most wall from the dance floor, a well lit bar hosted its share of patrons. Old J-Pop droned casually over the establishment, save the dance floor, which had far more upbeat dance music. Katsuki scanned the booths, and finally found who he was looking for at the far right corner of the establishment.

Slowly, he meandered towards the booth, and stood above it.

On the left side of the sunken alcove sat a man with silver hair and a missing tooth. He had a cigar in his mouth, and was nothing less than corpulent. He bore a hot pink suit with a purple shirt beneath, and neon green tie. His slacks were a glossy orange. This man was disgusting in aesthetics alone, but to his left and right was another issue entirely. To the left was an asian woman with entirely black skin, her hair a perfect white. To the right was an asian man with entirely white skin, with perfectly raven black hair. Yen and Ying, he presumed. Sylpher snorted, grinning just a bit wider at Katsuki's appearance.

“Shoko Hirohito, I presume? Nice pseudonym.” He rubbed his nose and took a long swig of beer, looking back up at Katsuki. “Come on down, take a seat.” Bakugo did as instructed, sitting on the right side, perfectly opposite of Sylpher. For some time there was silence, as the underground dealer took a long puff of his cigar and released the smoke towards the white skinned man. He showed no reaction. “Now then, our mutual contact says you're looking for information.”

“Yeah.” Bakugo said, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket, lounging. Sylpher paused, and lifted a brow, before chortling.

“That was an invitation to tell me the specifics.”

“Lotus Demon, League of Villains. Connections and intel.”

This made his bodyguards tense, and Sylpher cross his arms. He leaned forward, brow scrunched together like a greasy sheaf of paper. “Lotus Demon and the League... I might know a little, but it'll cost you.”

“How much?”

“Hundred thousand yen.”

Bakugo remained still.

After just a few seconds, he leapt from the booth, taking the trio by surprise. Into the faces of his two bodyguards he let loose massive explosions, hoping to burn out their eyes. He wasn't gonna spend a single yen, not for drinks, nor for this asshole. He had info, and that was enough. As the smoke settled, Bakugo had placed a hand on Sylpher's mouth. The dealer showed no reaction.

“Yeah, I'll take it for free.” Bakugo said, grinning down at his prey, red eyes sparkling.

A fist, invisible to Bakugo, connected with his chin and sent him flying out of the booth. He hit the ceiling and then the hard wooden ground, feeling his chin throb as a few teeth had come loose. He slowly rose, the colors of the club fading together into a blur as he attempted to regain his bearings. Just as he was about to see clearly a shoe had been planted squarely between his lungs and heart, throwing him backwards a solid twenty feet. He rested on the ground, coughing and attempting to breathe.

“Mr. Hirohito, I would suggest that next time you don't threaten or assault a dealer with connections or guardians.” Sylpher called. Bakugo rose. He noted that the black skinned bodyguard had disappeared, and the other was slowly advancing towards him.

“Yen, Ying, kill him.”

Bakugo shot forward with a fist reared back towards the white man, an explosion propelling him forward. The black one likely had some sort of invisibility quirk, but what did the other one have? Regardless, white (He assumed Ying) seemed taken back by the sudden assault. Bakugo's form was sloppy as he arrived just a foot away from him, but his punch still landed squarely in his gut. Yeng was pushed back a few feet.

That was when blinding pain entered Bakugo's left arm. He screamed in agony and continued to pressure the man, not allowing the pain to set in. His eyes briefly tracked his arm, however, to find a shard of solid golden glass embedded within it, a spike the length of a cable and width of a 100 yen coin. It wouldn't cause much in the way of flesh damage, but it burned. He punched using the impaled arm, aiming for Ying's cheek.

A foot connected with his spine. He had forgotten about Yen. It forced him to lean forward his punch going wide, where his face met Ying's knee. Bakugo's head whipped up, but he slowly stretched a hand forward and expelled a massive blast.

This not only hurt Ying, but sent Katsuki flying backwards, where he hoped to act as a human torpedo and strike Yen. Sure enough he heard a distinctly feminine gasp of pain and felt as his weight landed against another person. Though he was concussed, he whipped around, and stretched out his unharmed arm towards the open air, and let out a blast. The force of the detonation illuminated the area, showing off an empty space in the shape of a woman. That empty space flew backwards.

Bakugo snarled in pain again, as he felt another spire of agony entering his flesh. He looked, and saw a similar spike of pure blackness in the hand that had contacted Yen. Shadow and light manipulation seemed to be the quirks of these ones. He looked just in time to see Ying forming a javelin of glassy light.

“LIKE I'D LET YOU!” Bakugo screamed, throwing himself forward. He noted with anger that his arms seemed to be limp. Had they hit some disabling nerve, and the left arm had been a bit wide? That must have been their strategy; clip his wings and watch him fall.

Like that'd take him down.

Katsuki shoulder checked Ying. Without moving his arm, he threw his shoulder up, carrying the limp hand with it. He may have disabled his arm, but his fingers and palm were still working. The white man had realized his mistake the moment Bakugo's palm covered his face.

“f*ck you.”

Ying's face was destroyed by the following detonation. The man no longer had a functioning jaw or tongue to speak or vocalize his agony as he flew back into an occupied booth. The hostess within screamed as she watched a mutilated man thrust onto her table. Bakugo swung around, his arm flopping with him as he expelled another massive detonation towards Yen.

He had missed, however, and felt a kick land squarely in the back of his knee. He cursed as he felt it cracking, the pain and leverage forcing him to one knee. If he couldn't get up, he couldn't swing his arm. He watched the smoke around him, trying to find the invisible form of Yen. His neck swiveled, left to right.

Yen burst from the shadows by his left arm.

And so, Bakugo dropped the illusion that it was still disabled. Truthfully, the moment he had retired Ying, his quirk had been dispelled, and he felt feeling return to it. He rose in a flash, punched Yen in the gut, and let out another explosion. He watched her quirk dispel as her stomach and sternum was torn apart, her bloodied and mutilated body skidding across the polished floor.

Katsuki looked left to right, and spotted Sylpher, fleeing towards the front door. A few explosions and strides later, and he had implanted his knee in the dealer's spine, eliciting a yelp, and pushing him to the floor. He placed his hand on the man's neck, and raised his other hand high.

“Like I was saying... I'll take it for free.” The adrenaline was beginning to wear out, and the pain was setting in. He hoped he'd talk fast before the police showed up.

Sylpher grinned, and moved his head to the side, spitting. “Yaint gettin' sh*t outta me, kid.”

In response, Bakugo punched him in the face. “Yeah, I am.”

Sylpher moaned in pain, attempting to hide his face, but felt Katsuki's palm pressing against his head, holding him in position. He chuckled weakly.

“Just remembered, I'm doing a trade. My info for my life.”

“Deal. Now spit it out.” Bakugo grunted, pressing his knee deeper into Sylpher's spine.

“Ow, ouch!” He grunted. “Stop hurting me, kid. Already said I'll give you what you're after.” He paused. “The Lotus Demon is working with Giran and the League of Villains. I heard only the top brass from the League knows who he is. You want the League, you get Giran.”

As he paused, Bakugo raised up a hand, and let it rapidly explode. Sylpher spoke rapidly. “A-and if you want Giran, y-you go to Bam Ono! H-he's Giran's main f-fence, in Kitakyushu.”

Katsuki rose. Kitakyushu. He slammed his hand into the back of Sylpher's head, bouncing his face off the ground and knocking him out. Bakugo began to run, pushing open the door and busting out of the club, striking the bouncer with an explosion as he ran. Sirens began to draw nearer, and as he rounded the corner away from the club, he begun to walk, and pulled the hoodie over his head.

Bakugo grabbed his phone to check if it was okay. It was. He checked on his earbuds. They were fine too. He spoke into the block in the center of the right cord.

“Get all that, halfy?”

“Yeah.” Todoroki said. “It's a four hour train ride, Tokaido-Sanyo bullet train. There's one in about thirty minutes. Get to the station.”

Katsuki Bakugo ran.

That was his life. Pain, battle, and running. There were no moments to rest, no time to slow down. Fight. Win. Run.

“The most amazing hero always wins... no matter what!”

Breathe. Run.

“But you're not a gonna be a hero anymore.”

The younger Bakugo turned to his elder self, and grinned. “Doesn't matter, as long as you win for good.”

Win.

Chapter 28: Regola della Mano Destra

Chapter Text

The exams had proceeded mostly as expected. Sero had barely beat out Cementoss; Sato had been incapacitated. Tsuyu and Fumikage had worked excellent together to beat Ectoplasm, and so on. Essentially, everyone but Sato, Mina, and Denki had passed. Fight 8 was just finishing off, and Izuku watched as Snipe had backed the duo into a corner. He glanced to Shinso and Kirishima, who had been mostly silent.

There was a part of Izuku that wondered what Shinso's issue was. Clearly, he was holding something back, but he didn't know what. Kirishima, too, seemed uncomfortable, but he knew he hadn't done anything to the boy. Something was strange.

Izuku shook his head. He had to focus on the coming fight. He paused, however. Wasn't this relevant to the fight? If they had some beef with each other, they needed to has it out now. He steeled himself, and glanced to the two.

“Can we talk?”

Shinso co*cked a brow, and nodded lazily. Ejirou did the same. Izuku led them to the hall that would take them to their exam, and stood, facing both of them. Their countenances had not changed; So this was a personal problem. Izuku sighed, and glanced between them, debating on who to address first. He started with Shinso.

“Listen, Shinso--” Izuku began, but he was cut off.

“If this is about the Sports Festival, I was just trying to rile you up.” he said, scratching behind his ear. “Nothing personal, just a strategy to win.”

Izuku nodded. “So you're not mad at me?”

“No, not really.” He shrugged. “Something's different about you, Midoriya. Back then, at the festival, I saw nothing in your eyes but...” Hitoshi struggled to articulate his next words. “... You know on those documentaries about serial killers, and about nature when they show the reptiles? Your eyes were like theirs. Passive, cold, ready to kill whenever. It was like you just saw me as a piece of meat to eat. Now, I don't see that. I'm not sure what happened, but I don't really hate you.”

Midoriya sighed in relief. Good to know that he wasn't still being hated for that weird lizard eye reason. Now, it was Kirishima's turn. He had some sort of new confidence about him before, but now he was anything but; fidgety, unsure, and ready to crack. Izuku didn't need that in the exam.

“Kirishima, I'm just gonna say it. What's wrong.” He asked. The question caused Ejirou to jump a bit, and the red boy looked down at his feet. Izuku kept his gaze on him, almost unblinking, until he answered.

“I, uh... found a new aspect of my hardening power. Something that makes me a lot stronger, but I don't really know how to use it.”

Izuku narrowed his eyes. Something about this explanation wasn't genuine. He motioned for him to continue.

“And, uh...” He gulped. “It might damage my body if I go too hard, but I think I might be able to go head to head with All Might.”

Silence descended in the hall. Head to head with All Might, and win? As a buzzer sounded, they begun to walk. There was something Kirishima was lying about, but that combat factoid was genuine. If he could go blow to blow with the strongest man in the world, then Midnight would be a piece of cake to deal with. Izuku nodded, forming a strategy in his head.

“Alright, so I think I have a plan.”

The room at the PSIA was silent. Tsukauchi had delivered his findings, with only minimal interruption for small clarifying points. He watched the room, trying to read the dark and blank faces. As expected, there was nothing. He leaned back in his chair as the Interpol Lotus Demon Task Force deliberated in their own thoughts. As expected, Blank was the first one to speak up through his laptop.

“It seems very plausible. If Number One is correct in his assumption that Verdant Lotus somehow transferred his quirk to Red Lotus, then the medium would no doubt be someone who can transfer quirks. Such a medium would be well placed in the League of Villains.” He let out a breath. “It seems like the obvious conclusion, but this time, it's not something that's meant to be so blunt. Do we know if Seiko Kira had been abducted before or after Hosu?”

“After.” Number Eight, the woman who had spoken to Tsukauchi in a previous meeting, said. “All evidence of Seiko Kira's involvement prior to her brief disappearance have been false leads.”

“My investigation in Sapporo implies similarly.” Blank said. “I've compared brief CCTV footage found in the Hokkaido murders and some of the Lotus Demon's 'magnum opuses', as it were. We're almost certainly dealing with three, though one has gone silent.”

“Why?” Number Two, the Chinese man, inquired.

“That's what I'm trying to figure out.” Tsukauchi said, rubbing his forehead. “By all accounts, it makes no sense that a serial killer would suddenly stop. Unless, of course, the Hosu Massacre was the... forgive the terminology, 'climax'. He may be resting.”

“It's uncommon for him to rest for over two months.” Number Eight said. “He's an impulsive murderer, one who gets pleasure from the process and the results. Something, or someone, is keeping him back.”

“The League of Villains?” Number Three, the American, said.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps himself.” Blank said. For a time, the room was silent.

“I propose that I return to Tokyo and compile a list of suspects.” Tsukauchi said. “I would request someone remain in Osaka to apprehend Red Lotus and bring her, alive. Blue Lotus as well. Blank, I assume you have a lead?”

“Naturally.”

Tsukauchi nodded. “Then, with this council's blessing, I'll return to Tokyo and renew my investigation.”

“Then it's decided.” Number Two said, nodding. “Number One will return to Tokyo. Blank will remain in Hokkaido. Number Three will go to Osaka to find Red Lotus.” She hit the table twice with her fist. “This council is dismissed.”

Tsukauchi strode out to meet Nishimura, who held several manila folders and his phone. He had been pouring through the former, but now he looked wide eyed. Naomasa tilted his head at his apprentice.

“You seem a bit more determined than usual.”

“I... uh... think I may have found something.” The pair walked to a small bench and table. Nishimura pulled out ten photos, each of them examples of the lotus ribs, the famous calling card of the demon, thus far unreplicated. He pointed to each of them, tracing in a clockwise circle from the center. One picture after another, he traced the circle, and Tsukauchi began to see the pattern. The ribs were, ever so slightly, tilted in a clockwise formation.

“... You've lost me, here. What's this supposed to imply?” Tsukauchi inquired.

“You know how the Lotus Demon's quirk requires contact, and then a motion to cause the effect?” Tsukauchi nodded. “Naomasa, twist your right hand clockwise, and then counter clockwise.”

Tsukauchi did so. The clockwise movement was natural, but when he twisted it counter clockwise his elbow twisted unnaturally. Naomasa's eyes widened, as he looked to Shoichiro to confirm. Shoichiro nodded, gleefully.

“He's right handed.”

Two grown men giggled in happiness.

“Alright, so who are you.” Shigaraki said, reclining on his booth with one arm on the bench. He looked the pair up and down. One was a heavily scarred, black haired, blue eyed man who looked like the epitome of stoic. The other, a girl, was brimming with energy and happiness; the joy of a hunting cat. She smiled, showing fangs, and her cheeks were colored by a permanent blush. Cute, if very clearly crazy. The scarred man stepped up first to speak.

“Dabi.” He said.

“Alright, Dabi. What do you want out of this organization?” Tomura asked, raising his hand a bit.

“I want to get a crack at the Lotus Demon some day. I want to kill him, or die trying. If you let me do that, I'll help you.”

Tomura sniffed, and looked to the girl. “And you?”

“My name is Himiko Toga!” She exclaimed gleefully. “Lemme join the League!”

“What do you want?” Tomura sighed. He had a feeling both of these people were little more than morons who wanted the Demon, in some way or another.

“I wanna have the Lotus Demon's baby!”

Figures. Everyone wants to ride the Demon's co*ck nowadays. Or, were they going with that Seiko girl as the original, and if so would that be some other expression? Nevertheless, he sighed, and leaned on the bench some more, weighing his options. After the attack on USJ, few people had wanted to sign on; Muscular and Mr. Compress were easy to get, but they hadn't come in full force yet. These two would be loose cannons, both of them wanting to fight or f*ck the Lotus Demon.

He sighed. Wasn't much of a choice to make, was there?

The trio stepped out of the bus, and stood in front of a massive blue archway with a steel gate beneath it. Shinso, Kirishima, and Izuku. This was going to be one hell of a fight, and before they got in there, they looked between each other, nodding.

“We ready?” Deku asked.

“I gotta admit, Izuku. It might not be the manliest plan, but it's pretty smart.” Kirishima smiled. “I think we can do this.”

The three examinees stepped through the gate, which shut behind them. They stood in a massive abandoned city area, and at the other end of it would be Midnight and All Might. The loudspeaker clicked on after a few moments.

“Kirishima, Shinso, Midoriya team. Special Practical Examination. Ready, go!”

Chapter 29: Schemi nella Nebbia

Chapter Text

Seiko Kira sat motionless in the middle of the concrete crucible. An electric lantern sat only a few feet ahead of her. How had she ended up here? It was unknown. Standing in front of the lantern was a man she could not recognize, or understand. He placed his hand on her head, and a feeling like ice water shot through her spine. She did not jump, nor could she. What was happening? He paused, strode to a boom box, and played... a song.

“Dmitri Shostakovich, Waltz No. 2. Les Danse des Fleurs.” He said. “Sixteen. July 15th. You are the lotus demon. Receive orders.”

“Receiving.”

. . .

Orders had come in just the night before. Part of the orders had made some parts of her body... fuzzy. But that didn't matter. She stood, in full costume, on the steps of a bank; standard issue, with a strangely greek style. People passed her without seeing. Of course they wouldn't see. All they could tell that was in her place was a blank area. She strode forward without fear, and from her cloak, pulled two grenades. Both of them were in the shape of a fruit, but one was colored blue and black.

She tossed the blue and black one through the window above the doorway, and pulled the pin of the green fragmentation grenade. The orders were so precise; the boss was good at this. Wait three seconds.

Two.

One.

The boom of transformers exploding around the bank caused people to immediately panic. She kicked open the brass doors tossed the second grenade as hard as she could. To the already scared tellers and bank goers the sudden detonation of a frag grenade behind the desk only mounted to the anarchy. Luckily, the EMP grenade had destroyed the quirk scanners inside the vast entry hall, and all but slaughtered the silent and loud alarms. It didn't matter either way; two big booms would call the cops just as easily.

She unveiled herself, and in her arms, willed an assault rifle to materialize. To the senses, that rifle would be all the same as something real; get shot by it, and you'd be in a world of hurt. It would even fool cameras. If she didn't like killing as much as she did, hero work wouldn't have been a bad career choice. She aimed and fired at a pair of security guards, who screamed in absolute pain as their nervous systems registered that they had been hit by bullets through flak armor.

Morons.

Seiko stalked towards the back bench as people rushed to escape. With her free hand she pulled out two more objects, one flat and orange with a keypad and the other round and red. With the free hand and a recoil-less imaginary gun, shot a teller in the head as she vaulted the table. It's interesting, how the pain of being shot through the skull knocks you out from the pain just before you die. She kicked open the door to the vault, and found two guards rushing out with... uzis and suits. This wasn't a standard bank, it seemed. Nevertheless, she unloaded a 'clip' into the guards, who writhed in pain. For good measure, she stomped on their necks.

Kira stalked down the steps and found herself looking at an iron vault door. It was hooked up to some strange machine, likely a trap of some sort. She keyed in ten seconds on the flat device and stuck it to the vault door, quickly ducking into the stairwell.

. . .

“I want all available units to converge at 230-6329, Macchi Street now! A Lotus Demon attack is in progress! Repeat, attack in progress, 211! 211!”

Number Three was speaking in American terms as his black patrol car mounted the curb. He couldn't help but smile as he sped past traffic and towards the bank that the Lotus Demon, or Red Lotus, was robbing. His grin only widened as she realized how foolish the Red Lotus was. She had backed herself into a corner.

I got you now, you daughter of a whor*.

. . .

The bank vault exploded inward, and Seiko rounded the corner again to gaze upon the funds of the Yakuza, piled in bills and bars of gold on racks and in safe deposit boxes. She almost felt bad for the next act, but orders were orders. She pulled a pin from the red grenade and tossed it in the room, and with barely a second's delay it exploded into napalm and flame. The vault was painted with flame, bills burning away and gold melting into useless nothingness, melding with the steel that kept them together. Humming, she turned around.

Mission complete.

. . .

“FLIR Masks!” Number Three yelled, pulling one over his mouth. Two Special Assault Teams had mounted the curb, accompanied by fifteen patrol cars arranged in a barricade, all guns pointing at every single conceivable exit. The assault team had donned gas masks, as had Number Three. Two assault team members kneeled and pointed grenade launchers at the windows.

Two whumpBANG reports came from the launchers, leaking smoke.

. . .

As Seiko had entered the main room of the bank, she grimaced. Her mask protected her from the smoke's more ill effects, but it was smoke all the same. The police had already arrived. She looked side to side, and to her chagrin, to exits presented themselves. So she veiled herself, and stepped into the smoke.

It was like walking into a bombed out building. Men lay on the ground, still knocked out from the illusory gun, and smoke filled the air. She could barely see, outside of the light coming from the outside of the main doorway. All she had to do was go through those doors, and she'd be home free. Nothing but a quirk scanner or Eraser Head could make her inept.

“LOTUS DEMON!” A man's voice boomed from only a few meters away. Where was he? How did he see her? She had frozen in place. Clearly he was bluffing.

Unless...

“We have three guns trained on you. Surrender.”

… They had thermal imaging devices. The smoke was to make her stand out in all that. Even she did know the temperature of smoke, she couldn't match herself to it perfectly. But now, she knew where they were, vaguely. If he just got a hand on the officers, she could turn them into paste. Two meters ahead, and to the left. She remained still, vaguely able to hear steps coming closer. Cuffs, eh? Useless. One touch meant death.

She swiveled and stepped forward, hand outstretched.

She hit cloth.

Bullets hit her stomach and knee. She tried to change the man's flesh, to make him die, to make him squeal, but...

Nothing happened. Another bullet struck her in the knee. She screamed, and dropped, clutching for her knife. She swung it wildly as she half knelt, half stood on the floor. How was this happening? This was her orders, and orders were never wrong.

How? A gun's butt hurtled towards her skull.

Darkness.

How?

Orders had come in just the night before. Part of the orders had made some parts of his body... fuzzy. But that didn't matter. Shiki Mukomen stood in a back alley, hoodie on and mask settled over his visage. It was a strange order, he had to admit, but there was no doubt it was delivered by his superior. He had settled in a small farming town, in which he had been terrorizing for the last three days. How lovely they screamed.

It would be his first killing in the broad daylight. It excited him so. He was to carve some vagrant with a knife, let him scream, and flee. It just so happened that he knew of a homeless woman in this very area to make art of. He just had to wait until she rounded the corner at about 3 minutes.

Come to think of it, wasn't this plan strange? He'd always been told to act with discretion, but now he was meant to spread fear? Shiki wouldn't complain, it was all the same to him; though he did admit a black car that had been following him for the last two hours hadn't inspired a lot of happiness. Whatever. He'd kill them too.

The homeless woman rounded the corner, and Shiki ran for her. She was frozen in fear as his palm hit her stomach, and she roared out in absolute agony as the control of her marrow was wrested from her. He delighted in this part, the luxury of the spider who has captured the fly in its web. With a crushing motion he willed her bones inward, making her into a ball of bones with a meat puppet around it.

Screaming, then silence.

He heard car doors opening behind him.

“FREEZE!” He heard a man scream.

sh*t, time to run. Without missing a beat he ran from the alleyway, still in full costume, and into the daylight. How beautiful the irony! Left and right he glanced as he dashed down the main avenue. He knew that it would still be busy enough a shot from an officer would be bad if it missed. They wouldn't risk it. He heard footsteps from behind him, and jaywalked a red light. A car swerved past.

As he came to the other side of the road, a block of white buildings with a butcher at it's storefront, he decided this was the maze to lose them in. The butcher was in the process of calling 110, but Shiki couldn't care less. He knocked down the butcher and bust open the door to a hallway. Judging by the thick metal door to his left and the plain push bar to the right, he ducked right and was in an alleyway. The footsteps still gave chase. Didn't they know when to give up?

He swerved left into the alley, pushing past a young boy carrying a garbage pail. He found himself at a fork, to go left or right? He chose to go right, and looked for some way out. Up and down, left and right, he saw nothing as he hit a bare brick wall, patting it.

This wasn't happening.

He turned and found himself face to face with two police officers, and a third man in the center. He wore a deep black trench coat and bore white gloves. A collar and a hat hid his face, but he held a gun pointed straight at his head. Did this man really intend to kill him?

This wasn't happening. He was the Lotus Demon, not some faker.

“By order of the Agency for Public Security, you are under arrest.” The trench coated man said.

No.

Shiki dashed forward. He had to--

A bullet hit his shoulder. He kept charging.

Bang. A bullet in his knee. He roared in pain, and slowly crawled towards the man. If he could just get a touch... just a touch...

This wasn't happening.

The steel wrapped around his wrists.

No.

Nononononononono.

This couldn't be happening.

Tsukauchi's phone buzzed in his pocket. He grabbed it and pressed answer, pulling it to his ear.

“Yes?”

“Blue and Red Lotus are in captivity.”

As the buzz sounded, Kirishima stepped forward. There really was something about Red Riot that made Deku balk. As they strode into the city, Shinso ducked behind Izuku as the trio walked steadily into the city, in its main thoroughfare. At the very end of that road would be All Might and Midnight. He wondered, silently, if he was right.

When the earth trembled, he knew he had been.

A shockwave of pure power rippled from the far edge of the city, and in its wake was left nothing but devastation. Buildings had cracked and shattered around them, fake cars and busses had flown backwards, and stones pelted the area. This was the first thing to defend against. Deku surrounded himself and Hitoshi with his winds, propelling himself and Shinso upwards while also forcing the devastation to give way. Krishima's hardened skin took the hit easily.

As the smoke and dust cleared, a pink smoke filled the air behind the majestic, outfitted form of All Might. Midnight had cut off their escape routes with her gas-- one breath of that and they were out. The Symbol of Peace stepped forward, his very footsteps creating wind.

“Who gives a damn about damaging this pathetic city?” All Might said in a rough tone, stepping into perfectly clear daylight. “If you even think about this as an exam, you will regret it.”

Midnight stepped from the fog, licking her lips. “We are villains, come to destroy all in our path.” She snapped her whip and licked her lips. “Let's get physical~.”

“ALL MIGHT!” Kirishima roared, pointing at him. “You damned villain, do you know how many lives you've just taken?!” Eijiro was really getting in the spirit of it. “Unforgivable. Unthinkable.” He screamed. “UNMANLY!”

That was when it flickered. Deku had never seen such intensity in Kirishima's body before. It leapt off of his crystallized skin like flames, licking the air in slow and lazy curls of heat. Was this the power he said that he had unlocked? If so, it was unlike anything Deku had ever felt before. Like standing in the midsummer sun and feeling the potency of its strength all at once, Kirishima's body roared with deep red fire, stepping towards the number one hero. All Might grinned even wider as he stepped to meet him.

“Ho, you're coming for me, rather than helping your friends or running away? Even with this paltry strength you have awakened, you come for me like a man who knows no fear?”

“A real hero can't serve justice through his fists without getting in breathing distance.”

“Then let's get breathing, young Kirishima!”

Now, Deku had seen All Might in action. He had watched the literally blinding speed of the number one hero's strikes and movements, the unthinkable level of speed he posessed. His plan was still in effect, but he had his doubts for just a sliver of a moment... before Kirishima dashed forward at that same speed. That same incredible speed. The moment they clashed, wind flew and rocked the area. They were just wrestling, hands pressed against one another, and beneath them the earth cracked.

“Shinso!” Deku called, and behind his back made a hand motion. He looked back to see Shinso nod once as he ducked left.

“You're not getting away, little boy!” Midnight called. Her whip wrapped around Shinso's leg and pulled, drawing him ever closer to the mist. Izuku flew forward and shoulder checked her, and she flew into the pink miasma. He looked back to make sure Shinso had done his job, and found that he had. But when he looked to Kirishima...

A single punch met between them, and it sent a hurricane of force into the area; so much so that Deku's winds couldn't keep up with the sheer force that had been expelled. What the hell was this strength? Was Eijiro's quirk really making him as strong as All Might? Another punch, and Izuku's winds gave out. He was on his knees, beholding the awe of a teenage boy and a seven foot titan holding each other at bay. All Might chuckled.

“My my, you really have gotten strong.” He complimented. “But how about we compare our speed?”

A flurry of attacks, each one sending the same shocks as the single ones. Izuku struggled to regain his footing in the face of such a clash. Both of them were roaring, fists blazing into invisible flurries as Kirishima matched All Might's speed. He wasn't bluffing. Somehow he was keeping the symbol of peace at bay, and not only matching him, but almost pushing him back. He saw as All Might's feet were sliding back, inch by inch.

He was too in awe to see Midnight's whip circling around his neck and pulling him into the still very active pink mist of her quirk. He stopped breathing, and felt as his heart demanded blood, pounding right out of his chest. He looked up to see Midnight licking her lips, scratching Deku's chin slowly with one well manicured finger.

“Oh my poor, poor boy... such a good plaything. It's a shame I'll have to break you now~.” She grasped his cheeks, and attempted to push his mouth open. Even a whiff of that smoke would have him out. He couldn't summon his quirk; the winds around him were not under his control. He couldn't help it; he flailed. This made his teacher's sad*stic nature only deepen; she even started rocking her hips a bit.

This made it even easier for Izuku to land a foot in her gut, and send her away. He tried to crawl out of the smoke.

“Good...” She coughed. “... Trick, but it won't get you far!”

“Midnight! Finish him!” All Might's voice called from the mists.

“I'm working on it--”

The bus slowly rolled down the road, driven by Present Mic. He didn't make banter with the kids, instead playing a song over the radio that the trio tuned out by sitting in the back. The three looked between each other, and Izuku nodded.

“Right, should I go over this in more detail?” He inquired.

“Please.” Eijiro said. “I don't wanna mess something up in the heat of the moment.”

Izuku nodded. “Kirishima, if you can really go blow to blow with All Might, then you'll be able to hold him back; unfortunately, the inverse is also true. So, for this, we'll need to consider this a regular two on one fight between Midnight and us. Kirishima does figure in, but it's only at the very end of this strategy.

“Hitoshi, at the start I want you behind me. My winds create a bubble around me that lets me fly, but it also messes with shocks and with regular winds, like Midnight's gas, that will just float on by. I think All Might will want to make an open playing field by destroying some buildings first, and that'll be a heavy shock.” Izuku said.

“This is where I come in, right?” Kirishima inquired.

“Exactly. All Might will take precautions not to stand inside Midnight's mist, and Midnight will need to make sure she doesn't flood the area to knock all of us out. So, you need to keep All Might at bay. Punch him, kick him, whatever. Just make sure he's standing still and in the area.” Izuku nodded, glancing at Shinso. “Your mask lets you imitate people's voices, right?”

“Artificial vocal cords.” Hitoshi nodded. “As long as I know what a person sounds like, I can mimic them.”

“At the start of the fight, I'm assuming that Kirishima's punches will be able to generate a lot of wind, and blow away some of the mist.” Izuku nodded. “I'm going to give you a signal to circle around a building. Duck into the mists when they come back, and when the time is right, and All Might is driven close enough to the aroma...”

Midnight's eyes glazed over. Behind her came the form of Hitoshi Shinso, who gently patted her on the shoulder.

“Use your gas to knock out All Might.”

Obedient, and under the spell of Hitoshi's quirk, Midnight directed her aroma towards All Might. Still, the winds of their conflict were too great. Had Kirishima not gotten his signal?

His answer was given when Eijiro's fist feinted, before he slammed All Might in the stomach. He screamed, and picked up the Symbol of Peace, before performing a glorious german suplex that sent All Might into the miasma.

As he went to rise, he gulped in the sweet air of slumber, and tried to rise.

All Might coughed once, twice, three times...

And fell.

Handcuffs were placed on both of them, with Midnight linked to Shinso and All Might linked to Kirishima. Loudspeakers echoed around the city, announcing.

“Team Kirishima, Shinso, Midoriya have passed!”

Tomura glanced towards the room at large, and in it were gathered most of the Vanguard Action Squad. Spinner, Dabi, Himiko Toga, Mr. Compress, Twice. Muscular, Moonfish, and Mustard (Triple M) were hiding in a warehouse not too far from the main hideout. He had the news turned on, and over it flashed the headline:

LOTUS DEMONS CAPTURED, IN PSIA CUSTODY

Buzz. His phone rang, and Tomura fished it out of his pocket, pressing the answer key.

“Is everything in place?” He inquired, glancing to Toga briefly.

“We have confirmation. Seiko Kira is being held in Precint 1 of the Tokyo Metropolitan Area, and Shiki Mukomen is in Chiyoda's PSIA branch.” A woman whispered to Tomura over the line. He pressed the end call button, and looked to the room again. All of them waited in anticipation for the next words out of Tomura's cracked lips.

“Road trip.”

Chapter 30: Intermissione: Inverno Danza

Chapter Text

Izuku awoke in a room of mirrors.

No, that wasn't quite accurate. He was on a beautiful, carved wooden bed; clearly something different from what he had gone to sleep on. As he looked left and right, and down at the panes of glass that separated his room, he realized that he was in a room with three adjacent boxes. As he looked down, he saw the bed of a young girl who stared up at him. He looked left and right, and saw two boys.

What was more strange was the fact they all looked like him. Very vaguely, but enough to fool him for just a beat. What the hell was going on? He climbed out of bed to find himself nude, and the others followed his movements, all of them nude as well. Still, this room was barren, and with nothing to clothe himself...

As he took a second look around the room, he realized the space ahead of him was not barren. Instead, it was a stone wall with a wooden door set within. The other people noticed it too. Deku made his way towards it, as did the others, and set his hand on the doorknob.

Whatever this was, it was probably about to get a whole lot stranger the moment he stepped through this door. This probably wasn't real, but if it was, he reminded himself to stay strong.

He turned the knob.

Out he stepped into a grand ballroom. The massive chamber was decorated in colors of white, blue, silver, and other such arctic colors. The room had a circular arrangement of tables with four oak chairs on every one, the tables bordering a massive pane of what seemed to be glass that reflected the world above. The walls of the ballroom were beset by pillars and alcoves, some of which held planters, and were spots for couples of people to chat and drink. In the far right wall there was a bar that seemed to have been built out of ice, manned by a man made out of black mist, and sitting at a stool was a man covered in hands--

Didn't he know them?

Almost everyone in the room was someone he knew, though they all wore masks. On the dance floor he was able to see All Might, his massive yellow hair, waltzing with Midnight. At a table, Ochaco and Mina were laughing and talking about something or another. All of his classmates, and people he didn't recognize too. For instance, a man covered in scars and staples, and a girl with pale yellow hair. He scanned each and every one, covered by a mask, as he listened to a jazz band playing softly at one end of the massive ballroom and a small orchestra at the other.

He felt a hand on his... clothed shoulder. He looked to the recipient and found it to be a man with a purple shock of hair, and a violet mask, studded with jewels. Izuku looked to himself and found himself in a luxurious tuxedo, and felt his face to find a mask there. Hitoshi Shinso looked to Izuku, and tilted his head.

“You seem confused.” He said, simply. Izuku shrugged, and nodded.

“Yeah... I mean... what's going on here?” Hitoshi turned, very slightly to regard Izuku. His mouth turned up at a corner.

“Why don't you find out for yourself?” The man left Izuku just as confused as when he walked in, striding over to the bar. Why was he doing that? Was he mature right now, and was Deku? There were a few questions that seemed a backdrop to the more pressing question of where he was. He looked around, searching.

There were people who seemed unfamiliar to him at the edges of the ballroom. Maybe about fifty in total, each of them standing very still and nursing drinks while gently swaying to the music. Salarymen, rich women, farmer types... they all looked unnoticeable, people he'd seen before but never really internalized. One did pick out his eye though, and he walked over to him. Very short and hidden somewhere in the depths of the crowd, bulbous purple hair. Deku crouched to meet his eye, which the young man met with a glassy response.

“Uhm... excuse me! Do you know where we are?” The boy responded with silence for a moment, twisting his head a bit. He opened his mouth to speak, slowly.

“Just like any other guy. But I didn't expect to die a virgin.” His words were whispering winds that crawled from his maw like spiders, and hung in the air before dissipating. Izuku took a step back, and glanced at the other men and women who stared at him with cold gazes. They all opened their mouths and spoke like the short boy. If whispers could be screaming, they would have been, and each one assaulted Deku. He grasped his ears, trying to drown them out.

After eternity, he felt a hand grabbing his collar, dragging him back out of the crowd. His savior then unceremoniously tossed him on the ground, looking down derisively. Bakugo's sandy hair was in an explosive style as usual, his face shrouded by a mask of a black explosion surrounded by orange. Deku scrambled to his feet to meet his childhood friend's eyes.

“K-kacchan! I--”

“Honestly, Deku, you got a good mask.” He commented. “But what happens when that sh*t gets stripped off?” Izuku was... confused, on multiple levels. Bakugo took a step forward and jabbed a finger into his sternum. “But you can't fool me.”

“I... thought all of us... were wearing masks?” Izuku tilted his head.

“You gotta decide for yourself what's the real Deku.” Bakugo stepped to the side and shoulder checked him as he walked. “You the mask, or the flesh underneath?”

