No copyright infringement intended.

—

xiv.

adagio

—

It took less than ten minutes for the cityscape to blur into liquate lines and silver streaks swirling into scenes straight out of my dreams. I could fall asleep wherever and whenever I pleased without much effort, but the lull of a moving vehicle always made drifting off all the more tempting, and staring out the window like the main protagonist of a coming-of-age film hardly kept the languor at bay.

"I spy something green."

"That tree."

"No."

"… that tree."

"It's not a tree."

"Fuck this shit," Bakugou muttered. "I'm going back to sleep."

Despite my best efforts to stay awake, I dozed off not long after the blond. I thought that the excitement of going back home would keep me up for the short trip, but Kanagawa Prefecture, where my parents married and then had me, always felt so close and so far away. The lake house we once lived in became a recurring fantasy pieced together by distant memories I desperately wanted to keep.

Nightmares devoured any dreams I had of that. As I stood by the shoreline, I'd catch sight of my parents on the other side of the tarn, watching our home burn down with the promise that our family would reunite again someday. That promise, of course, came with a price of its own, and the image of my friends vanishing much in the same way my parents had usually scared me enough to wake up from my slumber.

I used to wonder why I couldn't have both, but I no longer needed that question answered. For a while, I thought it meant I lacked the capacity to care about that many people, and then I realized something much simpler than that. I couldn't have both because things just didn't work out sometimes, and as much as I hated to admit it, this ended up one of those times. Nothing more. Nothing less.

And so I slept.

The last few minutes of the train ride, I had no nightmares. I had no dreams. It almost felt like entering another dimension altogether, but unlike the darkness rooted in the source of my mother's Quirk, the space surrounding me illuminated, lit up so brilliantly that I saw nothing and no one else. No lake house. No parents. No friends. I was alone, and yet, this time, out of so many possible realities in my mind, I felt less afraid.

"Attention, passengers. We are arriving at Yokohama station. Please stand clear of the doors and remember to bring with you all of your belongings. Thank you."

Marigold strings weaved across the city as sunlight sifted through cotton candy clouds. After taking a second to revel in the warmth, I cracked open an eye and almost breathed out a sigh at the sight. Various blues painted the skies and a cerulean sea with the promise of rain casting a protective shadow over the skyline. In the distance, I caught a glimpse of a ferris wheel spinning on its axis like a massive windmill.

Located in the Minato Mirai 21 district of Yokohama, Japan, the capital city of the Kanagawa Prefecture, I had come to consider the Cosmo World amusement park a token of my childhood. The last time I went there, I had just turned ten and spent almost two months of my summer at our lake house in Hayama. Emi came to visit for a couple of weeks and agreed to go with me before we had to go back to Musutafu.

The time before that, I went with my parents.

I worried about coming home for the same reason I avoided sitting on my couch these days. My house just brought up too many mixed feelings. I escaped by staying with Kan-oji or Emi on some weekends. Here, in Kanagawa, I felt the presence of my parents everywhere and in everything. Even the ferris wheel, aptly named Cosmo Clock 21, reminded me of their Quirks, magnificent powers related to space and time.

But.

And that was an important but.

I noticed a slight breeze from where the window cracked open that made me think of the nights I spent standing by the water or sitting on the sand. My mother constructed our house in Shizuoka from the ground up, turning it into every bit of the architectural masterpiece she imagined, but this place was built from all my favorite memories.

As the streets became more and more familiar, I sat upright to get a better look at the view. The shift in my position startled the blond beside me awake, half-lidded crimson eyes wearily blinking to adjust to the light. His brows twitched in an earnest attempt at a scowl, but to his chagrin and my amusement, a yawn escaped from his mouth instead.

"We fuckin' made it or what," Bakugou slurred, circling his shoulder to smooth out the knots that tangled together in his slumber. "I said not to wake me up 'less we did, Guppy."

"Or dying."

"I'm not dead."

"Obviously," I said, staring out the glass pane. "We're here."

The train slowed down along with our conversation as I took in the familiar views outside. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Bakugou squinting inquisitively at me, but he remained silent until the cart stilled to a squeaky halt.

