I do not own BNHA or its characters.
Enjoy Chapter 1 of "Contained"
Co-written with Aoimikans
Coming Together
The lukewarm water rippled gently as Souma Ogawa twisted his arm beneath the surface. Distorted waves of light glinted off the black-tipped, bronze scales that covered his skin, some flecked with green. The scales covering the top of his arms were firm, each about the size of his pinkie fingernail.
Flipping his arm sent a wave of ripples across the small tub and flecks of bronze light dancing along its sides. The scales on the underside of his arm were much smaller, smoother, and closer to Souma's original skin tone and texture.
A pulling, stretching ache flared in Souma's elbows, and he winced. Jutting out from both elbows were short, curved spikes - bronze and tipped in black like the scales.
They weren't the only things growing…
Souma grunted with a wince and braced his feet against the end of the tub as a shudder ripped down his back. His pelvis shifted, bones grinding. Pressure built up and his tailbone felt pulled painfully outward.
Please stop please stop please -
Something popped abruptly in his pelvis.
"A-Ah!" Souma yelped, clutching the edge of the tub. He glared at the ceiling light and grit his teeth, riding out the branching hot and cold sensations.
A flash of movement caught his attention. Wearily pulling himself higher against the slanted end of the tub, he winced and settled on his side, facing Mirai.
Mirai lowered her waving hand and asked, "How are you holding up?"
Souma sighed heavily, steam rushing from his nose. A hot flash rushed outward from his chest to the tips of his fingers and toes. Tiny bubbles formed on the edges of the scales and floated to the surface of the heating water.
"Don't know. I'm … really tired," Souma shrugged. He glanced at Mirai's horns, curling back over her head in a completed arch, "What about you?"
Mirai leaned back against the far glass wall and brushed her fingers against the base of the horns where they sprouted from her forehead, "They stopped aching."
Souma nodded and coughed, another puff of steam escaping him. The water bubbled steadily around him, speeding closer and closer to a boil.
Hot…
He half-rolled with a grimace, reaching down into the ice bucket beside the tub. He scooped handfuls of crushed ice, shovelling it into the hot water and onto his stomach until the bubbling slowed.
Okay... There.
Panting, Souma sank against the side of the tub. Fatigue hummed under his skin, and his attention shifted to the other glass cells.
In the cell directly to his right, Nozomi Shishiki had wrapped herself in her hospital blanket. Arms outstretched, she flexed her thin, trembling fingers as blotches of vibrant oranges and whites bloomed across her skin.
Souma remembered through a haze of fatigue and heat that the Doctor saw to her after giving him a checkup.
The librarian said she was Quirkless…
'Was' seemed to be the key word .
The colors switched to bands of yellow and black, then orange and white and back again.
Lips pursed in a tight, anxious frown, Nozomi carefully tucked her arms under the blanket.
In the next cell was their newest 'neighbor.' Mirai told him the Sphinx Quirk woman's name was Taeka Yoyogi. She'd been allowed to keep her street clothes. After she'd clawed the noumu chaining her back leg to the floor, the Doctor called the creature away and hadn't looked too keen to send it back in for her clothes.
Taeka sat back on her haunches, left leg outstretched. She held the chains out in her front paws, running her functional dewclaw of a thumb over the links and shackle. She tucked a long lock of black hair behind her golden-tufted ear, her lips moving.
Souma heaved himself up, frowning at the water sloshing and spilling over the side of the tub.
He caught Mirai's attention, "Can you hear her?"
Mirai shook her head and shuffled forward, bending close to the slits in the bottom of the glass wall, "Taeka. What are you doing?"
Souma turned back over and watched as Taeka dropped the chain with a visible huff. She shrugged.
"I thought," Taeka murmured, lips difficult but not impossible to read, "That there might be something - some flaw. I can't be here ." Her eyes burned furiously as she rested a paw on her powder blue hoodie, above her abdomen, "I need to get out."