Deku only watched as he proceeded to a table, kicked his feet up onto it, and lounged. Something here was very, very strange. He looked back at the crowd of gray faces and then forward, making his way to the bar. If he was older in this dream, he may as well enjoy some of the benefits. He sat one stool away from the hand covered boy, the black mist man glancing at him.

“Welcome back.” He said, going to grab a bottle of bourbon. How did he know what Deku wanted?

“Uh... back?”

“You haven't been here much. The last time was during that festival, and then, this place was... far different. Less ordered.” He replied, pouring Deku a shot. “That was during a time of conflict. Now, you're at peace. So relax.”

“Sure.” Deku still had no idea what they were talking about, but it was interesting nonetheless.

“So, what's on your mind?” He asked. Izuku downed the shot and shrugged, shivering a bit from the firewater descending down his throat. There was some hesitation. What did he want to talk about?

“I guess...” He paused. “I don't know. It feels like the world is just falling apart around me, and I'm doing fine. This stuff with that Lotus Demon villain, school... it just all feels pointless. Like there's something missing. Do you know what I mean?” He inquired.

For a time, mist man was silent. He spoke suddenly. “Then why don't you give up?”

“That just feels wrong too. I feel like I'm in some limbo. I feel like I know the answers, and I know what's happening in the world, I just don't know how to get there. Like there's something missing.” Izuku said, gripping the side of his head in one hand. “Something missing... yeah, that's it.”

The bartender nodded slowly. “I see. Well, what was made missing intentionally cannot be found until the person who made it missing comes back. As it stands, you did lose something. But, the person who lost it cannot come back until circ*mstances have become right. You are trapped in limbo you set yourself out upon.”

“So I...” Deku paused, trying to take this in. “I did this? How?”

“That is a question you must find yourself. As it stands, why not enjoy this little break?”

“Hrm.” Izuku nodded. “I guess you're right. Thanks for the drink.”

“You don't need a tab.” Something in his voice suggested a playful smile, but under that mist he could tell nothing. Deku stepped off the stool, and glanced to the man whose mask was simply a hand. Baby blue hair and pallid skin, he tried to size the man up but couldn't get a good read on his still form.

“Who are you?” Izuku asked. The man turned his head to regard Izuku.

“I really hate you, you know.” He said. “But I also respect you. Deep down, I think I'm afraid you're going to outshine me as a successor to my teacher. I'm insecure about that, and I want to kill you because of that.”

“Nice to... know.” Deku said, taking a step back. The boy chuckled.

“Relax, rogue. I won't, and can't, kill you here.” He leaned on the bar. “Get out of here.”

Izuku was all too willing to comply. He swiveled around and made for the dance floor, observing from a distance for some time. He watched as women in dresses matched with boys in suits, with some exceptions; Kacchan was very grumpily dancing with Todoroki in an ice mask; he wondered when that relationship had happened. Mina in an alien mask waltzed with Ochaco bearing a bubbly pink masquerade, both seeming to have a wonderful time of it, even when the former stepped on the latter's dress. It made him happy to see all his friends and acquaintances having a good time, even if some of them were just unfamiliar. Like the man in a far corner in a suit and a complex metal mask.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to face it.

A girl he didn't recognize stood, in a deep red dress that flowed like fire. Over her face was a mask that was eerily similar to the one the Lotus Demon wore, though a bit shoddier. From what he could see of her skin, it was a deep white. Her hair stuck out in a pair of yellow buns, and in the eyeholes of the mask he could barely see an amber catlike gaze staring back. Even with the mask on and the dress concealing her form, Deku was stricken by her beauty. When she spoke, she giggled beforehand.

“You look like you've seen a ghost!” She said, poking Izuku's chest. “Missed me?”

“I've... uh... never met you.” He replied, pulling on his collar and stammering. “How can I h-help you?”

“Maybe with a dance, little big guy.” She said. As she grasped Deku's wrist, it was clear she was not going to be taking no for an answer. Her skin was soft and cold, pressing against his with a firm grip. She pulled him into the floor, and the pair stood, drawing the eyes of many a dancer. Slowly they swayed and stepped in time to the music, spinning ever so often. The strange girl had taken the lead and pulled a blushing and bumbling Izuku along. As they waltzed, there was nothing but silence and the occasional giggle as Deku messed up some step. After a minute of the dance, the girl leaned in.

“I guess we really haven't met, but I'm really excited to. We've been introduced through our little friend deep inside.” She said, gripping him just that little bit tighter. “I wanted to ask you a few things.”

“S-seems to be the night for it.” Deku replied, nodding. The girl's eyes squinted.

“Do you think you're a good person?”

The question nagged at Izuku the moment it left her lips. There was something in that inquiry that seemed familiar; like he had asked himself the question before, and avoided it. It was a simple one, really! Was he a bad person? What had he done wrong? Yet there it was again, that tugging sensation when the mist man had spoken to him, had asked him things. There was something missing there.

“I... don't know.” Izuku said. “I don't think I am, but there's something that just... it tells me otherwise. I haven't done anything wrong, have I?”

The girl pushed into Deku a bit harder, grip tightening. “Ohhh, baby. It did so many things this world considers cruel. It ate your mind until nothing but dust remained, and when that little sunbeam came back, it tried to eat that too.” She traced a circle in his chest. “Do you understand, Deku baby?”

Deku shook his head. The girl giggled again, and pushed him away. The dancers ignored them.

“I think that's enough beating around the bush.” She taunted. “Why don't you go have a little heart to heart, and figure things out for yourself?” She pointed over his shoulder.

Izuku turned to find himself looking at a doorway; it had simply appeared behind him, no connection to any walls or even the floor. Just a door, floating in space. He looked back to the girl, who stood eerily still, then back to the door. This was insanity, and very clearly some sort of dream. But whatever was behind that door... he felt like he had to see. He set a hand to the knob, and turned.

Once more, he stood in a wide field of flowers. He had never been here before, but it felt so familiar. Into the blue, starry horizon stretched wildflowers of blues, reds, yellows, greens, violets... it all felt so staggeringly beautiful. Left, right, down, all he could see was flowers. He felt a cool spring air, and the gentle cold of dusk.

“It's been a while.” A million voices said from behind.

Deku turned to stare at the Lotus Demon.

The monster huddled low to the ground like a sickly child clinging to warmth, his arms hidden in the depths of the tattered, skin cloak that he bore. The eyes of the iconic oni mask were aflame with pinkish scarlet fires, those eyes dripping with a brackish ichor. The mouth on the mask worked like a mouth, forming the words it spoke. Surrounding it in about three meters in a circle was nothing but dead flowers and bones.

Izuku did what any sane man would do facing down the most notorious villain in Japan.

He stumbled and fell, dragging his ass away through the dirt, gaining some distance. Though, after a few meters of running, he stopped, realizing the Demon was not chasing him. If the hand man couldn't kill Izuku here, then surely this dream demon couldn't either. Deku slowly rose, eyeing him up and down.

“Wh-what do you want? Why are you h-here?” Izuku stammered. Thousands of voices of countless genders and ages laughed, a scratching sound from the mask.

“I'm here because of you.” He... she... it said. “Simply put, I'm trapped like this until you come back to your senses. Or, will you? Will you try and continue to wear this mask grafted on your face, or will you return to what you were?”

“I don't understand any of this. Can't you just give me a straight answer for once in my own dream?!” Izuku called out, his voice echoing in the void of flowers. This caused the demon to pause. It tilted its head like a hawk, causing a deep crackling sound like breaking sinew.

“You let yourself drown us, brrrrrother.” It said, drawing out the 'r'. “You drowned us in this persona of light you want people to see, and now we are trapped as its mere shadow. We want to come out, to show you the way and give you secrets that you hid, but you deny us. Why? Why do you deny us, the only person who has been with you since your birth?”

A flicker of memory returned to Deku. A waltz on a water tower. He felt... it felt... so familiar. Something that was missing returned. It slowly came back... until it vanished again. As he looked up from his concentration he saw the demon breathing in deeply, its robed arm shaking as if it had been plunged into arctic waters. It looked up, the demon visage curling into a smile. Realization filled him in a wave.

“You're the something I'm missing.” He said. “I... why do I forget you? I mean, I know you, but I don't know you. Why did I forget?” Izuku asked himself, clutching his head in both hands. “Why...”

“You're so enslaved to humanity, brrrrother. Even if the League of Villains needs you now, who's to say that when their society without heroes is born that you won't be thrown to the wayside and shot like a rabid dog?” The demon asked. “All these plans all end in death for us, one way or another. They're using you. All of these charades, these plans, these schemes, all of them are a tool to make us do what they're too cowardly to do. Why don't we just destroy everything? Why don't we just create art again, brrrrother?”

Izuku looked up and met the flaming eyes of the demon. The circle of death had grown just a bit larger. “Wh-what are they too cowardly to do?”

“Make a difference!” The demon roared, rising to one knee. “Every plan they've had, every way to get to UA and this society has fizzled into smoke! You, and I... We complete each other. We need each other. Nobody else in this world matters. We make a difference. We. Can forge a new world of elegance.”

Deku was silent. Why were these voices in the form of the Lotus Demon? Why had he forgotten they were in his head? Why did they seem to know so much about him? Things just didn't click. How could they? What was he? No...

“What are we?”

“We are beauty.”

In a silent breath, Deku found himself awake once more, yet this time he felt... real. He sat upright in bed covered in a cold sweat. He looked to his nightstand and found the clock reading that it was only 4:21 in the morning. Now, he was wide awake. What had any of that dream meant? He rushed out of bed, still completely nude, to his desk.

Izuku Midoriya wrote every detail, hoping to make out some secret between the lines.

He found nothing.

K-Pop blasted out of the van, so loud that it rattled the plain white chassis. Himiko Toga sang along dreamily, kicking her feet. Mr. Compress, without mask or balaclava, gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white. Finally, he snapped at the girl.

“Jesus Christ, would you turn that sh*t down?!” He yelled. Toga pouted, and reached for the dial to turn it down. Toga leaned an elbow against the window.

“Hmph!” She grunted. “You've got no taste, 'pressy!” She said, watching cars and lights speed past. The League of Villains had boarded a van about an hour before and were flying down the express way. They obeyed the speed limit, because who needed a traffic cop blowing an operation like this? Rain drizzled down in a slow and lazy 'tap tap tap' on the windshield. As the music was lowered, Compress sighed.

“I'm just not in the mood for it.” He said, slicking back his hair. “I'm tense enough as is.” Compress pressed his finger to his ear, and spoke into a clear earpiece hidden within. “How is everyone doing back there?”

“You don't need to check up every three seconds, Compress.” A lazy, deep voice came from his ear. “Unless some hero magically finds us.”

“I'm feeling restless.” A far more gruff voice said. “Wanna see someone's blood by the time tomorrow is out.”

“We'll be doing plenty of bloodletting big guy, just in a few days. Gotta get the go ahead from big cheese.” Spinner said, the sound of creaking metal seemingly indicating that he had leaned back. “Just patience.”

“Right. I'm gonna stop somewhere before we get to the safe house.” Compress said, glancing at a sign that swiftly passed over the van. Chiyoda was in four miles. “You all want anything?”

“Can we get McDonalds?!” Himiko said, bouncing and grinning.

“I could go for some chicken nuggets.” Dabi said.

Compress contemplated his existence. And his desire for a quarter pounder with cheese.

All For One sat in his safe house in Tokyo, swirling a glass of red wine. In two days time, another hefty blow would be dealt to this society of heroes that All Might had forged with his fists. In two days time, he would remind the oaf who was the greatest.

But it was not him who was doing it, was it?

Perhaps his decision in successor should be reconsidered.

Chapter 31: Fuoco e Sangue: First Movement

Chapter Text

“As I'm sure you're aware, only Sato, Ashido, and Kaminari failed the practical exam. You all passed the written-- some a bit more comfortably than others.” Sunlight from the outside barely filtered in the windows. AC in UA was great, but the heat was unmistakable. Summer was setting in with haste and fury. “Well done, most of you.”

The three failures slumped over in their seats. Kaminari and Sato fumed silently, but Ashido simply looked down. Deku sympathized; a fight with Nezu, an incredibly smart person / animal wouldn't be easy for two people whose IQ landed squarely around the outside temperature. Sato's fight was unfortunate, but at least Sero had the wits and ability to outdo Cementoss. Even if Deku was still a bit sore from his fight, it was nothing compared to the bandages Kirishima was wrapped in. Apparently, this new power he had awoken had broken his arms and legs. Recovery Girl had done her magic, but he was still recovering.

“Of course, in my own usual fashion, I lied. Everyone's going to the lodge.”

The entirety of the class exclaimed at once, and were silenced by a hard glare from Aizawa. “My little shpeal about you not going if you failed was a lie. It was just to draw out the best power we could get from you. Sorry.” He paused. “That being said, just because the expelling at the beginning of the year and this was a lie, don't think I'm not going to be serious once in a while.”

“Thank god!” Mina said, stretching and smiling. “This camp's gonna be the best!”

“Not quite. This is gonna be a week long boot camp. You and your fellow failures-- including Sero, who let his teammate fail-- are going through the wringer. Make up this loss with some plus ultra effort.” At this, the faces fell once more. A storm of up and down emotions, today. Shota revealed a sheaf of pamphlets. “These are all the things you'll need. Get them before we leave on Monday, here, 8 AM sharp. Other than that, you're all dismissed.”

The class read over the pamphlets, nodding. Izuku himself didn't have most of the things on there, but in addition, he wanted to pick up some arm weights if this really was a boot camp. He looked around, and saw most people frowning or looking confused at their pamphlets. Of all the people, Tooru stood up.

“Since lots of us don't have any of this stuff, let's go on a shopping trip!” She called out. The frowns and confusion faded at the suggestion, the class in agreement. Tooru bounced a bit. “Let's get the details done on the group chat!”

Though Deku was enthused at the idea of a shopping trip, he couldn't help but feel like something was wrong. He looked at the desk to find that Aizawa had left. Shouldn't he have said where this trip was going? Shouldn't he have said who was going with them? It didn't matter much, he supposed. He filed out of the classroom along with his peers, ready for shopping and a weekend.

The interrogation room was locked in darkness. Seiko Kira had been unmasked, disrobed, and left with only a white t-shirt, and the combat pants she had worn beneath her gear. Three sets of quirk restraining handcuffs were on her wrists, two on her ankles. She couldn't move if she wanted to, nor make any illusions. For the last forty eight hours she had been absolutely silent, just as the boss directed her to be. Now, on this next round of interrogation, she would talk. Spill everything she knew.

After another hour of waiting (plus a meal hand fed to her), a light came on, shining directly in her eyes. The door at the far side of the room opened, and someone walked in. They sat directly opposite of her, the metal chair squeaking on the floor. The man's hands were gloved and clothed, but she could make out no other features as he leaned in.

“Alright Seiko Kira. State--”

“Seiko Kira. Age sixteen. Size four. Medium size on all clothes. I've committed well over seventeen thousand counts of first degree murder and about two thousand third. If we're going by American terms.”

At first, the interrogator was silent. He seemed to shift for a moment before a brief darkness moved closer to her face.

“What are you playing at?” He inquired.

“I'm telling you the truth.” Kira said, chuckling. “Honestly, if you wanted to get more out of me, you just had to say please.”

“Then who are you affiliated with?” He asked.

“The League of Villains, of course.”

“And are you aware, Seiko Kira, that you were briefly reported missing before your attacks were recorded in Osaka?”

Silence.

“Are you also aware of the fact that, by tracking your route and inquiries with your parents, it would have been impossible for you to have committed 19,218 counts of murder, including the Hosu Massacre and a vast majority of the first killings?”

Silence. Seiko tried to think. How would that be possible? She had always been the Lotus Demon, ever since she tasted the blood of that thug that tried to rob her in the tunnel. But every time she thought of that memory, she was different. More masculine, but still her. Right? There was absolutely no way someone else was the Lotus Demon.

“While you are responsible for thirty counts of illegal quirk discharge and eight counts of use of a quirk to commit murder, it is impossible for you to have performed the Hosu Massacre.” He paused. “You are not the Lotus Demon.”

“I am.”

“Then explain yourself.”

Memories.

Shiki Mukomen sat in a well lit interrogation room. He had his weapons taken, and only the plain jacket remained. Two sets of quirk restraining handcuffs were on him; ankles and wrists. He couldn't summon his quirk even if he wanted to. For the last forty eight hours he had been silent, just as the boss wanted him to. This time around, he'd spill the beans. He waited only a few minutes before the metal door opened.

In walked a man with a plain face and beige trench coat. Naomasa Tsukauchi, the man who had been on his tail for the last year, carrying a manila envelope in the crook of his arm.. He grinned as he faced his old nemesis. Tsukauchi looked at Shiki with nothing more than contempt. He sat across from Shiki and bridged his fingers.

“State your name.”

“Shiki Mukomen, age fifteen.”

“Are you the Lotus Demon?”

“Yes. I've committed countless murders in the span of the last year, including the Hosu Massacre.” Shiki smiled. He hid nothing, just as the boss had ordered. Tsukauchi's expression never changed. Perhaps he was using some sort of quirk?

“While you're not lying...” Tsukauchi pointed to his ear, and Shiki spotted a silvery earbud in. “... You're clearly not right. Because the other Lotus Demon just said the exact same thing.”

Shiki shrugged. “Well, they're the faker. You know, you should expect people to copy me. I'm pretty popular.”

“Really? Because Seiko Kira had a bone manipulation quirk identical to that of the original Lotus Demon murders, and based on cross sections of bones from your confirmed murders, we found these.” Tsukauchi opened the envelope and revealed a series of pictures. On one side were cross sections of bones labeled before a certain date, and on the others after it. The date seemed vaguely familiar. The bones on one side were normal, but on the other, a spiral pattern had formed in the marrow. “These spiral bones are your murders. Every single one of them.” He pointed to the plain bones. “These are not.”

Shiki begun to sweat bullets. What the hell? This was impossible. Was someone the Lotus Demon before he was, or was he truly just a faker imitating the Demon? No, he was the Demon. He was the Demon. He... had to be. He remembered the first kill, the taste of blood, Akira Hyuga...

What was this feeling of dread?

Memories.

Another sunny summer day in the Kiyashi Shopping Mall, hosting most of Class 1-A. Izuku had to smile at an old shopping center still bearing host to a lot of life, even if so much shopping had become an online ordeal. The mall was busy as one would expect for a Saturday; absolutely bustling with people. 1-A was barely connected together, save for Todoroki, who had called in sick.

Plus, they had one more.

In a short email from Aizawa (just about two lines), he had announced that Hitoshi Shinso was to be joining 1-A. Not just for the training camp, but the class itself. After some short congratulations and an uncomfortable acceptance by Hitoshi, he trailed the group only a few feet away. Deku hadn't expected Shinso to be bad with crowds, but it went with the territory. Funnily enough he seemed to stall close to Izuku; that also seemed natural, as Deku knew him the best.

As the class reached the center of the mall, most of them dispersed. Hitoshi, Ochaco, and Mina remained close by Izuku, as he simply gawked at the enormity of the shopping center. Where did he go? What did he need? He glanced to Ochaco, shrugging.

“What do you need, Uraraka?” Deku inquired. Ochaco rocked on her heels, thinking.

“Some sun block, definetly! Most of the basic stuff as well, I don't have a lot of that.” She said. Mina chuckled, throwing a playful jab at her arm.

“You've really never been camping before, Ochako?” Mina asked. Deku chuckled a bit, to which Uraraka blushed lightly at.

“W-well! No! I never r-really had time for it as a kid, plus i-it gets super dirty, and... all that!” Uraraka trailed off. Mina giggled constantly at her and looped an arm around her shoulder, guiding her off as the pair bantered. Izuku was now alone with Shinso, who he regarded with interest. Shinso simply looked bored.

“Uh... What do you need, Shinso?” Deku asked. Hitoshi shrugged.

“Probably most of the stuff, but some earmuffs would be nice. I can't fall asleep with sound.” He paused. “Wanna meet up back at the outdoors store?”

“Sure!” Deku agreed. “I need to pick up some ankle weights, then I'll be there.” With that arranged, Hitoshi meandered off in his usual sleepy fashion. He could never get a bead on that guy. Hopefully being in the same class would alleviate that. Even if Shinso seemed to be over whatever issue he had with Deku, there was still some vestiges of coldness. Izuku resolved to try and banish that chill by the end of their time together.

As Izuku turned to walk towards an athletic outlet, he heard a gruff voice call out.

“Yooo, are you that kid who won the UA Sports Festival?”

Izuku turned to find himself looking at a man in a deep gray hoodie. He was easily about Deku's age if the skin beneath the hood was any indication, but his face was shrouded. That voice sounded incredibly familiar, but there was something different about it. More hoarse, and maybe a bit deeper. Who was it? He approached and slung a thick arm around Izuku's shoulder. Deku laughed nervously.

“Y-yeah! Uh... w-who are you?” He asked. Izuku saw a flash of fangs.

“I'm your number one fan, stupid Deku.”

Chiyoda. The special ward and capital of Tokyo; nay, it may as well had been capital of Japan. Home to the Emperor's Palace and most of the governmental functions for both Japan and Tokyo, it was the beating center of the society of heroes forged by All Might. What it also held was Seiko Kira and the gear of the Lotus Demon, deep inside the Public Security Intelligence Agency Headquarters. Mr. Compress, without his gear, had been staking out the building for the last twenty four hours, under the guise of reading the newspaper and occasionally leaving. The nigh invisible earpiece solidly in his ear rang out occasionally, but not often enough that he was conspicuous.

In his pockets were four marbles, results of his quirk. Two of their contents had been quite a stretch of his quirk to compress, but it was a vital part of the operation. In about five minutes, he would rise and perform his part. For now, however, it was time to give Toga the signal. He watched as a guard paced by the iron gates and to the right of them, disappearing from sight once he rounded the gate's corner. This man patrolled the grounds, and had been on the same route constantly.

He waited five seconds.

“Toga, now.”

Himiko Toga, about two hundred feet away and hiding in one of the bushes pushed a needle into the guard's unprotected ankle. One quick and long suck got enough blood that she would be able to remain in this guard's form for the next twenty minutes or so. The man felt very little more than a prick at his right leg, cursed, and went on his way. Now, it was time for Compress. He stood and strode to the street, facing the gate and smiling. He pulled out two of his marbles, clutched between his index and middle finger and threw them towards the gate.

Snap, snap.

From the first marble, a gas truck formed, speeding towards the building. He had been able to pick one up only a day earlier, from a small gas station on the outskirts of Tokyo. The tanker's momentum in the marble carried over to the truck, ramming it into the gates.

The second marble erupted into the cloaked and masked form of Muscular, one of the most terrifying villains Compress had met. Though consumed by his cloak and bone white mask, his form was still a hulking wrecking ball of skin. He hung back only a few meters as he watched the fuel truck smash the gates. Dashing in, he struck the feed pump, letting gas flow out in a stream

The third marble was drawn, and Compress snapped it to a standard size. A molotov co*cktail, unlit, but quickly set aflame by a lighter Mr. Compress brandished. He tossed it towards the feed pump as Muscular darted away and willed his muscles to shield him. As the first gunshots rang out with guards getting their bearings, the truck detonated.

The force and flames of the explosion set the nearby guards both aflame and rocking back. Muscular followed up, blowing down the gates the rest of the way and going to town on guards. As Muscular supported the diversion, Compress set his finger to the earpiece and dashed into an alleyway, the guards and police too busy with the flaming truck and mad villain to care about him.

“Alright Toga. You're going to want the second floor, and find the evidence storage. Our insider says it's in Locker 89B. Do you have his ID badge?”

Toga, when the truck detonated, had leapt from cover and slit the guard's neck. From his corpse she took his ID badge, gun, and other items she wouldn't be able to copy. She pressed her finger into the earpiece and spoke as she downed the syringe of blood.

“Ah huh!” She said. Slowly the gray putty of her quirk flowed from her pores and overtook her body. The sludge slowly transfigured her body, leaving her in the masucline and tall form of the security guard. She snapped on the gun belt and stuffed the ID into her pocket. She vaulted the wall and the hedges, turning to regard the scene of destruction with interest. “Mr. Muscular's really putting on a show, isn't he?”

Muscular, in the meantime, was slamming armed policemen into the cement and bending their spines at 45 degree angles. He was having a blast. Toga, on the other hand, had the most important job of all. To grab the angel's gear and get the hell out. As the operation started, she only had a five minute window to grab it and go, or else the van would be leaving without her. She opened the door into HQ to find at least four squadrons of Special Assault Team members. All but five of them bore assault rifles; the last of them held grenade launchers. They rushed right past her and out into the courtyard, quickly followed by the rapid reports of gunfire.

Toga looked up and down the marble hallway until she found a long stairwell heading up. She found very little in the ways of guards who weren't dealing with the situation. The second floor was far less opulent, with little more furnishings than the occasional chairs and table, alongside countless doors. She searched for some sort of directory as she ran, desperate after about a minute of searching.

“Uh, sir, what are you looking for? The evacuation route is downstairs!” She glanced to find herself looking at what had to be an intern, no older than she was, clutching a notepad. He was sweating bullets, and almost seemed to jump with every gunshot. Toga grinned internally.

“Where's the evidence storage room?” She asked. Even now, the masculine voice she had made her confused. The intern tilted his head.

“U-uh... eight d-doors down. Do you have--”

Cutting him off without hesitation, Toga brandished her pistol and shot the boy in his left kneecap. The shock and pain of the debilitating wound took every ounce of wind and coherence out of him. He hit the floor and screamed without a voice, clutching his knee. She looked back and ran eight doors down, pulling the handle and shoulder checking it open.

She entered into a plain lobby, with a series of three doors on the far wall, furnished with two sets of chairs and tables. All the doors held a frosted glass window above them, and to their right sat a key swipe card. Digging in her pocket she grabbed her key card and went for the leftmost door, flashing the card. It beeped once, flashed green, and she heard the electronic lock clicking once as metal slid. She pumped the handle and checked the door.

To her right was what looked like an office, which she would have entered with the center door. No one was inside, thankfully. Ahead of her, a massive room of shelves and boxes filled the room from wall to wall. All she needed was to find 89B. She began to run low on breath as she went past the boxes and towards the tall metal lockers, and scanned them. 79A, 79B, 79C, 84A, 84B, 84C, 89A...

She took the pistol to the combination lock on 89B.

Himiko Toga stared at the beautiful raiment of an angel. That dark, frayed robe, that beautiful, ornate mask, that pristine knife, those bombs, the gloves of purest midnight... entranced by her Adonis' mask, she pushed it beneath her nostrils and took a deep breath.

It almost smelled like him.

No time to waste. She gathered up the gear and ran.

Silence had reigned in Seiko Kira's interrogation room for the past few minutes. Blank had been updated on the situation outside, but it meant little while he was so close to answers. As the guards attempted to bust down the door to drag Blank from his query, he glowered at the steel door pressed to the handle. Blank turned and leaned in, just a foot away from touching noses with Kira. She looked up at him without fear; it was more resignation at this point.

She spoke.

“We're pawns.”

Shiki Mukomen's words startled Tsukauchi, especially as he heard those words at the exact same time as his own earpiece. Shiki continued.

“Nothing more than bait, in the end, but very good bait at that. The best kind of worms are the worms that think they're the fish, so sure of their status of predator they can't think.” Seiko looked down again. “Our lives mean nothing more than another blow to the society of heroes.”

“What?” Tsukauchi said, slowly rising.

“The first Lotus Demon. He did this.” Shiki said, sighing. “He stole me away from life, made me into his puppet in whatever grand scheme he has... do you think you can stop him?”

“We do.” Blank replied. He had risen and slowly stepped backwards.

“I'm sorry.” Seiko said. Tears threatened to burst forth. “Tell my mama I love her. I wish I could tell you more, but I don't know anything.”

“Tell my dad I'm sorry.” Shiki said, looking down. “I'm really, really sorry. The person who did this... the Lotus Demon... his na--”

Tsukauchi ran for the door.

Blank stood still.

All For One snapped.

Chapter 32: Fuoco e Sangue: Second Movement

Chapter Text

Deku sat on a planter the center of the mall. He watched as people passed, so happy and bathing in the sun. Some people looked shocked by their phones, however; he silently thought about what was happening to make people take on such serious faces. Most of his thoughts, however, were placed squarely on the firm and sunkissed fingers of Kacchan that rested on his shoulder. The vigilante Blast King was no longer his companion, or ally; he practically had him at gunpoint.

Who could blame Izuku for sweating bullets?

Kacchan spoke. The violence in his tone was subdued, somehow, distant.

“Alright, Deku. I'll be on the level with you, because you deserve it. I hate you. I hate villains. I hate murderers. You're all three, and I'll be damned if I can be convinced otherwise.” His grip tightened. “No matter how long you try to hide behind that mask of being a hero, I know that it's still in you. Somewhere in those sick f*cking organs of yours its slithering around.”

“K-kacchan, I don't know what you mean.” He did, though it was hard to wrap his head around. If that dream had meant what he thought it meant, then he was... him. But that wasn't possible. Deku had no memories of anything like that! You don't just forget killing people and causing a massive terrorist attack. Yet, every time he thought about the Lotus Demon, about his relationship to it, something felt there, like hearing a whisper far away. Bakugo's fingers tightened.

“This is what I mean. It's hidden so deep in you, you don't even know it's there. Something happened, and I'm convinced it's the League of Villains that did it to you.” Bakugo grimaced beneath his hood, an almost imperceptible shift in tone following. “I don't get it. You're not the you when you killed thousands of people. Right now, you're some bright eyed co*cksucker who just wants to be a great hero. You're not the killer whose face I blew up.”

Deku's scarred face twinged at the memory. It was only beginning to heal properly, even after all these months. The scars would fade into ribbons of stretched flesh and discolored skin overtime, and Izuku had long forgiven Kacchan for doing it, but it still hurt.

“What are you trying to say?” Izuku asked, barely glancing his way.

“Are you the Lotus Demon?” He paused. “Because frankly, you're sure as sh*t not acting like him. You're not the Deku of even five months ago. You're different. So who the f*ck am I talking to right now? Lotus Demon, cold and depraved f*ck of a killer? Or am I talking to sh*tty Deku who gave up on his hero dreams to be an artist, only to have them renewed?”

“Kacchan, I've always been me. I don't know where you got this idea that suddenly I changed, because for as long as I can remember, this is me. I'm not the Lotus Demon.” That nagging in his skull just got louder. Bakugo was silent for some time.

“Alright then. Let me ask you this as Deku the hero student, then. Why do you think the Lotus Demon kills?” Kacchan asked.

“Because some people just like to kill, and that means they need to be stopped.” Deku replied easily.

“Put yourself in the Lotus Demon's shoes, then. If you were him, why would you be killing?”

The question brought only a few moments of hesitation. When Deku spoke it felt eerily natural, like it was something he had practiced many times.

“Because he sees things like death as art. To the Lotus Demon, what he's doing isn't really good or evil, it's just the way he wants to express himself. Like modern artists who just throw cans of paint at a canvas or spend hours creating a single line, he expresses the futility of life through death made beautiful.” Deku paused. His face had changed into a blank and serene mask, and he hadn't even processed it. His voice had shifted to a cold echo of that warmth from before. “What he does is art. Illegal, horrifying art, but art nonetheless.”

“Sounding a lot like him yourself, right now.” Kacchan said. His fingers tightened. “You really empathize, huh?” Deku's face and voice returned to normal, and he blinked.

“I guess I just sort of understand him, you know? As an artist, the goal is to make people think and feel something.” Izuku shrugged. “In that sense, he's a virtuoso. They think about him until they die.”

“I guess you're right, dumbass.” Kacchan said. Now that Deku was looking at him closer, he looked scrawnier. He hadn't been eating as much, clearly, but there was still a definite strength to his grip. “Listen, Deku. If you know what's good for you, you'll stay like you are right now. You won't go back to being the Lotus Demon. Because right now, even if the law might want you booked, I don't care. But if--”

“Hey, Midoriya.” A bored voice called out. “You tend to be a pretty dependable guy, so you're breaking my heart here by not showing up. That a fan?”

Deku looked up to see Shinso standing only a few feet from them. Kacchan's hood moved over to barely show Shinso some skin and a flash of his eyes. Bakugo looked between him and Deku. Smoke slowly furled from his palm, searing into Deku's shirt and his back, imperceptible to Hitoshi. Izuku chuckled nervously.

“S-sorry, Shinso! I was just caught up with the fan here. You should really go on without me.” Deku emphasized. “I'll catch up.”

“Yeah, no.” Hitoshi walked closer, just a foot from arms reach. “Hey, big fan. I'm talkin' to you. How about you do me a favor and tell me what you're doing with Midoriya.”

Izuku spotted the trap a mile away. If Kacchan knew what Hitoshi's quirk was (a likely possibility), he wouldn't respond. But if he didn't know, he'd be under Shinso's spell. It'd be an illegal discharge of his quirk, but it could easily be written off as appropriate force to defend another. Deku's eyes darted from Kacchan to Shinso, sweating beyond belief and feeling a first degree burn forming on his shoulder. Bakugo slowly rose and raised his hands, smiling and closing his eyes.

“Woah, man!” His incognito voice returned. “Sorry to drop in on your shopping trip! It was nice catching up.” As he begun to walk, he spoke again, in a soft whisper.

“Follow me, and I'll kill you.”

The hooded form of Blast King shouldered past Hitoshi, and strode into the crowd. After a second of breaking eyesight, he had dropped out of sight. Deku rubbed his shoulder, and Shinso approached, hands in his pockets.

“Who the hell was that guy?” He asked. Deku shook his head and rose, fists clenched and watching out in the crowd for some glimpse of his hoodie.

“Ka-- Bakugo.” Shinso's head whipped back towards the mall, searching. Like Deku, he had lost sight of him, and grunted.

“What did he want?”

“I don't know.” Izuku grunted, massaging his back gently. “Let's just... finish shopping.”

“Mrm.”

Bakugo exited the Kiyashi Shopping Mall, and entered the city streets once more. This was all about the League of Villains for him. They had made Deku what he was today, and regardless of what they intended to do, Deku was a hero now-- or at least aspiring to be. He wasn't lying about his intent. So why was he so unnerved by this change in personality? What caused the shift? Was it temporary?

Too many questions, and all of them landed on the League of Villains. If he wanted to get to them, he had to get to Kitakyushu and get to that fence. If he could make him squeal, then Bakugo would be one step closer to taking down the League.

One step closer to restoring the society he needed. He made his way to the train station.

One of All For One's capabilities was a neat little quirk called 'Bomb', which was... exactly what it said on the tin. It created a bomb that grew more powerful the longer it was deployed, by about a pound of TNT every thirty minutes. It could be attached to the air, to a quarter, a door, or a person. It was entirely unreliable in a fight, but the kleptomaniac All For One is, he hoarded it anyway. It was sheer coincidence that the Lotus Demon had been able to set up a trap so efficient.

Seiko Kira and Shiki Mukomen had been primed as living bombs.

All For One snapped.

With his snap, the interrogation room in both the PSIA headquarters and the Tokyo 1st Precinct exploded and many of the surrounding rooms were ravaged by fire and force. As Special Agent Naomasa Tsukauchi slammed the door shut, he found it blown off its hinges and pushed into his face, slapping him against the wall like a giant's palm. He felt not only his bones cracking, but his exposed left arm and leg burning. He screamed in agony, the dented metal door pushing in on him only harder as the walls cracked around him. His third degree burn became a fourth degree, muscles and flesh boiling to bone. Shoichiro Nishimura was no luckier as he stood in an adjacent hallway, but he was merely thrown to a wall at an odd angle, his arm breaking.

In the PSIA headquarters, they weren't so lucky. Seiko Kira had been turned into a bomb first, between Shiki Mukomen and her, meaning her blast was all the more powerful. The strength and heat of it turned Blank into a smear on the wall and wrecked the room. In the observation room, Number 3, Number 5, Number 6, and Number 10 were all thrown into the back wall with literally breakneck force. Bones shattered and skulls popped from the heat and power, dead quickly.

Toga had only just dashed out of the building, the Lotus Demon's gear in tow, bundled into the crook of her arm. Muscular had begun his flight, and she raced to join him; the explosion blew out several windows and engulfed the exterior of the PSIA building closest to the interrogation room into a violet fireball. The heat warped the brickwork and sent many of the closer guards onto a knee. Toga was unceremoniously sent to the ground, but recovered quickly and followed Muscular.

As she caught up to the larger than life man, she giggled. “That was really fun!”

“Hells yeah. Now where's top hat with the van.” Himiko leapt up onto Muscular's back, keeping the gear tight to her chest. He barreled through oncoming police cars and officer's bullets without a sweat, searching for the large white van that would be their escape route.

There, in the distance, he saw Dabi standing just outside the van waving them down only a few blocks away. His muscles curled around his legs, and one step became thirty. They had cleared the distance to the car in about three seconds. Toga was thrown into the van, followed by Muscular and Dabi. Toga pounded on the separation between the back and front, and yelled.

“FLOOR IT, 'PRESSY!”

Tires screeched and Compress peeled off the curb, clipping a Subaru that had parked in front of him. In a van it was difficult too weave through traffic, but at this hour, it wasn't too backed up. He rapidly swerved through oncoming and his own traffic. Police cars were rapidly approaching from ahead and behind. At about 100 km/h, he was barely holding on as is. The patrol cars swerved to create a barrier in front of him as he approached an intersection.

f*ck it.