"What's with your face?" Bakugou asked.

I arched a brow, craning my neck to stare at him. "Please elaborate before I deem that an insult."

"You're pullin' the same dopey expression Shitty Hair has whenever he talks about what's his name," Bakugou said, frowning. "Purple Uproar or some shit."

"Crimson Riot."

"I said 'or some shit' for a reason."'

"Don't let Kirishima hear you say that," I quipped, picking up my suitcase from the floor. "I'm surprised you could even tell."

The blond rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "Answer the damn question."

"Yokohama is my hometown."

"And?"

"'And' what about it?"

"You look fuckin' cheesed," Bakugou said, letting out another yawn. "You're not gonna get all sentimental and shit, right?"

The peace and quiet we had settled into over the duration of the trip quickly dispersed, replaced by bustling bodies as the other passengers stood from their seats. Nothing about the situation particularly stood out save for the two teens wearing a pair of Yūei uniforms, but back in Musutafu, even that much elicited stares and whispers. Here and now, not a single person looked our way.

In the distance, Cosmo Clock dazzled at the edge of a horizon carved so deeply into my memory. To see it again in person after hitting one of my lowest points in life meant a lot more to me than I would have ever expected. In that sense, I could argue that "sentimental and shit" wasn't entirely incorrect, but I recalled the words my father left with me and knew it was more than that.

Don't be afraid to smile when you're happy.

"No," I said, lips curving upward. "It just feels good to be home."

The first time it became apparent that something strange had occurred was when three men no more impressive than the average street thug appeared in an abandoned alley north of Tokyo Tower. Two unconscious, one dead, and all they had in common apart from the same unfortunate fate was the pitch black tint tainting their tongues with a fetor of doom and decay.

Mikoto first heard about the incident shortly after whispers hit the streets, but it never made headlines, and so like most Pro Heroes at the time, she gave it little thought. Random hoodlums didn't pose the same threat as S-level Villains on a steady climb, and for a while, it was well or forgotten when All Might defeated All For One in a battle of epic proportions.

And then more bodies appeared.

The ones in charge kept the public blissfully unaware of the darkened tongues that turned suspects into victims of a crime no one could prove. Not the Police Force, not the Heroes sworn to protect the people, not Mikoto. No, definitely not Mikoto. Prostitutes, runaways, homeless folks, alcoholics, all humans like the rest of them in the world, but—

No one will mourn them.

A stroke of luck and a bit of detective work led her to the supplier who distributed the drugs wreaking silent havoc across the city. In the six years since those first sets of bodies turned up, the plot had thickened into an unbreachable wall that remained until she retrieved the briefcase in her hands.

"Have you shown this to Tsukauchi?"

"No."

"You should."

"The drug hasn't been diluted yet," she said, crimson eyes poised to strike like a pair of knives. "It might become airborne if we open the case, and turning them into ash is the only way to get rid of the vials."

Todoroki Enji grunted when she thrust the case into his chest. The bulletproof shell likely protected it from a number of common Quirks, and that much proved something extremely important lay dormant inside. Having such an item in their possession entailed high stakes for those involved, especially Heroes, and especially Heroes in the top ten.

"Where did you find this?"

"A supplier."

"And the supplier?"

Mikoto pursed her lips. "Dead."

"What have you gotten yourself into?" Enji growled, closing his fist around the handle of the briefcase.

Despite his trepidation about the situation, his hand blazed with a small flame that spread until it engulfed the entirety of the metal exterior. Mikoto rolled her eyes and promptly turned on her heel, the shadows at her feet expanding into a circle that swirled around her form like a protective cocoon.

"I didn't kill him," Mikoto said. "Get rid of that, please. I found another source here in Hosu, but don't worry, I'll take the fight elsewhere if it comes down to that."

"Who knows about this?"

"Eraserhead and the Blood King."

"Along with Tsukauchi and the rest of the ten?"

"I had to call in a favor from Knuckleduster, as well."