"People are looking for us," Souma signed, knowing Mirai was translating for him when Taeka's ears perked. "We all had someone expecting us. People are looking for -"
The metal door flashed in the light as it opened, and Souma slipped his hands into the water. His lungs and scales flared hot.
The Doctor shuffled inside the room, carrying a cardboard box under one arm and a coffee in hand.
Morning. It's morning. Souma remembered. He checked Nozomi's watch every half-hour. Approximately 5:10AM. Same as two days ago.
The Doctor set the box on the metal table lining the far wall, opened it, and began unpacking prepackaged meals.
He had a system. Mini-fridge, bottom shelf: Apples, pre-packed sandwiches, fruit cups. Middle shelf: Pints of milk, bottled water, orange juice. Top shelf: Souma's hormones, a rack of the dark red vials - the ones that changed them. Green plastic rack, right side: Bags of pretzels. Left side: Peanut butter cracker snacks, trail mix.
All rewards for calm behavior. Good behavior.
The carrot to the hulking grey-skinned noumu of a stick.
And all meticulously organized.
Souma suppressed a twitch of a smile as the Doctor neatly adjusted one of the snack bags.
The Doctor liked control, liked organization. He had a schedule and stuck to it for as long as Souma had been paying attention. And because he stuck to a schedule -
The Doctor turned, his half-hidden gaze flicking between the four of them. He settled on Mirai, "Shimeno, you first."
He approached her cell and opened the door. The noumu with the cloth-covered face lumbered in from the hallway, swaying as it slowed to a stop just behind the Doctor.
Kneeling inside the cell, the Doctor unlocked the small padlock fastening the chain to the leather cuff. He stepped back, glancing at the noumu and ordered, "Escort her to the restroom and return her here."
The noumu lurched forward, and its massive hand closed around Mirai's arm.
Mirai grit her teeth, tensing and digging in her heels. Her bare feet slid and stumbled across the tile floor as the noumu tugged her roughly to its side. She jerked, head lowering, and rammed her horns into the noumu's broad chest.
The Doctor frowned, back turning to Souma -
That's it. Keep his attention just a little longer, Souma sunk lower in the tub. He pulled Nozomi's small watch from his binder, just enough to peek at the time, and shoved it back in.
5:24AM. Souma swallowed roughly and let out a slow, steaming breath.
The bathroom breaks were spaced throughout the day. Every four or so hours.
Narrow it down. He has a schedule. Souma breathed deep, feeling the watch tick against his heart, and the bubbling water calmed.
The Doctor shooed the noumu and Mirai from the room and turned his piercing gaze to Souma.
Souma breathed out, sending small ripples across the cooling water, Find an opening.
Izuku Midoriya's smile faded, ears ringing. Suds dripped from his empty hands as All Might's pleasant rumble slipped from his mind.
Izuku's whole world narrowed to the screen.
"If you see this man," the anchor announced with practiced severity, "Keep your distance and immediately call police and alert your local pro-hero agency."
Superimposed beside the anchor in Channel 3 orange and blue frames were two photographs of the same man. The breaking news banner below scrolled in bold white text, Serial Abductor Suspect Photo and Sketch Released.
Izuku read the banner again, glanced back up at the pictures, and read it again.
"Wh-" he stared at the older picture above the sketch, "What?"
His eyes widened.
Izuku's pediatrician leaned back in his chair, fingers laced as he shrugged, "It's best you give up."
"- two joints." "Quirkless."
"Midoriya? What is it?" All Might asked and looked into the living room. His brows furrowed in recognition, a quiet fury burning in his eyes.
The doctor in the picture…
Izuku mentally shook himself.
No. I'm overthinking.
Can't be.
There's no way.
He swallowed roughly, nausea sticking thickly to the back of his tongue. Horror fluttered and twisted heavily in his gut, Think it through. Be certain.
His voice still wavered, " That's … the man from the clinic?"
No. This has to be a mistake. He -
The hackles on the back of All Might's neck rose, and he looked back down at Izuku.
"Yes." His intense gaze scoured Izuku's face, and Izuku jolted when All Might reached out and gently squeezed his shoulder, "My boy, what's wrong?"