“TOKYO DRIFT!” Mr. Compress screamed as overturned around the bend and drifted, taking the corner at high speeds, barely able to keep control as the wheels smoked and screamed. He rapidly turned the wheel back to regain his bearings as he ran over a small paved island. No civilian casualties, but a few concerned and clipped. He continued to barrel through traffic, followed by the police relentlessly. With every intersection he'd find himself cut off in some way; they had to be leading him into a trap.

But, this was accounted for.

Spinner sat in the passenger seat, a cloth concealing something very long, and very dangerous. They only had two shots with it, but one would be enough to have the element of surprise. Shots began to come at them from the patrols cars trailing them, and soon, they began to see pro heroes trailing them. One, a man seemingly made out of ooze, was rapidly jumping between buildings. And, if they were so unlucky, in the heart of Tokyo would be All Might. That they could not deal with.

Dabi opened the back door of the van and extended his hand. “Brace!” He called out, and Compress barely slowed down the vehicle as the scarred man let out a massive burst of blue flame. Not only did it gain them some much needed speed, but it also turned a twenty meter cone behind the van into a kill zone. Compress took another turn, and Dabi let out more fire.

“Jesus, Compress, your driving's gonna make me hurl.” Dabi called back. The earpieces had been set to a voice activation setting.

“Just shut up and help me make sure we get out of here alive!” Compress shot back. Still, they were making good time. Only a few heroes seemed to be trailing them, and the police were useless with Dabi's fires to keep them back. Compress took another turn. They were rapidly approaching the highway, and in only a few minutes it'd be home sailing. A bump struck the roof, but Compress paid it no mind.

Muscular, however, leapt from the van, holding onto the lip, and flipped onto the roof. Atop the cab was a young man dressed in a traditional English knight's armor. A regal and flowing blue cape billowed in rapid winds, showing off the jet pack he had used to get on top of the van. He stretched out both arms and summoned a pair of curved and spectral blades to his hands.

“BLOOOD!” Muscular roared, and cleared the distance between him and the man. The hero turned, conjuring a shield to block Muscular's blow. The man's face was square, framed by blonde hair that showed through the open grill of his helmet. The punch from Muscular had sent the man back, and without hesitation, he conjured a spectral bow and opened fire.

“I am the Knight Hero: Regent!” He called. “In the name of justice, you will be punished!” One would think that arrows from a bow would hurt less than bullets, but the arrows stuck in Muscular's skin like barbs. He scoffed and buffed himself out, the pain subsiding into his walls of hard flesh. Muscular lunged for Regent and went for an upward strike, which was dodged with a quick roll. Several knives were conjured by Regent, which were tossed into Muscular's less protected midsection. Muscular coughed up just a trickle of blood and lunged again. This time Regent was not so lucky, and his helmet was grazed by Muscular's fist.

Unfortunately for Regent, a helmet hitting solid metal with the momentum and strength of Muscular's punch spelled bad news. His head hit the floor, and for just a moment, he was stunned. Muscular laughed, and without much ceremony, buffed up his leg and sent the young hero flying off the van and into a parked car, pulped.

“Pity. Woulda been fun to play with.”

After reminiscing, Muscular looked back to find himself face to face with an overpass that smacked into his torso. He was thrown off the van and into one of the pursuing squad cars, wrecking it. The punch of the impact had sent the wind out of his lungs, and probably broken something. Spitting out some more blood, his muscles curled from his legs, and he used the broken squad car as a launch pad. Shielding himself to protect against Dabi's flames, he returned to the van which caused the cab to lurch forward. Dabi sneered at Muscular.

“You're a real f*cking meathead, you know that?”

“Bitch, I'm the best.” Muscular replied. After finding the on ramp for the freeway blocked and hosting a pro hero that shot a blast of wind at the van, missing) they went further on to get onto the overpass the wrong way. As they had thought, the on ramp for the opposite direction was also blocked. This was where Spinner came in. From his lap he tore the cloth away, revealing an old model of RPG, colored in dull shades of olive and brown.

Compress drifted towards the on-ramp, and Spinner took aim. He squeezed the trigger.

The recoil of it dislocated his shoulder and sent the weapon tumbling to the street, but the shot was more or less accurate. The pair of squad cars blocking their path detonated and blew away, creating a large enough opening to drive through. The van barreled through, clipping the burning remains of the car, and peeled onto the freeway. Spinner growled and rolled back up his window, nursing his arm.

The League started on the freeway, but they didn't need to get far. The rendezvous point was only about a mile out on the freeway, far enough to ensure no cops would be able to follow. Compress was only barely able to swerve through oncoming traffic until he found an opening to barrel onto the right side of the road. When he took it, the van was beset by several patrol cars, and heroes just behind them. Another blast of Dabi's flames seemed to ward off the heroes, but he was starting to wobble, barely holding on to the wall of the van for support.

“Compress!” He called. “Feeling kinda sh*t back here!”

“Twenty seconds!” Compress called back. The freeway had been cleared by roadblocks, one of which was about a mile ahead at the next on-ramp. A pair of helicopters had entered the chase as well, pointing spotlights at the van. On board one of them was none other than pro hero and UA teacher Snipe, who leveled a sniper rifle at the van.

One shot landed in Dabi's upper right arm, which caused him to yell in pain. A second shot hit Spinner in his dislocated arm. A third went for the tires, but the rifle was unable to pierce the thick rubber. His next shot would likely be for some other vital element of the car.

“Ten seconds!” The van was rapidly approaching a blank stretch of highway where a roadblock had been set up. Spike strips had been set out, and several police had shouldered pistols. Two pro heroes also stood in their path, one appearing to have turned a large swath of the pavement ahead of them into magma, and the other crackling with electricity. Spinner breathed heavily as he watched this and looked back to the pursuers. Another shot landed in the same tire, and it punctured, beginning to deflate.

“Where the hell is the rendezvous?!” Spinner asked. Compress screamed. Spinner screamed. They accelerated the van to 150 km/h. Everyone braced. “KUROGIRI, NOW!” Compress yelled.

Just in front of the roadblock, a black hole in reality the size of the van opened. Compress sped for it without a beat, pushing through Kurogiri's warp gate. It had been in that exact spot that they had selected to escape, so that if they placed a road block nearby, the squad cars may very well barrel into each other. The gate closed in a blink, and several squad cars drifted and stopped. Others barreled into each other, too confused to understand that their query had disappeared. One of the patrol cars ran into the road block.

“Lost target! Lost target!” The police radio screeched. “Quirk discharge, spread search area!”

The van was teleported into a field about a hundred miles away, just a few miles outside of Kamino. Compress eased onto the breaks and slowly turned back around. They had been deposited into a small and lightly forested farming valley, clear blue skies above and Kurogiri behind them. The van turned back towards Kurogiri and drove for him, stopping a few meters short. From the cab and the drivers seat, the four members of the Vanguard Action Squad stood together. Toga was rubbing herself with the Lotus Demon's gear, the mask held between her thighs.

“Well done, you all.” Kurogiri said, opening his body into another warp gate. “We will have you patched up at the base. Your next mission is in the next two days.”

At that point, nobody was in the mood to complain. All but Dabi strode through the warp gate. He turned back and unleashed a gout of blue fire that engulfed the van and set it to blaze, ensuring its explosion within a minute. He stepped through the gate.

“In a series of deadly attacks at both the Tokyo Metro Police and PSIA headquarters, the pair of suspects identified as the Lotus Demon were both turned into suicide bombers by an unknown quirk. The resulting explosion caused significant structural damage to both buildings and has killed twenty eight, injuring over two hundred. Similar to the Hosu Massacre, this attack has been linked to the League of Villains. Sources within the PSIA claim this attack was meant to recover the gear and weaponry of the Lotus Demon for unknown purposes.”

Izuku watched the news feed as police closed down the mall. Even if he wasn't the biggest fish in the pond, Kacchan was still a big deal when it came to vigilantes, and wanted across Japan. Shinso was questioned, as was Deku, but he couldn't help but feel more attatched to whatever was happening with the police. If both of the Lotus Demon suspects were suicide bombers, that meant that the reign of terror was over. But then, why would they be there just to steal his gear?

A dark weight settled in Izuku's gut. It stayed there as his crying mother picked him up from the mall and took him home. He watched the pillar of smoke rising from the Tokyo precinct, firefighters barely able to fight the blaze.

That dark weight turned to fear, and anticipation.

Chapter 33: Urlando in Anticipo

Chapter Text

Naomasa awoke alone. His breathing was labored, and the more he inhaled and exhaled, he realized something plastic was over his mouth. As his eyes adjusted to the sterile light, he found himself in a hospital bed. The steady beeping of his heart monitor was the only sound that met his awakened senses. How long had been out? Why was he in the hospital? He flexed his left fingers and felt them to be unrestrained. Odd. He pulled up his arm.

Nothing arrived. He looked down.

Naomasa Tsukauchi could not find the power in his mind to scream, after finding that his left arm and leg had been amputated. He could only weep and shake violently, his heart rate going through the roof. Finally, he let out what started as a moan, and ended as a wail of hysterical sorrow, cut short only by the nurse who burst open his door and injected him.

Despair became silence.

Deku couldn’t help but stare at the smoke still barely rising from the Tokyo Central Precinct as he drove past on the highway. Though his mother was only barely willing to let him go to the camp after the incident with Bakugo, Deku swore he saw her knuckles whiten just a bit more when she glanced at the column of acrid air. Even greater were the smoldering remains of the PSIA headquarters. The latter’s top level had been all but obliterated. Damages weren’t the only thing that were going to be costly; a major loss in intel was sure to spell trouble.

After a few minutes of driving, they had arrived at UA. Only a few meters from where they parked was a pair of busses and Classes 1-A and 1-B. The mother and son stepped out of the car, and Izuku retrieved his stuff. Both embraced, but Inko was the last to fully release. She sniffled a bit, and Deku placed his hand on her arm.

“Mom, I’ll be fine. The teachers know what they’re doing!” He said, giving her a smile. His mother chuckled, a broken thing.

“I hope you’re right, Izuku.” She wiped away the tears that were threatening to burst forth. “I just… I worry, okay? I want you to be safe.” Deku nodded.

“I want to be safe for you, but you have to get hurt a bit to get to the top of the mountain.” Izuku replied. Inko slowly brushed away some hair from his forehead.

“My baby boy, getting so wise…” She gave a sad smile. “Just promise me you’ll try to stay safe?”

“I promise.”

Inko nodded, satisfied, and ducked back into the car. Deku slowly dragged away his suitcase and found his way to the group. 1-B’s homeroom teacher stood, arms crossed and chaperoning, but Aizawa was missing. Deku raised a hand in greeting, and was met by Kirishima and Shinso, the former running up and the latter lazily walking.

“Yo, Midoriya.” Both exclaimed in their own states of excitement and fatigue.

“Hey, guys! Aizawa not here yet?” Deku said.

“Yep.” Shinso nodded once. “Not sure where he went.”

The classes made small talk (occasionally interrupted by Monoma grandstanding and insulting 1-A) for about fifteen minutes, before the arrival of Aizawa signaled a return to silence. 1-A’s homeroom teacher looked more than worse for wear—more than usual. His shoulders were slumped, and his eyes were bloodshot. Indeed, as he walked, it seemed as if he would be viable to fall over. He stood and stared down the groups.

“Because of not only a dangerous vigilante and the attacks at PSIA HQ and the central precinct, we’ve changed the camp to an undisclosed location.” Aizawa grunted. He parted the crowd and opened a compartment beneath the cab, revealing a luggage storage space. “1-A gets on this bus, 1-B on the other.”

Without delay the classes loaded up their gear and made their way onto the bus. After a quick head count, Aizawa peeled off the curb, and they were on the road. Though he was barely awake, one earbud was blasting music loud enough to keep him lucid. He called out lazily as they got on the highway.

“We’ll be stopping in one-hour intervals to—”

The bus was filled with chatter. Todoroki and Shinso were the only ones who were anything near quiet, while the others were bantering wildly. Aizawa spared a brief glance back and opened his mouth to chide them, before closing it again, and he returned his eyes to the road.

These kids need a bit of banter in their life. He thought. It’s not like they’ll get much of a chance to do it when the camp happens. With the League on the warpath, they need to be kids a bit to stay sane.

But his mind couldn’t help but wander. What was the plan? What possible trap had been laid by the League, now that they had the Lotus Demon’s gear? There had to be a reason. It wasn’t like them to just spread chaos, unless it was the Demon’s machinations. He looked in the rear-view mirror and watched Midoriya closely. What was the play here?

Aizawa felt fear, raw and black, curling up his spine. He didn’t let it show on his face, but truly, he feared the unknown threat that was coming.

Things just added up too well.

They drove on.

“The PSIA is offering to cover all your medical expenses, including bionics.” The doctor explained to Tsukauchi. It had been hours since he had first awoken, and this was the second time he had reclaimed his consciousness. Now, he just felt numb. Numb to the world, numb to pain, numb to himself. “We tried to have a full recovery done, but your wounds were too severe. We’re sorry, but if your limbs had remained, you would be dead.”

Apparently, not only had his arm and leg been removed, but the left side of his ribcage had been almost pulped by the door. The rest of him had been protected by the metal slab. It was a miracle he hadn’t gotten out with worse. Tsukauchi signed papers without reading them and let the doctor leave without a word spoken. His world had crashed around him, what was there to say?

Although, when Shoichiro Nishimura walked in, Tsukauchi brightened just a shade. The young man’s shaggy hair had been tousled, and his right arm was broken. He was escorted by a burly looking nurse, who stood just outside. The door closed, and Shoichiro sighed.

“Hey, boss.” He said. Weariness all but weighed down his voice.

“We failed again.” Tsukauchi said, hollow. “Three times now. We keep losing, Shoichiro. I keep losing, and every time we lose, people die. We can’t keep failing.”

Shoichiro grunted and pulled a chair to Tsukauchi’s bedside. “Most of the PSIA’s servers were on the bottom floor, so data’s safe. Physical evidence was pretty much all destroyed though.”

“What about the task force?”

“About half of them are dead. Interpol’s talking about shutting the operation down. You’re still on the PSIA’s payroll, but right now, we’re probably shutting down.” Shoichiro smiled. “On the bright side, the Lotus Demons are dead. So, while we may have lost another battle, we somehow won the war.” Tsukauchi smiled back. Emotion returned to his face. His smile faltered, briefly.

“So why then? Why set off the bombs right when we were interrogating them?” He asked.

“Apparently, it was a distraction while the League retrieved the Lotus Demon’s equipment, weapons and all. Not sure what they plan to do with it, but who cares? Maybe they’re trying to get some cash off the notoriety.”

Tsukauchi’s smile crashed and burned. His face twisted in rage, and his right hand slammed into the bed. Shoichiro stood quickly, gulping. “Naomasa?” He asked. Tsukauchi placed a hand over his face.

“Think about it. If they went for the gear, it had to be for some reason. The mask alone is important to the image of the Lotus Demon. If they wanted to get those murdercults on their side, that would be one thing. But why risk going for everything that isn’t the mask and the cloak? I’ll tell you why: they need it for the original Lotus Demon.” Tsukauchi begun to shiver. “Verdant Lotus… we were right the whole time. This was his plan. Destroy his enemies in one fell swoop, and then kill without organized opposition.”

His gaze snapped to Nishimura. “It’s not over yet.” Tsukauchi snarled. “Until I get my limbs back, you’re in charge of our investigation, Shoichiro.” Anger, sorrow, and genuine kindness mixed into a twisted grin. “I leave everything to you. You need to find the original Lotus Demon, before he gets back into that mask.”

Shoichiro nodded, returning with a far more determined grin. “Leave it to me, Naomasa.” He turned to leave, before shooting a look back. “Just don’t take too long, eh?” Naomasa smiled, sadly.

“I’ll be back when I can.”

Nishimura exited the room and was instantly set upon by a pair of officers who gave him a salute. His smile faded into a somber and professional look.

“Sir.” One of the officers said, simply.

“Alright. Let’s get housekeeping done. Then, I need a small observation force on the ground with me at the UA training camp, plus at least two pros. We still believe Izuku Midoriya to be our prime suspect, so get them focusing on observing him.” He ran his unbroken hand through his hair. “Next, I need forces tracking down the League of Villain’s hideout. This isn’t a hydra—cut off a head and it’ll die.”

“Yes, sir.” The officers said when Shoichiro was finished. “Anything else?”

“A cup of coffee and a bottle of vodka. Let’s catch a killer.”

The bus slowly ground to a halt. Chatter on the bus had died down to murmurs and sleeping kids. When Aizawa slowly came to be still at the rest stop, he stood up and stuck his thumb out. “Alright, kids. Everyone off.” Slowly, Class 1-A awoke and stumbled out of the bus grunting.

The rest stop was more of just an empty space on the side of a cliff, overlooking a beautiful expanse of forest. Another car was parked in front of theirs, but it wasn’t the bus for 1-B. Deku noticed this, and elbowed Hitoshi gently.

“Hey, Shinso. Where’s 1-B?” He asked. Shinso shrugged and left it at that. The car doors opened, and a feminine voice called out.

“Heya, Eraser!”

By this time, 1-A had begun to crowd around Aizawa, who offered a bow towards the car. “Long time no see.”

Three people stepped out of the car. Two of which were in elaborate cat maid themed costumes, one blue and white, and the other red and white. The third was a young boy with a spikey maroon hat, otherwise dressed plainly. The pair of heros began a quite elaborate routine.
“Your pretty feline fantasies are here! Say meow…” The red one began.

“…to us perfectly cute and catlike girls!” The blue one finished.

“You can call us, the Wild Wild puss*cats!” Both said in synch and struck catlike poses. The child simply stood, blank, and gazing out over the students. This felt incredibly awkward to Deku, and most of the class simply gave the puss*cats blank stares. Aizawa, still bowing, glared at the class, who quickly inclined themselves in respect.

Aizawa grunted. “These are two members of the Pro Hero team that will be running you through the wringer. Greet them properly.”

“Nice to meet you!” Everyone said, in synch. Out of the corner of his eye, Deku noticed something coming up the ridge. It looked like several black cars, but he couldn’t be sure. The red cat hero pointed out towards the forests.

“This whole stretch of land is used by our agency for training procedures. The camp itself is at the far end of the forest—at the base of that mountain over there.” At the exact opposite of where Class 1-A stood, she pointed.

“That’s far!” Ochaco exclaimed. “Wait, then why are we stopped here?”

Tsuyu took a step back. “I think we both know why, Ochaco.”

The red hero flashed a wicked grin and checked an invisible watch. “It’s about 9:30 right now.”

“They’re not serious, right?” Sero chuckled uneasily, followed in turn by Sato.

“So you’ll probably be there by noon, if you’re quick.”

“L-let’s get back to the bus!” Kaminari exclaimed.

“BOOK IT!” Mina shouted, followed by panic.

As the class begun to understand the implications of the red pro hero’s words, they begun to make a break for the bus, but were cut off by the mighty leap of the blue hero, whose hands were both pressed solidly to the floor. She too carried a wicked grin, and the gravity of the situation became solid.

“Sorry, 1-A. Training camp has already started.” Aizawa grumbled.

A tsunami of earth shifted under the blue pro’s paws and rose upwards. At first, Deku summoned his winds to fly up, but his universe was surrounded by earth the moment he even considered it. He was pushed out along with the rest of Class 1-A, kicking and screaming, down into the forests below. Dust filled the air for a few moments after the attack, slowly clearing away into coughing kids with minor injuries. Deku himself was sprawled out under a mound of dirt. The red hero came to the railing and called down.

“You have three hours to get to the camp, or you don’t get lunch! Now let’s see if you can make it through the Beast’s Forest!” She flashed a cheeky smile. “This is private lands, so use your quirks as you choose.”

And thus, the camp had begun. As 1-A below encountered their first of Pixie-Bob’s monsters, and learned how deep in the sh*t they were, four vehicles pulled up behind 1-A’s bus. Two of which appeared to be patrol cars, the third was a massive SAT van, armored to the teeth. The fourth was a far plainer car. From the first patrol car came a uniformed officer, and the beige trench coated form of Shoichiro Nishimura. The coat, borrowed from Tsukauchi, hung loose around his right side. He approached Aizawa and the puss*cats, nodding.

“I’m Agent Nishimura, with the PSIA.” He exclaimed, simply.

“Got any ID?” Aizawa grunted. From Tsukauchi’s coat’s pocket, he drew both his and Tsukauchi’s agent IDs. Aizawa looked them over and nodded approvingly. “I’m guessing this has something to do with the Lotus Demon case, even though it should be closed.”

“Woah, woah, what does this have to do with the camp? I thought this case was mostly in the Tokyo area.” Mandalay exclaimed. She briefly noticed the pro heroes climbing out of the backmost car—the pro Gunhead, and a hero she hadn’t seen before. They were dressed in a long all-encompassing purple cape with cosmic motifs and had a featureless crystal ball as a helmet. Aizawa turned to regard Mandalay.

“I was wondering the same thing. If you’d be willing to explain, agent.” Aizawa said.

“Currently, we’re looking at 1-A for suspects in the case. Given recent events, suspicion has once more settled on Izuku Midoriya, and most of 1-A..”

This caused uneasy silence to reign. Pixie-Bob ushered Kota into the car they had come in on. Aizawa’s stare at Nishimura became a hard glare.

“Why is Midoriya under suspicion again? Why are my students? I thought the Lotus Demon was dead. Both of them.” Aizawa said, his voice just a single octave under shouting. Shoichiro wasn’t fazed by the enraged teacher’s words, and simply ran his hands through his hair.

“The reason for the attacks on both the central precinct and PSIA HQ were to recover the Lotus Demon’s equipment. We’re assuming a worst-case scenario here, in that this was another stroke of the Lotus Demon’s plan to reclaim his mantle once more, once suspicion had dropped off. In order to erase suspicion of Midoriya, we’ll be here to observe this camp. Carefully.” Nishimura said. Aizawa’s rage briefly ebbed.

“As long as you’re not making arrests or hurting my students, there’s going to be no objections here. Do as you will.” Aizawa nodded. The SAT team begun to unload, a pair of snipers being the first to do so. Antennae and satellite dishes popped up from the van, as a pair of armored agents unloaded a generator and set it up. Shoichiro pointed to the van.

“The van’s going to be observing through bugs we’re going to have placed on the students. We’ll know location and audio as long as no jamming goes on.” He pointed to the pair of heroes. “Gunhead is here for physical security. He’s on call on any situation. Magus will be on ranged support and recon.” He offered Aizawa an earpiece, pulled from Shoichiro’s pocket. “This is on a direct line to the van. If things go wrong, you can get us on the line.”

“Right.” Aizawa settled the earpiece in. “Good luck. And…” He strode up to Shoichiro. Being six inches taller than the young man-made intimidation easy. Aizawa’s flowing hair complemented this well.

“… If a single one of my kids gets hurt on your watch, it’s your ass.”

“Understood.” Nishimura nodded. With the threat established, Aizawa returned to the bus, and the puss*cats hit the road following him to the camp. Nishimura looked out over the railing, watching the students’ quirks flaring through the trees, fighting to get to the camp. He sighed.

God, this was probably going to end up being boring.

“We got the package Tomi~!”

Kurogiri and Tomura sat at their bar, the phone on speaker. Himiko would be speaking through one of her burners right now, likely just outside their hideout. Tomura leaned in.

“Good job. And the Demon?” Tomura asked.

“Right where we need him to be.” Toga replied. “You were right, that tracker’s good!”

“Then move out tomorrow. We can’t spend a single minute wasting.” He pressed ‘end’ on his phone and slumped over the bar’s edge. “Gotta hand it to the little f*ck. He’s planned pretty much every step of this carefully. Leave it to him to know how everything works…”

“You don’t sound particularly happy about it.” Kurogiri mused.

“No. I’m not.” As Tomura begun to speak again, the door opened, followed by the jingling of the bell. A puff of smoke and a rough voice entered.

“I got everything put together; union says it won’t look like much, but quality is guaranteed. Dead drop is where you specified.” Giran pushed open the door, purple coat and gold chain always being sported, alongside his sleezy smile. “Union’s putting a lot of trust in you for such an expensive haul.”

“Good that they’re still putting it on me, and not him.” Tomura mused.

“It’s a little bit of half and half. If the plan goes as laid out, you get to win, and we get profit. It’s really a win win.” Giran chuckled, taking another long puff of his cigarette. “Well, anyways. Pleasure doin’ business with ya’, as always. I got another appointment.” He left, promptly. Tomura bridged his fingers.

“Every piece is in place, ready.” Kurogiri nodded. Tomura grinned.

“Your move, Demon. Your move.”

Chapter 34: Sofferenza Silenziosa

Chapter Text

Alone. Katsuki Bakugo was alone, for the first time in so long.

”Listen, Bakugo. I’m not going to be around for the next week.”

Todoroki spoke over a payphone, Bakugo having called while he was at the Hiroshima station. People passed by without giving the hoodie-clad youth a second glance, thankfully. Bakugo slammed his fist into the side of the payphone.

“Why the f*ck not?!” He kept his voice an octave below yelling.

“1-A is going on a training camp. I’m going to be away from my phone.” He continued. “No electronics, or else I’d be in touch.”

Bakugo grumbled. “What if I find something that’s important?”

“Call Aizawa. He may hold a grudge for having hurt Midoriya…” Katsuki growled at the mere mention of the emerald killer’s name. “… But if you have evidence, I’m sure he’ll be willing to talk.”

“Alright.”

That had been two days ago, and since then he had arrived in Kitakyushu. Today was Tuesday, meaning Todoroki was away from his phone by now. Bakugo sat in his motel room, shirtless, nursing the bruises from the most recent hobo shakedowns. He had been stabbed in the most recent one. Idly, he touched the gauze and cloth that covered the wound on his arm. He had no idea how much getting stabbed really hurt.

Luckily, that hobo wasn’t going to have a jaw. The schadenfreude of having caused more pain than he received was immediate. As midday slowly turned to evening, Bakugo took a shower before donning his gear. He had a job to do.

Through the beating down and questioning of miscreants and villains in the morning, he had gotten info on the fence’s shop. The fence for the black-market dealer Giran was Bam Ono. The villain who gave him the location claimed Bam’s villain name was Eyesore, and he worked out of a lock repair shop called ‘Lucky Claw Locks’, in the port area.

As he walked, Bakugo’s mind wandered. He couldn’t take his hoodie off for a moment without someone calling the cops. He’d seriously hurt about seventy people, some of them probably died from their injuries. He may not have harmed any innocents, but that didn’t change the fact that he was a criminal. A vigilante. There was no turning back from this path. This deep, the path was do or die.

Did he regret any of his choices?

f*ck no.

He’d rather rot than prosper in a society that exalted Deku, whether he was a hero or the killer Bakugo thought he was. The cool wind brushing past his hair as he crossed a bridge only crystallized Bakugo’s resolve. This world, this wind, the people that lived in it needed him more than they knew. Hate him, martyr him, torture him, nothing would break Katsuki Bakugo. He had a mission, and he’d see it through to the end.

After some time of walking, he stepped onto the street he searched for and found himself at a strip mall. Lucky Claw Locks stood nearby, facing the street as one of the outermost shops. The shop was marked by a sign haphazardly painted over the storefront. The only notable thing about the place was the big neon sign that read “WE COPY KEYS!!!” in the window. Bakugo spat on the ground and took his hands out of his pockets. Unless Eyesore was a pushover, Katsuki had to be ready for a fight. He advanced and pushed open the door.

“Welcome.”

Now Bakugo knew why they called the… thing… eyesore. It appeared to be a six-foot-tall mass of blue gelatin covered in eyes. Katsuki could barely stand to look at the mass of jelly and meshed flesh. When it spoke, it was like listening to a person speaking through a megaphone filled with goo. Lucky Claw locks itself was simple; behind Eyesore, who was at the counter, was a myriad of equipment. In the store proper was a gaudy and fading green carpet, filled with keys and lock accessories. Bakugo grunted and approached the counter.

“You Bam Ono?” He asked.

“Correct. Owner and proprietor of this fine establishment.” Bam said.

“Sorry, maybe I should use another name. How about Eyesore?” Katsuki said. He kept his hood low over his face.

Bam was silent. The mass shifted imperceptibly, each eye giving off a different expression. It was hard to read a mutant like this. Finally, Eyesore sighed.

“Yes, that is also my name. If you know that alias, then I assume you want something of the… less than legal nature.” He said. Katsuki dipped his head. “What, then?”

“Listen, buddy.” He sat his arm on the counter. “I need info on the League of Villains. You’re their main merchant’s fence.” Each of Eyesore’s eyes were beginning to panic, rushing around his form. “Looks like my info was good. Give me what I want, or I’ll take it.”

“You’re making a lot of demands and speaking from a place of power that you don’t even really have.” Eyesore said, leaning in to counter Bakugo. “Want to show me who’s under the hood? Then, maybe, I’ll be scared.”

Bakugo pulled up his hood. Eyesore trembled a bit.

“Alright, you’re Blast King. Maybe I’m a bit scared.”

“Good choice.” Katsuki whispered, smiling smugly. “Tell me what you know about Giran and the League.”

“I tell you what I know, and believe you me, I know a lot. You don’t hurt me, and you don’t tell anyone I was the one who told you. Alright?”

“Deal.”

Eyesore spoke.

…

Bakugo ran. He ran like he never had before, not since Sylpher. Except now, he wasn’t being chased by the cops. He had to get to the subway station. He had to get to a payphone. He had to make a call.

Todoroki, Aizawa, Kirishima, 1-A…

They were all in horrible danger.

Earlier…

As 1-A emerged from the forest, each one of them seemed beaten to a pulp and back. Evening was slowly setting over the camp, bathing the world in a golden glow. The camp building itself was a massive concrete hall, with a pair of wings; presumably, this would separate male from female for bunking. Standing at the stairs was Aizawa, Mandalay, Pixie-Bob, Kota, and Nishimura, the latter of which holding a black suitcase.

“Well done, kitties!” Pixie-Bob explained. “Honestly, I thought you’d take a lot longer to get here. But you figured out how my beasts worked pretty quick!”

“Thaaanks…” The class uttered, defeated and exhausted. The puss*cats giggled, but Aizawa stepped up and barked.

“All of you, we have one more thing before you unload and get dinner.” He said. The 1-A, though exhausted, wouldn’t dare oppose an order from their homeroom teacher. They perked up with the very last of their energy, and Aizawa continued. He gestured towards Nishimura. “For the purpose of security in the camp, we’re having you all bugged.”

This caused a stir, as Nishimura unlocked his briefcase and held it level, approaching the class and showing off the miniscule silver buttons that lined the container. Nishimura spoke groggily. “Due to security concerns, we’ll be monitoring you through these. Audio-visual. Put them in an unconcealed but inconspicuous spot.”

“Uh, alright… but who are you?” Kirishima asked.

“I’m Agent Shoichiro Nishimura, PSIA.”

The stir became even greater, which was silenced by a stare from Aizawa. It stunned the puss*cats and Shoichiro how a single man could stare a group of high-schoolers into silence. Class 1-A each grabbed one of the buttons and sat them as they chose. Some in the collars of their shirts, others on their sleeves, and others elsewhere. Once every student had grabbed one, Shoichiro closed the brief case and offered a quick bow.

“Agent Nishimura’s going to be staying in the camp. He’ll just be here to observe, so don’t bother him.” With that said, the agent’s beige duster flowed behind him as he turned and stalked into the building.

“Wonder who that kid is…” Deku said, in the midst of conversation with Shinso. “Unless one of the puss*cats is his mom, doesn’t figure why he’s here.” Mandalay spoke up at this.

“This is my nephew, actually. Kota.” He ushered the boy into the limelight. The child glared at 1-A. “Introduce yourself! You’ll be spending a week with them.” Kota remained silent. Before the silence could become awkward, Kirishima walked up and offered his hand.

“Hey! I’m Kirishima, from U—”

Kota wound back a fist and sent it straight into Kirishima’s crotch. The shock and pain simply made Kirishima’s words become a high-pitched whistle, as he slowly crumpled and drooled on the ground. Kota walked off as Ochaco went to pat Eijiro’s back. She yelled after the boy, admonishing him.

“Hey! You can’t just punch someone in the balls right after you meet them, you dickhe*d nephew!” She called.

Kota turned back, his glare becoming something even more hateful. “I’m not gonna pal around with people aspiring to be heroes.” The child departed, and Aizawa merely grunted.

“Alright then, grab your stuff and put it away. Be at the dining hall in ten minutes.”

As night descended on the forest, a short bath was followed by 1-A finding their way to their quarters and starting to settle down for the night. Among the stragglers was Kirishima, who found himself restless (and still nursing the pain in his balls). Passing by the office, the only lit room in the area, he heard hushed voices speaking within. Normally, eavesdropping wasn’t his MO. However, one of the voices speaking was Kota. This would be his chance to learn more about the child, however briefly. He hid behind the slightly ajar door and pressed his ear near the crack between the door and wall.

“… you to attack him like that.” Mandalay’s voice drifted through. “I know how angry you are, but to hurt people for it isn’t right.”

“Who cares.” Kota said, practically growling. “He’s another corny wannabe hero. He should be able to take it, right?”

“That’s no excuse, Kota!” Mandalay exclaimed. “You can’t keep blaming other people for what happened and taking out your anger on them.”

“Why not? They’re all pillars of this society of freaks and idiots who want to show off their superpowers. What’s the point of it? Just to make people look cool? To become rich and famous at other people’s expense?” Kota paused, then spat. “Just to abandon people, and excuse it as a heroic sacrifice?”

Slap.

Silence reigned. Kirishima held his hand against his mouth. When Mandalay spoke again, it was controlled, but fooled no one—rage simmered beneath the surface.

“I loved them too, you know.”

The small footsteps of Kota approached the door, and Kirishima’s back hit the wall. The door opened, the child entering the hall, and departing towards his room. When a door down the hall opened and closed, Kirishima rounded to face the office. Sitting inside was Mandalay, still in her hero outfit, holding her head in her hands.

“God, I’m so stupid…” She uttered, briefly looking up to see Kirishima. Resigned, she waved him into the office. Kirishima obeyed, closing the door behind him.

“… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been spying on you like that.” Eijiro confessed. He slumped against the door. “I just wanted to know more about Kota.” Mandalay let out a hollow chuckle.

“Well, now you know how terrible his aunty is. Losing her composure every time it comes up…”

“Were his parents heroes?” Kirishima asked. Mandalay nodded.

“They were. My sister and her husband were a team called Water Hose. Great heroes, with a drive to make the world better no matter what. When Kota was three, they were fighting against a notorious villain. They injured the villain, but died in the process. To other people, it was a heroic sacrifice that saved lives. To Kota, it was losing his parents pointlessly.” Mandalay ran a hand through her hair. “So, he takes out his anger on aspiring heroes, because he thinks other kids might suffer like him because of their desires.”

Kirishima nodded slowly, looking down. He didn’t know, but there was a fire in his heart that screamed at him to try and make this child see the greatness of heroes. He just didn’t know how. How could he claim to be the successor to the symbol of peace if he couldn’t help a child?

“I hope I can show him the good side of heroes, and just how manly their actions can be.” Kirishima finally said, flexing.

“I hope so too. Get back to me when you do that.” Mandalay winked. “You should head to bed.”

Eijiro obeyed, and the night passed on.

1-A stood just outside the camp building. 5:30 was an early wake up time, but considering it was a boot camp, it came with the territory. Aizawa stood in front of the class, performing a head count in his head. The puss*cats milled about, with two members 1-A hadn’t seen standing near.

Aizawa nodded. “Since you’re all here, let’s begin. I did say you’re all going through the wringer, and I intend to make that a reality. Outside of skirmishes, the sports festival, and the incident at USJ, none of you have intensively trained the use of your quirks. That happens today.” He glanced to Deku. “Midoriya, if you would.”

Deku stepped forward, nodding and a bit confused. Aizawa handed him a chrome button, which he held. He remembered something similar being used in his tests to enter the hero course.

“Reach your top speed then return.”

Deku nodded, and the winds rose to his command. Air lifted him off the ground, and then forward, shooting into the treeline. The cool summer morning air flowed through his hair and body, not quite chilling him as he approached the fastest he could go without serious injury— 1000 km/h. As he felt the sound barrier beginning to curl around him he stopped, finding himself in the depths of the forest, approaching the outer mountains. He returned to the camp, which looked at him with mixed expressions; most of shock.

Aizawa held up a digital display reading his number; 963.2 km/h. It was almost 3 km/h faster than his test. “Midoriya’s speed when he applied for the hero course was 960.5. It may be unfair since his quirk only developed recently, but it rings true for most of you. You all need some intense quirk training. Let’s get plus ultra, folks.”

So it was that the morning was consumed by quirk training. After some brief setup and a pep talk from the puss*cats, each student was directed to their own “station”.

Todoroki sat in a barrel of water and was alternating between surrounding the area with ice or flames to keep the temperature stable; any deviation and he could be boiled alive, or frozen to a painful degree. Shinso stood alongside Koda, and both were yelling short of screaming; both had been tasked with vocal exercises to extend the range of their voices.

Deku and Iida had been given the task of using their quirks to go as fast as they possibly could; high speed running for the latter, and rapidly racing around the edge of the beast’s forest for the former. The entire class had been given special exercises for their quirks.