Enji clicked his tongue, hands heavy with a lump of peeling aluminum. "You've stooped low enough to seek help from Vigilantes?"

"I'll do what I must," she said, cloak fluttering with the evening breeze. "You and I both know who is responsible. I need to find them and cut off the supply at the head."

Enji scowled and crossed his arms, his flames flickering once before dying down. The case, or at least whatever remained of it, fell to the ground, but instead of hitting the pavement, it disappeared into a black hole that instantly shrunk into nothingness.

"Don't do anything reckless, Kamino."

Through the darkness, Enji watched as she faded into a ghostly silhouette. The dulcet tone of her voice reverberated through the dimly lit street.

"You should know better," Mikoto said. "It's far too late for that now."

Kamihara Shinya made a name for himself as a well-liked Hero. His fanbase rivaled the likes of those with undeniable celebrity status, such as Best Jeanist and the Snake Hero Uwabami, but unlike them, he prioritized his privacy.

That mystery appealed to people for the same reasons they loved Eraserhead, and because of that, I expected to see someone like our homeroom teacher on the other side of the door. Really, I should have known better.

"Are you the pizza delivery?"

"What the fuck," Bakugou mumbled under his breath.

I jabbed my elbow into his side, ignoring the glare he sent me. "Shut up."

"It's fine," Kamihara-sensei said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "I don't care. The delivery thing was a joke, by the way," he stepped back and ushered us inside. "Pizza came an hour ago."

Whatever preconceived notions we had of him utterly dissipated at that moment. I suppose I should've thought twice about making assumptions, especially since I made no secret of how much I hated them, but it didn't numb the shock of finding out that one of the most taciturn Heroes acted a bit like a dork.

"My name is Kamihara Shinya," he said, leering at us with his single visible eye. "Have you eaten anything in the past few hours?"

I recalled the time we arrived at his doorstep and nodded. "We had our last meal at school about three hours ago."

"That'll do," Kamihara-sensei said, taking out a pair of cardkeys from his pocket. "We're sharing the same unit, but there are separate rooms. Take your pick and then meet me at Cosmo World before the next hour."

The lady at the front desk offered us a kind smile. I politely returned it along with a dip of my head and checked the clock perched on the wall directly above her head. 5:47. Thirteen minutes until the next hour. Based on the location of the inn and accounting for traffic, it would take almost half an hour to get to Cosmo World by car in addition to the time we needed to change into our Hero costumes.

"That—"

I bit the inside of my cheek, swallowing the rest of the words ready to spill out of my mouth. Kamihara-sensei raised his brow, as if daring me to finish my sentence. His reaction reminded me that these internships aimed to challenge us, and that meant we needed to find ways around what we used to think impossible.

"Okay," I said.

Bakugou's eye twitched. "What—"

"Third door to your left," Kamihara-sensei said. "Don't be late."

I mustered an awkward smile and spun on my heel, all but dragging the blond to our apparent home away from home for the next week. He snatched his arm away, slinging his suitcase over his shoulder and scoffing once our mentor stepped out of hearing range, but when I turned to look at him, his brows remained furrowed.

"You think he's serious?" Bakugou asked.

Not for the first time in my life, I ignored him and stuck my cardkey into the slot. As soon as it turned green, I rushed inside and took a moment to scan the layout of the suite. A cozy kitchen and a den area split into the individual rooms Kamihara-sensei told us about, but I didn't bother putting too much thought into it and instinctively picked the one on the left.

"That took us two minutes," I called out, throwing my suitcase onto the floor mat. "We have about that much time to change!"

His lack of response told me he caught onto the plan, giving me one less thing to worry about. My uniform fell to the floor in an unorganized heap, but I paid no mind to the mess and put on my bodysuit. I tugged at the flask clipped to my hips to make sure it stayed firmly attached. Lastly came the boots and fingerless gloves, both slipping on with ease.

Bakugou and I came into the den with a few seconds to spare. I fought the urge to adjust the bandana haphazardly tied around his eyes and peered out the nearest window, nearly breathing a sigh of relief at the sight.