"I know him!" Izuku blurted. He shook his head, stunned - dizzy. His brows furrowed in confusion, "I knew him..."
How many doctor's appointments had there been?
How long was he working for All for One?
How many check ups?
He hurt All Might?
How many visits? At least once a year, maybe twice. Required vaccinations for school. Flu shots. Sore throats and bad colds. All the kids in the neighborhood -
"How?" All Might asked urgently, briefly tugging Izuku from his racing thoughts, "Midoriya, who is he?"
When was his last appointment?
He was nine or ten years old, wasn't he?
There was a reason they stopped going. What was it?
Izuku could still remember the muted floral pattern of the wallpaper in the waiting room. The dry mixed smells of sterilizer, old building must, coloring books, and crayons.
"When I was little," he swallowed, jaw working as he shook his head, "My Mom used to take me to the family clinic down the road. He was there."
All the kids in the neighborhood went to the local clinic, didn't they? It was close to the elementary school - only a couple blocks away. It was convenient, he'd heard the adults say.
He was the man in Espa Clinic?
All for One's -
Izuku looked back up at All Might, mouth too dry, "Dr. Tsubasa. He was my doctor. "
There was a clatter, and Izuku flinched, gaze snapping to the dining area.
Bakugou stood beside his table, shoulders high and stiff. His chair lay on the floor, knocked over when he'd shot up.
"Bakugou?" Kirishima asked, glancing perplexed between him and the television, "What's up?"
In the living room, Aizawa-sensei tossed his already folded sleeping bag onto the couch and strode through the dining area. Calm but brisk, he passed Bakugou with a quiet word and a nod. Bakugou watched him pass, then shoved his hands into his pockets. He followed the teacher into the kitchen, stopping a fair distance from Izuku.
"You two recognize that man," Aizawa said quietly, arms crossed. Not a question.
"Doctor Tsuba-" "Old man Tsu-"
Izuku and Bakugou glanced at each other.
"Tsubasa," Bakugou finished, voice low.
Izuku nodded in agreement.
All Might and Aizawa shared a serious look.
"I'll give Detective Tsukauchi a call," All Might said and fished his phone from his suit jacket pocket, "This information might be the break the investigation needs."
Aizawa nodded, "I'll contact their parents and ask them to meet us at the precinct."
"Us?" All Might asked, quirking a brow.
Aizawa gave All Might a flat look, "Given your recent history? It shouldn't need saying that you are not leaving this campus without a pro-hero escort."
All Might's ears flicked, taken aback at the light scolding. A surprised bark of a laugh escaped him, and he hastily cleared his throat with a nod, "Ah, well. Yes, that's for the best. Thank you, Aizawa."
Aizawa grunted, satisfied, and returned his sharp gaze to Izuku and Bakugou.
"We're taking this to the police immediately," he stated, "Midoriya. You said 'doctor.' Was he your pediatrician?"
"Yes," Izuku answered.
The same doctor. The same -
"You too?" Aizawa asked Bakugou.
"Sort of…" Bakugou answered gruffly, glancing into the dining area and bristling at the few curious looks cast their way.
Aizawa's brow rose curiously, but he pulled out his own phone and continued, "And both your parents knew him?"
Izuku nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. His mom would know. She'd remember…
"Stay here." Stepping away, Aizawa lifted the phone to his ear and ducked his head in a bow, "Mrs. Midoriya, hello."
Izuku took a deep, trembling breath and let it out slow, hands steadying as he pinched his lip in thought.
Dr. Tsubasa and All for One's doctor…
All Might clicked his tongue at the other end of the kitchen, frowning at his phone as he dialed again.
Izuku watched as All Might paced slowly, hackles standing on end and free ear twitching at chatter coming from the dining and living room. His tail lashed, agitated, as he lowered the phone from his ear and pulled something from his pocket. His sleeve caught, flashing the faded white scars on his wrist.
The doctor from the clinic where All Might -
"That shitty old man..."