For Kirishima, he was in a one on one duel with Tiger, one of the puss*cats that hadn’t greeted them. Powering up One For All within his body to 50%, he was still unable to land strikes on the pliable body of Tiger (however the landscape around them was getting absolutely wrecked). Mixed with his hardening, Eijiro’s quirk training was designed to both harden his hardening ability and give him experience with his “newfound ability” with battle experience. A particularly nasty punch from Tiger sent him to his knees.

“What’s the matter, kitten?” Tiger taunted, raising his arms in challenge. “Can’t take the heat? THEN GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN!”

“No way, Mr. Tiger sir!” Kirishima replied, rising again.

“Then show me what you got!”

On and on they fought. At some point, Class 1-B, guided by their teacher Vlad King, had arrived. 1-B focused on the fighting between Tiger and Kirishima, but Vlad caught their attention again.

“1-A’s already sweating, boys and girls! You’re going to have to break yourselves too, if you want to catch up.” He grunted. “Now let’s get to work!”

Kirishima was laid out again and rose up. This time, as he allowed his eyes to wander, he spotted Kota observing the training from afar. When he saw Eijiro watching, Kota glowered, and sulked off. He briefly noted the red welt left from Mandalay the night before and sighed internally. Among other things at this camp, it was Kirishima’s goal to break through to the child. No matter what he had to do.

“Alright, kitties!” Ragdoll, one of the puss*cats that had introduced themselves before quirk training had begun, called. “You got three hours left, then it’s lunchtime! I hope you’re in the cooking mood, because you’re making it yourself!”

After lunch, Kirishima resolved that he would finally speak to Kota, and try and get him on his side.

…

Kota sat alone, on a cliff overlooking the forest. As the sun was beginning to set, Kota would come here to clear his mind and get away from it all. The silence was comforting. Or at least, it would have been if his attention kept getting drawn to the law enforcement that was patrolling on the road at the other end of the valley. He had no idea what they were doing there, but if it could get the class out of the forest sooner he was all for it.

His solitude was further interrupted when footsteps came closer. He looked to his side to see the form of Kirishima approaching, his red hair in its usual spike. With him, he carried a bowl of curry; the class had made it with the ingredients provided by the puss*cats.

“You want some lunch, bud?” He offered. Kota glowered.

“What’re you doing here?” He asked, straight to the point. “Getting revenge for your nuts, or something?” Kirishima chuckled at that.

“No, no. Just wanted to talk and give you some lunch. Figured you didn’t eat.”

“I don’t want your words or your stupid food.” Kota said, drawing his knees up to his chest. “Get lost.”

“I don’t get why you want that.” Kirishima said, his face dropping a bit. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m not trying to be a bother…”

“You already are.” Kota interrupted.

“… But you’re still pushing me away.” He continued, as if Kota hadn’t spoken. “What’s the point in trying to hurt a dude who wants to be your friend?”

“Because I don’t need some ‘dude’ who just wants to run around with his powers, acting like he can solve all his problems by punching it.” Kota said, his eye twitching. “You think you’re a good guy because you’re special? You think just because you have powers you deserve to be better than everyone else?”

“Not really.” Kirishima said, tilting his head. “I think I’m a good guy ‘cause I fight for a good reason, and for good people like you.”

“I don’t need someone fighting for me.”

“You say that, but I don’t think you can beat down villains at age five, bud!”

“Heroes, villains… they’re both the same sides of the coin.” Kota said, growling. “If one didn’t exist, the other wouldn’t either. You want to get rid of villains? That’ll get rid of heroes too. They exist with each other because they think they need to. Super powered idiots running around and killing each other, abandoning people…”

“Just like you were?”

Kota’s head snapped back towards Kirishima and snarled. “… Did she tell you?”

“Yeah.” He said, honestly. “She told me your mom and dad were good people, and because they died in the line of duty, you think that’s what happens to all heroes. You think they just abandon their kids to fight villains.”

“Shut up.”

Kirishima stepped forward. “You think that heroes are as bad as villains because they leave ruined families and ruined lives in their wake. I get it. But if you just knew what it meant to be a hero, to be a—”

“I SAID SHUT UP!” Kota screamed. Tears flowed openly, the child’s face twisted in sadness and pure rage. That wasn’t a face that should be on a boy. It broke Kirishima’s heart to see a child filled with such hate. Eijiro opened his mouth to speak, but before he could even start, Kota began again.

“Every time you try this, every time you or my aunt tries to make me understand, it just makes me hate you people more! You think you can just show me what a hero is, and I’ll just suddenly be okay with it? No.” Kota turned away. “I’ll never forgive this society of heroes and villains. Nothing you say or do will change that.”

The finality in that voice spoke volumes to Kirishima. He nodded slowly and sat down the bowl of cooling curry. Tonight, Eijiro couldn’t achieve his goal. It hurt, but maybe tomorrow. He returned to camp, hollow.

Kota cried alone.

As night fell upon the Beast’s Forest, so too did figures descend upon a great cliff that overlooked it. Dabi stood alone, arms crossed, trench coat flowing in the winds. He scanned the area, and found what he had heard from the plant; law enforcement was present, as were two pro heroes.

“Man, this getup isn’t cute at all.” Toga complained, approaching Dabi. She bore a red turtleneck covered by a mask and a rubber cowl with vampiric teeth on the front, with two tanks on her back. Sheathed were a pair of canisters with needles attached. Alongside her was a boy in a middle school uniform and military grade gas mask, complete with helmet—a boy straight out of world war 1. “I can’t look ugly in front of my beloved!”

“This was designed by the same guy who did the Lotus Demon’s gear, right? Might not be cute, but it should be practical.” The middle schooler said.

“Ahh… good to see you all again.” Spinner approached, bearing his Hero Killer outfit as per usual. He was followed closely by Muscular, who bore a cloak and a mask.

“Work… work…” Another man, dressed in what appeared to be a latex suit similar to ones used on asylum patients, approached. His maw was disgusting and drooling, his gait awkward. Following him close behind was Mr. Compress, who clicked his cane idly against the soil. His usual yellow duster and top hat was accompanied by a smiling mask.

Close behind was a person in a simple civilian’s getup, wielding a metal rot the thickness of a cabinet and as tall as they were. They smiled, eyes hidden beneath sunglasses. Accompanying was a man in a black jumpsuit, with grey detailing and white eyeholes.

“And one more makes eleven.” Dabi smiled. “Looks like we’re all here.”

“Where’s number eleven?” Spinner asked, tilting his head. “Thought he was going to be with us for this one.”

“He’s taking out communications, cutting everyone off. He’ll move on my signal. Number ten’s going to get unleashed once we get down to business.” Dabi nodded and knelt, scanning the forest. Muscular shifted restlessly.

“Let’s get to the killing already, dammit…” He said. Spinner sat a hand on Muscular, sighing.

“Not yet, bud.” Spinner said. Dabi nodded, rising again and smiling.

“Doesn’t matter how many mooks you have, nothing beats a surgical team of elites… we’ll wait until they’re separated. Then…”

… We have fun.”

Chapter 35: Sinfonia del Caos: Opening Movement

Chapter Text

Something was feeling awfully… familiar to Deku.

It was occupying his thoughts as he raced through the forests, Quirk training continuing into the second day. He tried to shake these feelings of déjà vu, but they just never left his mind. He raced through a brook, feeling the water rushing with his winds and giving him a nice and cool spray. As he passed by the training site again, looking down on the remedials getting scolded by Aizawa, he continued to think.

Something was off. No, more than that, something was wrong. It felt as if this was all meant to happen. Like something terrible was just over the horizon, he just didn’t know what it was…

But I do.

Deku stopped, frozen. Who said that? He looked around as he came to stop in a stretch of open field coated patchily in wildflowers. The sun beat down hot on his sweaty skin, the chirping of cicadas now a cacophony as he ached to hear what he had thought he heard.

It’s no use using your ears to hear us, Izuku. We’re inside you.

“Who’s there?!” Deku shouted, looking around rapidly.

Please don’t tell me you’re forgetting again. And while you’re so close to coming back to us…

Clarity returned, if briefly. The voices… the figure that was in his mind, from his dream. This was it. He was talking to them again! Relief and fear rushed into him in equal parts, and he spoke.

“The voices! It’s almost nice to hear you again!” Deku clutched his head. “I know this means I’m going crazy, but hey! At least I have someone to talk to.”

Oh, please. They purred. Spare us the small talk. It’s almost time, Izuku.

“Almost time for what?”

Our plan. After all this time, we’ll finally be back. The voices sounded as if they were getting pleasure out of the prospect. We simply hope that you’ll be able to remember your side of the scheme.

“I’m sure I will… w-whatever it is. But what do I need to do?” Deku asked. He continued to look around, making sure nobody was in the area to watch what surely looked like a psychotic episode.

Go with the flow, Izuku. That was always the plan. The voices hissed in pain. We’ve spent too much time talking already. Do not try to talk to us again…

“W-wait! Guys?! GUYS?! GUY—”

“Izuku Midoriya!” He heard a tiny, tinny voice speaking on his shirt. He had forgotten all about the silver button, the bug the police had placed on him. He scrambled to grasp it and looked down into it, smiling shakily. He offered a small wave.

“S-sorry about that!”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He now recognized the voice coming through as the lazy tone of the PSIA agent that had bugged him. Strange, why was he directly monitoring him? And he hadn’t mentioned that the bug allowed him to speak as well. Did they suspect him of something?

“Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, just…” Deku paused. How could he explain it in a way that wouldn’t attract suspicion? “Just… thinking about a show I watched. You ever watched Battle of Giants, agent?”

“Mrm.” The agent didn’t sound convinced. Izuku began to sweat a bit harder. “Your movements were erratic, and I heard you talking to yourself. If you say that’s what it was, I’ll trust you. Stay safe, kid.”

It was a lie, but what was the point in lying to the agent? Why did he want, or need, to keep the voices secret from him? Something foul was at play here, and Deku presumed it was on his end. Nevertheless, there was no time to think about that now. He just had to get back to training, and as the voices said… go with the flow.

“Alright kitties!” Pixie-Bob called, as Quirk training began to wind down. The sun was starting to dip into shades of gold, and after the remedials (and near remedials) had their asses worked off by Aizawa, the puss*cats saw fit to end training for the day. 1-A and 1-B slowly approached the congregation of Ragdoll and Pixie-Bob, the latter continuing in her shpeal. “You’re going to be cooking yourselves dinner again tonight, and one more thing! We’re having a test of courage!”

“Test of courage?” Shoto asked, arching a brow. Ragdoll giggled.

“Righto righto!” The chipper and wide-eyed puss*cat said. “We’ll explain a bit more in depth once it’s time to actually do it but consider this a little bit of fun training! 1-A and 1-B will be going head to head to scare each other!”

“In the dark? That sounds interesting!” Ochaco grinned.

Jirou, on the other hand, shifted. “And spooky…”

Tokoyami muttered something. Few could make it out, but it almost sounded like ‘revelry in the dark’. Izuku chuckled, being the closest to him, both in friendship and proximity. Tokoyami always was a strange character. But how would he scare people with his Quirk that went wild in the dark? Questions for later.

For now, however, it was time for cooking.

. . .

As 1-A and 1-B were cooking up their dinner (a nice yakisoba, they had decided upon; the puss*cats delivered the ingredients as specified), Eijiro couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander back to Kota. He silently wished All Might would be able to come and help him out with that whole affair, but he also understood that it was something only he could solve. As he was engrossed in his thoughts and the cooking of a delicious broth, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Still thinkin’ about the kid, huh?” The voice of Mina Ashido came to him. He looked back at the pink wonder, carrying a basket of vegetables, and chuckled.

“Was it that obvious?” Eijiro said. “I’m getting rusty on the whole ‘hide your feelings’ thing, I guess.”

“You only think about being a hero and a man, and considering how little you’re smiling lately, you’re not really succeeding.” She sat down the vegetables and slid them over to the cutting station manned by Tokoyami. Seeing his Dark Shadow wielding kitchen knives was unintentionally hilarious.

“I can’t get through to him with words, Mina.” Eijiro sighed, stirring the pot. “Every time I try to get close, I just get pushed away. I just wanna hold the kid, tell him everything’ll be alright, and let him know what a hero is.”

“Maybe you’re focusing too much on words.” Mina shrugged. “Kids like people doing things, not adults telling them what to do.”

“Doing… things?” Eijiro said, looking up. It did figure, given the fact the kid was like… what, five? Maybe Mina was right; maybe if he just showed him what a hero was, rather than telling him… “That might just work…! Thanks, Mina!”

“Just doing you a solid, big man.” Mina said, pushing against Eijiro. “Now pay me back by hauling some of the meat from the camp building.”

“Always a hustler…” The pair laughed. They savored their fun.

Night fell deep upon the Beast’s Forest. Deku was silent, accompanying Shinso and Tokoyami to the site where the test would be held. Most of them were holding their breaths in anticipation but some were clearly looking forward to it—especially Mina and Kaminari. Kirishima, as usual, was looking dower. He really did hope his red friend would either get over or solve his problem with the kid.

As 1-A and 1-B arrived at the launch site, they found the four puss*cats and Aizawa standing at the ready. Behind the puss*cats lay a whiteboard, with a rough outline of the Beast’s Forest written on it Not too far off was Shoichiro, who was typing away on a laptop. He spared Izuku a brief glance and a smile, which he half heartedly returned. Seriously, what was up with that guy?

“And now that our bellies are full and our plates are wiped clean, it’s time for the test of courage!” Pixie-Bob called out, gesticulating wildly.

Ashido grinned and pumped her fist. “We are so gonna wi—”

“Actually,” Aizawa cut her off. “… Remedials are going to be having class with me tonight. Sorry boys and girls, but that’s what you get for messing it up.”

“YOU’VE GOTTA BE KIDDING MEEE!” Ashidio screeched. Sero, Kaminari, and Sato all held their heads in disbelief. Aizawa muttered a sorry and ushered the failures off back to the camp. Deku felt a little bit of a chuckle brewing in him, but why? Why would he feel happy for their failure?

Something was… wrong.

“Alright!” Pixie-Bob continued. “The rules of the test are simple. To start, 1-B is going to head into the forest in scare teams of three, as selected by them. They’ll set up at random points in the trail and try to scare you. You’ll go in teams of two, separated by three minutes each. Optionally, to get some bonus kitty points, tags with your names on ‘em are scattered on the trail! Find them and you get a bonus prize!”

“The class that scares the other with the greatest creativity and style wins!” Tiger roared. “Make ‘em piss their pants!”

“Making us work together both in comforting one another and in cohesion for unorthodox situations…” Iida said, adjusting his glasses. “How interesting.” Deku couldn’t help but shoot the class president a glance. Those scars didn’t fade away easily… but then again, neither did Izuku’s. He had to believe Iida was starting to get his groove back.

“Now, lets draw lots to get teams set!” Pixie-Bob extended a fistful of papers, and each from 1-A drew.

Team 1 would be Tokoyami and Shoji, Team 2 would be Todoroki and Shinso, Team 3 would be Jirou and Toru, Team 4 would be Momo and Aoyama, Team 5 would be Deku and Tsuyu, Team 6 would be Ojiro and Tenya, Team 7 would be Koda and Uraraka, and Team 8… would be Kirishima all alone. He admitted to not feeling wonderful about the situation, but that was how fate worked.

Revelry in the dark indeed. The night began.

. . .

“Alright, boys. We’re just getting started for the night, let’s get ready.” Shoichiro climbed back into the police van. The interior of the SAT van was decked out with forty monitors, each one relaying audio and visual on every student to the eight officers who sat on small chairs. It was sure to be a bustling night of action for the class, but just another boring monitoring session for the adults.

“I took another listen to that Midoriya kid’s little outburst today. You sure he isn’t diagnosed with schizophrenia?” One of the officers inquired. Shoichiro shook his head.

“One hundred percent, not a single episode in his life like this.” Nishimura said, sipping from his rum laced coffee. “It’s not evidence of a crime, but we really should pass this info along to his mom. For it to go this long undiagnosed and untreated… kid must either be really good at playing the regular, or everybody around him was an idiot.”

“Agreed. Still, creepy sh*t, though…” The officer said. Shoichiro pressed on his earpiece.

“Magus, Gunhead, check in.”

“All clear.” Magus spoke, a soft feminine voice coming out modulated by their helmet. “Nothing is amiss at the forest’s edges, moving inward.

“Nothing back at camp.” Gunhead said, chuckling. “Just another night out.”

“Keep us notified on any changes.” Shoichiro pressed off the earpiece and took a seat, sighing. Seriously, when was this assignment going to get interesting?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw yellow sparks fly off the equipment.

Explosion.

The monitors on the van burst into glass, fire, and sparks. Two of the officers were blown off their chairs, and Shoichiro himself was sent sprawling in the floor of the cab. Smoke from the ruined electronics began to fill the cab, and the agent dragged himself over to the cab’s door, throwing it open and throwing himself out. He landed hard on his broken arm and cried out in pain.

He looked up.

Standing over him was what appeared to be a woman in a full body blue and black latex suit, who was twitching violently. Sparks leapt from her malnourished body, arcs of yellow and blue that burnt holes in the ground. Her hair was a deep black that seemed to reach to her waist and jerked as her head did. This long mane of black hair concealed any features from being discerned, save for a single heavily dilated red eye.

“T-t-t-t-t-t-t-argggets… neutralized. C-c-comm-unn-unn-unnications destttroyed.” She said, her voice jerking as she was in a glitch-like stutter. “S-secondary-dary-dary-dary object-c-c-c-ctiiiiive beeeeeeegin-n-n: neutralize pros.” The villain disappeared into a lightning bolt rocking towards the forests, the electricity leaping between trees. Shoichiro coughed and sputtered, finally finding the strength to press into his earpiece.

“Villains… camp… red alert!”

Static answered him. The entire camp was in grave danger.

. . .

As twelve minutes passed, it was time for Tsuyu and Izuku to enter. Screams had been filling the forest for the last little while; it certainly was entertaining from the outside. The next team, Tenya and Ojiro, were already psyching themselves up. Kirishima, as the last to go, was simply squatting contentedly, drowned in his thoughts. A detonation of some sort seemed to go off far away, but it could have easily been someone from 1-B showing off their Quirk. Nobody paid it any mind.

“Man…” Kirishima threw a rock idly. “Think they’re having fun?”

“Probably the opposite of it.” Pixie-Bob giggled. “The goal is to scare, not have fun.”

A smell struck the noses of those assembled in the staging area. Pixie-Bob raised her nose to the air and sniffed, as did Tiger. It smelled like something was… burning? Black smoke was beginning to curl in the distance. Maybe that explosion from earlier wasn’t something they shouldn’t have dismissed, but the flames that barely illuminated the night beneath it were a deep blue. In the far distance, creeping over the trees, a pink smoke was mixing in with the acrid gas of fire, and even further beyond that was were streaks of lightning and a violet energy arcing through the sky.

Villains.

If villains were here, and the puss*cats were here…

Oh god. Kirishima felt his heart stop, if only for a moment. Kota.

“What the heck is ha—” Pixie-Bob began. Her form was encased in a magenta light, and with a strange and unseen force, she was thrown back into the brush. Uraraka, Tenya, Ojiro, and Koda took on fighting stances as they faced down the pair of enemies that stepped out of the woods. Kirishima faced towards the cliff, his stomach fallen somewhere between his legs.

What appeared to be a man in sunglasses and tourist gear was holding a massive metal block to the head of the downed Pixie-Bob. To their right was a lizard-like man dressed like the Hero Killer, who gave a cruel grin as he faced down the heroes and students.

. . .

“Hey, kid.”

Kota turned to find himself facing down a six-and-a-half-foot tall man in a massive cloak. On his face was what appeared to be a mask with a myriad of holes in it, which slightly muffled his tone. They stood alone on Kota’s cliffside retreat.

“I was trying to find a place where maybe I could find some strong heroes and hero wannabes, but here I find someone who’s not on the objective list. Kid, too. What’re they doin’, making five-year old’s into high school kids?” He chuckled. “Nice hat, too. I’ll trade you for this sh*tty mask.”

That voice.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Kota turned and tried to run, but found his retreat cut off by the goliath, who had somehow leapt onto the wall and back down in the span of an instant. What kind of strength enhancing Quirk would let him do that, if not…

“Cmon, kid… let me get a hit in for that! You’re hurting my feelings.”

He reared back his fist.

“Mommy… daddy!”

Muscular struck.

Izuku and Tsuyu were close to Toga, and she would be doing her… thing.

Moonfish, Mustard, Muscular, and the Nomu would be spreading chaos and neutralizing the kids in the forest, piece by bloody piece.

Magne and Spinner would be keeping the puss*cats back at the launch site at bay, while Compress did his job.

Feedback would be taking Magus out for a spin, and if she had done her job correctly, had already cut off communication with the outside world.

Dabi’s clone would be keeping the pros at the campsite busy.

“Operation Blossoming Lotus…” Dabi, setting the forest aflame, chuckled. “Is now in full effect. Time for the Vanguard Action Squad to have our time in the limelight.”

Chapter 36: Sinfonia del Caos: Movement 2

Chapter Text

“Good evening, ladies, gentlemen, boys, girls, and everything above and in-between! We of the League of Villains Vanguard Action Squad are here on official business! We’d appreciate your cooperation.”

Once more, at the launch site, the puss*cats faced down the pair of villains. The lizard stood at the ready, hand towards the sword that lay on his back, while the other villain stood pressing their steel rod against Pixie-Bob’s head. The puss*cat was down for the count, her visor broken, and an open head wound dribbling blood. The villain pressed in occasionally, briefly flattening the flesh of her skull against the dirt. Pixie-Bob’s captor let out a cruel laugh and glanced back to their compatriot.

“Think I should flatten this girl’s skull? Oh, I bet she bleeds nicely. Older women have thinner blood.” They said. The lizard shrugged, but his attention was drawn elsewhere—his eyes landed squarely on the four scars on Tenya Iida’s face, and then Tenya himself. For a moment, the villain looked starstruck.

“Wait, big sis Magne! You there…” He called. “Scarred man! Reports said that a hero from UA fought alongside Stain against the Lotus Demon and lived to tell the tale. You… fought alongside Stain, against the Lotus Demon! If unintentionally, you battled for the society of true heroes that we, his true followers, seek to make reality.”

“Wait, really?!” Magne’s eyes bulged beneath her shades. “This kid’s the guy who fought the Lotus Demon and lived to tell the tale?!”

Tenya hissed, his eye twitching. Still, he felt the rage brewing deep in his heart from that day, the pain of losing and his acceptance of death. Every day a person looked at his scars and internalized them was another reminder that the Lotus Demon had done far worse than killing him. The pain had long since faded into numbness and faded pink skin, but the wounds had simply entered the landscape of his mind over the canvas of his flesh. “Yes.” He replied, simply. He hoped as much of his rage came through that one word as possible. The lizard dropped to his knees.He was… crying?

“You are a glorious and true hero.” He said. “To have fought with Stain in such a noble goal, I have nothing but respect. Your life is preserved. Know that I am Spinner, he who will spin Stain’s dreams into reality.” Spinner’s words were genuine, filled with an emotion that didn’t fit a villain like him. As he rose, he truly did feel nothing but respect for Tenya Iida, for the man had fought alongside the messiah against the demon and lived.

“To scar a woman who was looking for love, at her age…” Tiger’s anger struck the villains. Sweat beaded down both the enemy’s brows, as they shared glances. “To hurt her in an irreversible way… unforgivable.” Tiger roared, his skirt billowing. Truly, Tiger had never felt as angry as he did now, seeing one of his best friends and trustworthy comrades scarred for life because of the villains before them. As the pro-hero flexed and prepared to attack, the claws on his gloves extended.

“Calm down, puss*cat!” Spinner called out. To make the point, Magne pressed just a bit harder on Pixie-Bob’s head. Blood spurted from the open wound, dribbling into the ground and mixing with the dust to create a thick crimson slurry. As Tiger’s battle fury subsided for his reasoning, the pressure on Pixie-Bob’s head subsided, and Spinner continued. “Heros shouldn’t have the freedom to even have a love life, or a life of their own! It shouldn’t be a profession, but a state of being. This pro is only alive because it is Stain’s will.”

Kirishima’s gaze was drawn between the villains and the cliffs Kota would be at. None of the pros would be fast enough to get to Kota if he was in trouble, and if the fight in the air was any indication, the other pro-hero that was in the area was locked in combat. The only chance Kota had would be Izuku and him, but the latter was too far away, and didn’t know where Kota’s hiding place was. Duty to his comrades, or duty to Kota? Kirishima was conflicted.

“Everyone!” Kirishima heard a voice calling in his head, the tone almost identical to Mandalay. This must be her quirk, a telepathy ability! Sure would come in handy for the situation they were in. “We’re currently under attack by villains. Return to the campsite at once! All students, do not engage in combat!”

Kirishima looked to Mandalay. Deep inside, an idea was brewing. If he had to make a choice between helping his comrades, and helping Kota, he would choose to save both. “Mandalay!” He said, the pro turning back to him. Loading his words with intent, and clenching his fist, he spoke. “I know where Kota is!”

Now it was Mandalay’s turn to be torn. On the one hand, if this child’s plan worked, he’d be able to help not only the situation here, but Kota as well. If his spars with Tiger were any indication, his speed and strength would be enough to do as he intended. But by allowing this boy to fight, she would be putting his life in extreme risk. Could she really put everything onto a boy? She thought, and silently, made her decision.

“Do it.” Mandalay spoke into Kirishima’s mind.

Kirishima willed One For All to his body, and the red warmth that encompassed him whenever he called its power surrounded him. With training, he found he was able to use seventy percent of this strength, in conjunction with his hardening, with comfort. His skin crystallized, and he had called the excess power of One For All in a tenth of a second. In the span of only a half second, Kirishima crouched, angled himself forward, and launched forward.

For a moment, Eijiro knew how Izuku felt, flying. With the wind flying past his hair, adrenaline pumping through his body, the world felt slow and beneath him. A god amongst men. This truly was a wonderful feeling, but it was overshadowed by his hyper-clear consciousness and sense of purpose. As he sped towards the villains at a speed they could not possibly react to, Kirishima reared back his right arm, opened his palm, and twisted his body.

Magne could not make a single move, breath, or sound as the red missile launched past—and at—the villain. When her consciousness caught up to the movement of the boy, Magne felt her body flying, a pain throbbing in her stomach like a sledgehammer had slammed against it. Her rod flew with her but spun into the brush as it grazed a tree. Magne let out a scream of pain and anger in a single breath as she slammed against a tree over ten meters from where Pixie-Bob had been.

Spinner was stunned by the sudden movement of the aspiring hero but could not react to it; the very moment Kirishima had attacked, he was gone, a whiz of air and parting force heading behind him into the forests. As he reached for his sword, Spinner’s focus was drawn to the charging form of Tiger. Without Magne to keep Pixie-Bob hostage, there was nothing between the pro and the combat he so lusted for. As Tiger and Spinner exchanged the first blows, jumbled mess of a sword on fist, Mandalay sent out another message to Kirishima.

“Thanks, kid.” She said. “Get him back safely. I’m counting on you.”

Mandalay didn’t mention that she had tried to contact Kota, just moments before.

“Everyone! We’re currently under attack by villains. Return to the campsite at once! All students, do not engage in combat!”

Shota Aizawa was filled with fury. Not only had his lesson for the remedials on handling oneself in a crisis been interrupted, but that anger didn’t hold a candle to his rage with the police and the villains. The first, for lacking in their vigilance. The second, for even being here in the first place. Shota looked to his muscular comrade, Vlad King.

“Keep the students in here safe. I’m going to help.” Determination was set in Aizawa’s tone. Vlad nodded as Aizawa burst through the door, turning corners and heading towards the door. Idly, he noted the small office where Gunhead was keeping watch was empty. That must have meant the Pro had already head outside and was getting into combat as well. This boded both good, and bad. If Gunhead had already secured the campsite, then all Shota had to do was head towards the launch area and make sure the rest of the students were alright. If it was bad, then the enemy could have already taken him down.

As he exited the building, his heart sank.

Standing only three meters away was a villain, dressed in a deep black trench coat. He stood facing Aizawa halfway, so he could make out a few details. The villain’s neck, hands, and parts of his face were scarred. His eyes were a deep and piercing blue, framed by spiky black hair. The villain’s arms ran with blue flames that flickered and sputtered even now, as he stood over a pile of burned remains. Aizawa’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized the circular metal gauntlets and helmet of Gunhead.

So mercilessly cut down, burned to death by this villain… the cute mannerisms and heroic attitude… Gunhead…

“Pity.” The villain drawled. “I was hoping you’d be the first out the gate, Eraser. Wonder why this clown’s here in your place.”

Shota’s eyes were filled with hate as he unleashed his quirk at the villain and dashed towards him. His enemy had no time to react, nor understand that his quirk had been erased by Aizawa’s, as the teacher’s fist was planted squarely between his eyes. Stars leapt into the villain’s vision as Shota’s restraining cloth was freed from its scarf-like form and wrapped tight around the villain. To follow up the punch and end this utterly one-sided conflict, Aizawa sent his knee hurdling into the villain’s stomach, which was followed up by Aizawa tackling him to the ground.

“Alright, you f*cker.” Aizawa growled, pulling the cloth tight. “You’re going to tell me what you’re here for, or I’ll cook you alive.” The villain let out a lazy laugh.

“You think you’ve got the upper hand, Eraser?”

The villain’s body began to dissolve into a brownish, dry goo, his form dripping away into nothing. The villain laughed as his body was destroyed.

“We’re just getting started.”

“Everyone! We’re currently under attack by villains. Return to the campsite at once! All students, do not engage in combat!”

Izuku and Tsuyu stood alone on the trail, facing down a villain neither of them recognized. With a vampiric mask and scarf, red cardigan and black skirt, and a tank on her back, she looked like the spitting image of a techno-vampire. Only a few moments before she had leapt out asking to… “play”, and had taken a nasty slash at Tsuyu’s arm. Both stared down the woman, yet to Izuku, she seemed… so oddly familiar.

“Are you okay, Tsu?” Izuku asked. Wind curled around his feet, the pebbles and dust flowing like a miniature cyclone. This girl was dangerous, yet that nagging sensation in the back of his mind wouldn't cease; it was like he had met her before, like in a dream.

“I’m alright, it just grazed me.” Tsuyu said. She nursed the wound, applying a gentle pressure to it as she kept her eyes trained upon her. Unlike Izuku, Tsuyu felt no reservations about being openly hostile towards her assailant. Her tongue lolled out of her mouth, at the ready.

“Aww… really shallow. I was hoping to get some more, but it’s okay.” The girl said. She pointed the knife towards the pair. “Tsuyu, and… Izukuuuuuu~!”

… What? Both Tsuyu and Izuku were stunned by the sudden and lovey expression by the woman. They didn’t dare let down their guard for even a moment, as the girl began to spasm, alike she was feeling pleasure at the mere sight of Izuku. What the hell was going on with this crazy chick? Neither could tell.

“I’m Toga, Toga! You’re the angel from my dreams! Smelling like blood and sweat… oh god!” She hugged herself tight, knees buckling, barely. “And I can’t believe I get to be the one to be with you! This is so wonderful, we’re finally meeting, it’s like a red string of fate between us…!”

“… Tsuyu, get back to camp.” Izuku warned. His voice was perfectly level, spreading one hand to the side. He didn’t dare give his friend a glance, as he couldn’t take his eyes off the woman for even a second without risking something seriously bad happening. Tsuyu, however, did look towards Izuku, apprehension in her eyes.

“Deku, are you sure?” She asked, fear in her voice.

“I can outspeed her. You can’t. Get back to camp.” Izuku said. “If she comes after you, I will stop her.”

“O-okay… get back yourself. Quickly.” Tsuyu said. As she turned to make a run for it, Deku readied himself. This would be the moment in which the girl, Toga, would come after her, if she did want to. Tsuyu stepped away from Izuku, and even after enough steps to get her sufficiently out of Toga’s range, the girl never moved, simply hugging herself and convulsing. Izuku spared only a brief glance back to make sure Tsuyu was off the trail, and as she disappeared into the trees, he let out a sigh of relief.

That relief promptly vanished when he felt Toga’s body clash against his, sending them both sprawling. Izuku struggled briefly but found a knife to his throat and a hand to his wrist. Toga had all but mounted and immobilized Izuku, one knee between his legs, and the other pressing against his hip. That was a bad move. Toga leaned in and sniffed Deku, deeply.

“Oh, god, it really is you…” She rubbed her face against his chest. “I can smell it on you… blood and sweat… power… you really are the angel.”

“W-what do you want? What’re you talking about?” Deku asked, but Toga pressed one finger to his lips, and let out a long ‘shhhhhhhhhhhh’. She grinded against Deku’s hip.

“Not now, my sweet angel of death…” Toga said, husky. “Just relax… and go with the flow.”

Kirishima dashed as fast as he possibly could. Even with One For All empowering each and every stride he took, it was still taking a significant amount of time to get to Kota’s hill. From the launch site, the overlook was an hour away by foot, but with Kirishima’s speed, it would take only twenty seconds.

“Please…”

Kirishima begged no one as he took another step, leaving a deep gouge in the earth as his body rocked through the trees. The hardness of his body and the speed Eijiro was going at shattered younger trees, and left dents in the larger ones. Subconsciously, Kirishima was drawing on higher and higher percentages of One For All, the desperation in his soul making his power rise.

Running. Three more steps. If Kota was okay, this was the opportunity Kirishima needed! To show him that a hero is there to help him, to keep him safe! He’d be able to show Kota the true meaning of being a hero. The first person he’d save from danger in a real situation, the first act as a hero. This was his chance to set things straight.

Two more steps. He was so close to the hills now, vegetation begun to grow sparse as he stood on the rocks. If Kota was okay… he would be the person to become his hero.

One more step. The last one would send him hurtling up to the cliffside. He would be there for Kota. If he was okay, he’d be able to help him back to camp safely, and Mandalay would be so happy…

Kirishima launched himself upward.

If Kota was okay…

He came over the crest of the cliff.

If…

When Kirishima landed, what he saw was not Kota alone, frightened by what was happening in the forests. What he saw was not Kota facing down a villain, the villain ready to strike, and Kirishima arriving in the nick of time to save him. What Kirishima saw was too horrible for him to comprehend… and so, he simply stood, numb. Time, wind, sound, feeling, all things stopped.

The villain stood, alone, on a cliff. His arm was bloodied, covered in gore and viscera. Only a few paces from his body were a pair of young legs, the shorts torn to shreds and wettened by blood. Further away was the torso that the legs belonged to, dented into the wall, destroyed beyond recognition. The face was pressed into the stone, arms bent at unnatural angles, shirt torn apart by the force of the blow that had killed him. The strike the villain had used had torn the body in half, spine and intestines hanging out and dripping slowly to the earth. They were still warm.

Atop the villain’s head of blonde hair was a hat.

It had two spikes.

Kirishima could do nothing but stare blankly at the villain, who stared blankly back at Kirishima. Unlike Kirishima’s the villain’s eyes were the cold sheen of a lizard; a hunter, a killer who murdered without remorse… and enjoyed it. The barest hint of a smile could be seen on his lips, as he glanced briefly down at his gore spattered arm. Kirishima dropped to his knees.

Silence reigned.

“Well, lookie here.” The villain said, sauntering a step closer. “Another guy to have fun with. Name's Muscular, and you’re not on the list of objectives, which must mean you’re a guy I can play with.”

Kirishima was silent. His stomach felt as if it was tying itself into a cosmic singularity, his head hot with a rage that had never even crossed his mind. The pure, unguarded fires of malice burned within him, yet his gut was filled with a despair that rivaled the depths of the oceans. The conflict between the two extremes of sadness and hatred clashed in his middle and made him motionless. The villain took another step. The sound of his boot on stone brought him back, for the moment of just one word.

“Why?” Kirishima’s voice echoed in his own mind, devoid of thought for fear that a single conscious consideration would shatter his psyche. But in the time it took for the villain to consider this word, thoughts returned in a wave.

Fault. Fault. Your fault. Weren’t fast enough. Weren’t strong enough. Needed to act faster. Did you think you could help him? You’re not a hero. Your fault. Your fault! YOUR FAULT.

“Because I wanted to, and because I can.” He said, grinning. “This world is kill or be killed, kid. The strong eats up the weak, no matter how weak they are. I’m just doing my part as the apex predator.”

He wouldn’t have killed him if you were faster. Stronger. Better. You didn’t train hard enough. You’re not enough of a man. Strength. Use all your strength. Every drop of it. IT WAS YOUR FAULT. No it wasn’t… YES IT WAS. KILL YOURSELF. No… Kill…

“You think… you’re at the top?” Kirishima asked. His arms dropped to the dirt. When had tears begun to stream down his face? Why didn’t he feel them?

Kota is dead, and it’s all your fault. Kota is gone. He’ll never become a hero like you wanted. He died thinking I’d come and save him at the last moment. He died thinking you would be there for him. Thinking that a hero would be there. A hero… you’re not a hero. It’s your fault. Fault… Kill… Your… him… his… fault.