"Ready?" I asked.

Bakugou frowned. "For what?"

"The inn is conveniently perched by the docks," I said. "We're jumping."

I slammed the glass open and brought my legs over until I hung off the side of the building. Bakugou clicked his tongue, a habit that always meant more annoyed than angry, but he climbed onto the sill after me without complaint, his eyes sharp and focused on the water swirling directly below us.

A flick of my wrist created a solid block of ice just large enough to fit two people. As soon as the blond landed at my side, I pointed my hands towards the water. The frost at his feet turned back into liquid for a second before freezing again, securely strapping him down. Not a second later, I propelled us forward with help from the waves.

"Eight minutes," I said.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, grenade gauntlets lighting up with nitroglycerin. He thrust his arms out behind him, subsequently releasing a massive explosion that sent our makeshift boat careening across the bay, and the sheer energy from the blast forced me to keep one hand on the block of ice to make sure it didn't break apart.

"I'll get us there in four."

Mikoto found herself in far too many alleys lately. Quite frankly, she had grown tired of them after the first. The stench struck her absolutely abhorrent, the dust triggered her allergies, and the rats scurrying through the garbage hardly eased her already lackluster appetite.

As one would expect from the Spacial Hero Kamino, the only aspect of this mission she found bearable came in the form of shadows. Some might call her a coward for lurking in the darkness, but Mikoto always pointed out the stark difference between difficult and important.

The most significant battles often had little to do with physical strength, but that didn't mean she couldn't throw a punch. Few people knew of her prowess when it came to hand-to-hand combat, a conscious decision she made long before she entered the top ten.

Mikoto had no qualms with using that to her advantage.

"You are unlike the others."

The man in front of her dropped to a crouch, beady eyes surveying her movements as he pulled out the senbon in his shoulder without flinching. A string of blood trickled down his arm, and though it felt little more than a measly paper cut, the needle struck a pressure point that would leave that limb useless for at least five minutes.

It seemed oddly similar to his own Quirk, a feat that impressed him almost as much as it irritated them both. Had they treated this like a fight, she might have already incapacitated him to the point of defeat, but this was far from that. For all intents and purposes, this was an interrogation.

"I'm aware," Mikoto said, twirling another senbon between her fingers. "Now tell me where it is and I may consider leaving your mind intact."

The man mimicked her action with the blade in his hand, a once sharp silver that he had since stained scarlet. "And yet here you are again with such transparent lies."

"Listen to me, Hero Killer," Mikoto said, the words as concise and cutting as her crimson glare. "I am many things, but I am no liar."

"Are you Hero?"

Mikoto stayed quiet for a moment, but she didn't have to ponder the question. Her answer embedded itself in the choices she made to stand in front of him, and though she deemed those choices necessary, not a single one of them made her proud.

"I was once," she said.

The darkness seeped through his skin, colonizing until the veins in his body turned into threads of black. Clouds of smoke filled his lungs, and now that she possessed a power capable of bringing him to his knees, he had nowhere to run that she wouldn't find him. His freedom, however much of it remained, dangled before him scarcely out of reach.

None of that mattered in the end. Her Quirk facilitated itself through fear, after all. Stain lacked that emotion long before he made himself known as a serial Hero murderer, but the most terrifying thing about him had nothing to do with his body count. It was that the Hero Killer had ideals and morals of his own, that he was as human as the rest of them.

Despite the current stalemate, Mikoto knew he wouldn't kill her, and in turn she'd let him escape. It wasn't a compromise so much as it was a silent agreement that both sides shared a single enemy who needed to be taken care of first. Trigger was spreading at an alarming rate, and no matter how much they differed, they had their reasons for wanting to stop it.

"I despise people like him," Stain rasped, his throat clogged by the sheer dominance of her aura. "Such childish tantrums masked to exude the illusion of authority."

"I need a name."

"His name holds no significance to me," Stain said. "I cannot feign interest in his goals, much less how he goes about fulfilling them, though I admit he is far from craven."

All he needed was a drop of blood to even the playing field, but Mikoto remained untouched and undeterred. "What is he planning?"