Izuku's brows shot up, and he stared at Bakugou, "Uh - Kacchan?"
Bakugou bristled and glared at Izuku, but it lacked any real fire. He turned and crossed his arms, watching All Might with a frown.
Izuku sighed at Bakugou's closed off posture but let it go, running his hand over the back of his head.
There … was a lot of history there. Dr. Tsubasa, the old clinic, and the old neighborhood with the woods behind the playground. And the log bridge stream.
All Might pocketed his cell phone and a business card just as Aizawa finished his second call.
"I couldn't get ahold of Tsukauchi," All Might said, "But I was able to contact Wright with the international team. They will be expecting us."
Aizawa tapped his phone, flicking through it, "Midoriya and Bakugou's mothers agreed to meet us at the precinct. Mic will cover homeroom until I get back."
All Might nodded. He pat Izuku's shoulder and gave him a small squeeze, "Let's go."
Nedzu was immediately notified and, once the rest of Class 1-A was given a bare-bones explanation and a poorly concealed threat to behave in his absence, Aizawa signed out a U.A. car. Toshinori followed Aizawa down the path to the faculty gate as young Izuku and Bakugou kept pace behind them.
The campus sidewalks were mercifully clear, save a few diligent students rushing to class early. They kept their faces tucked in scarves and bowed against the chill wind and took no notice of Toshinori as they passed. Maybe his sunglasses helped.
"Any word from Detective Tsukauchi?" Aizawa asked as he stepped onto the parking lot.
"Nothing yet," Toshinori replied and slipped his phone into his suit pocket again. He considered the cold, overcast sky. Dark clouds roiled on the horizon. It smelled like incoming rain and ozone. His joints ached faintly.
They quickly brushed by the staff owned cars and reached the small, school owned fleet.
Toshinori stiffened. His hackles rose, and his gait slowed.
Oh …
Shit.
He grit his teeth and forced himself to keep walking. Capped claws tightly gripped his phone as he passed another all too familiar car, eyeing each warily.
Glossy black, uniform, and emblazoned with the U.A. crest on the front. Of course, they were the same car. Of course they were. It was part of the recognizable U.A. branding. Of course the Tantive Company drivers used the same vehicles.
Toshinori's hackles pricked down his spine and grew rigid. He squinted against the reflection of the windshield as if that would help him see into the driver's seat.
Stop it, Toshinori scolded himself, pointedly looking ahead. It wasn't the same car. It wasn't the car that drove up to Naomasa's place that rainy night, all those weeks ago. They might all be the same make and model - the same interior -
A cold raindrop landed on the top of Toshinori's head.
Rain streaked across the windows. Toshinori's hair dripped, rain-soaked and cold.
All for One smiled in the rearview mirror, face half-lit by the streetlight, "I suppose impersonations can't fool the former Symbol of Peace."
"All Might," Aizawa's quiet call abruptly tugged Toshinori out of the memory. Aizawa watched him for a moment, then unlocked the closest car and asked, "Front or back?"
Toshinori sucked in a breath and forced a grin, "Ah, I'll take the back." He raised and flicked his tail, "Not enough room in front seats for me these days, I'm afraid."
Aizawa leveled him with a measured look before nodding, "All right. Bakugou, in the front."
Straightening his tie and ignoring the feverish way his pulse thundered against the too tight shirt collar, Toshinori set his shoulders and ducked into the U.A. car.
"Not much leg room in these," he joked, folding his long legs close as Izuku slid in after him.
"Oh... yeah," Izuku replied, distracted and fidgeting with his lip.
Ah, Toshinori thought with a soft sigh, His childhood doctor. This is personal for him too...
With a huff and a grin, he pushed down the memories, his discomfort, and anxious flutter in his gut. Flopping his tail onto Izuku's lap, he tapped the tuft against his knee.
"It's alright," Toshinori assured quietly, giving him a pat on the back, "We'll get this straightened out, my boy."
"Yeah," Izuku nodded stiffly, fingers already tangling in the blonde hair along the back of Toshinori's tail.