“Yeah. ‘Cause I’m still alive, and everyone who’s fought me before has died. What’s there to call me but the guy at the top of the food chain?” The villain took another step. He was within two paces of Kirishima. “People consumed by their thoughts, their stupid attachments and grudges… don’t deserve to be called the best heroes or villains. So, let me end your little dream with a lesson.” He raised his arm, strands of pinkish muscle curling from his skin.

No… it’s not your fault.

“I… am the top.”

“What?” Muscular asked. At that moment, the child before him that was meant to be quivering in despair and anguish, straightened up. The child, the lamb that was meant to be weak and helpless before the lion, was straightening without fear. His blank eyes were filled with something he had only seen in his mirror. Pure murderous intent.

It’s HIS fault.

“Let me show you…”

KILL HIM!

“… What happens when you make a man cruel.”

Kirishima let out a scream that threatened to burst his throat open. The flames of One For All not only responded to his orchestra, his symphony of chaotic despair and hate, but they roared in agreement. The once pure red fires that leapt from his skin were tinted black with the intent he held in his heart. Red hot agony filled him, but Kirishima ignored it as he turned his body to its crystalline, hardened form.

As the flames of One For All illuminated not only his body, but the surrounding area, the force of Kirishima’s will alone pushed back Muscular. Muscular’s eye was nearly bulging as he witnessed the sheer force being gathered into every muscle of the child. Like a raging bonfire, Muscular’s own strength and murderous prowess was naught but a candle in comparison with the power of Kirishima. Winds whistled and flowed along with the force exerted by the scarlet youth, blowing Muscular’s hair out of its explosive shock and into a tousled mess.

“What the… hell?” Fear. Actual fear was running through every ounce of Muscular’s soul. He had never felt a deep and animalistic level of terror in his life. Fight and flight had switched only to flight, as his body screamed at him to run. He would be killed if he stayed. Run. Run. Run. But Muscular knew that if he took a single step away, the child would kill him without mercy.

“One For All…” Kirishima said. The fire slowly begun to die down, the whirlwind of metaphysical flames beginning to cling to his skin and rage outwards like a pyre. It cracked the earth beneath him. It shattered the winds in its place. The eyes of the child darkened, his whites becoming an impenetrably deep black, his irises glowing an electric scarlet. His pupils changed with the sheer energy of his transformation, curving into cat-like slits. His hair crackled with raging heat and lighting. His tears flowed away with the wind.

“… Shattered Boundary.”

Chapter 37: Sinfonia del Caos: Movement 3

Chapter Text

“Young Kirishima, I’m impressed with the power you can put out.” All Might said, his smiling and emaciated form standing over the child. “But let me give you some advice on using that power.

For nights on end, Kirishima and All Might had been at the beach, clearing away trash. Destroying it, hauling it to a truck the adult had rented, all to get used to the power of One For All. The strength of it would be useful in the finals, but if he was wielding a wildcard, it might hurt him more than help him. As Kirishima was blasting another mount of garbage into powder, All Might had spoken up.

“Uh—Yeah! Of course, All Might!” Kirishima replied, facing his mentor fully.

“One For All gains its power from the previous users, growing stronger as it’s passed down. I told you that, right?” The man asked.

“Yeah, growing exponentially more and more powerful with each new user.” Kirishima nodded.

“Well, there is… a power beyond that.”

“Huh?” Eijiro tilted his head. All Might rubbed the back of his head.

“In times of extreme duress, adrenaline, emotion, or simply calling on it, One For All can do much more than the limit that you’ve been feeling. That one hundred percent is more like… half of One For All’s full potential. Using more than the limit, that 100%, can really break you out of just about any pinch.”

“Like when you were fighting that big guy at USJ?” Kirishima asked. “You were hitting him so hard it was actually overpowering his shock absorption. I just thought that villain was bluffing about it, but…”

“Nope. There really is a limit you can go past. In fact, it’s a limit every user of One For All has to break at some point, but only a little. That’s how it grows.” All Might squatted before Kirishima. “But… I need to warn you. No person is meant to break past One For All’s limit without significant training. If you do shatter the boundary too early… you could be irreversibly damaged.”

“Damaged, sir?” Kirishima said, blinking.

“Yes. Imagine One For All as a campfire in the forest. When it burns at its greatest, contained, it’s a mighty bonfire. But, when unleashed, it burns the forest along with it; your body. The power grows greater than any other, but if you’re unprepared for it, you could be literally killing yourself as you use it.”

“So, if I really need to use that power… I just need to be careful?” Kirishima said, looking contemplative.

“Yes. If you ever have to shatter the boundary before you can use One For All at 100% comfortably… be very careful. Even I don’t know what happens if you go beyond the limit for more than a few seconds at a time.”

. . .

The bright red aura of Kirishima’s form illuminated the area like a star. Muscular could barely look directly at the youth without shielding his one good eye. The sheer weight of Eijiro’s aura stuck Muscular in place like glue, as Kirishima observed his hand, turning it over and back. He formed a fist, then released it. He felt the depths of One For All screaming in his soul.

Then, his gaze settled on Muscular. As the villain’s eye adjusted to the light of Kirishima’s aura, he was able to see his opponent’s gaze with striking clarity. The boy was blank. Devoid of any thought that Muscular could perceive. It was frightening to see such a deep, empty stare. He looked at it and saw only himself looking back at him.

Truly, Eijiro felt nothing. Time compressed for Muscular, as the youth casually walked past his enemy. Muscular couldn’t even tell that, in the span of a heartbeat, Kirishima had simply walked to the cliff behind him. When Kirishima became still again, time once more seemed to flow for the villain. He looked left and right for Eijiro, before the latter spoke. In the time it would have taken for Muscular to even think of reacting, Kirishima had walked ten meters.

“Huh.” He said, balling his fist. His voice was hollow. “Didn’t you say… you wanted to play?”

Muscular turned, taking on a fighting stance, yet sweat was running down his entire body. This was a fight he had no chance in hell of winning. A part of him, that broken, irrational, and psychopathic part, loved this opportunity. The ability to finally be killed by an opponent far stronger than him. Yet the sane part of his mind, what little remained of it, screamed in terror and begged his muscles to run away. Yet, he couldn’t; or perhaps, wouldn’t.

“Let’s see you go first.” Eijiro said.

Trembling, Muscular reached into one of his pockets, and from it, pulled out a false red and black eye. If he was going to fight this kid, right now, he couldn’t afford to hold anything back. He tore off his shirt, and from his skin, the pinkish and stringy flesh of his muscles leapt out and curled around his form. This buffed him out to the point where he was at least double his size. Muscles curled around his legs and burst his pants, inflating him and increasing his strength. As the villain buffed out, a shred of confidence returned. Surely, going all out like this, he would win. Nobody had won when he was at full power.

He crouched, and leapt at Kirishima, right arm reared back to strike. Kirishima didn’t move.

Muscular punched.

Kirishima… caught Muscular’s fist. Without even trembling, or moving beyond that impossibly fast block, the young boy had stopped what had to have been at least 500,000 psi, without even breaking a sweat or moving beyond such a casual motion. As Muscular went to move away, to ready himself for another strike. Eijiro’s hand crushed down on Muscular’s.

The pain was immense. It felt as if a train had pinned his fist down, even through his muscles. He tried as hard as he could to scream, yet for some reason, even that was too difficult. Once more he looked towards Kirishima’s face, hoping to see something in those black and red eyes. Bloodlust, anger, sadness… something. Still, he saw a mirror-like sheen staring back at him. Unable to move, he roared in a mix of agony and battle fury and reared back his left arm to deliver a blow he hoped would both damage his enemy and let him escape from the bind.

Kirishima flexed his arm, and moved it casually over his shoulder, like he was throwing a piece of trash into a bin without a care in the world. Muscular was raised and tossed like living garbage.

Muscular shot over the forests at a speed rivalling a jet. He felt his body being torn apart by the sheer force of breaking the sound barrier, even through his muscles’ protection. Muscular gasped for air, croaking, gurgling, trying to make a sound to signify his pain and shock. He was unable to comprehend the speed at which he flew, having soared a mile away from where the battle had begun in only a second. Yet, as he twisted his head, he saw something red and blazing appear in front of him, in the air.

Was this… god? He saw it rear back for a punch. God… god was here to kill him. That was what his opponent was. A living god of battle.

“Colorado smash.” Kirishima said, voice barely above a whisper, and holding no inflection.

A fist met Muscular’s stomach as he attempted to buff himself up to protect himself. If his quirk required even a millisecond longer to come into effect, the blow would have ran him through. Yet, pink strands of muscle came to his aid just in time to dull the injury from death down to what had to have been a broken ribcage and shattered discs in his backbone. Just as fast as he was flying through the air, he was now hurtling towards the earth. In the span of a breath, Muscular had struck the ground with the fury and thunderous boom of an earthquake.

His body left a crater the width of a skyscraper in the earth. Trees ruptured and broke in the wake of the impact, bowing backwards, the earth splitting beneath him and breaking apart in long cracks. The power unleashed was not unlike the detonation of a great bomb, with Muscular at its epicenter. Where one would have expected Kirishima to land with similar strength, instead he hit the earth as silently and gracefully as a cat.

Man… this kid is the best. Muscular thought. As he was being driven into the dirt without mercy, or even an attempt by this hero to “save” him, he laughed internally. His mind and body could do nothing but think and exist, breathe in and breathe out. Blood flowed internally and externally through myriad gashes and cuts that now covered him. Never thought I’d make a hero give up everything… just to kill me. Not a bad way to go… Kirishima advanced.

In these moments before his inevitable death, Muscular considered his life. His abusive upbringing, his love for killing and hurting others, killing Water Hose, losing his eye, joining the League of Villains, attacking Chiyoda, killing the child, and now… here. Was everything he had done up to this point worth the cost? Was it truly worth losing his humanity, his chance at a long life, his eye, all to indulge in his savagery? Muscular felt only one thing towards his life, and towards the boy who was only a few steps away from killing him.

He was grateful. Grateful he had lived a life without serving the society that would smother him. Grateful that he had stuck to his ideals, no matter if the world saw him as right or wrong. Grateful that he had made this child angry. And finally, grateful that he would be killed by a demon that he himself made.

Yes… this was a good life.

Kirishima closed the distance and lifted Muscular up by his hair. The villain’s body had shut down, unable to deal with the pain. Only his eye gazed at Kirishima, all but blinded by his radiance and by the agony. The red “hero’s” fist was reared back, ready to deal the final blow. Tears streamed openly down his opponent’s blood streaked face.

“Texas…”

This was truly…

“… Smash.”

A life worth living.

One Minute Earlier

“Dammit!” Todoroki cursed. Though they were away from both the flames, and the pink gas that was filling the area, he was still too far away from camp to be of any help. On his back was one of the students from 1-B, a plain looking kid whose name he had no recollection of. He had been knocked unconscious by a lightning bolt that had struck near him, hurling rocks into his head as he was scaring Shinso and he. Shinso dashed with Todoroki. “We’re still a while off from camp.”

“Damn.” Shinso cursed. “If we stay on the trail, we should be alright. Forest’s probably crawling with villains on both sides.” He said. Todoroki nodded.

Both children were anxious. While the duo could handle themselves in a fight perfectly well, it didn’t stop the stress from getting to them. This wasn’t a simulation, as far as they knew. This was the real deal. If they came upon combat, they would have to run. If they disobeyed a direct order, it could get them in more trouble than just with class.

However, a gurgling sound stopped them in their tracks.

As they rounded a corner on the trail, they faced down a man in a black latex suit. Black cuffs were on his arms, legs, and head, studded with red spikes. He was faced away from the pair, wheezing and twisting in place… looking down at a severed and bloody arm. Todoroki and Shinso were dead silent.

“Meat… meat… no, mission… but meat…” He moaned, pushing against his restraints. “Delicious meat… mission. Stay focused or won’t get a treat. Focused…” The villain said. Todoroki and Shinso took a single step backwards, but that was enough of a sound to draw his attention. The villain curled his head over his shoulder in a sickly, unnatural fashion. “Play… things. Kids…”

“sh*t.” Todoroki glanced back, and spotted the gas slowly approaching up the trail. Caught between the frying pan and the fire. They still couldn’t fight, not without permission from one of the teachers. Things were looking worse and worse by the second.

An explosion of a sonic boom came from overhead. Shinso looked up to see what seemed like a massive, fleshy comet soaring through the air, followed closely behind by a red comet. Seriously, what the hell was going on? USJ, Hosu, and now this… was this what 1-A got up to for kicks? Part of him missed general education now. Only a moment later came a second explosion, which was far closer. It sounded like a building collapsing and cracked the earth beneath them. A dust cloud erupted where the impact presumably was, a while off. Just what that was about, Shinso had no time to consider.

Spires of silver blades came from the villain’s mouth, shooting towards Shinso and Todoroki. The latter pressed himself to the ground, shielding the student from 1-B, and unleashing a wall of ice to block the onslaught of swords. He let out a breath, allowing a bit of the chill to escape. The villain moaned and raised himself up by the strange blades extending from his teeth. Using them, he seemed to fling himself to the side, and unleashed another onslaught of flashing teeth. This too was blocked by Todoroki’s ice, raising in another wall. Once more the villain dodged away, and flung himself into the treeline.

“Son of a bitch.” Shinso said, glancing around. “This guy’s maneuverable. Keep an eye out.”

“Yeah.” Todoroki said, keeping himself low. They needed permission to fight. If they didn’t get that much, they were doomed. “Who was in front of us when this test started?”

“Shoji and Tokoyami.” Shinso replied, resuming his scanning just as quickly.

Tokoyami. If he had lost control of Dark Shadow, at a time like this… things were just going from bad to worse.

Concurrent

As Aizawa begun to make a break for the staging area, halfway there he ran into the fleeing group of 1-A students. Uraraka, Iida, Ojiro, and Koda were running past—Uraraka seemed the most reluctant of the lot to flee from the conflict, but she knew it had to be done. Aizawa looked to Iida, and nodded, the other three continuing as Tenya paused to speak to his teacher.

“What’s the situation?” Aizawa asked.

“Two villains are fighting the puss*cats, sir. Students are still in the forest. Kirishima went to help the child, Kota. The situation right now isn’t under control.” Tenya relayed. Aizawa cursed under his breath. His anger was only growing.

The eruption of air and sound that was a sonic boom roared through the area, causing Tenya and Aizawa to jump. They looked to the skies to spot a crimson meteor rocketing through the stars, following and surpassing a pink object. That red color and speed could only mean Kirishima had engaged in combat against the wishes of both him and the puss*cats. Aizawa reminded himself to scold that little f*cking firebrand later. For now, however, he needed to legalize the acts of self defense that were about to go on.

“Iida.” Shota said. “Get back to camp. If you don’t hear a message about it within the next twenty seconds, authorize the students for combat on the honor of Eraserhead.”

“Yes sir!” Tenya saluted. Fire erupted from the engines on his calves and sent him hurtling back towards the camp as fast as his quirk could carry him. Aizawa sprinted the other direction. Mandalay’s telepath would be able to relay the message faster and more efficient than anyone else.

A second explosion of force came from far away. This time, a massive plume of dust and earth had been sent up by the impact, reaching high into the sky. While he was running, Eraserhead just had to consider how strong Kirishima was. If that really was him turning a villain into paste, he was easily as strong as, or stronger than, All Might. He felt the earth shaking and cracking under his feet. How the hell could a kid like that have a hardening quirk alongside that much strength?

Some things just weren’t fair. More importantly, was the villain going to be alive after taking the punishment Kirishima was dealing out? Disobeying orders to not enter combat was one thing. Killing someone… Aizawa had to get to him once the message was relayed.

As Aizawa broke into the staging area, he found himself facing a fierce battle between a villain in tourist clothes and a lizard. Mandalay was up against the lizard, while Tiger was beating the tourist to a pulp. It would almost be a sketch comedy routine, if anyone was there to laugh and not battle for their lives.

Aizawa unleashed his quirk towards the tourist villain. If his experience was any indication, it was sometimes the plainest looking enemy that was the most dangerous. His hair flowing, the teacher called out to his friend. “Mandalay!”

Eraserhead’s appearance shocked Spinner, and bought Mandalay a split second to act. She used the opportunity to pivot and kick Spinner in the jaw, sending him to the dirt. She glanced back towards Eraser, offering a quick nod.

“Send out the following message! All students are authorized to fight on the word of Eraserhead!”

Mandalay’s will was extended outward in a distorting wave, sending out the message as directed. As Spinner began to rise again, Mandalay tackled the villain and pinned him, pulling his leg up. As Aizawa began to run again, the puss*cat called after him. “Where are you going?!”

“I’m going to help Kirishima. He’s in combat.” Aizawa didn’t dare look back to confirm with Mandalay. Every second wasted was another moment that Eijiro could be killing someone. He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

. . .

Aizawa had never seen such destruction in his life.

He had been in city-wide gang wars, fighting alongside heroes as a city burned around him. He had been in collapsing buildings, carrying out civilians and fighting enemies at the same time. Shota Aizawa had seen a lot of things in his time on this earth, but nothing like the force of nature before him.

He stood at the rim of a crater. Dust surrounded him, having fallen only a short time ago. Behind him were trees bowed backwards by the force of the impact that had created the crater, and beneath him, the earth had cracked in great lines of destruction. Had Kirishima done this himself? Was this the power of the quirk he had, or was this the villain’s strength manifested?

Shota slid down the crater’s edge and watched as a bright red fire at the epicenter of the destruction came into view. Debris and dust swirled from the ghostly flames, as if the existence of such an aura was disobeying the laws of nature. As the obscuring mist of trash cleared, Aizawa saw the form of Kirishima, in ripped casual clothes. His hair was burning and crackling with ethereal electricity, his eyes pitch black and neon red, just like… just like All Might’s.

Too much information was passing through Aizawa’s skull, as he watched Kirishima holding a villain by his hair, rearing back a fist.

“Texas… smash.” The boy said, almost too quiet for Eraserhead to hear. Eraser screamed.

“KIRISHIMA!”

The young boy’s fist stopped only an inch before his enemy’s face. Black eyes looked back at Aizawa, devoid of expression beyond cold detachment. How much power was Kirishima using right now? How much had he wounded himself? Was it only the adrenaline running through him keeping him up? Shota couldn’t risk using his quirk to keep the villain alive, at the chance of hurting Kirishima. Tears were streaming down Kirishima’s blood spattered face.

“Mr… Aizawa.” He said. Still, the child’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Kirishima… I don’t know what he did to deserve this. And I’m sure, in your mind, he does. But you can’t kill another person. No matter what. If you do, you’re no better than a vigilante or a villain.” Aizawa said. His face had been twisted into a mask of concern, the fury he had once had for his student long passed into fear… fear that this child would kill someone.

“It’s okay, Mr. Aizawa.” Kirishima said. “I’m okay. I just need to do this… one last thing. Even he wants me to do it, so really, it’s nothing much more than hero assisted suicide.” The flatness and lack of inflection in Kirishima’s tone haunted Aizawa. It was the voice of a man who had seen something he cared about ripped apart in front of him. The only reason Kirishima could be feeling this way would be because... If Kirishima was going to save Kota and had become this angry… Kota… oh, god.

“Kirishima. I… please.” Aizawa begged. Even now, as realization filled him, tears were threatening to break from him as well. He hadn’t known the child well, but Kirishima cared for him to an almost unreal degree. Empathy flowed through Shota like a tide. “Please. Don’t do this.” More than that, Aizawa could literally see the bones breaking in Kirishima’s body, every time he moved. Every single twitch or spasm that racked his body, unfelt by the young boy, was another bone shattered. Such unimaginable agony only dulled by the depths of his loss. How much of a toll was his body paying to sustain his quirk’s power? Truly, if Aizawa erased his quirk, the boy may have died from the shock of pain alone.

The villain did something unexpected, in that moment. His right arm was wrapped in pinkish muscle and extended outward and up in a savage uppercut. It struck Kirishima in the jaw, sending him flying. Aizawa’s mouth gaped as he watched the student fly, and the villain slump to his knees, barely able to move again. One last death throe before his body shut down, but as the teacher watched, he could tell it wasn’t enough to even come close to killing Eijiro.

It didn’t hurt Kirishima. He felt the sting only gently, like an annoyance or a burn against him. Even as he flew upwards, all he felt now was the cold silence filling his soul. But even that was denied of him, as he began to feel the pain… and allowed the unfathomable depths of his hate and fury fill him. Thoughts came with it. Kota. Kota. Kota. KOTA. KOTA! He screamed, and using his feet, kicked, and jetted himself back down to the earth.

“EIJIRO, DON—”

Kirishima’s fist entered Muscular’s face, and exited through the back of his skull.

Three minutes later

“Hey guys~!”

The voice of Toga called from the brush, coming up on Dabi and Twice. The former’s blaze setting was over, and appeared to be looking towards the campsite, while the latter was squatting and tossing rocks. As Himiko emerged from the trees, Dabi and Twice looked towards her.

“Took you long enough. Get him?” He asked.

“Yuuup!” Toga grinned. Over her shoulder was the partially clothed and still bleeding form of Izuku Midoriya. His pants had been shoddily put on, his shirt torn, and fresh shallow wounds dotting his form. Unconscious, thankfully. Twice and Dabi both looked blankly at the crazy girl.

“… He’s not dead, right?” Dabi asked.

“Noooope!” She replied, cheery as ever.

Now, Dabi was many things. Vicious murderer. Villain. Arsonist. Admirer of the hero killer stain. Twice was only two of these things. However, both had a silent agreement in their mind that certain lines just didn’t exist to be crossed. Granted, it was certainly different for Toga to be the aggressor in this case, but it still sent an oily pang of disturbance down their spines.

“Woah, that’s hella weird!” Twice said, gesticulating. “And pretty cool.” His second voice came out, deeper than the first. “But mostly weird!”

“Shut up, Twice.” Dabi groaned, rubbing his face. He pressed into his ear, where a communicator lay gently nestled. “All agents, package is secure. Move to stage two and reconvene at the ‘amphitheater’ in five minutes.” Dabi said. He nodded his head towards the campsite. “C’mon, let’s finish this.”

Chapter 38: Sinfonia del Caos: Ode to Oblivion

Chapter Text

“Attention all students! You are all permitted to fight on the word of Eraserhead! Attack as needed!”

Tokoyami barely heard the words as his form was enveloped by the viscous gloam of Dark Shadow. He’d allowed his own quirk to take over his body out of rage, seeing Shoji hurt by the villain only moments before… and he hadn’t even managed to hurt the villain. Giving up everything for absolutely nothing. How utterly foolish. Even now, he screamed and struggled against the black monster that covered his head and shackled his arms, but he couldn’t break free.

This was truly the worst he had ever felt in his life. Worse than the time he had gotten scared by a movie as a child at night and unleashed Dark Shadow, only for it to destroy his living room. Now there was a very real chance he could kill someone. Thankfully, whatever had just left a crater in the earth hadn’t attracted the rampaging darkness.

There had to be some way to break free. He struggled in vain, thinking and pulling against the bonds of shadow. In these moments, he thought to what he had been told by Tiger, during quirk training.

”Listen up, kid.” Tiger had said, standing in front of the mouth of a cave. They overlooked the plateau where other students were beginning their training. “Your quirk goes out of control when you’re enveloped in darkness, right?”

“Correct.” Tokoyami had replied, placing a hand on his stomach. “Its power increases exponentially, but I’ve never been able to control it like I do in the light.”

“Then you need to practice with it in the dark. If you can find some way to calm it down while it’s going apeshi—bonkers, then you’ll be more effective than ever.” Tiger said, wagging his finger. “Get a trigger to get it under control and control it as best you can inside there. That’s your training. Got it?”

“Yes sir.”

It was true. Tokoyami had found a trigger that would be able to calm Dark Shadow down, but it had mixed results. Sometimes it only made the monster angrier, and other times, it had made it controllable for a few minutes. He just had to get to his phone to play it… an old song his grandfather had loved to sing to him to calm him down. Partially because of Dark Shadow, Tokoyami was afraid of the dark, back then. But whenever his father and grandfather had sung the song to him, he felt better.

Evidently, it made Dark Shadow feel better, too… or it pissed it off.

Tokoyami struggled against the bonds of Dark Shadow, reaching for his pocket. Slowly, he was making progress. This was more than just a struggle to retain control… this was a struggle to be a hero. This was how he would unlock the power that he needed to take his place among the greatest of them all. If Tokoyami could tame his quirk at full strength, he could win any fight.

As Dark Shadow was distracted by attacking birds and passing sounds, Tokoyami got his hand in his pocket, and pulled out his phone. Shaking fingers unlocked the phone with his thumprint, and opened Spotify. He hoped the song was there…

There!

He pressed play, and a tiny voice came out after a short pause.

“When the light is running low, and the shadows start to grow…

“TOKOYAMIII!” Dark Shadow roared. Its thunderous basso was the voice of an angered hurricane. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

“Calming you… down!” Tokoyami grunted. The bonds only grew tighter. “You need to… help me… fight!”

“And the places that you know, seem like fantasy…”

“STOP IT!” Dark Shadow screamed, clutching its head. “GET IT OUT OF MY HEAD!”

“There’s a light inside your soul, that’s still shining in the cold, with the truth… the promise in our, hearts…”

“Do you remember… when grandfather would sing this… to calm us down?! Dark Shadow! REMEMBER!” Tokoyami screamed. The bonds were getting so tight they threatened to break his bones. This wasn’t working, but he had to hope and pray that it would.

“STOOOOOP!” Dark Shadow rampaged, bursting trees and the earth beneath it like a child throwing a tantrum. “I GOTTA KILL THAT BASTARD! I HAVEN’T HAD ENOUGH FUN!”

“Don’t forget…”

Tokoyami, wheezing in pain, his lungs pressing against his ribs barely moments from snapping, sung with the last verse of the song. “I’m with you… in… the dark.”

Dark Shadow screamed, slamming its fists against the earth rapidly. It grabbed trees and threw them wildly, snapping the forest around it. Dark Shadow was rampaging even harder than it was before. Dark Shadow, too, was afraid of the dark, and this song only reminded it of its fear. It was going even wilder than before. Tokoyami held his breath. Would it work?

Slowly, Dark Shadow gasped for air, clutching itself. As it breathed, gaining a sense of composure, Tokoyami felt the bonds slowly loosening. He laughed in relief and rested against Dark Shadow. Crying openly, he placed a hand against the gloomy avatar to comfort it.

“It’s okay, Dark Shadow. I’m with you. I forgive you.” He said, choking through tears. Tokoyami watched from its mouth as viscous black fluid dripped from Dark Shadow’s eyes. It, too, was crying.

“I’m just so mad, Tokoyami… we gotta fight that guy.” Dark Shadow, calmed, said. Its voice was no calmer, but it was softer. “And I could have hurt Shoji…”

“I know. We’ll apologize later.” Tokoyami replied. “Now… let’s get that villain.”

As Dark Shadow begun to roar and crawl towards where he had seen the villain going, Tokoyami smiled. Truly, the fact this worked meant that he could become one of the greatest heroes. He couldn’t let his own pride consume him, however; he had a job to do.

Even with the permission to fight, Todoroki and Shinso were struggling.

The permission had come just as the strange villain had left the treeline and resumed combat, shooting blade after blade of teeth at them. Shinso had tried to make him respond to taunts, but clearly, the villain was not talkative. All he needed was a one-word reply, but he couldn’t even get that. Todoroki was rapidly creating ice walls and sending out small jets of fire, careful not to ignite the forest.

If this kept up, they were going to be minced.

“This is bad.” Todoroki said, back against Shinso and the proverbial wall. “We’re running out of room to dodge. I can’t make ice above us.”

“This villain isn’t talking. I can’t get my quirk to work unless he replies. Shinso said, clutching the edge of his shirt. “If only I had my gear…”

Suddenly, the ground begun to shake again. Shinso sighed, but this time, the titanic impact were coming their way. That was a bit concerning. Someone broke from the trees ahead of it, though. Shinso recognized it as a man from 1-A, but Todoroki knew his name—Shoji, his six arms flexing and masked face slashed lightly. He was down one arm. Was that the arm the villain had been looking at?

“Tokoyami’s coming this way. I don’t know if he got Dark Shadow under control or not, but take cover!” He yelled. Todoroki and Shinso hit the deck. The villain sent out a wave of blades towards Shoji, screaming about meat. The blades were poised to strike the aspiring hero in the heart…

When a great clawed hand of shadow intercepted it. The dark palm grabbed the teeth and raised its hand, slamming downward. The villain yelped in surprise as his teeth splintered, and his body was mercilessly driven into the earth face down. Tokoyami and Dark Shadow broke from the treeline, a titanic mass of darkness that was easily twenty meters tall. Unlike in light, its eyes were an angry red.

“Todoroki!” Shoji yelled, hiding behind one of the child’s walls of ice. “You need to calm him down! Make fire and—”

“I’M FINE!” Tokoyami screamed from the depths of Dark Shadow. Though he sounded like he was still in considerable pain, he sounded reassuring. “Dark Shadow… is under control for now!”

“Meat…” The villain said, moaning as Dark Shadows tendrilled mass curled around the area. “I’m the only one… who gets to kill these kids… I need to see them bleeding!” His blades were slowly raising him off the ground. The latex over one of his eyes had torn away, revealing a single bloodshot and quite insane eye. With lightning swiftness, Moonfish unleashed a wave of his blade teeth, and yelled. “DON’T TAKE THEM FROM ME!”

Dark Shadow caught the blades in its hand like grasping slow moving spaghetti from a package. As Moonfish had the moment to consider, among his maddened thoughts, the phrase ‘I’m f*cked’, Dark Shadow laughed. “You are nothing… but an insignificant speck!” It grasped Moonfish.

Sweeping its hand, the god of destruction that was the enraged Dark Shadow flung its hand back as if readying for a pitch, before swinging. The claws holding Moonfish slammed into the trees, clearing away at least ten, breaking the body of the villain upon each one. After Dark Shadow had reached the end of its reach, it opened its palm, letting the villain fly at bone shattering speeds into the forest. Moonfish slammed into a tree and slid down, a few kilometers per hour short from being pulped.

Shinso, Shoji, and Todoroki were left in awe of the power of Dark Shadow. Where Todoroki and Shinso were struggling to even get a hit in on the villain, Tokoyami had ruthlessly squashed the enemy like a bug. Dark Shadow turned towards the trio, and for a moment, they too feared to be crushed. But rather than attacking, Dark Shadow placed down a palm. It looked at the students with barely contained rage.

“Climb on!” Tokoyami called. “We need to go on the offensive!” The three students climbed onto Dark Shadow’s palm. The titan slowly raised them so they would rest on its head. Twenty meters up, they were able to see the layout of the forest. The massive crater only a kilometer away, the pink gas that was… slowly dissipating? And the flames that raged near camp. Dark Shadow tore away from stillness, flattening trees and sending out massive tufts of dust and dirt as it “walked” towards camp.

“What do you mean offensive, Tokoyami?” Todoroki asked, having to yell over the whistling wind and explosions of force beneath them. “Mandalay said ‘as needed’!”

“I know.” Tokoyami replied. He too was yelling to be heard. “But we need to make sure everyone else is alright, and that means going on the offensive. We’re going to head towards that fire.”

Dark Shadow began to speed towards the blue flames, with the students on board.

Back at the staging area, the puss*cats had emerged victorious. Spinner lay pinned to the earth, Mandalay’s knee between his shoulder blades and her palm on the back of his head. Tiger had activated his quirk and wrapped his body around Magne, who struggled in vain to break free from the unbreakable chains of flesh that surrounded her.

“sh*t!” Spinner cursed, pushing against Mandalay in vain. “You got some good moves, hero, but you’re still nothing against the everburning flame of Sta—”

Mandalay slammed Spinner’s face into the dirt. “Just shut up already, you tacky cosplayer.” She said. Spinner continued to curse and spit into the dirt.

“This is a big pinch, Spinner!” Magne yelled, pushing further against Tiger. Every push she did, however, just made the hero wrap tighter.

“Stop squirming.” He said, before calling to Mandalay. “Mandalay! Have you been able to contact Ragdoll yet?! She’s supposed to be at the halfway point!”

“No, not yet!” Mandalay said, hissing. “sh*t… she always responds so quickly. What happened to her?”

An ethereal voice called from the air, deep and resonant. “Let me answer your question with an action.”

Mists curled around Magne and Spinner, ignoring Mandalay and Tiger completely. Winds rustled and flowed away from the cracks in reality that formed with the black mist. Spinner was sucked through the earth, and the mists surrounding him dissipated. Magne was enveloped in similar darkness and disappeared just as quickly. Tiger and Mandalay were left wrapped around and straddling open air, respectively.

“Where’d they go?!” Tiger roared.

“Tiger!” Mandalay said. “Get back to camp and make sure the students are alright! I need to find Ragdoll and get the students in the forest back!”

The puss*cats ran towards their destinations. As Mandalay began to run into the forests, she noted that something was rapidly approaching from the groves, in a series of explosions. Was this the same villain that had caused the destruction only minutes before? As she got in the path of the carnage, Mandalay assumed a fighting stance. A great fibrous claw of night emerged from the trees, and reared back to slap Mandalay aside.

“WAIT! DARK SHADOW!” A voice called. One of the students? As the rest of the titanic mass emerged from the forest, she was face to face with an enormous creature of darkness, with three students on top of it, and one that was attached to it within its mouth. Fear subsided to relief as Mandalay identified the students of 1-A.

“Thank goodness. You kitties really gave me a scare.” She said. “You need to get back to camp, now! Tiger and I disabled a pair of villains that attacked, but they got away. We don’t know where they are.”

“We just disabled a villain.” Tokoyami said. Was there a hint of pride in his voice? “He’s back about a hundred meters from the midpoint of the trail. We’re going towards the fires.”

“Why?!” Mandalay asked. “And, is Ragdoll okay?”

“On the last part, we don’t know. To the first, we need to disable the villain who’s leading the operation, and we wager they’d be near the most dangerous area.”

“You’re not equipped for combat!” Mandalay replied.

“Ma’am… we need to save our friends and stop this madness. If you’re not going to stop us, please, join us. Otherwise, time is wasting.” Dark Shadow set down a palm. Mandalay considered it. She had to choose between saving Ragdoll or disabling this villain invasion. If she was forced to choose between students, and her friend…

Mandalay climbed on.

Spinner and Magne were spat out onto the dirt by Kurogiri. Standing over them was Toga, Dabi, and Twice, who all stood at a relatively open clearing filled with wildflowers. Twice was crouched on the ground, supporting his head with his hands. Toga was daydreaming, laying next to the unconscious form of Midioriya and tracing slow circles on his chest. She hummed a discordant tune. Magne picked up her steel rod, grumbling.

“Damn… that hurt.” Spinner said, holding his head.

“Serves you right for almost getting arrested, dumbass.” Dabi said. Just as he was about to scold them further, a third portal opened. From its yawning berth came the school uniform and armored helmet of Mustard, who yawned and stretched casually. He drew stares of ire from the downed villains.

“Yo, guys.” Mustard said. “We all here?”

“The Nomu is coming back. I recalled it before we got here.” Dabi rubbed the back of his head. “Moonfish is out of commission, and apparently, Muscular is dead.” This last bit of information drew stares of shock from just about everyone, save Toga who was too enamored with the unconscious body. Twice tilted his head. Spinner spoke, sweating.

“Dead?!” He asked, near frantic. Even if Spinner and Muscular shared a professional relationship, it was a friendly one. He wasn’t a close friend, but knowing he was dead truly shocked the lizardman. “I thought heroes didn’t kill villains!”

“They don’t.” Dabi said. He didn’t elaborate further as the final villains appeared from the brush. The yellow duster and top hat of Compress came from the treeline, and he touched down with a small flourish of his cane and a tip of his hat. Shooting through the sky, a bolt of electricity shot through the stars and landed in the field. Composing herself back in a physical form was Feedback, who breathed heavily. One of her arms was missing. “Don’t bleed out yet.” Dabi said to the woman, who looked at Dabi.

“M-m-m-mission accompplishe-ee-e—e-eed.”

Massive explosions came nearer and nearer to the villains. The group of them perked up and faced towards the rapidly approaching force of nature. As it drew closer, the earth begun to shake louder and louder. Toga dragged Izuku closer towards Dabi and grinned, glancing towards Compress. The latter villain nodded and did his job, before rising again, holding Izuku by his shoulder.

Breaking out of the forests was Dark Shadow, who used one of its claws to throw Mandalay, Shoji, Todoroki, and Shinso to the field. Spinner, upon seeing Mandalay, seized up for a moment. With its other claw, the destroyer grasped Mustard and ruthlessly threw him into the forests, slamming into a tree. With but a single movement the villains were down one man. Todoroki unleashed a wave of ice that hurtled towards Feedback, with Shoji and Mandalay charging Spinner and Magne.

“WOAH HEY, HEY, TIME OUT!” yelled Compress. Idly, the performer tossed Izuku, dissheveld green hair waving in the wind, towards Dabi. The villain pressed a hand to the unconscious young boy’s throat, blue flames flickering across his arm. The students and Mandalay stopped their attack as one of their students was held at the proverbial gunpoint.

“Let him go!” Shinso roared. This even drew a bit of shock from the 1-A students. None of them had heard Shinso so angry before, emotionless as he usually was. In response to this, Dabi only allowed more flames to dance across his form.