"I have no concern for his paroxysm," his fingers twitched, and the gesture didn't remain unnoticed. "But since it appears you do, I'd inform your so-called Heroes to line the streets in due time."

"How much time?"

"Not enough," Stain said, his eyes gleaming with a vague, albeit misplaced sort of sympathy. "You must know I held your husband in high regard. He was one of the few undeserving of such a cruel fate."

He received no reply aside from the second senbon aimed at his other arm. It bounced off the knife that he held up not a moment too soon, and though she intended it as more of a warning than an attack, his ability to move raised an immediate red flag in her mind.

"I might have upset him."

Mikoto raised a brow. "No-Name?"

"He is not only childish," Stain said, frowning. "He is still very much a child. I doubt he'll have the patience to wait a few days."

The blade in his hand shimmered underneath the glow of the moon. Night came crawling in doses, and he grew keenly aware of the fact that he had to take his leave before she became one with her element.

He chucked his knife at Mikoto with blinding speed, but the wisps of ink behind her coiled into a blackhole that hurtled the blade back at him. Stain caught it easily and brought the razor to his mouth, his tongue darting out to swipe at the crimson liquid blemishing the steel.

Her blood.

Mikoto felt her body freeze as if invisible strings strapped her in place. It allowed her opponent to slip out of his chains, stumbling through the shadows to settle beneath the beam of a flimsy streetlight. The unspoken agreement still stood. He spared her life, and she would let him go.

"I have unfinished business here in Hosu," Stain said. "I understand that you do, as well. If you get in my way," his eyes narrowed. "I will not hesitate to end you."

With that, the Hero Killer disappeared into the night, lost in a city bustling with beats and white noise. It melded together cries of sadness, screams of anger, and unadulterated laughter into a pot of hundreds, if not thousands with real feelings and emotions and hopes and dreams. Unbeknownst to these people, one of the Heroes they trusted to protect those virtues set loose a monster in the place they called home.

It never occurred to her that she might one day have to account for casualties she willingly caused, but to protect the real world, Mikoto resigned to watch hers crumble. Stain gave her ample information, and that intel helped her guess where Trigger would make its appearance within the next few days. For all she said about no longer being a Hero, she'd be damned if she sat still in the midst of its rampage.

Mikoto regained mobility after another couple seconds contemplating her next play. Her every instinct told her to follow the lead and take down the syndicate responsible for such a monstrosity. The phone in her pocket felt heavy with another favor that she knew would burden another old friend, but she was out of options, and they were out of time. Trigger was spreading at an alarming rate.

"We have a problem, Sekijirō."

As soon as we reached the shore, my arms dropped like a pair of limp logs, and the block of ice we stood on promptly shattered. According to the numbers blaring across Cosmo Clock, Bakugou and I arrived at our destination with three and a half minutes to spare. It seemed a little close without context, but considering we literally crossed an ocean to get here, I had no complaints.

"You made it," Kamihara-sensei said. "And faster than I expected."

Bakugou resisted the urge to scowl, kicking off the frost at his ankles. "Why're we at a theme park?"

"I understand that the two of you are in the same class," Kamihara-sensei said. "In theory, that bond should translate on the field, and a few of my sources confirmed that you make quite the team, but whatever relationship you have right now, you built from experiences at school and outside of it."

"Sources?" I asked.

Bakugou frowned. "Team?"

"That's what you got out of that?"

"Sorry," Bakugou and I muttered at the same time.

"In sync already," Kamihara-sensei mused. "As the official third member of said team, I'd like for you to strengthen that bond using my methods. It should help me get a glimpse of your work ethic, too."

I processed his words with a touch of skepticism, nodding slowly. "What exactly do you want us to do?"

"Get on the ferris wheel."

"What?"

"You two are pretty good at that," Kamihara-sensei said, brow raised. "Might want to get your hearing checked, though. I said, 'Get on the ferris wheel,' and stay on until you learn at least twenty things you didn't know about each other before today."

"We've never needed this team building shit before," Bakugou pointed out.