The front passenger door shut with a firm thunk as Bakugou sat heavily in his seat . Aizawa rounded the car and slipped into the driver side, adjusting his seat before firing the ignition.
"This investigator, Wright, is meeting us at the precinct?" Aizawa asked.
"At the rear door. Yes," Toshinori answered, smiling lopsidedly, "It would be best to avoid the public lobby, I think."
Aizawa hummed in agreement, adjusting the rear view mirror.
Toshinori's ear twitched at a soft, straining squeak of leather, and his gaze flicked down.
Bakugou gripped the arm of his seat, knuckles paling.
Jarring for you too, young man? Who was the Good Doctor to you? Toshinori frowned thoughtfully and sighed.
He… wasn't the best person to talk with young Bakugou. The young man looked up to him, yes. But he was too proud for his brand of comfort and would more than likely push it away.
Toshinori coughed lightly and met Aizawa's eyes in the mirror, nodding discreetly to the explosive teen.
You may be better suited for this one, I think.
Aizawa caught his look and huffed, resigned.
"Seatbelts on? Good," he threw the car into gear and pulled out of the parking space, driving up to the gate.
Toshinori slowly relaxed, shifting to lean against the door when his spikes bumped against his seat.
Not the same car. Not the same driver, he reminded himself and took out his phone.
Still no reply from Naomasa.
Aizawa showed his ID to the gate guard and the gate slid open.
Bright white lights suddenly flashed, and Aizawa cursed. He accelerated, passing the group of tabloid journalists camped out on the corner opposite the gate. Cameras flashed again and Toshinori ducked behind his arm, blinking the bright lights out of his eyes.
Aizawa clicked his tongue in distaste and griped, "Tabloid vultures." He glanced back and raised a brow at Toshinori's position, "The windows are tinted. I doubt they managed to get a picture of you."
Toshinori sagged in relief, ears drooping, "Ah, thank goodness." He twisted back, catching the group check their cameras before Aizawa turned onto a sideroad and out of sight, "Have they been there long?"
"For a while. More since Espa. A few of the photographers outside the clinic were able to get partial photographs of your face. They've been circling the net," Aizawa replied with annoyance, "Now the tabloids are chasing rumors about your condition."
"Ah," Toshinori winced. He hadn't heard about that… "My apologies."
Aizawa shrugged, "It was only a matter of time. Even in retirement, you have a particularly persistent following."
Toshinori caught the harmless accusatory look his peer shot him in the rear view mirror, and he smiled meekly.
"There hasn't exactly been a good moment to make a public statement about all this," Toshinori said, gesturing to his body.
It was an excuse, but not unsound. There was no time for press conferences and the media uproar that would surely follow. Not when he was recovering from his second abduction, and certainly not after the kidnapping cases that followed. It was a delicate subject - for himself and U.A.
There would be an absolute shitshow if the unsolved abduction cases were connected to U.A. through himself.
He'd given the school and his students enough trouble as it was.
Timing was critical.
But when is there ever a right time? He sighed, absently tapping his phone.
Toshinori perked when his phone dinged merrily.
[Got your text. Meet you at the precinct in an hour or so.] Naomasa's text read.
Another quickly followed it, and Toshinori's heart sank.
[Second abduction this morning. Two teenagers this time. Tell you more when I see you.]
The call came in just as they were wrapping up the first abduction scene.
Chris Kougami, age 17. Half-American and visiting relatives in Musutafu. Fortunately for the investigation, Kougami had a Three-banded Armadillo Heteromorphic Quirk and stood at an impressive 190 centimeters - very recognizable. His mother told officers Kougami left early to pick up a book on nearby hiking trails at the library and he hadn't come back for breakfast.
"I usually wouldn't worry," she said, worrying the sleeves of her turtleneck sweater, "Even if he gets distracted - and he tends to. He's a very curious boy - he always comes home. But… when I saw the news…"
Naomasa sent a few officers to look for transmission residue near the library. They called back soon after verifying there was the foul-smelling residue and a bright orange backpack just a block from the library.