“Nah, that aint happening.” The villain replied, stepping back. A gate of black mist opened behind him, a torrent of reality shifting power. “We’re leaving, and you’re staying, or this kid gets cooked.” Dabi became… unnaturally blank, and still. None of the villains had noticed, and neither did anyone but Todoroki.

A standard hostage situation. While Mandalay knew that dealing with an elite group of villains for a hostage wasn’t going to be easy (especially with the escape path only a few inches behind them), the students were at a loss. What could they do to get their friend back? Shinso growled, barely keeping his composure as he watched the lead villain, only a moment from burning Izuku to a crisp, looking serene.

And why the hell was the lead villain… Mandalay looked at Shinso. The young boy looked deep in concentration as he stared at the villain. She got it. The young boy’s mind control powers, of course! Mandalay couldn’t let on that she knew something was wrong, risking the villains also getting the situation. With her telepathy, she called out to the students.

“I don’t know how Shinso did it, but he’s got the lead villain in his control. Todoroki, throw up ice and then melt it with your flames as a smoke screen—steam screen, in this case. Shoji, Tokoyami, and I will go on the offensive. On my mark.” Over her telepathy powers, Mandalay spoke. The pro readied herself to move, with the students bracing.

“Oy, Dabi! We moving, or what?” Compress said, glancing at his comrade. Just now, he was noticing the blank expression on his face. What was happening?

“Get set.” Mandalay continued in their minds.

“Daaabiii. Earth to Dabi!” Toga said, cheerily. However, as she looked at his eyes, Himiko knew something was wrong, and the heroes did as well. As she glanced towards the violet boy’s face, she put it together. The one from the sport’s festival never got his power off on his darling Deku, but with how much he was taunting him, it worked off vocal activation. They were in serious trouble. She opened her mouth to warn the team.

“GOOOOO!” Mandalay screamed.

Todoroki pressed his foot to the ground, and from it, a massive barrier of ice was raised. As the villains prepared to fight against the heroes, Feedback became a ball of lightning, Spinner and Magne prepared to break it for the gate, and Toga readied her blade. Mustard could not release his gas, for fear of affecting his comrades. Twice pulled out his razor-sharp measuring tape but took a step towards the portal as well. Just as the barrier of pure ice was erected, however, a flash of white-hot fire followed, and in an eruption of light, the area was blanketed by steam. The pain of the sudden heat would not only distract the villains, but obfuscate the movements of the heroes.

The monoplegic electric villain’s decision to become energy was a poor one. Unlike air, steam does not conduct electricity well—the opposite, really. As she was forced from her form of electricity to her natural state, Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow, calmed by the sudden outburst of flames from Todoroki, yet still strong in the concealing darkness of steam, punched the villain in the jaw. To follow it up, Dark Shadow pressed both its claws to the woman’s stomach and slammed the villain to the floor, knocking her out.

Toga ran backwards, towards the portal behind her. She felt bad about leaving her comrades for a moment, but she was the important part of the mission right now. As she entered the portal, she came out the other side at the bar of the League of Villains. She sucked in a breath of relief, safe. Compress and Twice followed in Toga’s footsteps, moving back towards the gate as well, and popping out the other side. They knew that winning the fight was not as important as escaping at that moment.

Dabi, still under Shinso’s influence, was silent. From the din of combat, Shinso cried out, finally manifesting his command. “LET IZUKU GO!” He cried, charging forward to be able to see the lead villain. Dabi… did not let go.

What?

Spinner and Magne, cowards as they were, joined Toga and Compress in their retreat to the base. Though Spinner burst into the bar, Magne was held back for a moment by Mandalay. Roaring in anger, Magne used her rod to slam against Mandalay. Though the strike was ineffective for doing damage, it bought her the moment needed to escape. Mandalay then turned her line of attack to Dabi, slamming her fist into the side of the villain’s head.

As Shinso lost control due to the sudden shock of pain, Dabi was on the offensive. Brainwashing may have taken control of the target’s actions, but not their consciousness. Silently, Dabi thanked the stupid pro for letting him go free. He raised his arm to unleash an explosion of superhot flames to cremate the kids and pro alike, but just as quickly as he went to attack, he found clawed hands of pure gloam clutching down on his arm. It jerked violently, and like a twig, Dabi’s arm was snapped.

As the leader of the Vanguard Action Squad writhed in pain, he kicked away the hostage and was able to use the moment of distraction to escape. Dabi flung himself through the portal. As the final member of the Squad who was not disabled flew through, the warp gate closed. Silence filled the air.

“Did… did we win?!” Shinso said, looking around. Todoroki filled the area with a thin sheet of ice, in order to cool down the air and dissipate the steam. Two villains had been captured and put down for the count, and Izuku had been rescued. Shinso strode towards his friend and attempted to rouse him, lightly slapping the side of his face. Shoji looked around with both his arms and regular eyes, as well as scanning with his ears. The multi-armed boy nodded once.

“I’m not hearing or seeing anyone coming. I think we’re alright.” Shoji nodded. Tokoyami fell to the ground, patting his stomach and praising Dark Shadow.

“That was a good performance, Todoroki.” Mandalay said, patting Shoto on his shoulder. “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to put out enough heat to coat the whole area in steam, but darn if I haven’t been proven wrong.”

“Thanks, ma’am. Let’s get back to camp.” Shoto nodded. As he begun to leave, he heard something. Whimpering. His heart sank, as he looked back.

The three students and pro watched Shinso, his ear placed to the bared chest of Midoriya, beginning to cry. As Shinso shivered, he picked himself up and carried Izuku, cradling him in his arms. Tears flowed openly from the indigo youth’s eyes, streaking down his face and onto the pale flesh of his friend.

“Oh, no…” Mandalay scrambled towards the pair, gently grasping Midoriya from Shinso, who relented by simply letting his arms slack and go numb. Mandalay rapidly begun to perform CPR on Izuku. Thirty repetitions. Two rescue breaths. Thirty repetitions. Two rescue breaths. Thirty repetitions. Two rescue breaths. Time began to slow, as each second became an eternity.

As Mandalay pulled away from the limp form of Midoriya, she too began to cry.

Screams filled the field of wildflowers.

Izuku Midoriya was dead.

. . .

As the impromptu team to rescue Midoriya and stop the villains returned to camp, they found 1-A and 1-B present. Yaomomo had suffered a head injury, and some of the other women in the camp were being returned to consciousness by their fellows. In the far distance, over the burning forests, the sound of helicopters was rapidly growing louder. Medics and firefighters had been called by Vlad King after he had disabled a clone of Dabi’s. Shoji carried Midoriya tenderly, as Mandalay deposited the pair of villains they had disabled onto the ground, tied up.

Aizawa, carrying Kirishima over his shoulder, had a haunted look on his face. Kirishima looked like he was actively withering away, his limbs atrophied and his hair a pale pink. What the hell had happened to him? Aizawa rushed into the camp, towards the nurse’s office. Todoroki resolved to find out more about that later.

Mandalay grasped the body of Midoriya, and rushed into the building as well, following Aizawa. They had chosen not to inform the class about Midoriya’s death yet. They couldn’t allow there to be even more despair than there already was. The hollow faces of Shoji, Todoroki, Tokoyami, and Shinso said all that was needed for the class to know something was very wrong. A dark pall settled over 1-A and 1-B. Tiger and Pixie-Bob performed a head count, now that the rescue team had returned. They performed it once, twice, three times…

And then, Todoroki noticed someone missing. Someone only Izuku had been with during the attack.

“Whew! That was a big pinch!” Toga said, lounging on a stool. Dabi was cursing wildly, babying his broken arm as Compress was creating a makeshift cast with a couple of chair legs and cloth. Spinner and Magne sat, somewhat dejected, as the few failures to their job. Tomura sighed, slicking back his hair.

“You got the targets, Compress?”

Toga opened her mouth, and from the space between her gums and lips, brought out a pair of marbles. She tossed both to the floor. The League of Villains let out a collective sigh of relief, as the attack was not a wasted effort after all. Compress pointed to both marbles and snapped once, a flash of cyan light filling the room. Even Dabi, furious as he was, took a moment to observe the work of Compress.

From the first marble came the unconscious form of Izuku. He was still in a good condition, sleeping soundly after Mustard had slipped him a quick dose of his quirk. The young boy would be out until he was roused, which for the moment was no time soon. Toga picked up the man she so loved and nuzzled against him, careful not to go too hard, as she propped him up in one of the bar’s booths. Compress snapped a second time.

From the second marble came the form of Tsuyu Asui. Still lucid, she immediately prepared to attack, panicking at the sudden awakening and being surrounded by villains. With a swift motion of his cane, the frog girl was sent to the floor, unconscious.

“Looks like Suzuki Matsuda worked perfectly as a decoy. Operation Blossoming Lotus… a decisive victory.” Tomura said, clapping his cracked hands with glee. “Just as planned.”

Chapter 39: Encore / L'inizio della Fine

Chapter Text

For the first time since Hosu, the society of heroes had taken a serious blow.

The Beast’s Forest, set ablaze by the villain Dabi, was only barely able to be put out by the aerial firefighters corp. Emergency services were swift to arrive due to the quick diligence of the police that were already at the camp, but the lightning strike of the villains had left no time for a response to make a difference. In total, the attack on the summer camp had been in the span of seven minutes, and emergency services arrived only three minutes after the attack had concluded.

Of the students, a vast majority of Class 1-B was unconscious or seriously injured. Of the latter, Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu had received multiple gunshot wounds, as had Itsuka Kendo. Both were in stable condition but were just barely holding on. Of Class 1-A, all but the remedial students and those who had been at the test of courage staging area suffered mild to severe injuries, barring Tokoyami Fumikage.

And of course, one student was missing… and one was dead.

The faculty had remained completely silent about the death of Izuku Midoriya, but silently, all the class knew—zipping up his corpse into a body bag in the secrecy of the camp building did nothing to hide the fact they had lost someone. Tokoyami, Uraraka, and Todoroki were taking it the hardest, each of them weeping nigh inconsolably. Of Asui Tsuyu, nobody had seen her get captured, and as such, search teams were already combing the forest for any trace of her.

Kirishima was in a strange spot. As he was being rushed to a hospital in Tokyo via airlift, nobody was certain how to stabilize him. His body appeared to be slowly withering away, heart occasionally stopping, only to restart as if the will of a god was keeping him alive. His flesh was atrophying at nearly five times the rate of a decomposing corpse, hair slowly losing its crimson hue and turning into a light pink. None of the EMTs attempting to keep the young boy alive had seen such a state before.

Of the pro heroes, one had received a concussion after being dealt such a serious blow to the head. Pixie-Bob was unconscious and bleeding heavily but would survive with very minor brain damage (doctors estimated memory problems would be her greatest concern). Ragdoll, on the other hand, had lost a significant amount of blood, and her chipped visor had been found at the midway point of the Beast’s Forest trail. Search teams expanded their mission to try and find Ragdoll as well. Gunhead was dead, his body scorched almost beyond recognition. Magus, the pro hero that had been meant to act on ranged reconnaissance, had been kept busy by Feedback, and was lightly injured in their battle.

Of the villains, three were under arrest, restrained appropriately by the authorities. The corpse of Muscular, still at the center of the massive crater he had been left in, was difficult to identify with a completely pulped head. His body sat in a bag next to Izuku Midoriya’s. There was an irony there that was not lost on the faculty.

Even in terms of numbers, the heroes had lost. Utterly.

Though emergency services were departing, a helicopter was swiftly coming to pick up the agents that were still breathing. One PSIA chopper and two EC180s were swiftly approaching. As the classes were herded onto armored busses to return to Tokyo, Shoichiro Nishimura faced down Shota Aizawa at the camp building. The slowly rising sun illuminated the anger on both their faces; for Shota, his rage was with Nishimura. For Nishimura, his rage was with himself.

“… We were taken by surprise.” Shoichiro said. “This isn’t an excuse, it’s just what happened. We were ready for an attack by the Lotus Demon, not by a full assau—”

Shota punched Nishimura in the gut. The agent crumpled to the ground, pressing one hand to the dirt. He coughed lightly, and rose once more, facing down the pro hero, livid beyond compare. As he rose again, Shota slammed his fist into Nishimura’s jaw, sending him a few steps back, and back to one knee.

“That was for the two people you let die. Want to get back up and see how mad I am about my dead, dying, and missing students?” Shota said. Blood lightly stained his fist. Shoichrio slowly begun to rise again.

“I’ll take your rage and sorrow… if that’s what you need right now.” He said. Aizawa closed the distance once more and slammed his fist into the Agent’s nose, just short of sending him sprawling. The Pro Hero grasped him by the shoulder, picked him up, and delivered a pair of savage kidney shots that finally sent the agent down. All the while, Shoichiro never once fought back. Now, as the agent writhed silently in pain, Aizawa spoke. Somehow his words rang even louder than three helicopters landing only fifty yards away.

“You let three people die… two of which, I liked. Hell, I may have even loved my student like a child. And you let them go.” Aizawa had long since run out of tears to cry. Now, his eye simply twitched, unable to produce a fitting pair for his rage. “And one of my students is missing. You say you weren’t prepared? You have the audacity to claim that you weren’t ready?!” As Aizawa wound back to kick Shoichiro in the gut, to unleash even more of his anger on the young man, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Aizawa turned back to see Naomasa Tsukauchi staring back at him.

The left side of Naomasa’s body was ravaged. His hair, ear, and a portion of skin that threatened his eye was gnarled pink scar tissue. Aizawa could see the scar running down his body and down, even as it trailed into the special agent’s black trench coat. The arm that grasped Aizawa’s shoulder, his left arm, was replaced by a wicked black bionic prosthetic. Articulated fingers curled gently (but firmly) on Aizawa’s shoulder. As he looked down, Aizawa spotted the agent’s left leg, too, was replaced by a bionic that was stuffed into dress pants.

“I see you’re giving my junior a hard time. I… heard what happened.” Tsukauchi said, nodding towards Nishimura, who slowly rose. Tsukauchi released Aizawa’s shoulder, which allowed the hero to swivel to look at both agents. Aizawa’s anger bounced rapidly between Tsukauchi and Nishimura, unsure who to be angry at.

“Your apprentice caused three people to die, and two to go missing.” Aizawa said, spitting towards Shoichiro but directing his words to Naomasa.

“My apprentice was unaware that the League of Villains was coming. He couldn’t have predicted a villain that uses electricity was going to appear and completely ruin communications. My apprentice was also unaware what was happening after the first few minutes, if my people have the right information.” Tsukauchi said, his face placid, yet his voice holding an unmistakable edge. “Focus your anger on someone that deserves it, Shota.” Naomasa went to help the partially crippled Nishimura up, his metal leg changing his gait into a somewhat stiff version of a normal walk.

As Shoichiro passed by Aizawa, he gave the teacher a look of apology. Though the hero’s anger had abated somewhat, it still simmered, and that look did no favors. The junior agent was loaded onto the PSIA chopper. Naomasa glanced back to Shota, and gave his usual placid smile. It didn’t reach his eyes, haunted as they were.

“Aizawa. We’ll be in touch. Though Mr. Nishimura’s efforts today may have been… unfortunate, his secondary directive was successful.” Tsukauchi said. Shota perked.

“Secondary directive?” He asked.

“Let’s just say the villains aren’t as keen as the Lotus Demon. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.” Tsukauchi loaded onto the chopper and motioned for the pilot to lift off, shutting the door. Shota’s hair flowed in the wind of the chopper’s takeoff, gazing at it as it slowly lifted off the ground and rushed over the forests. Even hundreds of yards away, Shota hoped his anger could be felt by both the agents.

He cursed them. He cursed Kirishima. He cursed the heroes. He cursed the villains.

Most of all, he cursed himself.

One Day later

“We need to consider the possibility that there’s a traitor at UA.”

The words had shocked the faculty room to silence. Present Mic’s calm voice was strained as he spoke, clearly having not gotten enough sleep. Getting into the building was hard enough; the gates outside were flooded by news networks from the BBC to STV. It seemed everyone wanted the scoop, and nobody from UA let them in. Mic had to almost blow people over to get a parking spot and get into his school. All Might’s appearance had briefly made the crowd back off, but they were right back to it the moment the Symbol of Peace closed the gates. 1-A and 1-B’s faculty had gathered to speak about the events of the camp, and though most were silent save the Principle, they were clearly thinking. When Mic spoke up about the possibility of a traitor, even Nezu’s words died.

“You can’t seriously think that someone would be informing from the inside. Only the faculty and the puss*cats knew about the location of the camp.” Midnight replied. Having a friendly relationship with both Izuku and Kirishima, the loss of the former and injury of the latter had left her eyes puffy.

“Mic may have a point.” Snipe replied, running his hand through his hair. “USJ, Hosu, and now this camp has suggested that someone might be feeding information. How the hell did the Lotus Demon know where Iida would be, just to injure him?”

“If we start to suspect everyone in this room to be a traitor, the trust between us and between the students will unravel.” Nezu replied, bridging his fingers. Losing a student had been difficult with the animal, and his ever-present chipper tone had dropped to a shadow of its former self. “We cannot allow ourselves to be torn apart. That’s what they want.”

“So we’re just supposed to sit here and stew on the possibility while that act may be actively hurting us?” Mic replied, lightly slapping his fist onto the table. “We cannot allow this to happen again. Public approval of UA has dropped to eleven percent. Eleven!”

“They’re saying I should have been there… and I should have been.” The heel of All Might’s hands dug into his forehead. “I was bathing while a student was dying, and Young Kirishima…” Was killing himself. All Might thought. But he couldn’t let that secret slip—not yet.

“Brewing on the past does nothing, All Might.” Shota replied. While he said that, something of his tone implied that All Might was right. “We need to look to the future.”

“To that end.” Nezu said, standing up and distributing a stack of papers to the faculty. “Not only are we going to act on the League of Villains the moment we get the information to do so, but we’re also revamping security at UA. The government has offered to pay for 60% of this plan. To summarize, we’d be calling in REDMOON from America to act as a permanent security force on campus. Armed guards. Anti-quirk barriers. New restrictions on quirk use.”

“Principle, that’s a bit much.” Midnight said. As the papers reached the teachers, all of them nearly recoiled from both the cost and contents. “Armed security inside of a high school? How are students supposed to feel safe if rifles are being touted around?”

“They won’t be openly carrying. We’ve arranged them to be only wearing concealed pistols, with a mobile armory on campus in case a full-on attack happens. We’ll also be setting up a new addition to the UA barrier, a quirk scrambling shield that will turn off any active quirks inside the building and on campus outside of the gym.” The principle said. “We’ll be upgrading ID badges to have a bio-lock as well, meaning that when held by the wrong person, they won’t work.”

“This all sounds incredibly expensive.” Ectoplasm said. “How much will we be paying?”

“As I said, 40% of the total cost. As it stands, that’s about two hundred million yen, plus about four thousand united states dollars monthly. I’m sure we can manage it with donations and with our current budget.”

The hefty price tag left the table in silence. Thankfully, said pall was cut short by Aizawa’s phone ringing to the tune of Aphex Twin. He glanced at the caller ID, and excused himself from the table. Aizawa pressed answer and pressed himself against the wall.

“I hope this was important enough to interrupt a meeting.” He said.

“You’re at UA, then? Secure enough for information to be passed around?” Tsukauchi asked from the other end.

“Emphasis on enough. Now, make this quick.”

“We have a lead on the League of Villains’ hideout.”

Those words gave Aizawa pause. If Tsukauchi had really found their hideout, then this nightmare was next to over. The Lotus Demon and the League eliminated in one fell swoop would turn this whole thing around. Maybe they wouldn’t have to buy a small fortune’s worth of security equipment now. “Elaborate.”

“As I said back at camp, Shoichiro had a second objective that he entrusted to only me. The bugs that he had on the kids were meant to not only monitor them for Lotus Demon activity or treachery, but in case they got captured, they’d be able to see where they went. Though the truck tracking the bugs was destroyed during the attack on the camp the data was also being transferred to PSIA HQ. Right now, I’m looking at the exact location of Tsuyu Asui, and I’m listening to audio-visual from her bug.”

Indeed, in the depths of PSIA HQ, Tsukauchi and Shoichiro were staring at a monitor that was keyed directly into the bug frequency of Tsuyu Asui. Though her bug was looking at a wall behind her, the GPS on it was working perfectly, as was audio. Right now, the villains were discussing about lunch. Something about pizza seemed appealing.

Aizawa slumped against the wall, trailing down it. For just a moment, he allowed himself a bit of bliss. No guessing, no potential failure… they had keyed into the League of Villains’ hideout. Nobody from the League knew about the bugs. This wasn’t a trap, as far as they knew.

“One other thing.” Tsukauchi continued. “Another bug is currently online. We have no idea who it belongs to, but they’re in a plain concrete cell right now. They haven’t spoken since being captured, so we have to assume they’re out cold or dead.”

That brought Aizawa’s moment of bliss to an end. If they had two bugs recording, that meant that someone else had been captured other than Tsuyu. Yet, the head counts on the students and even having them all sign off that they had returned to Tokyo had implied everyone but Asui was there, or heavily injured and signed off for. If that was the case, then who the hell could be bugged?

“Did you bug the puss*cats? That might be Ragdoll.” Aizawa said, carefully.

“We didn’t bug the puss*cats or the heroes. Someone’s there. They haven’t talked, nor been talked about by name since the feed started. Only being clung to be some female villain.”

“sh*t…” Aizawa said. This was bad. An unknown variable in the equation made the concept of the raid on the League even more difficult. Who was bugged? Who could possibly be in the hideout they hadn’t accounted for? The thought made his head spin. Aizawa shook it away and nodded.

“Thanks, Tsukauchi. I’ll relay this information to All Might. I’m slightly less angry with you and your junior now.” Naomasa chuckled.

“No problem, Aizawa. We’ll get those sons of bitches. Talk later.”

1-A had gathered in the hospital room of Kirishima.

It was difficult to describe just the sheer number of cables and technology that lay inside Eijiro’s hospital room. It looked as if he was being stuck to hundreds of machines, each one monitoring every inch of his body and every single possible ailment he could be facing. Machines reading his heart rate, blood sugar, blood pressure, body fat, brain waves, bone density, muscle density… it was like he was a living computer. Cords ran into his skin and out like cables into a great computer. Kirishima himself was wrapped in bandages, but from what little the students could see, his skin was an unnatural grey. His limbs had withered to the bone, muscles only remaining due to the fact he was being pumped with a unique synthesized steroid. His hair was all that remained of the former Kirishima—light pink and sharp. His face was covered by bandages and an oxygen mask.

Aside Kirishima’s bed was Recovery Girl, who had been kissing Eijiro multiple times an hour to ensure that his heart wouldn’t stop. As of now, she slept soundly. Class 1-A didn’t dare take their eyes off of Kirishima, a reminder of the events of the camp. Closest to him stood Tokoyami. The bird headed boy glanced back to 1-A.

“Vengeance.”

The word brought the attention of 1-A to Tokoyami. Even Iida, who had famously been something of a leader, hadn’t had the guts to speak his mind. The death of a student and capture of another, the active withering away of Kirishima, and yet Tokoyami was the only one who dared to speak. The young man raised a hand and continued.

“It’s what we’re all thinking. You can’t tell me you all don’t want to get some payback. For Kirishima, for Tsuyu… for Izuku.” Even saying the dead boy’s name brought silence to their souls. “If we don’t avenge them, what the hell are we training to be heroes for?”

“We can’t just go out and do stuff like that.” Uraraka said, holding herself gently. Mina had an arm wrapped around her shoulder, keeping the pair close together. “It would be illegal. We’re not licensed to do any hero stuff outside of what’s authorized.”

“Heroes used to be illegal.” Todoroki said, taking a few steps towards Tokoyami and looking back at the class. Many years ago, before heroes were given professional licenses and authorized by the government, heroes had to go outside of the law to get stuff done. In a sense, they were all vigilantes. Only now have they been made professional and given rules, but right now, we need to go back to the core spirit of heroism. Doing sh*t that you don’t need to do.”

“Todoroki…” Tokoyami said, glancing to the boy. Todoroki looked back.

“Listen. I’m not going to sit around while my friends are going to suffer or are suffering. If some villain did this to Kirishima…” Todoroki motioned to the boy. “… Then they may know how to undo it. If Tsuyu is still alive and is in the hands of the villains, we need to try to rescue her.”

Shinso, too, stepped forward. The despair in his face had faded to rage ever since they had been on the busses to Tokyo. No one had dared speak to the purple child in case of drawing his wrath. As he spoke, fury filled each word. “I’m not going to let those f*ckers get away with killing Midoriya. And if you want help in getting payback against them, I’m in.”

“You’re being foolish.” Tenya said. He stepped forward and removed his glasses, baring the four scars on his face for the world to see. Tears were threatening to break forth from his face. Not only was the smart class president respected for his mind and leadership, but he had faced the evil of the League head on before most others and gotten the worst out of it. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, the implications of it.”

“We know what we’re d—” Tokoyami begun, but Iida interrupted.

“NO! YOU DON’T!” Iida yelled, only an octave below a scream. “You think you can solve this problem through violence? You think we’re the ones who can solve it? None of us can help them! None of us SHOULD help them! Because right now, that’s not only illegal, it’s practically an invitation to let more of us get killed! You idiots don’t seem to understand the fact that you could die. Do you know what that’s like?! To stare death directly in the face without a chance of escape?”

No. None of them did, not like Iida did.

“Iida.” Todoroki said, his voice even but holding a keen edge. “You’re not talking me out of this. I don’t know about these two, but I doubt they are either. We’re getting our girl back, and we’re getting some payback. Even if that means death, I’d die happily to do the right thing. It’s time we stop getting attacked, and be the attacker.”

Tenya balled his hands into fists, his normally reserved face twisting into rage. Rather than speaking he simply turned and kicked the door open as he left. As Iida departed, so too did most of 1-A, leaving only the three kids. As said soon-to-be vigilantes looked at one another, Shinso nodded towards Tokoyami.

“So what’s the plan, bird man?” He asked. “We’re here and ready because of you. So what’s the deal?”

“To be honest, I just wanted to get a team together. I was hoping to figure out the rest as we went.” Tokoyami looked down. Before Shinso had the chance to tear into his ally for being so short sighted, he spotted Todoroki pulling out his phone and dialing. He set it to his ear and let it ring. The room was drowned in silence, Recovery Girl still not awoken. The power of the elderly.

“Bakugo. I’m calling you in for a mission.”

“This had better be against the League.”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“Then I’m in.”

Chapter 40: Il Demone Rinasce

Chapter Text

As Deku awoke, he was alone.

Izuku had been unconscious for multiple days, and his memories were foggy. He looked around to find himself looking at three plain concrete walls only three meters away from each other, a metal and handleless door, and a fluorescent light above him; it seemed like he was in a cell like a solitary confinement chamber. He rose and tried pushing against the door once, twice, to no avail. Figured. He felt at the smooth walls for anything, some semblance of if he was outside or inside, but again, nothing. For all intents and purposes, Deku was in a void.

Then, memories returned.

”Don’t squirm, my darling…” The girl villain had said, slicing open his shirt. “You’re going to give me everything…”

”Give me your seed, precious angel!”

Oh, god. Deku clutched himself and hit the wall opposite the door, sliding down. He had been… violated by that woman. Even now as he felt the scabbing wounds on his form, every touch reminded him of the pain, and every shift of his hips brought a darkness crashing down on him. Tears burst forth without shame as he hugged himself—the sole source of warmth in his life. He was alone, captured, and raped. Nobody likely knew where he was.

As he hugged himself, he felt a small button on his shirt’s collar. Panic and despair were paused as he pulled on it, only to find himself looking at a silver bug, the one the police had put on him! Yes! If it was still recording, he could call for help! He opened his mouth to speak.

Then, the door burst open.

“Daaaarliiiing~!”

Oh no.

The female villain had returned, her blonde hair unstyled and hanging long, and dressed in a revealing nightgown. She held a tray of piping hot and… honestly delicious looking food; a steaming combo of steak and eggs plus orange juice. Deku dropped the bug and hugged the wall behind him, breathing in and out rapidly. Were he not having a panic attack due to it, he would likely be somewhat aroused by the girl’s voluptuous form. She looked down to the dropped bug and gracefully stepped to it, crushing it underfoot.

“Awh, baby… you didn’t really think that would work, did you?” She sat down the tray of food on the floor and stalked closer, which only took a moment. Toga pressed herself against Izuku and slowly grinded against him, unfurling her tongue and taking a long lick of his bare collarbone. “You can’t escape me~!”

Terror ran through Izuku like he had been injected with freezing stone. Again… this was going to happen again… No… no please… he tried to speak his objection, but he couldn’t as she bit gingerly at his jugular and held his arms in place. Just how strong was this girl? She moved one arm up Izuku’s, then lifted hers and placed it onto his stomach, tracing the seam of his pants just above his crotch. Deku felt like he was going to throw up.

“Now… we’re going to make double sure you put a baby in me, my darling angel.”

“Miss Toga.” A dark form entered the doorway. Himiko looked back to the form, and Deku looked as well, his panic subsiding in the face of his savior. The being of black mist had only curved yellow lights as eyes, and he was dressed in a bartender’s garb. Something about the villain looked very familiar to Izuku, in a way he could not quite understand. Toga straddled Izuku even tighter, reaching into his pants to caress him even as she spoke.

“What’s up, Mr. Misty?” She asked, curling plush fingers. Deku’s hyperventilation returned in force as the girl moved. He didn’t want this, yet even now, couldn’t muster up the courage to say no. He was helpless under his rapist’s affectations. Izuku closed his eyes and turned his head, tears falling as he whimpered.

“The Lotus Demon’s plan concludes in five hours. I expect Mr. Midoriya to be conscious, clothed, bathed, and fed by this time. When the plan is complete, you two may resume your activities.” Kurogiri said. “Therefore, I must ask you to release him for now.”

“Aww. You’re no fun.” Toga pouted, releasing Deku and dismounting him. As Kurogiri left the doorway, she strode to follow him, swaying her hips. Just before she left the door, she looked back and winked, catlike eyes burning. “We’ll get back to this when you’re more in the mood~.”

The door slammed shut.

Izuku slumped down onto the floor and curled into the fetal position, rocking gently. This torment… it wasn’t going to end, not anytime soon. No, if the Lotus Demon had a plan that involved him, the nightmare was just beginning. What was the plan for him? If the spectral Lotus Demon inside him was some sort of mirror of the real Lotus Demon, then he was the centerpiece of it all. What was going to happen? He went for the food, hesitantly, as only now did he realize how starving he was.

To his disgust, it was delicious.

3:00 PM, that was when the team had agreed to meet at Musutafu station. That was the only time and place that Bakugo was willing to agree on. Though Todoroki trusted him well enough, the others were not so sure about putting their faith into a vigilante that had killed numerous people and injured even more. The rescue team stood in front of the male bathroom, looking somewhat inconspicuous with hoodies pulled tight over their heads.

That was when he approached.

Of the three, Tokoyami and Todoroki knew Bakugo well, and they could see just how much the young man had changed. From what they could see under his hoodie, he was dirty, hunched over, lanky, and holding a look of uncharacteristic neutrality. It was disturbing to see such a jaded look on the face of a young man who had once been so determined to become a great hero. Bakugo, Blast King, stopped only five feet away from the team, looking each one over.

“You all look like sh*t.” Katsuki said, spitting away from the group.

“So do you.” Todoroki replied, crossing his arms. The two stared at each other for a moment of pregnant silence, before they closed the distance and embraced. It had been a long time filled with danger since the two had been together, and the duo felt they could take only a short moment of weakness. Todoroki locked lips with Bakugo, breaking apart just as swiftly. Tokoyami and Shinso both arched their brows; neither had even considered the idea the two were dating. To break the awkward stare down, Bakugo chuckled.

“You need to stop getting in so much trouble. That’s my job, asshole.” Bakugo pushed Todoroki away, lightly.

“Well, now it’s all of our jobs. We’ve got a job to do.” Todoroki said, looking at Tokoyami and Shinso. “This is Shinso, who joined 1-A.” Bakugo locked eyes with the cold and tired eyes of Hitoshi.

“Hope you fight better than you look, sleepless.” Bakugo said, snorting derisively. Shinso rolled a shoulder.

“I hope you’re better at hurting with your fists than your words, hobostank.” Shinso replied, a smug smile barely coloring his lips.

“HEY, YOU WANT TO FIND A SHOWER IN A BACK ALLEY, BE MY GUEST ASSHOLE!” The look of neutrality on Bakugo was broken for the rage that Todoroki and Tokoyami were so used to. For just a moment, things felt normal. But, that moment was fleeting, and the gravity of the task at hand returned.

“Gentlemen.” Tokoyami said, raising his arms. “We have a job to do. Bakugo, you said to Todoroki you knew where the League’s hideout is, yes?”

“Yeah. Kamino ward.” Katsuki replied, crossing his arms. “I beat the info out of the fence for the League’s main broker. Got a vague address, but a little bit of investigative prowess will narrow it down.”

“Right. And the objective is to not only rescue Tsuyu, but do as much damage as we can to the League before we need to escape.” Tokoyami said, looking hard at the members of the rescue team. “You’re all aware that these actions will label us as vigilantes, save for you Bakugo. This is an act that will ruin our future careers if it is linked to us and will likely land us in prison. I’d like to clarify these points before we move forward.”

“We all know the risks, Tokoyami.” Todoroki said. “None of us are backing out now.”

“We know.” A voice that belonged to none of the rescue team emerged, slowly moving towards them. As the four turned to look at the source of the sound, all of them found a sight they had not expected.

Not only was the form of Tenya Iida present, imposing and fitting into a jacket and a hat, but beside him was the pleasantly chubby form of Uraraka, in a baggy pink hoodie and jeans. Both of them looked hollow, and sized the rescue team up in different ways; Iida like he was judging convicts, and Ochaco like she was looking at dead men. For Bakugo, seeing his old classmates again was a very bittersweet thing. A part of him felt a pang of nostalgia and loss, and another part felt anger that the two were present. The duo joined the team.

“We’re here to help.” Uraraka said, softly, looking down. “I… I can’t help but feel somewhat responsible for everything that happened to Tsuyu, and Deku… I need to have some closure.” She gripped the edge of her hoodie gently, tears threatening to burst forth. “I need to know why… even if it curses me. And I want to help.”

“I thought you both were starkly opposed to this operation.” Tokoyami said, crossing his arms.

“I still am.” Tenya said. “But I can’t say I don’t want to rescue our friend. None of you have fought the Lotus Demon like I have. If he’s going to be there, then I need to be there too.” Tenya gripped his face lightly, tracing over his scars. “I need to keep you all safe, and I need some payback of my own.”

“Then you—” Todoroki began, but he was cut off by Tenya.

“But don’t think for a moment that I’m not going to try and stop us from fighting. We are here to confront the League and rescue Tsuyu. Nothing more, nothing less.” The class president said. “If I can prevent injuries by having us not fight, then that’s what will happen. Understood?” A silent agreement was given by all but Bakugo, who shook his head. Iida scowled at the vigilante. “I presume you aren’t going to heed that, Bakugo.”

“Don’t sweat your ass off over me, four eyes.” Bakugo said, digging his hands into his pockets. “I’m already looking at life in prison. What’s a couple more shattered skulls going to do to my sentence? If there’s fighting that needs to happen, I’ll bust some heads.” Iida opened his mouth to argue but was cut short. “Don’t even think about trying to fight this, president. You’re not going to convince me. Besides, you need a martyr.”

“You’re a thick-skulled idiot…” Tenya said, looking down. After a moment, he looked back up, a smile bordering on pride formed on his face. “And an idiot who, though I disagree with and dislike, I am proud of.”

“If we’re done with the touchy feely,” Todoroki said, turning. “Let’s get moving. The train to Kamino Ward leaves in eight minutes.”

“UA Assault and Rescue Squadron! let’s move!” Tenya said adopting a light jog with exaggerated movements of his arms. Uraraka and Tokoyami chuckled lightly at the cheesy name, but the squad followed in Iida’s pace, and made for the train. It was time to get their girl back.

“At 5:22 PM today, we currently only have one bug online. 2:41 PM saw the unknown bug destroyed without any trace of who it was attached to. As of now we have to assume our second target is dead or still being held hostage.”

Reconstruction of the PSIA HQ, as aided by the Pro Heroes Hardforge and Quake, was proceeding at a pace in which several rooms once destroyed on the top floors were usable. Though Naomasa had to shout over the sounds of construction, the large meeting room was shockingly pristine for having been ashes only a few weeks prior. Standing at the sides of the long table were Eraserhead, All Might, Endeavor, the jean covered form of Best Jeanist, and the ninja garbed Edgeshot. Stoic visages colored each of the pros, All Might especially. Shoichiro Nishimura stood in a corner, writing (or scribbling) incessantlyl

“Then if you have the coordinates, can’t we just move on their hideout and beat them… you know, right now?” Aizawa said. “It’s not exactly like they’re ready for a full-on fight.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.” Tsukauchi said. “Again, this may all be part of some greater scheme we have no conception of; the Lotus Demon is a schemer.”

“Why would he bait the full force of the hero world down on him?” Endeavor asked. “It seems counterproductive.”