"Or you just didn't realize it was a form of team building."

My nose crinkled in thought. "Like what?"

"Fighting off a criminal syndicate?"

"Oh," I mumbled. "Yeah."

"The park doesn't close for another couple of hours," Kamihara-sensei said, handing us a fistful of ride tickets. "Feel free to stick around if you finish early, but I should warn you that combat training starts early tomorrow morning."

With that, his body twisted into an attenuated figure. Despite standing right in front of him, I couldn't fathom his speed, and if I blinked at that exact moment, I might have assumed he just vanished.

"This is stupid," Bakugou grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I didn't come here to fuck around."

I let out a hum more in acknowledgement than agreement. As I thought about it, I realized Kamihara-sensei had a point. He counted on us to depend on each other as much as we depended on him, and trust came easier when you knew a person past partial observations.

While we stood in line to board the ferris wheel, I recalled he first and last time I went here with my parents. It was one of the few memories I still had of us all together, and though I was perfectly content to be back home in Kanagawa, it was strange to be here without them.

"You start," I said.

"Why?"

"Is that your first question?"

"Is that yours?" Bakugou retorted. "Your match with Deku."

I gave the girl in charge of operating the ride a polite smile as she accepted our tickets. Her gaze drifted to the blond behind me, and I bit back a snort when her cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

"That's not a question," I said, stepping into the cart.

Bakugou rolled his eyes and climbed in after me, ignoring the heart eyes locked on the back of his head. "What happened?"

"It's a long story."

"We've got a shitload of time."

"I was going through some stuff and it obviously showed," I said, settling into the seat across from him. "Things got worse after I found out some unfortunate news about Kamino."

"The Pro Hero?"

"My mother."

"Damn," he said.

I gave him a wry smile. "I know."

"No wonder you're loaded," Bakugou snorted. "Is that why you came to Yūei?"

My smile smoothed into something more genuine. I didn't care if Bakugou knew about my parents. I never expected him to find out earlier than anyone else, much less while sitting on a ferris wheel in my hometown, but I trusted him enough not to turn it into a spectacle, and the fact that he came through made me glad I told him first.

"Following in her footsteps," I said, looking out at the view. "My parents both graduated from Yūei. I had no preference for where I went to high school, but my mom wanted me to apply, and I didn't feel like arguing with her."

As I admired the way the sea shimmered beneath the light of the skies, I pondered on a change in subject. Neither of us would benefit from carrying our conversation in this direction. If I had to tell Bakugou more about myself, I didn't want to give him the impression that my parents and their past defined me today.

"What happened in your match with Todoroki?" I asked, faking my nonchalance.

"I hauled ass and he hit me with a super fucking effective flamethrower."

"Was that a video game reference?"

"No."

"I think it was."

"You're so annoying."

"What's your favorite color?" I asked.

Bakugou frowned. "Seriously?"

"Mine is blue."

"Red."

"Birthday?"

"April twentieth," Bakugou grumbled. "When's yours?"

It took me slightly aback that he caved so easily and with far fewer complaints than usual, but I didn't put it past Bakugou to realize that the sooner we finished, the faster we got off the ride. I had to admit, though, the view made it difficult to complain much about anything. The sunset turned blue skies into a canvas of deep indigo splattered with sun stripes and, soon enough, stars. If I didn't know any better, I might have said Bakugou looked almost as peaceful.

"March thirteenth," I said.

Bakugou raised a brow. "Of what year?"

"Are you really wasting one of your questions on that?"

"That pretty much answers it," Bakugou said, propping up his feet on the space beside me. "No wonder you're such a brat."

It took ten minutes for the ferris wheel to reach the halfway point. In that time, I learned that Bakugou started drum lessons when he turned five and kept taking them until his first year of middle school. Mountain climbing became one of his favorite pastimes after a weekend camping trip for his twelfth birthday solely because it ended up the longest he had gone without listening to his mom yell at him. He had no favorite food, but liked things spicy.