Kougami's mother confirmed the backpack was his.
Naomasa only just finished reading Toshinori's texts on his way back to his car when his phone rang.
"We just got another call in," Vera Lang said urgently.
A second teen was taken only minutes before.
There was a witness at the scene.
Naomasa cursed, pinching the bridge of his nose, This makes nine…
One adult reported after Naomasa's visit with Toshinori. Two in one morning.
After sending a couple brief texts to update Toshinori, Naomasa sped to the Tatooine Station Park.
The park was nestled beside the train station and surrounded by residential apartments and small businesses. Small trees still clinging to their summer leaves framed the space, and a newly renovated playground sat next to the picnic area. At the opposite of the lot, a modest gazebo rose from the center of an immaculate sand garden.
Immaculate, except for a great swath of disturbed sand.
Divots marred the organized lines, like a giant hand scooped the sand from the ground and flung it. Sand covered the stepping stones, and went so far as to dust the grass outside the garden boundaries. Footsteps lead away from the divots in the sand, only to end at a puddle of foul-smelling black residue.
At the edge of the garden, pro-hero Backdraft sectioned off the area, speaking with a local journalist.
"I can't give a comprehensive comment at the moment. Only that my sidekick, Minus-O, witnessed the end of the scuffle and promptly called police." Backdraft spotted Naomasa and excused himself. He approached Naomasa and gestured to the sand garden, "Detective Tsukauchi, I'm glad you were able to arrive so quickly."
Naomasa removed his hat with a polite nod, "I was in nearby. Your sidekick saw the incident?"
"Yes," Backdraft said, gesturing to the young costumed woman helping section off the sand garden with Sansa. He called to her, "Minus-O, over here please."
Minus-O jogged over. She was short in stature and wore Musutafu firefighting pants and boots, as well as uniform t-shirt emblazoned with her pro-hero name. Two cylinder tanks and breathing regulators were strapped snuggly to her back. Her mousey brown hair was pulled back in a professional bun.
"Sir," she greeted, saluting briefly.
Naomasa took out his notebook and digital recorder, "Can you tell me what happened here?"
Minus-O pointed out the coffee shop peeking around the distant street corner, "I was grabbing coffee before heading into work when I heard a yell. I ran around the corner in time to see sand thrown and a teen running before vanishing in that ooze. There was another man but his back was toward me, and he was wearing a hat. I couldn't get a good look before he disappeared the same way. That was about thirty minutes ago."
Naomasa jotted down the information, noting to check any security cameras that might be pointed in the park's direction.
"Anything else catch your attention?" he asked.
"I know who the kid is," Minus-O said, biting her lip, "Kouichi Sunaba."
Naomasa's brows rose.
"We've contacted his parents. They should be on their way now," Backdraft said with a nod, "He was given permission by the park managers to practice his quirk control as long as he was respectful and left the sand garden neat when he was done."
Minus-O sighed, still worrying her lip, "I saw him here often. He was practicing to test into hero courses next year. He's a sweet kid."
"Kouichi?!"
"Ah. That's them," Backdraft murmured, looking behind Naomasa.
Naomasa turned.
Sunaba's parents, a middle-aged man in a tweed jacket and a tall woman a brightly patterned dress, rushed into the park. They slowed as they came into view of the sand garden and staggered to a stop beside Naomasa.
"Oh my god…" The boy's mother looked over the park, long box braids slipping over her shoulders, and stepped closer to the once pristine sand garden.
"Ma'am, please -" Naomasa held up his hand.
Her lips twisted, pain shining in her eyes, and she asked, "Where is my son? "
Naomasa steeled himself, considering the pair.
They held their breath. Holding out hope and each other.
"At this time, we believe your son may have been taken from this area," Naomasa started.
Mr. Sunaba's features twisted with anger and grief, looking away and searching the park as if to find something the police and heroes could not, "Why…?"
Naomasa shook his head, "I'm sorry. I don't know why he was targeted specifically," His expression softened as the boy's parents buckled under the weight of the news, "My team and I are already working on his safe return. I promise you, we will give our all."