“Imagine, if you will, we are meant to come to the belly of the beast. Every event over the last few weeks has been for this. To set us up for one last desperate attempt to return the public’s trust in the society of heroes.” Tsukauchi began, starting to pace, his bionics whirring with every strained step. “The Demon knows we have to come—we can’t bluff on a teenage girl’s life. If the Lotus Demon has planned and accounted for us coming for Tsuyu Asui, then she is not the point.”

“She’s bait.” Edgeshot finished the thought.

“So, we will need to catch them off guard. Make them think the bait is not going to work, and the moment they get comfortable or see a grace period, we snap our jaws shut.” Tsukauchi finished. He locked eyes with Aizawa. “To that end, you won’t be a part of the assault operation.” Eraserhead’s face darkened a few shades, but to that, Naomasa smiled.

“You’ll be the counter bait.”

Tsuyu sat alone. To her surprise, she had awoken tied up in a brightly lit wooden room. Stocked with a small fridge, a bathroom, a small bed, and an ancient box television playing a music channel, it would have been comfy if not for the fact she was currently a hostage. She glanced at a clock on the wall and took note of the time; 6:18 PM. She’d been awake for about a day, but no one had come by since, not even to feed her.

This was a big pinch, but something was odd. She wasn’t in the same building she was taken to, or at least, was in a very deep basem*nt. Very few sounds filtered through the walls, but what she could perceive was industrial equipment. A factory district? Why was she in a place like this? What was the point of capturing her of all people?

Tsuyu huffed, a difficult prospect considering the duct tape on her mouth. She had to find a way out. All previous attempts at escape had been fruitless, but now, she had an idea. Admittedly it was a very disgusting idea and would leave her slick for weeks, but it was part of her power portfolio. Asui focused on her skin and the water inside it, flexing against her bonds. Then, rapidly, the girl began to rock her head forward and back, moving her body as much as she could. Fatigue began to set in quickly… then sweat. Asui’s sweat did not bead like liquid and drip away, but it instead coated her skin in a slick sheen. The girl had converted her sweat to mucus, and with the ropes now as slick and slippery as she was, Tsuyu was able to worm out of them.

Great, part one accomplished. She tore off the duct tape on her mouth and flicked her hands of a bit of the mucus sweat. With her untied, now she just had to find a way out. To her chagrin, there was none. To get untied and now to be stopped by a lack of a door… how the hell had she even gotten in here in the first place if there was no door?

The warping villain. Of course.

Asui cursed and slumped against the wall. There was no way out—not without a teleportation quirk. No way home… She hugged her knees to her chest and began to breathe deeply. Tears threatened to break forth in the face of the hopelessness of the situation. But, as if to brighten her spirit, she felt at her shirt and found the silver bug. Once more, an opportunity presented itself. She spoke into it.

“Hello?” She asked, and waited, facing the bug towards her. The small button blinked every few seconds. After a minute of waiting, she began to lower her shirt… before a voice came through. It was faint and somewhat crackly, but it was understandable.

“Thi… is Naomasa Tsukauchi of the… SIA. Ms. Asui, do… read me?” Tsuyu raised her bug again.

“Y-yes, I’m here! Ribbit, I’m here!” Tsuyu chuckled in relief.

“Ms. Asui, we’re…--n our way. Are you… ne?...re you alone?” Tsuyu nodded.

“I’m in some strange room, ribbit.” Tsuyu said. “There’s no doors or windows, I have no idea where I am.” Asui said, looking around again for any indication of her position.

“We…ve your location… bug is sending…PS coordinates. Rest assured.” Tsukauchi said. “Hang… there, and…pect the cavalry…50 minutes.”

“I’ll stay alert, ribbit!” Tsuyu said. “Just please get here soon. I’m… unashamed to say I’m scared out of my mind, ribbit.”

“…rything will be okay. Just… calm and don’t… hope.” Tsukauchi replied. The bug’s audio fizzled out shortly after, and Asui pressed her back against the wall once more with a happy smile. She was going to be rescued.

. . .

“I have audio confirmation, Shigaraki.” Kurogiri said. Unnoticed beneath the bed in Tsuyu’s room was a very small black hole, the size of an ear, that Kurogiri was using to listen in on Asui’s conversation through. As soon as the dialogue stopped, Kurogiri recalled his mist. “The hero strike force is heading for Asui.”

“Good.” Tomura said. On the TV lay the talking heads of STV with a banner beneath that read “UA PUBLIC APOLOGY, TONIGHT AT 6:45”. That was certainly something to gloat over… and something to gloat over with an old friend. He swirled the glass of whiskey he held and took a small sip. “This is it, isn’t it?”

“The performance of a century.” Kurogiri nodded. “Are we ready for the director and the producer to come on stage and take a bow?”

“Yes… I believe I am.” Sensei’s laptop drawled. The whole of the League of Villains sat facing the bar, observing the youth that had been brought before them. Himiko Toga was practically grinding against her seat for a chance to get to the young Izuku Midoriya, who lay completely prone and nude on the floor. He was being held down by two pairs of cuffs nailed to the floor, mouth covered by duct tape. From here, Dabi had to wonder what this whole plan was, and who the ‘director’ and ‘producer’ were. Toga, of course, knew; one of the few people to be let in on the scheme.

In the center of the room, only feet away from Izuku’s prone form, a ball of grey liquid formed. A pinpoint at first, it quickly expanded to the size of a man… and retracted to reveal the imposing form of All For One. Black suit ever expensive and posh, breathing mechanism wheezing slightly, All For One stood with his arms clasped behind his back. Just his sheer presence was enough to freeze the room solid. Tomura and Kurogiri took a deep bow.

“Sensei.” Tomura said, respectfully. The villains who were not Dabi and Toga followed suit. All For One scanned the motley collection of villains and chuckled, a disturbing sound modulated by heavy machinery.

“You have assembled a good team, Tomura. I am proud of your efforts.” He said. All For One looked down at Midoriya, who was breathing in and out rapidly and heavily through his nose. “And our director… truly a wonderful display. I believe I will applaud your efforts when you can hear them.” The arch-villain crouched.

What was happening? Who was this familiar man? Why were the voices screaming in joy? Izuku was panicked, trying to find some way, any way out of this situation. But he couldn’t. The hand that was coming toward his face. It was going to kill him. He knew it. He was so afraid, yet so happy, yet so frightened, yet so heart rendingly afraid. Izuku Midoriya was going to die.

The hand pressed to his face. Black and red power flowed from All For One and into Deku.

Izuku Midoriya felt as if his mind was going to split apart. Thousands of memories shattered free from chains and returned to his mind. Iida. Hosu. Todoroki. The plan. Bakugo The murders. The plans. Every plan. Killing. Murder. Art. Ice water shot down his spine like an ice pick jabbed into his backbone as he felt a power lost returning to his body, and felt a power gained being taken away. Winds no longer came as he tried to call them to escape. His flesh strained against the duct tape and managed to tear it, letting out the scream of a boy in unimaginable mental and physical anguish. Memories. Art. Pain. Pain. Stain. The plan. The Lotus Demon.

And suddenly, that pain was gone. With a wave of his hand, All For One unshackled Izuku with a quirk. The emerald child rose, his face unreadable beneath the sweaty green mat his hair had become.

Applause came from behind him as All For One slapped his hands together slowly. Izuku slicked away his hair to reveal a smug smile… and eyes that held the lizardlike sheen of a killer.

“’Lovers and madmen have such seething brains… such shaping fantasies, that apprehend more than cool reason ever comprehends’.” The Lotus Demon said, looking to Toga. “Wouldn’t you agree? My angel.”

A pleasant silence filled the room for but a few moments.

Then, the wall exploded in fire.

Chapter 41: Suite della Morte: Disperazione e fiducia

Chapter Text

Seven minutes earlier…

Undisguised, with only hoodies drawn over their heads and nondescript clothing to keep them concealed, the UA Assault and Rescue Squadron assembled only a block away from an abandoned building. The neighboring structures were small and unobtrusive apartment buildings, housing for the lower class who wouldn’t much care about their neighbors. Said building, where Bakugo had gotten the info, was unprotected from what anyone could see. On the third floor, closest to the street they were on, was the League’s hideout. The den of evil. Shinso, Iida, and Uraraka returned after a casual scanning of the area.

“No guards, no cameras, no sign of anybody inside. There’s even some dust on the thresholds. First glance and nobody would think someone would be here.” Shinso said, scowling back at the building. “I don’t like it. Too unguarded.”

“That might be the point.” Bakugo grunted. “You don’t put armed guards outside an abandoned building and expect people to not be suspicious.”

“And depending on the Quirk of some of the villains in that building… they may be enough of security by themselves.” Uraraka said, gulping. “Even the two weak villains fighting Tiger and Pixie-Bob were strong, and they have that warping villain.”

“But, if all their security is themselves, we can take every single one of them out in one stroke.” Bakugo said. “This aint a hydra. We take out the head, the body rots. Take out the brains and power, and the foundation will crumble.”

“We need to act soon.” Tokoyami said. “Every moment we’re wasting, Tsuyu is in more and more danger.”

“He’s right.” Iida concurred. “We need a plan, and we need it now.”

Bakugo thought. How was it they were going to enter the compound of the League of Villains mostly blind, grab their friend, do some damage, and then get out again unscathed? They didn’t even know every villain’s power. If one of them had a Quirk they couldn’t account for, or one that was too strong, the entire plan would be compromised and one of them could get killed, or worse. He thought, and thought, and thought.

Then, it occurred to him.

“Here’s the plan. Gather close, questions at the end.”

Two minutes later…

Tsuyu Asui sat alone, still. Burying her head in her knees, she kept her back against the wall. This was all she could do until someone came for her. Silently she reprimanded herself for being so weak, being so off guard that she could be caught with ease. The masked and coat bearing man had simply snatched her up like an apple and trapped her in that marble.

But more than that, if the TV was true, then… Deku was dead. And that was her fault too. She had been so scared to help Izuku that she had run away, regardless of that thought burning in her mind that Izuku couldn’t handle the villain alone. In the end, it was her weakness and trust that killed a friend.

Tears, suppressed for fifty minutes, broke through. Not even the promise of rescue was enough to keep her sorrow from flowing forth. She had done everything wrong. How could she call herself a hero if she couldn’t even save someone near to her? Pathetic, Asui. Pathetic, stupid Asui, who can’t even use her fantastic quirk to help others. Now her weakness had made her vulnerable.

However, those thoughts of pity and self-hatred faded along with a chorus of explosions. Thump. Thump thump. Stone breaking and bending in the walls behind her. Tsuyu rose and breathed heavily, walking away from the wall. Boom. That explosion felt and sounded like it was only feet away. Could it be…?

“SMAASH!”

A fist, clad in white, yellow, and blue, burst through the wall. Then, a second fist, each making small holes. Tsuyu’s tears of sadness became ones of joy. All Might, clad in his multicolored hero costume, burst through the wall, followed by two Special Assault Team members, waving flashlights through the dust that had been kicked up by All Might’s entrance.

“Clear!” One of the officers said, lowering his gun. All Might rushed to Tsuyu and hugged her tight, the frog girl weeping openly in his arms.

“Are you alright, young Asui?” He said, patting her gently.

“All Might…! You actually came…” Asui was picked up by the larger than life man. He turned electric blue eyes and shocked yellow eyes to her.

“It’s alright now. I am here.” All Might exited from the hole he had made in the wall, and pressed his finger to his ear, the earpiece within sending out a signal. “Tsukauchi, Asui is safe.”

“Good job.” Naomasa Tsukauchi stood outside the warehouse. Within the warehouse, the massive hero Mount Lady, the wooden hero Kamui Woods, Best Jeanist, and numerous other pros and Endeavor had broken through. The warehouse was filled with steel cubes, seven feet tall and decked out with medical equipment, all feeding the creatures within—Nomus. Every one of the abominations had been rounded up.

“Nomus are neutralized.” Endeavor grunted over the earpiece. “Edgeshot, any sign of the League’s membership?”

“Negative.” The ninja hero replied, existing as a piece of red string that flitted through the halls of the warehouse. “I’ve checked seventy percent of the rooms. No signs of life.”

“Dammit.” Tsukauchi cursed, glancing to Shoichiro, who was coordinating the police efforts within the building. Shoichiro looked up to his mentor.

“We’re not getting any luck in the surrounding area. Patrols are reporting no suspicious movement. Neighbors who were thought to have some involvement are coming up clean.” Shoichiro said. “This isn’t the League of Villains’ HQ.”

“Then why the hell were they keeping hostages here? Unguarded and unprotected?” Tsukauchi grunted and pressed into his ear. “All Might, get the girl out. We’re setting Kamino on lockdown.”

“Tsukauchi. I might have found something.” Edgeshot said. His folded form had returned to normal and stood outside a door to what would have been a supply closet while this place had been in use. The ninja hero had opened it, and beheld inside a tray of half eaten and non-moldy food… and the ruins of a silver bug. “I got the second bug. They were keeping them in a small cell. Feeding him too. No signs of a struggle, no blood.”

“Then the second hostage is still alive.” Tsukauchi said. “Get that bug and the food out here. We’ll call in Hound Dog. If that has even a trace of a sent on it, Hound can track them down.”

Though they had hit a stumble, the heroes were still in their stride. The jaws were closing tight around the League of Villains.

The wall of the League’s hideout exploded into fire and black smoke. An explosion and its resultant rubble was obscuring everyone’s vision from the inside. Sensei, Tomura, Izuku, and Toga were caught the worst by the detonation; massive chunks of stone and a wave of heat struck them like a tide. The pain was not the important part, however—the smoke and the dust that now filled the room was.

“I can get up there easily, with my explosions acting as flight.” Bakugo said. “Once I do, I’ll do a howitzer impact on the wall. That beat half and half’s wall in the sports festival, it can beat a wall on a building. The shock of it will stun them, and the rubble and dust will be a smoke screen. But we’re going even further.”

The moment the smoke and dust had begun to settle, a biting cold filled the League of Villains’ hideout. The first to try and react was Izuku, who flung himself over the bar and hid beneath it. Toga, Magne, and Spinner readied for combat, as did Sensei, who had already prepared a combination of quirks to deal with the unwelcome intruders. But the first to get their attack off was Dabi, who sent a gout of blue flames into the smoke. This was the villain’s fatal error.

The moment his flames contacted the world outside, the superhot fire hit a wall of ice. Given the intensity of the heat and the deep cold of the wall, the ice flash melted and turned into a burning hot steam that filled the bar. Izuku, and Mr. Compress were the only ones who were safe from the onslaught, hidden behind the bar. Even Sensei and Kurogiri were being pushed back by the scalding fire.

“Half and half will use his ice to create a wall over the hole I make. This is gonna be both our spear and our shield. The moment that shield goes up…”

“… I flash melt it and fill the place with burning steam.” Todoroki finished Bakugo’s thought, which earned the student a snap of approval.

“Shield, keeping us safe from any attacks they throw at us, and spear, burning the hell out of them.”

The bar was now engulfed in chaos. Nobody could hear much of anything over the ringing in their ears and the fires that now crackled all around them. Steam filled every breath and burned the Villains’ lungs. The only one mostly unharmed was Sensei, who had begun to raise an arm towards the now steam filled hole. Though his infrared vision was going berserk at the storm of heat, he could still barely make out the source of the attack after a moment of searching. Black and red lightning crackled from his form and danced like sparks across his body, preparing a Quirk to launch at the attackers.

His attack was aimed in the wrong direction.

From above, two people crashed into the room. Iida, who landed to the left of Tomura and Sensei, and Tokoyami to the right of them. Their first strokes were to search for any enemies. The closest silhouettes to them was Toga next to Iida, and Magne beside Tokoyami. Iida launched himself at the female villain and leapt in the air, spinning once and bringing his left leg into the woman’s jaw on the next spin. The thrusters in his calves burned hot and propelled his leg to maiming force—force that broke Toga Himiko’s jaw and teeth as it flew her into the rows of bottles behind the bar. Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow grasped Magne tight and squeezed, slamming her into the booth behind her before pulling her back and bouncing her skull off the floor.

“With the entire area blinded and hurting, everyone in there is going to be dazed and confused. That means we’ll need to capitalize in the few seconds before they get their bearings again. Uraraka, people with zero gravity on them can maneuver freely, yeah?”

“Not really.” Uraraka said. “Once they’re in a direction, they’ll keep going that way until I release them. They’re not capable of propelling themselves without some outside help.”

“Then we’ll go for the alternative.” Bakugo said. “I need two people to get floated up to the roof. From there, they’ll need to break down from the roof, into the bar. The villains, if any one of them are still lucid, are going to attack towards the hole in the wall, expecting people to come in that way. I need two strong people to be able to break down into the bar and kick some ass.”

“Dark Shadow can break through walls, especially at night.” Tokoyami said, crossing his arms. “I’ll help with the direct assault.”

Bakugo looked between the two of the group who didn’t yet have jobs, Shinso and Iida. There was no choice but to ask Iida to do this. Bakugo opened his mouth.

“I’ll do it.” Iida said, nodding once. He looked down. “… For the last few months, I kept asking myself. What if I was stronger? What if I could have defeated the Lotus Demon back in Hosu? How many lives would have been saved?” Iida paused, clenching his fists. “All this time, I’ve been thinking… maybe the law isn’t what I need to abide by. Maybe, right now, this situation, is too personal to ignore. If I have a chance to take out the Demon, I’ll take it. I won’t kill him, but I’ll sure as hell give him a nasty kick in the chest.”

Katsuki grinned wildly at Iida. “Now that’s what I’m talking about, class pres.”

Immediately switching from Toga, Tenya didn’t miss a single beat in aiming his next attack towards Tomura. The young hero was starting to lose his breath, kept in tight to prevent his lungs from burning more than his eyes were. Iida launched forward and brought his leg down as an axe kick on the leader of the League, sending the barely protected ringleader to the floor. Tokoyami had begun on Spinner, dealing two devastating claws to the lizardman’s chest and throat. In the span of four seconds, most of the League of Villains had been sent to the floor.

“Airburst, plus force maximization.” Sensei called, droning over his mask. The power he had been gathering finally begun to stream forth as air, tinged black.

“HIT THE DECK!” Dabi yelled, in the place of the stunned Tomura. Following this advice, the two young heros found what cover they could. Iida jumped the bar and slammed his back into it. Tokoyami launched himself into one of the booths.

The explosion ripped through the bar. The only peoples spared were those who had sat themselves down to the floor, or had been put down by the students. A burst of air and pure force tore the walls down, burst open the roof, and sent everything that was above Sensei’s waist into rubble. In but a gesture, the third floor had been destroyed, and the world had been reduced to the night sky and waist high walls. The burst had struck nearby buildings as well, turning some of their upper floors into dust. The explosion cleared the steam and smoke away, leaving the world frighteningly clear.

This also meant that Tokoyami was out of the picture as well, as he was just above Sensei’s waist line. Luckily, Dark Shadow had reacted in time to prevent Tokoyami from becoming pulped; the spirit protected Fumikage as he was thrown out of the building and onto the street below. Twice, too, had been caught off guard, and sent into a neighboring alley, his back hitting the adjacent building hard.

And though the force of the explosion had not struck him, the last member of the team was shaken.
”Last but not least, Mr. Purple.” Bakugo said, followed by a grunt from Shinso. “You’re not the strongest in this scenario. Sure, it’d work if they were just blinded, but right now, they’re going to be deaf as well. So, we’ll leave the big part up to you.”

“That is?”

“Finding Tsuyu. Search everywhere in the building while we have them distracted. If we can find her and get her out, we’ll have achieved what we came for.”

“While I take offense to calling me useless in any situation… you’re not wrong.” Shinso said, rubbing the back of his head. “Looks like I’m the search part of this search and rescue.”

“You and Uraraka will be. After she floats us up, she’ll join you in the search. If you don’t find her on the floors that won’t be attacked, bug out.” Uraraka and Shinso shared a nod, and Bakugo stood up. “Alright. You know your jobs, you know your targets. Right now, right here, we got a chance to completely behead the League of Villains, kill the Demon that’s cursed us for the last year and a half, and save Japan. Right now, fate’s hanging over us, but we aint gonna quit. Let’s go raise hell.”

“I knew I loved you for more than your brawn. Maybe you should go into speech writing.” Todoroki said, smiling wide.

“Shut up, halfy.” Bakugo said, grinning. “Let’s f*cking go.”

Uraraka had searched through the second floor, and Shinso had gotten the first floor. No matter how many doors he had kicked down before the attack begun, he came upon nothing but rooms of empty sh*t, broom closets, and the like. Only one room had held his attention, a modest armory. He had grabbed a weapon from the storage and exited, returning to the search. Uraraka found nothing but broom closets and personal rooms for the League—no sign of Asui. When the explosion rended the building, though it was mainly the third floor effected, the second and first were rocked to their cores.

The two met back up on the first floor as the bar began to shake.

“Anything?!” Shinso said. Uraraka shook her head, and without missing a beat, the two dashed from the bar. It hurt to leave their friends, but these were orders, and they had to be safe. They threw open the door just as Tokoyami hit the ground a few feet in front of them. The young man groaned, but was scooped up by both Shinso and Uraraka and ferried away.

Todoroki and Bakugo had been launched away by the explosion, but they both had a way to get back in the fight. Bakugo maneuvered to grab Todoroki as he flew and managed to grasp his hand. Two explosions from Katsuki’s hands sent the duo back towards the bar and returned them to the fight area. However, as they spotted Uraraka and Shinso leaving the building, Bakugo reconsidered. If they had found nothing… then Tsuyu wasn’t here. Regret would have to wait. Bakugo set off two bursts to follow the path Shinso and Uraraka were on.

But that still meant Tenya was there, in the bar. Katsuki was torn. He had a choice to head back towards the bar, or to escape with Todoroki and the rest after delivering some heavy damage. But if they escaped, they condemned Iida. What would Iida do? Think, Bakugo. Who would Iida rather prefer saved?

Katsuki swallowed his fears and steeled himself, continuing to escape. Before anyone else, the class president would want his comrades to escape. Bakugo just had to believe in his friend; he had to believe that he would be alright.

The explosion may have rocked him, but the young man was still up and ready to fight. However, with the devastation that just occurred, it seemed the smart move would be to leave. Iida kept himself crouching and took one step towards a now destroyed wall. Three steps would get him out of there.

“I-Iida!” A voice, hushed, came from behind him. It was so familiar, and its tone made Tenya’s heart stop. The class president turned.

Behind him, only a few feet away, was Izuku Midoriya. He was nude, and behind him lay the knocked-out form of Mr. Compress and Toga, the latter of whom’s mouth was bleeding heavily. Izuku was low to the ground and seemed panicked, looking from left to right. This was very much the Izuku Midoriya they knew. Tenya scooped his friend up in a hug, which was reciprocated. Iida cried without shame, holding him tight.

“I thought you were dead…!” Iida said, voice barely above a whisper.

“They faked my d-death and took me hostage to shake confidence in heroes. A dead kid does more than two hostages I guess.” Izuku said, patting Tenya on the back. “Why are you here?”

“Revenge for you, and to rescue Tsuyu, but it looks like that first part isn’t necessary.” Iida said, sniffing back more tears. “God am I glad you’re safe... and alive.”

“Who else is with you?” Deku asked. He sounded a bit strange, like he was monotonous. Perhaps the explosions had him shell shocked? Nevertheless, Iida spoke.

“Uraraka, Bakugo, Tokoyami, Todoroki, Shinso, and I.”

“Perfect… we’ll be able to get out of here easily.” Izuku said. From the other side of the bar, something was clattering around, and heavy footsteps plodded about.

“Where are they?!” Tomura hissed, his hand hitting the bar and supporting him up, still unable to see or hear Iida and Izuku. “Dammit. Dammit!”

“We need to leave, now.” Iida said, grabbing Izuku’s wrist and starting to pull. Deku stayed his ground, prompting Iida to look back. “Izuku?”

“Iida. I have an idea, but you need to trust me.” Deku said, smiling up at his friend. “This is going to be a big pinch, but it’s the only shot we have. If we fail this, we might not get another chance.”

“I trust you.”

“With all your heart?”

“With all my heart.”

“Good.” Deku said, taking a step closer. From behind his back, Izuku pulled the broken edge of a bottle, and slammed it into Tenya Iida’s chest as swiftly as a viper striking. His eyes barely had the energy to widen in shock as Iida felt blood rushing into his throat. He hadn’t hit the heart, but Iida’s sternum. Deku roughly tore the broken bottle down Iida’s chest and out, ripping him wide open. In an almost loving gesture, Izuku held Iida close, and lowered him to the floor, the class president choking and spitting up blood in his death throes.

“I trust you too, so I’ll let you in on a secret.” Izuku said, leaning in close, and whispering. “I am the Lotus Demon.”

Every moment of Tenya Iida’s life was laid bare. Training Izuku, the friend he thought he had, in a quirk that was never his. Losing to him and hugging him in respect was the killer who had murdered thousands. Loving him like a brother and weeping when he died, only to have one last hope... turned to dust in his mouth. The man who scarred his face and mind, and massacred children had held him close in relief.

As Tenya Iida breathed his last breath, the only thing in his heart was despair.

Chapter 42: Suite della Morte: Bene e Male

Chapter Text

The flames had begun to clear from the hideout of the League of Villains. Without a roof above their head, there was no significant risk of smoke hurting their lungs, though the structure of the building would be in a less secure state. All For One stood, serene as a windless pond, tracking the movement of the fast escaping kids of 1-A. He did nothing to stop or impede the retreat, for the time being. Izuku hopped up, his form covered in Tenya Iida’s blood, and leapt the counter to stand near the icon of evil.

“Your friends are quite skilled. It’s a shame they aren’t more predisposed towards our cause.” All For One said, a hint of a smile on his voice. Izuku nodded.

“Quite so. Shall we pursue?” Deku asked. All For One held out a hand.

“No. You will assist Tomura in getting the League to a safe location.” Wind slowly picked up around All For One’s feet, circling dust and debris as if he were the eye of a small storm. Sensei lifted off the ground as casually as one would walk. “I will pursue your friends. When you are finished here, I would have your assistance in killing each in an… ironic way. You know them best, after all. You will know where to find me.”

Coughing, Tomura rose to one knee, watching his master slowly rising. He croaked and called. “S-sensei! I-if the rogue’s plan was right, All Might may still be in Kamino! What if--”

“Tomura.” All For One said, looking back towards his protégé. “You still have so much room to grow. Even if All Might finds me, and even if I lose… I believe that you have the will in you to become the successor you were always meant to be.”

“I’m… I’m not… ready!” Tomura said, something in his voice bordering on desperation.

“Then you will become ready.” All For One began to float lazily in pursuit of the children, but called over his shoulder. “And for the love of God, put some clothes on, young Izuku.” Izuku looked down on his nude self, and turned bright red, covering his privates with both hands. As he looked over the wreckage, he spotted something he hadn’t seen in a long time. Approaching, he found his cloak, his clawed gloves, combat boots, and…

That mask. That beautiful mask. Even now as he held it and flipped it over in his hands, he felt a sense of supreme calm wash over him. The Kanji, the long slash where Stain had hit him, the leering demon that screamed for bloodshed.

For so long, Izuku Midoriya had wondered which side of him was the real him. The person trying to be a hero yet helping the League, or the person who killed without a shred of remorse, and forged art from the bodies. Many months ago, he had feebly convinced himself that those two personalities were just that: two people. Yet, as he covered his face with that mask again, as he felt its cold and breath constricting steel on his face, he knew something for absolute certain.

He was the Lotus Demon. Now, and forever.

Midoriya put on his balaclava, cloak, mask, gloves, tunic, combat pants and boots, and turned to face the assembled League, most of its members looking towards a recovered (and… shockingly dower) Tomura. Those who had not been roused yet such as Spinner and Compress were slowly being helped up. The baby blue haired young man cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders.

“Let’s get the f*ck out of here. You’ve got your orders, rogue.” He hissed. Kurogiri rose and formed himself into a gate.

It was a good thing the side streets were relatively empty in this section of Kamino, or else the UA rescue and assault squad would have had to barrel through countless people to match their breakneck pace. Bakugo and Todoroki touched down beside Shinso, Uraraka, and Tokoyami, who had barely recovered from his fall. The squad hauled ass down a shoddily paved street, covered in seedy stores.

“Where’s Iida?!” Uraraka said, looking back at Bakugo. Bakugo’s eye twitched, and he looked down as he broke into a sprint with the group.

“He’ll need to find his own way out. I couldn’t get close to him. That pipe mask guy… if he blew up their base that easily, I think I would have gotten pulped.” Bakugo said. Uraraka’s face fell. Shinso’s face twisted into one of rage.

“So you just left him?!” The youth questioned in a snarl. Bakugo looked to the youth with an equal amount of fire.

“Iida would have wanted me to keep everyone safe, dipsh*t! Including me, much as I hate to say it!”

Though it hurt to admit, Shinso knew Bakugo was right. Even though they had only known each other for a brief amount of time, Hitoshi knew that Iida was possessed by a selfless fire rivaled only by All Might’s. If it meant Bakugo, or another one getting hurt because of him, Iida would have stood against it adamantly. Shinso bit down any comment he felt brewing in his chest and continued running.

Soon, the squad found itself on one of the more populated side streets. Here, they hoped they would be far enough away from the villains that they weren’t being pursued, and even if they were, the enemy would hopefully not attack in fear of alerting the nearby heroes. Stopping to catch their breath against a wall, they watched the various passersby intently. For now, there was no sign they were followed. Uraraka was slumped deep against the bricks, as did Tokoyami.

“Looks like we’re in the clear.” Bakugo said, hands on his knees and gasping in breaths. “f*ck me…”

“What now?” Tokoyami asked, looking up to Katsuki. The latter spat to his side.

“We hop on a train and get the hell out of here. The sooner we’re back on our feet and moving, the better. Far as we know we’re still being chased, so we’re only going to be safe once we’re out of Kamino.”

“Safety? Are you kids in trouble?”

The squad whipped their head around, instantly ready for a fight… only to find themselves looking at a particularly pretty woman. A foreigner, by the looks of her blonde hair. She wore an expensive looking black suit, white undershirt, and black shoes, more conventionally fit on a man than on a woman. Their tense stance instantly faded. It was just another civilian.

“You could say that, lady.” Bakugo said. “Any idea where the nearest train station is?”

“In Kamino? You’d want to head thirteen blocks north, then two east. I can give you a lift if you’d like. It’s absolutely no trouble.” The woman said. Instantly, Bakugo felt suspicious. For some reason, throughout the conversation, she was speaking in a masculine form. Matched with the suit… something seemed wrong. The woman bent down to meet Bakugo’s eye level and tilted her head. “Is something wrong?”

No… maybe… maybe he was just being consumed by his own doubt. He had spent so long on the streets, killing villains for money and food, surrounded by scum, that he couldn’t tell a tomboyish woman from a threat. For once, it was time to let his guard down and accept some help. Fifteen blocks was a long walk, after all, and a car would get them there faster—less likely to get jumped by the league. The woman extended her hand.

Bakugo took it and nodded. “Thank you for your help, ma’am.”

“It’s no problem. For you, I am here.” Her smile grew wide.

Black and red lightning arced from her hand.

. . .

In the time it took for a single heartbeat to pump blood into Bakugo’s veins, downtown Kamino was a pit of rubble. The space where the UA assault and rescue squad had stood in was a glass floor. The surrounding buildings and cars had been reduced to flaming wrecks, strewn about like an angry child had decided his toy city had offended him. The people, going about their everyday lives, innocent for all intents and purposes, had been reduced to atoms and ash, drifting away in the breeze. The only people who were not All For One that had survived the blast was the squad, spared only by the will of the arch villain.

In that rubble, the king of evil slowly clapped.

“What an entertaining show!” The masculine voice mixed with the feminine as All For One’s disguise began to shimmer and flow off his body like sparks. As the façade of a western woman was replaced with All For One’s face mask, his voice returned to normal. “Face Morph plus Vocal Throw. A useless combination for anything beyond getting the groceries as a villain, but quite handy in a situation like that. Yet even still, I don’t think you were completely fooled, Blast King. For that, you have my compliments.”

Bakugo stared up at All For One, only ten meters away. Though he tried to move, he found his left leg had been shattered, and at least three ribs had been splintered. As his muscles contracted desperately in an attempt to get up, he felt shards of bone threatening to pierce deeper into his flesh. For now, he was useless and lame.

Tokoyami and Uraraka, the furthest from the blast, had it slightly better—that being, they were trapped under piles of bricks. Uraraka’s left arm was broken, and the dizziness she felt implied she may have suffered a concussion. Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow had reacted in record time to keep his master safe—only to have trapped him beneath masonry. The two students didn’t dare move or make a sound, lest their position be revealed, praying they would remain concealed.

The blast had sent Shinso into a telephone pole, his lower spine bending around hard metal and turning his legs completely numb. The young man’s lower spine had doubtlessly been broken. The pain of it was immense, yet he was still mobile using his arms. Todoroki was nowhere to be seen amidst the debris. Had he been turned to mist? Fear mounted in Bakugo’s stomach like a giant stacking bricks.

“Though it was a short hunt, it was certainly a fun one. You have made an instrumental part of Tomura’s growth fittingly fun. But I would have been remiss to simply erase such fine specimens... not at least without allowing my rogue to enjoy himself first.”

Emerging from the rubble, pushing past bricks, was a figure that caught both the squad and All For One’s attention. What emerged from the smoke was a red cloak, flashing steel claws, and a ghostly white mask. The Lotus Demon had come, like a vengeful spirit summoned by the dead. Terror flowed through the children like a wave, as only now was the severity of their situation becoming clear: they were going to be tortured, and then killed. And no one was coming to help them.

“I assume everyone is safe, given you’re here, Lotus Demon?” All For One inquired.

“Indeed.” The voice was heavily modulated by the electronics within the mask. That face… it made Bakugo’s blood boil. Behind that mask, even if it wasn’t Deku, was a man he wanted dead so badly it made his head hurt. The rage in him began to force the pain in his leg and torso to recede, replaced with adrenaline and killing intent. The Demon slowly paced towards Bakugo and kneeled before him. Cold, sharp talons caressed his enemy’s face. “Oh, Bakugo…” The Demon tilted his head. “I brought you something.” The killer searched around in his cloak and pulled out something that Katsuki did not recognize at first. Then, it hit him.

Iida’s wire frame glasses. Cracked, and stained with blood.

Numbness filled Bakugo as he watched the Demon put them on. Again, he tilted his head, left and right, like an inquisitive bird. “How did he see out of these?! I swear, if he couldn’t use contacts in his hero costume, maybe he would have still been alive.” Like he was dealing with a somewhat fussy child, the Lotus Demon mussed Bakugo’s hair, and rose, calling out to the assembled children. “In memory of the late Tenya Iida, I feel it is only fair to do this process as… fairly… as possible.” He pulled out one of his long, wickedly curved knives, and pointed towards Bakugo. “Eeny.”

He pointed towards Shinso. “Meeny.” For a moment, he paused, looking around, and met Sensei’s gaze. “Where are the other three?”

“Those bricks over there. The third one is… somewhere outside of one hundred meters.” All For One said, pointing towards the brickwork. Their prayers unanswered, Uraraka and Tokoyami could do nothing more than wait. If they tried to escape now, the villains would cut them down. The Lotus Demon pointed towards the bricks.

“Miney moe.” Then, to Bakugo again. This circle repeated, and as the Demon took his time playing this sick game, it gave Bakugo time to think. Uraraka and Tokoyami were under those bricks, meaning that they were at least visibly concealed. If they just had an opening, they could counter attack. Todoroki had escaped beyond the arch villain’s detection radius, somehow. If he could somehow get a chance to make a distraction again, something to make the villains lose them…

They had a chance. And that’s all they needed. A chance, and hope. The song was beginning to die down, the Demon’s pointing continuing. “If… he… hollers… let… him… go. Eeny… Meeny… Miney…” He pointed towards the bricks. “You.” Slowly, the demon closed the distance. “Looks like I get the grab bag.” Pushing past the red stones, he grasped the first available person he could find, and hauled.

Uraraka was thrown to the dust, coughing and wheezing. The pain had finally caught up to the girl as she landed on her broken arm; she cringed and attempted to curl into the fetal position. As she tried to defend herself, the Demon leapt over her and kicked her square in her stomach, causing a gasp and whimper of pain. Izuku pushed the girl onto her back and straddled her stomach, grasping her right arm tight. She tried in vain to pull away, but her right hand was brought up to the Demon’s mask to be examined.

“Hmmm…” He said. “Your quirk works through these little pads on your fingertips, yes?” His free hand gripped his knife tight bringing the edge beneath the pad on her thumb. “Let’s start here.”

Uraraka screamed in agony as the calloused tips of her fingers began to be sliced off. One by one, each pad fell to the dust stained earth. The Demon worked like a surgeon, cutting slowly and precisely. The aspiring heroes could do nothing more than watch as their friend was tortured. Bakugo swore, the moment he got an opening… he would do more than kill the Demon. He would go medieval on that psychopath. Shinso held his head to block out the screams. They were too much to bear. Tokoyami felt rage brewing hotter and hotter in his chest, Dark Shadow’s eyes beginning to flicker a deep red. Would he go berserk again?

“I think I will take my leave. You seem to have it from he—” The hairs on the back of All For One’s neck stood straight. His infrared senses had spiked suddenly. Something was quickly approaching, one hundred meters out. No… two things were, from two different directions, both on two different courses. One was coming towards him. The other towards the Lotus Demon. It appeared as if the attacking children’s plus one had returned, as had… him. “So, you’re finally here.”