He also had a lot of pet peeves, such as, of course, his mom's nagging, but the ones that stuck out the most included his aversion to leeks and his absolute zero tolerance for mess of any kind. I answered the same questions, albeit with far less interesting responses. Just as his mom signed him up for those drum lessons, my mother made sure I could play the piano, violin, clarinet, and flute by the time I hit the double digits.

We both had a preference for spicy food, and his dislike for leeks mirrored my dislike for coffee, but my favorite outdoor activities involved bodies of water. I spent so many of my summers swimming in lakes and surfing at beaches not too far from here. When I told Bakugou I would much rather dive off a cliff than climb it, his eyes lit up in a way I had never seen before. I couldn't tell if it meant he wanted to try it, or that he thought about pushing me off.

"I like spicy food when it comes to savory stuff," I said, brows furrowed in thought. "If I had to choose a favorite thing to eat, though, I'd probably pick cake."

Bakugou stared at me, oddly affronted. "That's a fucking lie."

"Why would I lie about that?"

"I've never even seen you with cake!"

"Just because I don't eat it often doesn't mean I don't love it."

"Guess that's why you hate coffee so much," Bakugou grumbled, slouching into his seat. "Who would've thought you'd have a damn sweet tooth?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but at that moment, the ferris wheel slowed to a steady stop. The sun had since disappeared into the horizon, and in its place shone a moon shaped like a smile. Tourist attractions like Cosmo World often scared away stars, but sitting at the highest peak in the city made me feel like I could see them, maybe even say hello.

"What would you be doing right now if you didn't have a Quirk?" I asked, leaning my head against the glass.

"That's a stupid question."

"You've never thought about it?"

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, and I bit the inside of my cheek, belatedly recalling his antipathy towards a once Quirkless rival. "Why would I think about something like that?"

"If none of us had Quirks," I clarified, hoping to pacify his irritation. "If Quirks never existed, I mean, where do you see yourself? I can't imagine us even meeting, much less sitting here."

Ten minutes with Bakugou felt like an hour, but the past few months at Yūei flew by so quickly in comparison. I wondered if I wasted more time chasing after something I never wanted or learning to love it despite that. Becoming a Hero used to feel like a fever dream, and then it turned into something achievable, something within my grasp. Where would I end up without it?

"I'd be the Number One Hero," Bakugou said, his eyes igniting with a familiar flame. "Quirkless or not."

I gave him a pointed look. "Didn't you think Deku couldn't make it as Hero precisely because of that?"

"Is that one of your questions?"

"We both know we're past keeping track of that."

"It's not the same thing," Bakugou said, stubbornly crossing his arms. "You asked me where I would be if Quirks never existed. Why would the rest of me change just because I can't blow shit up with my hands?"

"I admire you for that."

"But?"

"No buts," I said, shaking my head. "You trust yourself. I can't find fault in that. I don't know myself well enough to even answer my own question."

"Are you seriously having a fucking existential crisis right now?"

"Something like that."

Bakugou gave me a look that closely resembled the one I had just given him. "Guppies in a shark tank won't last a day in the real world."

"That's not the problem," I said, tracing my eyes over the shadows shaping the skyline. "I can survive in the real world. I've slept through my worst days and woke up the next morning. Existing is different. Harder, I think."

The sight of all the lights and the sound of spirited laughter, muted but unmistakable even at a distance, elicited emotions I couldn't properly place. Feeling so small at the top of the world put the fragility of youth into perspective, and that humbled me as much as it terrified me. As I stared at the specks of souls scattered about, I tried to imagine myself in a different life, one far away from here.

That's not to say I wanted another life. I only feared that I became complacent with what I had now. It often happened that we measured days the way we measured promises, saying, "I hope someday I'll be happy," but doing nothing to adjust the way we live today—as if the act of anticipation, of looking forward to something and counting down to tomorrow, guaranteed the sort of change we wished for on shooting stars.

"'m asking the next one," Bakugou said.