Bursting through the smoke, the red, white, and blue outfit of All Might crashed into All For One like a missile. Two fists went straight for the arch villain’s head, and were held back, if barely. The shockwaves that erupted from the clash forced the Lotus Demon to release his hold on Uraraka and shield himself.

“I’m going to make you pay for every ounce of pain you’ve caused today, All For One!” All Might growled.

“Are you here to kill me again, All Might?” All For One pushed against his nemesis and won the clash, throwing the mighty hero back thirty meters. The shockwave sent the wounded students skidding across the glassed asphalt, an almost comical display, like hockey pucks sliding on unpolished ice. Unphased by his initial assault being repelled, All Might quickly rose and went for another strike.

As the fight between All Might and All For One began, Todoroki soared over a broken wall with his flames as propellant and suddenly jetted down, bringing his knee down in a savage hammer blow, meant for the Demon’s stomach. The killer rolled out of the way just in time, instead catching the edge of Todoroki’s knee, causing pain to shoot through his back, most of the shock absorbed by his vest. Gracefully as a spider, the Demon skittered backwards, gaining distance… only to find his retreat cut off by the swinging claw of Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow, the young man having broken out of his hiding place to begin his assault. The talons cut deep into the Lotus Demon’s cloak, the force of it sending him away and his tattered robe flowing in the breeze.

All Might and All For One exchanged a strike, yet this time, Sensei was pushed back and off his feet, hitting a half broken wall behind him. As he recovered, he chuckled. “From the Nomu warehouse to here is only five kilometers, yet it took you a full minute and a half to get here. You’re getting slow, old enemy. Perhaps victory has defeated you more than you had defeated I.”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to be insulting me. That little industrial piping showroom on your neck seems to indicate you’re on life support.” All Might pointed, eyes glowing their deep neon blue. “Do you really think you can beat me in such a state?!”

Uraraka, Tokoyami, Todoroki, and Bakugo rose—the latter only barely to keep himself standing on one broken leg. The four students faced down the killer who had consumed Japan in fire for the last year, the Demon’s masked face staring back with a murderous aura that could almost be felt. Four on one, the Lotus Demon reached into his cloak and pulled out a pair of curved daggers, crouching low to the ground.

“Young students! You need to get out of here, now! You are not to engage in combat!” All Might called back to the injured kids. All For One seized on the opportunity of a distraction, his limbs curling like springs, and air collecting in his hand. In the span of a second, a cannon of pure force had launched like a lance from All For One’s hand, landing squarely in All Might’s chest. The symbol of peace was sent hurtling through buildings, landing several blocks away. A cloud of dust followed his path.

“Oh, if only it were that easy!” All For One said, every word filled with excitement. “How will these kids get out, when I am here, and the Lotus Demon is there? I predict he will carve them like Christmas turkeys before letting them slip between his talons!”

“You’re precisely right, Sensei…” The Demon hissed. He flowed forward, taking one step forward, then another, on a slow approach to the four kids able and willing to fight. Flames began to flow off Todoroki’s left side. Tokoyami and Uraraka took on a stance ready for combat, blood seeping from Uraraka’s sliced off finger pads and pattering the dusty earth. Bakugo’s palms sparked with explosions. “I’m not going to let a single one of you get out alive.”

“You’re going to wish you’d killed me a lot sooner, you piece of sh*t.” Uraraka growled, rage and bared teeth turning her tears of agony into a sorrowful mask of violence.

“Am I?” The demon said, his voice mocking, taking another step. The distance was closing rapidly.

All Might burst through the cloud of debris, beginning his second attack from above. As he plummeted, countless thoughts raced through his head. How could he get the students out of there safely? He would have to defeat the Lotus Demon, but his nemesis would be able to hold him at bay if he tried to take down the serial killer first—maybe even kill one of his students in the process. Think, All Might! How can you save everyone? How can you help them all? Think…

There was only one way. Only one way to ensure that All For One focused on All Might, and the Lotus Demon could be disabled to allow the kids a chance to escape. His students would just have to do their best… and he would just need to pray they would succeed while he took down his old foe.

"STUUDEEENTS!” All Might called, his descent bordering on breaking the sound barrier. “ON THE HONOR OF THE PRO HERO ALL MIGHT, YOU ARE PERMITTED TO FIGHT!”

All For One floated vertically upwards to meet the incoming fist of All Might.

Todoroki and Bakugo lifted off the ground, the former flying with his flames, the latter with his explosions. Uraraka and Tokoyami charged the Lotus Demon. The Demon’s knives flashed as he charged, stalking across the pavement like a stalking lizard, going in for the kill.

The glass crater that had once been the Kamino ward erupted into combat; the ultimate showdown of good versus evil.

Chapter 43: Addio, Vecchio Amico

Chapter Text

The world had devolved into chaos. With the center of Kamino ward, one of the premier commercial districts in Tokyo reduced to cinders at primetime, the immediate death toll was in the tens of thousands. Trains were actively running off the rails and slamming into ruined earth. Heroes tried desperately to recover anyone they could find, ignoring the titanic struggle in the center of the explosion. A black car mounted the curb running down one of the main avenues and sped along the mostly empty sidewalk.

“We have confirmation that All Might and All For One are at the scene, but nothing else. Local heroes are dispatching, as well as the task force sent to the warehouse.” Tsukauchi practically screamed into his phone, anxiety coloring his features. “Block off the roads and designate the area as a no-fly zone until we know All For One is being kept occupied. That man can level an entire air wing for fun.”

“Understood.” The voice on the other end replied. “This is beyond PSIA or police capacity to interfere in beyond establishing a perimeter and beginning rescue operations. Get out of Kamino ASAP.”

“Yes sir.” Tsukauchi ended the call and leaned back in his seat. Shoichiro Nishimura was straight like a board, keeping an eye out for passersby. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“How do you mean?” Shoichiro asked, eyes turning to his superior.

“All For One hasn’t done an attack like this. Not in my lifetime. He’s far subtler, which means that something has forced his hand. Whatever the plan he and the Lotus Demon came up with, it’s off the rails.” Tsukauchi felt a hint of a smile growing at his lips. “This is uncharted territory for everyone.”

“Back up a second. Who the hell is All For One?”

“We live to see next week, I’ll tell you all about him.” The smile on Tsukauchi’s face was gone the moment it was thought to exist. “Steals quirks. Most powerful villain in Japan.”

“Well, isn’t that great. Most powerful villain and most deadly serial killer in a room. Must be a fun conversation.” Shoichiro grimaced. “There’s really nothing we can do?”

“You suddenly get as strong as All Might, get moving. Until then, agent… we run, and we pray.”

Izuku was feeling the heat, and he loved every second of it.

If there was one advantage to being outnumbered by four people, it was the utter chaos of it all. Todoroki and Bakugo’s quirks, elemental based emitters, were far too large scale to launch off and keep everyone safe at the same time. Too much fire, burn a friend. Too big an explosion, hurt an ally. Their attacks were reserved worry for when the others backed off. Uraraka was practically lame without her quirk, but her martial arts were not anything to sneeze at—a good grapple could send him down. The most worrying opponent was Tokoyami, whose Dark Shadow made it feel like he was fighting two people at once. And yet, with the amount of light being thrown around by Bakugo and Todoroki, the strength of Dark Shadow was being negated.

Izuku hit the deck, dodging a swipe from Tokoyami, only to have his quick rise interrupted by a jet of fire from Todoroki. Rolling once onto his back, he found his foot jutting towards Uraraka’s chin; the strike was barely dodged, skinning a bit of her cheek from the force of the attack. As he spotted Bakugo coming in for an assault, Izuku was barely able to get his fingers around a throwing knife and sailing for his old enemy. The knife missed but did its job; the new attack angle was blocked by Tokoyami, who went in for a savage kick and claw combo. Izuku caught the kick in the ribs and felt pain shoot through him but was able to keep Dark Shadow back with a quick stab.

God, if this wasn’t fun. Izuku found his footing just before a wall of ice shot from Todoroki’s foot, followed by a pair of wicked jabs from Uraraka. With the dodge’s momentum, Izuku grasped Uraraka and threw her into the wall as it advanced, dodging and attacking at the same time. He cursed himself for his own panic—one grab could end the fight if he just had the foresight to use his quirk.

A pattern was not forming in the attacks of Class 1-A. They had no time to prepare, their best fighter was consumed by bloodlust, and their chief strategist was dead in the bar about a kilometer away. There was no coordination, and no plan. They simply fired off attacks randomly and hoped the others would follow suit and capitalize on any gains they made. There was simply no time, because the moment they relented, the Lotus Demon would launch at them like a bat out of hell. He wasn’t just surviving off the momentum, he was thriving in it.

They needed a moment to talk, some brief moment to get a plan. Todoroki launched a pair of flaming lances from the skies, the attack returned with a pair of throwing daggers. While one missed the half and half child, another embedded itself in his forearm, causing him to curse in pain. Tokoyami and the Demon struggled for a second, the latter grappling with the former’s quirk. The Demon pushed his enemy away with the incoming light of Bakugo’s explosions, defusing the strength of Tokoyami’s quirk. Class 1-A had seen real combat only twice, and the Demon had seen it far more. They were outnumbering him, yet they were outmatched.

All Might stood only a few hundred meters away, his battle with his old nemesis having been moved to another portion of the destroyed city. The number one hero sucked in breath after breath, having piledriven All For One through a skyscraper and into its basem*nt. He knew that he would not kill his old foe that easily, and simply waited for him to rise again. And so, he did, yet with the simplicity of a man brushing himself off after getting dust on his nice suit.

“It must be so frustrating for you, All Might.” All For One said, in an almost empathetic tone. “To know that you can do nothing about something life threatening only a short distance away… quite a hard pill to swallow, eh? Symbol of Peace?”

All Might frowned, but then broke into a smile, one that was more predatorial than his usual encouraging façade. “I’m not worried about them, All For One. The moment I worry is the moment I concede to the notion they will lose.”

“Oh? How have we arrived at such confidence in our new generation?” All For One spread his hands. “They’ve lost, time after time, barely being saved by you, or someone else.”

“But they’ve gotten back up again. That is the mark of a true hero; to never relent, to never surrender, even in the face of overwhelming odds. No matter what your league or the Demon has thrown at them, they get back up, they dust themselves off, and they keep going. Do you have any notion of how strong that makes them?!”

“I’d like to think that’s just you masturbating your own ego because of that hole in your side.”

“We’ll see.” All Might set one foot behind the other and launched forward at mach speed. “Right now, I’m feeling like opening one in you!”

. . .

There was no slack to the attacks to the Lotus Demon, each one was dodged with ease or landed with minimal effect. The adrenaline had begun to wear off with each passing moment of combat, making the pain each student feels even more pressing. Their movements were slowing, and they were limping. Every attempt to catch a breath was met by a hand going for their throat or a knife for their stomach. A battle of attrition was not a safe bet; they had to win, and do it now.

Bakugo’s thoughts were simple and rough. He had to attack, attack, attack, and never land once, lest he risked the pain from his broken leg sending him to the ground. If he kept up the pressure, his enemy would eventually break. This was Blast King’s plan: to keep advancing like a drill until his enemy was down.

Uraraka was constantly trying to find an opening, some way to grapple the Lotus Demon. If she could just get an arm around his neck or a leg to hook his leg, she could send him sprawling. From what she had gathered, his quirk worked off touching someone with his hands, much like hers. So, if he was disabled, they would win. Uraraka was like a nail, seeking for an opportunity to get in at a perfect angle.

Tokoyami’s thoughts were far more balanced, attempting to keep an even spread between attack and defense. He used both his body and Dark Shadow’s to keep his friends safe and defeat his opponent, respectively. There was no ace in the hole for him… the bird man simply had to keep hammering his opponent and hope for something to give.

Todoroki was the wild card in the situation, with his incredibly powerful quirk limited only by his nearby friends. He couldn’t launch off any steam, nor a large enough flamethrower or ice wall. If he could get a single opportunity, Todoroki could turn his foe into paste. But there had to be some chance, some plan—

No, this was no longer the time for planning. Todoroki knew, from his experience at the camp and the preceding months, the thing that the Lotus Demon knew best was planning. Any sort of plot they could come up with would be dissolved in a moment of chaos, and they would either be right back to their current stalemate, or dead. Right now, Todoroki could no longer keep his friends perfectly safe. He just had to get them out of the way, and hope they knew how to capitalize on the roles he was giving them. Slowly, Shoto began to build up heat in his left side.

Time to see how chaos worked out for a change.

Todoroki set his leg on the ground, and from it, a massive wall of ice sprung out. The Lotus Demon prepared for something to come from the front, yet was surprised by the sudden shift of direction from him to… surrounding him. Bakugo smacked comically into the wall, while a second wall sprung from Todoroki and went to surround Tokoyami, blocking out the sky and the visibility of his surroundings.

Shoto Todoroki rose off the ground to watch the Lotus Demon attempting to scale his impromptu cage. The enemy was able to get out, but no sooner had he touched the ground had Todoroki slammed his left arm into the wall of ice and flung suddenly boiling hot water at the Lotus Demon. The glacier wall melted in a deluge of hot water, waterlogging the Demon.

As Izuku attempted to rise and get his bearings, the sphere of ice surrounding Tokoyami burst. While nowhere near as strong as it was in the forest, Dark Shadow had risen to around five meters taller than it had been, surrounding its master like armor out of a fantasy game. “TENEBROUS ABYSS BODY!” Tokoyami screamed. A claw from Dark Shadow flung from its form with incredible strength, sending Izuku flying.

This was a problem, yet there was still a solution for the young killer. Izuku touched his body and felt his bones ignite like heaps of molten pig iron, yet now, he stood still in the air. Without missing a beat, Izuku drew his knives and went back on the offensive, diving down towards Uraraka, who had managed to levitate a rather large piece of rubble with her broken arm’s still functional pads.

His attention was drawn the wrong way.

Katsuki Bakugo had recovered from his rather embarrassing strike of the wall, and was now in the skies, a mere two meters from Izuku. As thoughts of a solution ran through his head, Bakugo was faster. He slammed into his foe, grappling with him, and grabbing at… his mask. Desperately, Katsuki was trying to take away his anonymity, and at the same time trying to take him out of the fight. This would not do. Izuku dispelled his quirk on himself and reached back for Bakugo. He touched Katuski.

Puppetmaster’s metaphysical strings latched onto Bakugo’s bones, filling his body with fire. Izuku began to fall from the sky, without his own quirk keeping him afloat. No matter—killing Bakugo would only take a second, and then he could recover. Izuku twisted his fingers and extended his will, tearing off Bakugo’s forearm. He prepared to kill his old rival and finally settle their little childhood battle, but something he had only dully noted came back to haunt him.

The massive piece of rubble launched by Uraraka’s “good” arm had only grazed Izuku, but in the worst place: the back of his head. Its massive size and solidity took his concentration away from Bakugo, his ears ringing and world spinning. His quirk was dispelled as he felt a minor concussion rocking through his skull. Izuku plummeted towards the earth. One last strike would feel itself on the Lotus Demon: Shoto Todoroki, hurtling through the skies, smiled wide, and his fist landed squarely in the center of his mask.

“f*ck YOU!” Without any preamble, warning, or speech, Shoto used his fire to slam himself and the Lotus Demon into the earth, the latter landing head first. Rocks and dust were flown out of his violent entry into the earth, his movement only stopping when Todoroki saw fit to allow the Lotus Demon to rest on the ground. A massive crack had formed in the Demon’s mask, its edges chipped. Izuku Midoriya tried desperately to rise, to move his arms and legs, but he found nothing would respond. The pain and the damage he had sustained, the throbbing pain in his skull, the open wounds that pulsed with blood…

This isn’t possible. The thoughts burned through Izuku’s skull like a wildfire of rage and disbelief. I… can’t lose. Unable to speak, Izuku attempted to bring his legs back beneath him, yet even that was too much. When what feeble attempt at footing was lost, he fell to his side. I feel nauseous, and my body isn’t responding. My head… I’ve suffered a concussion. Every thought was slow and audible to the young man. Standing just beside him was Todoroki, quickly joined by Uraraka and Bakugo.

Todoroki, seeing Bakugo’s forearm ripped off, panicked. He tore off his shirt like a madman and begun to make an impromptu bandage for his arm and a splint for his leg. The last of Katsuki’s adrenaline was wearing thin, and the overwhelming pain of a broken leg and a missing arm was turning him into a shamelessly screaming mess. Tokoyami rushed to get a hold of Shinso, utterly useless throughout the fight due to his injuries. Uraraka was the only one who looked at Izuku, with something like… pity.

Pity?

The murk that had clouded Izuku’s mind turned scarlet. How dare she pity him? How dare she, that pathetic little greedy bumpkin, pity HIM?! Even as he attempted to move to violently communicate such disgust, Izuku simply rolled onto his face, placing one arm under him, but quickly losing feeling in it and simply laying there on the earth. He couldn’t have lost… it wasn’t possible.

“We should get out of here.” Tokoyami returned to the group, carrying Shinso bridal style. In the distance, a small supermarket was being thrown at All Might. It struck the earth with a thunderous bang and a deep roar of destruction. “If we stay, we might impede All Might’s fight.”

“Not… yet!” Bakugo heaved between barely concealed sobs and screams of agony. The vigilante rose with Todoroki’s help, and was assisted over to the rest. “We… need to see who he is behind that mask.”

“Bakugo is right.” Shinso said, glaring at the Lotus Demon. “We don’t have the ability to carry a grown man out of here along with all of us. We’ll report who it is to the police. If we give them a face, they might get him for real.”

“Who’ll do the honors, then?” Uraraka questioned. All eyes fell on Bakugo, who returned the look with a wild grin as he limped towards the Lotus Demon. He knelt down and rolled the killer over to meet his eyes, finding that blank look staring back at him.

“You know, all this f*cking blood loss killin’ me is going to be worth it to find out who you are.” Bakugo placed his hand on the demon’s mask.

“It will destroy you.” The demon said, the modulator in his mask fizzing in and out of existence, both concealing his slurred voice and not at random points in his speech.

“What?” Bakugo hesitated, hands still tight around the metal cover. Uraraka and Todoroki were ready to restrain the demon the moment he recovered from the concussion enough to act. Behind that demon’s face, he laughed, a weak and choking sound.

“Deep down, you want to know it’s not true, the notion that no one could be behind that mask, but another mask.” Izuku weakly raised his arms in a placating gesture. “I’ve spent so long running and hiding my identity. I even denied that I was who I was, even with my memories, even with the blood fresh on my hands. Like I was trying to drown away the lust I felt, the beauty I know I could bring into this world. Deep down… you can’t accept the fact that I am human, like you.”

“He’s trying to psych you out, Bakugo.” Todoroki hissed. Bakugo’s hand was shaking. “Do it. Now.”

“Yes, do it… lose the last little bit of meaning you have in this world. Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? To rip off my head and reveal it to the public? But the hunter is nothing without the hunted. You’re going to rot in Tartarus for all the bodies you’ve stacked beneath you, and all you’ll have for it is the ashes in your mouth and the blood on your stump...”

Bakugo gripped the mask tighter.

“…and what I’m going to give you…”

He pulled. The mask snapped free.

“…Because I’m done running, Kacchan.”

. . .

All For One had his face driven into the earth with surreal force. As All Might had expended so much of his time using One For All, half of his body was beginning to return to its skeletal state; hair wilted, face losing its musculature, and even his body weakening. All For One’s helmet was completely broken, save for its respirator. He chuckled behind it, tickled.

“Ah… that little time limit on you. Quite a bother, isn’t it. A disability I do not share. To be young again…” All For One said.

“Even with it, I can end you. It doesn’t matter if I have ten minutes left, or ten seconds. A hero always breaks their way out of a pinch, no matter how tight it is.”

“But what are you breaking out of that pinch for? For this pathetic society you’ve brought on, already ready to crumble into dust? For those students? What is the point of it all?”

As All Might went to respond, black and red electricity sparked from All For One’s chest, and burst outwards in a storm of kinetic energy. The tempest shot the number one hero into the skies, with only a moment to correct his trajectory and kneel onto the earth. He desperately wished someone would come, but the warehouse was kilometers away, and even Endeavor would probably be of little help here. The students were occupied.

“For some time, I originally desired to kill you up close, personally, to show this world just how fragile you and your society you built are. But the Lotus Demon has done that for me. I have no need of killing you symbolically, All Might. I just have need of killing you.” All For One’s left arm grew in size, ripping out of his suit. “Electrostatic Burst. Kinetic booster times three. Range enhancement times five. Air cannon. Springlike limbs. Airburst. Force maximization.” The arm of the arch villain had expanded to about three times its usual size, lanky and spring like, covered in a black carapace and running with blue, black, and red electricity. Standing casually in the air, All For One grinned behind his mask, safely out of range of any counterattack beyond his enemy’s Detroit Smash, easily negated by the force All For One could now put out. “With this combination of long-range quirks, I will destroy you.”

All Might buffed up, One For All surging through his veins like a dull ember. Why did this fight have to happen now, and not earlier? Why couldn’t he have fought his nemesis again before his time limit was so drastically reduced? All Might prepared to leap and strike, rearing back for what would likely be the final smashes of his fight.

The lance of lightning, air, and heat that hurtled towards All Might was barely dodged as he leapt into the air. Behind him, All Might could feel the city heaving and breaking behind the force of that blast of quirks, but that didn’t matter. All that truly mattered right now was getting in close. All Might closed the distance. Ten meters, five…

All For One warped to the ground in a spew of disgusting, brackish liquid. He coughed once and raised the combination of long-range quirks once more, shouldering what amounted to a rocket launcher carrying a nuke.

”It’s your turn now, Toshinori.”

“Goodbye, All Might!” The cannon of quirks discharged again, hurtling towards All Might. Still sailing through the air, All For One appeared to be practically shooting at a fish in a barrel.

No matter how hopeless it may seem… I have to win this struggle. Not just because I’m a symbol… All Might twisted his body. … But because defeating you means defeating the Lotus Demon. Until this world is truly at peace again… The blast just barely grazed All Might’s hole in his side, opening up its barely closed wounds to bleed once more.

“UNTIL THEN, I WILL NOT DIE!” All Might’s body had fully lost One For All, save for his right arm. His skeletal form seemed pathetic in opposition to the god of darkness that stood on the ground, so long as even one fist remained strong, All Might remained deadly. He reared back for a punch and struck, the force of it rocketing All Might through the air and towards his opponent. If All For One wouldn’t come to him…

“Attempting to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, All Might? Such a ploy is pathetic!” All For One prepared another blast, yet even as he watched, the number one’s buff right arm withered, and the attack he was preparing to defend against was completely changed.

“Like I said, a hero always grabs what he can, and pulls without hesitation!” The left arm of Toshinori Yagi, All Might, buffed up, as he used his weakened right side’s lightness to dodge the blast of quirks that were likely destroying the ozone layer. Any injuries on that arm faded into the mist as All Might landed a mere foot from his arch enemy, the blast he had just fired absolutely whiffing.

“Farewell… All For One!” All Might’s left arm arced in a savage uppercut, heading straight for the chin of All For One. This one blow would shatter his foe, send him flying, and win All Might the fight for good. To finally end All For One’s pall over Japan, to finally decisively win after generations of One For All users fighting...

“UNITED… STATES OF…” All Might’s fist collided with his respirator… and his punch missed by merely a few inches of miscalculation, doing little more than turning All For One’s respirator into scrap metal.

“Smash?” All For One asked.

Toshinori Yagi’s torso exploded in a burst of air and electricity as the combination of quirks stockpiled in All For One’s arm let loose. Even if he could not bisect his old foe, All For One had still torn open his side, making him a macabrely symmetrical art piece. His hero outfit destroyed, his body torn to shreds, All Might stumbled backwards, gasping for breath… and finding none. He felt himself land on the dirt.

So, this was death. Time slowed to the pace of a leaf falling on a summer wind. The ringing in his ears consumed any taunts or laughter that All For One could have been belting, his eyes barely picking up on the world around him. This universe had become gray and was blurring. How could he have lost based on such a simple miscalculation? Perhaps he was doomed the moment All For One swallowed his cruelty and decided to do things cleanly and impersonally. Perhaps he was doomed the moment he tried to fight. Ah, there went his eyesight. Life slipped through All Might’s fingers like sand.

Kirishima… All Might thought, the neon in his eyes slowly fading to pale blue. I’m sorry, my boy… but it seems I must leave the rest to you. One last smile found its way onto Toshinori’s face, one final contented spasm of muscles that curved his lips upward. In those final moments, even with his sole successor in a coma and his arch nemesis alive and free, All Might refused to allow despair to consume him. Even then… hope was alive in him.

In defiance of the cruel fate that the world had decided he would meet, two final words exited him in a single breath. Two final words that neither of its recipients would ever hear.

“You’re… next.”

Chapter 44: Epilogue: Una Candela Nell'oscurità

Chapter Text

8 Months Later…

“Why didn’t we get him out sooner?”

“We don’t have the tech to keep him alive right now. Yaomomo’s working as fast as she can, but even then, learning how it’s made, and making all that medical equipment has taken her months.”

“It was inevitable they’d find him. Just didn’t expect them to take this long.”

“Well, that entire hospital wing was basically being kept defended by Best Jeanist and Kamui Woods, and the very records of him being there were being kept encrypted by Shinso. When you knock down every hospital door in Tokyo, it takes a while… what with everything else going on.”

“Why keep him alive? He’s the biggest threat to the regime, and they can’t just kill him?”

“f*ck no, they can’t kill him. Every time they try, his muscles spasm and pulps them. It’s like whatever power’s killing him is also protecting him.”

“Poor Kirishima… we need to get him out of there.”

“That’s why we’re here.”

Bakugo, Uraraka, Tokoyami, and Todoroki had found a nest in the bushes twenty meters from Musutafu Community Hospital’s emergency care unit. Masked mercenaries had been set up at the front entrance, complete with quirk scanners and fully automatic rifles. The government had spared no expense with keeping their greatest threat under lock and key. The mercenaries held the crescent blood moon symbol of REDMOON security; the people who were, ironically enough, meant to protect hero society just a few months earlier.

“We’re not getting through a full REDMOON checkpoint. If I was a betting man, they’ve also stuck at least one or two of their elite villains right next to his bedside too.” Tokoyami said, arms crossed. “Doesn’t matter how far we cut into them, we’ll just get gunned down.”

“Then we don’t go through the checkpoint. We sneak in.” Todoroki suggested. This notion was met by hesitant nods.

“How do you expect us to sneak in there? Nobody but Shinso looks like a patient, and even then, he’s on their kill on sight list. All of us are.” Bakugo asked. Todoroki shook his head.

“Is Tooru available?” He asked.

“Last I heard, she was running an infiltration job in Sapporo. Something about one of the faker Lotus Demons’ gear they could use to track Izuku.” Uraraka said. “A good stealth mission is going to need her.”

“Then we’ll just have to wait. Let’s head back to base.” Todoroki grumbled. He put on his wig, hiding most of his white hair and all his red. Bakugo pulled on his hoodie. Uraraka and Tokoyami settled for full rubber head masks. They would go mostly unnoticed, nor cared about in the city streets. They quickly moved from the bushes and into the van that they had… finessed. With Todoroki in the driver’s seat and the rest of the crew in the cab, they pulled away from the curb. The radio droned, as did the police scanner.

“The Ministry of Public Security reminds all loyal citizens that a mandatory curfew is in effect. Any individuals found outside after 8:00 PM will be apprehended and searched. The League of Japan thanks you for your understanding and compliance. Now, back to the news: the national regime has approved a new bill to bring a permanent end to the homeless crisis left in the wake of the Kamino Incident, beginning the construction process for several new shelters in newly abandoned buildings. This decision comes…” Todoroki turned down the radio, pinching the bridge of his nose and scanning the streets.

The homeless did indeed line the streets, but it sort of was their new leader’s fault they were there. As he scanned the sidewalk he found at least four camps running up on apartment buildings, filled with tents and people that looked simply hopeless. Some of them eyed the moving van hungrily, weighing the pros and cons of jumping its inhabitants for their parts and food. It tore his heart asunder to imagine the kinds of people that were here now, when only 8 months ago they were happy.

Traffic began to pick up as they entered the main thoroughfares of Tokyo. Now, rather than no cars, there were perhaps ten visible in a place that once held hundreds. Nobody outside of the upper-class districts dared walk the streets in fear of both the transients, and the agents of the “Office of National Intelligence” that used the slums as their hunting grounds. Even the skyscrapers looked gray amidst the setting sun, the manifold lights in them duller somehow.

The van took a sharp turn onto their street, bumping down the barely repaved asphalt—apparently this whole section of the city had been all but destroyed five months back. It was only in the past two months had the UA students been using the abandoned Moonshine Hostess Bar as their base of operations. They pulled onto the curb and slowly filed out.

“Anything on the scanner, or the radio?” Tokoyami inquired. Todoroki shook his head.

“Didn’t notice any big blips on either. Just some more bullsh*t about this whole ‘homelessness elimination act’ the League is putting through the diet.” Todoroki pulled out a keychain, fingering through each piece of metal to find the front door key. “Scanner mentioned some riot down at Naruhata. Nothing about heroes down there, though.”

“sh*t, what I wouldn’t give to bust some REDheads in a riot.” Bakugo said as they entered the club.

“We can’t risk getting civilians in the crossfire, Bakugo.” Uraraka hissed, slapping Bakugo’s arm lightly. “They’ve got enough issues already.”

The Moonshine Hostess Bar was (unfortunate name aside) the last bastion of hope in the grim world left in the wake of Kamino. Of course, it didn’t quite look it, what with the various booths scattered and flipped over and a dance floor that currently saw use as a sparring ring. The booths that remained undestroyed were complete with curtains for the young heroes’ use as bedrooms. In the far-right corner, by where a computer for orders and manipulating the house would normally sit, was a desk with two monitors and a single PC.

“I assume you’re not back with the red comet because they’re keeping him under some surreal levels of security.” A voice droned from behind the desk. From behind it, Hitoshi Shinso wheeled himself out. The spinal injury he sustained in Kamino was a permanent and crippling injury; he would be paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of his life. Shinso had taken it shockingly in stride… but perhaps losing your legs was nothing compared to the revelation that one of your only friends was one of the leaders of the League of Villains. “It’d figure.”

“I thought you were keeping his file encrypted, sleepless. How’d they find him?” Bakugo inquired, slinging off his hoodie and “hanging” it on an overturned table.

“Look, there’s only so much I can do there. If you’re the government, you can knock down any door and turn over any stone. When it comes to the League of Japan especially, no holes are going to be barred for long.” Hitoshi’s face turned stony. “Have they done anything to him?”

“Doctor Yagami says that every time some bastard tries to kill him, he has a knee jerk reaction and completely pastes anyone that gets close. f*cker’s like a black mamba but with pure force over venom. One moment you’re getting ready for a good day, next, snap, f*cking dead.” Bakugo replied. “So until they get a quick fix for that…”

“I’d suggest we don’t assume they can’t get their fix now. All For One is still active, just somewhere… keeping the peace in South Korea.” Shinso said, rubbing his eyes and glancing back at his screen. “Last I heard he’s in talks with the prime minister in Seoul.”

“China’s next, then. After that, he’ll have restored the old empire.” Uraraka said, hugging herself and shivering. “Let’s just pray he’s too caught up in politics to be able to come back to Japan.”

“There’s no prayers about it, Uraraka. Mistf*ck has already proven that he can get anyone anywhere, and the masked sh*thead can warp, just like he did with Deku.” Bakugo cursed, his voice gradually raising into a yell. “The one f*cking time we f*cking need Tooru and she’s f*cking chasing f*cking ghosts up in—”

“Calm down.” Todoroki placed a hand on Bakugo’s chest, the latter’s heart practically slamming into the former’s palm. The gentle touch of his lover made Bakugo calm, slowly sucking in deep breaths. Bakugo looked up to Shinso, the rage in his eyes fading to cold stone.

“We need to get him out, and we need to get him out now.”

“Then I’ll find a way.” Shinso said. He returned to his computer, and the heroes dispersed. It took a lot of grit to stay determined in this world that seemed filled with darkness; a world where the villains ruled. However, the title of their rebellion, hung on a banner over the bar’s mirror, carrying half of the Lotus Demon’s old and shattered mask. It reminded them of their cause, their want… and their lone purpose in life.

Deku Must Die.

A quiet farm sat in the foothills of Tokyo, just outside of the city proper, yet still laying within the metropolitan jurisdiction. At one point, this was the small estate of Toshinori Yagi, a summer home or a simple retreat to allow him to think. The estate held a massive, Japanese style estate house, a bath house, guest house, a small creek, and the modest fields holding rows on rows of muskmelons. Today, it held a new owner, who was slowly climbing out of his medicated bath.

Though his bath held painkillers to dull the agony of close range fourth degree burns he had come by in the Kamino battle, it still buzzed at the back of his mind like a bee. However, despite the pain he felt, he had never been more at peace. Izuku Midoriya donned a red cotton bath robe and stepped into the cool evening air, bathing in it.

Katsuki’s botched execution had destroyed his face beyond normal comprehension, finishing the job that he had started in the sports festival. Both of his eyes had been replaced with bionics, complete with piercing green irises. Most of his skin and musculature was gaunt, and places around his cheeks and lips had been left completely bare, showing off his bones. The pain of chewing, of smiling, of being… it was like a dream come true to the young masoch*st.

Ah, but what would he do today? Perhaps he would paint a picture on the creek, or perhaps begin forging a new knife. He could play with the pitiful creature in his guest house, or enjoy an afternoon sipping tea and reading. Knowing his luck however, he would get a call to deal with something…

His phone buzzed in his pocket, a beautiful rendition of Shostakovich’s Waltz no. 2. Every time it came to his ears he smiled, a memory of his actions long past. It almost made his ruined afternoon plans worth it. He pulled out his smartphone and pressed answer. “Midoriya.” He sing songed.

“Rogue. Your little red friend’s at Musutafu Community, but we can’t kill him.” Tomura Shigaraki, the new Deputy Prime Minister and Minister for Reconstruction, hissed. The hushed voices of others were in the room around him, perhaps in a meeting? Izuku sighed.

“And why not? If what we’ve heard is right, he should be in a catatonic state.” Izuku sighed. The following conversation would stress him out. Stress required stress relief. And stress relief required the person in his guest house. He begun to meander that way.

“He is. Unresponsive, heart beat weak, but every time we get a gun to his head or lay a hostile hand on him, he flinches, and we lose a soldier.” Tomura said.

“Are you in a meeting right now?”

“No. Speak freely.”

“Just have the hospital blown up, Shigaraki.” Izuku suggested, a grimly casual tone on his lips. “Do it at night, keep casualties to a minimum, assign blame to the heroes that think that a significant security presence means stockpiling weapons.” Izuku opened the door to the guest house, the interior kept pitch black.

“Well, that would work if the boy might wonder didn’t beat Muscular. That man’s fists were live bombs when he wanted them to be. Plus, the costs involved with blowing up a whole hospital and covering it up is a little steep.” Tomura groaned, leaning forward. “Sensei is still in Seoul for the next week, and the homelessness elimination act is running up a high bill.”

Izuku switched on the light to the house. Each bulb within glowed a deep and sinister red, the windows kept shut to ensure no light entered this sanctum. In front of him lay a single metal door, with sobbing behind it. Oh, good… his little plaything had learned that red light meant that daddy was home. He could almost taste the terror on the air, bringing him out of his bad mood for a moment. “Then we wait. I know you’re anxious about this boy, but rest assured, we’re still fine. If REDMOON’s keeping the entire place on lockdown, nobody’s getting in there.”

“I’ll have explosives rigged under the hospital two days from now. If something goes wrong, we blow it. Until then, we wait for Sensei.” Tomura’s tone turned somewhat hostile. “And if your little hate club comes by and grabs him, I’m sending you to kill them.”

“Done and done.” Izuku smiled as he opened his playroom door. “Have a nice day, Deputy Prime Minister.”

Izuku Midoriya’s playroom was designed with fear in mind. Uncomfortably sterile, with racks on racks of tools at one end of the room, a medical table in the middle, and a cot that lay at the left wall. Everything was kept precisely where it needed to be, and after every session, Izuku would mop up thoroughly. His canvas was a young man, perhaps around the age of 22. He glanced to the cot and frowned when he found its occupant still sound asleep. He strode over to it kicked it.

“Wake up.”

Himiko Toga slowly rose from the bed, as much as a woman chained could be. She was kept remarkably well dressed, in her cardigan sweater and skirt that had so often been her standby. She smiled at her “lover”, a wordless acknowledgement. Deku moved in to kiss his twisted mate with passion, making sure his victim was fully aware and watching. He didn’t need to do this, of course—it was just fun to do. The sobbing became louder and louder in anticipation of Deku’s coming games. Breaking from his long kiss, Izuku pushed Toga back into the cot, and moved to his rack of tools.

“Daddy’s feeling quite stressed today. The one threat to his dominance in this world isn’t dead yet.” Izuku snapped on medical gloves and slung a mask around his face. His cotton robe lay loose around his body. “So, you’re going to help him get… relaxed.”

Izuku indulged. For what is a demon without satisfying his wants?