I nodded absentmindedly, perhaps a bit unnerved, as he regarded me with a solemn stare. Since we only had two minutes left on the ferris wheel, I expected something a little less heavy, but I had no way to prepare for the words that came out of his mouth. While I pondered them on my own time, I realized after hearing someone else voice the question that I still couldn't think of an answer.

"Why do you want to be a Hero?"

Mikoto stood before the witnesses she gathered, crimson eyes poised with purpose and, frankly, a confidence that a runaway Hero on the verge of turning into a wanted criminal should not have had.

"Thank you for coming despite such short notice," she said.

All Might and Endeavor sat opposite each other with similar exigent expressions, while Detective Tsukauchi took the rear of the table. To her right, Tsunagu leaned against the wall, arms crossed. On Mikoto's other side, Sekijirō hovered closely, brows furrowed in concern.

Her sudden presence caused a bit of commotion in their community, but not more so than her disappearance a week prior. To have an off-the-books conversation on top of that meant she must have found herself in a situation more dangerous than she, or any of them, realized.

"We've uncovered substantial evidence that suggests the League of Villains caused the recent influx of missing persons cases," Tsukauchi said, his eyes cast forward. "The Nōmu we have in custody proved genetically altered, possessing an amalgamation of Quirks from multiple people. I've already discussed it with All Might, but I presume everyone else in this room is aware of the implications such a discovery entails."

"Impossible," Tsunagu said, shaking his head. "Last we heard from him, he was practically dead."

Mikoto fixed her gaze on him. "Humans cheat death all the time."

"Assuming he's still alive," Tsunagu said, unflinching. "I doubt he has an ounce of humanity left in him."

"Why are we here?"

Mikoto glanced at her oldest friend and found his eyes already on her, amber cutting sharply, but not unkindly. "I have information that pertains to the case."

"And how did you get this information?" Sekijirō prodded, frowning.

"I can't disclose that," she said. "I do, however, have reason to believe that the current head of the League of Villains, Shigaraki Tomura, merely acts on that man's behalf."

"I'm sorry, Kamino, but we need more than that," All Might said, his signature grin nowhere in sight. "It won't do us good to storm in without some semblance of what's happening, if we can even find them before they put into motion whatever they have planned."

Mikoto pursed her lips, mind spinning in consternation. According to Stain and his many riddles, Shigaraki Tomura had petty motives, but eagerly sought attention. Despite him masking his childish tantrums to exude the illusion of authority, his desire for validation drove him to act on his impulses without second thought, such as using an entire class of students to bait the Symbol of Peace at a heavily protected Yūei facility.

"The League enhances these Nōmu with Trigger," Mikoto said.

Tsunagu raised a brow. "Trigger?"

"A drug that boosts a person's Quirk to unparalleled levels," Mikoto explained. "For an individual to experience that means sacrificing their sense of self, and for some, specifically Nōmu, the strain of housing multiple Quirks in a single body on top of that makes convalescence impossible."

"You mentioned a spike in missing persons cases," Enji said. "Are you saying all those people were used to create more monsters like that?"

Tsukauchi shook his head, grimacing at the image in his head. He saw firsthand the effects it had on people. The League subjected dozens of unsuspecting victims to that vile substance for months, even years, and received no retribution for their sins. That had to change.

"Nōmu is incredibly powerful, but the cost of creation and the rate of success don't justify several attempts, at least, not in succession," Tsukauchi said. "The League wants to make themselves known, to uphold his legacy. Shigaraki Tomura knows exactly how to achieve that."

"He needs an audience," Sekijirō said, stiffening at the realization. "The Nōmu caught our attention, but they can't afford to keep using up all their resources on a single weapon."

Tsunagu pushed off the wall, threads flitting wildly around him. "Those missing people aren't tokens of their failures."

The implications of that sounded too incredible to even suggest, much less believe, but the silence that swept through the room gave the cold truth some time to simmer.

"On the contrary," Mikoto said. "They're building an army."

postscript

thank u so much to everyone who has in some shape or form given part of urself to these characters! whether that means taking the time to read their story or ur writing reviews or even just investing the energy to empathize with rei, i can't say enough how grateful i am for ur support (❁´ω`❁)