Mr. Sunaba nodded, looking lost and pulling his wife closer, "Is there - Is there anything we can do?"
"Do you have a recent picture of your son?" Naomasa asked.
"Yes," Mrs. Sunaba took a steadying breath and pulled out her phone, "Here." She turned the screen toward Naomasa.
Kouichi waved from the screen. He had warm, dark skin like his mother and tightly braided hair collected in a loose bun. Golden eyes twinkled mischievously as he grinned wide, sand falling from his open hand. Around his eyes and lips were light, speckled patches that matched those on his hands.
"Thank you. Are the light marks vitiligo or part of his quirk?" Naomasa asked, pulling his business card from his coat pocket and offering it.
Mr. Sunaba took it with a small bow as his wife answered, "Vitiligo, yes. It runs in my family. Will that make him easier to find?"
"Distinctive features will make him more immediately recognizable," Naomasa answered carefully.
The forensic technicians' truck pulled alongside the park, and the crime scene photographer nodded in passing as they jogged over to Sansa and the sand garden.
Naomasa gestured to the picnic area and gave the Sunaba's a small smile, "Why don't we sit down for a moment? If you could tell me what your son was wearing, I'll add that to the information we have."
Cold rain and sleet poured in sheets onto the back parking lot as Aizawa, Toshinori, and their two students rushed to the rear station door. It swung open as Toshinori ushered the boys under the awning and into the building.
"You look like you needed an umbrella."
William Wright closed the door behind them, and the chill wind swirled to a stop. The smell of icy weather and wet asphalt gave way for the dry must of the old building and chemical scent of recently waxed tiled floors. Wright fixed a wayward hair the wind swept out of place and gave them and the space around their shoulders slow, measuring looks.
Young Bakugou immediately bristled at the look, while Izuku continued to brush water out of his hair.
Toshinori forced a light laugh, tail bumping against Bakugou's side as he brushed melting sleet from his shoulders, "It seems so! Of course, we were in a rush."
"Naturally," Wright said, businesslike. He paused, squinting just over Toshinori's shoulder before nodding and starting down the hall, "Follow me. We have a room prepared."
"We're waiting on their parents to arrive," Aizawa said, his voice flat and casual, but expression firm. The unsaid 'They will not be interrogated without their legal guardians' hung heavily in the air.
"You can wait for them in the visitor's lounge," Wright replied easily and continued further into the building.
Toshinori quirked a strained grin when he caught Aizawa's skeptical pout behind his capture weapon, I see why Wright and Naomasa didn't get along.
Naomasa had never been a fan of aggressively assertive types. Not when so much teamwork was required in his field. The same could be said for professional heroics. Abrasive personalities only made the hard work unnecessarily stressful.
Toshinori's fingers brushed against the business card in his pocket.
Wright reached into his suit jacket, "Here's my business card should you think of anything that may help your case or if you have the urge to chat. We share a mutual interest it seems."
Toshinori's ears perked as he took the card, "And that is?"
"All for One."
Toshinori's hackles bristled, and he looked back up at Wright, "You-"
Wright smiled and pat the side of Toshinori's arm, "Get home safe."
Toshinori shook his head as Wright smoothed back his neatly combed hair. The international investigator certainly liked to throw people off balance. A handy skill for interrogation maybe - not so much for making friends.
Wright led them back into a fairly spacious room furnished with a couple couches, a coffee table, and a small, sugar packet strewn coffee making station by the door, as well as a brightly branded vending machine in the corner.
"Make yourselves comfortable," Wright said, nodding to the half wall window facing the central officer bullpen, "The front desk knows to bring the boys' mothers back here."
"Thanks," Aizawa said, sinking into the nearest well-worn, faux-leather couch. Izuku and Bakugou hesitantly followed suit, sitting on the far sides of the free couch.
Peering through the window, Toshinori caught Aizawa's attention and nodded to the hall, "I think it would be best if I wasn't here when they do come in."
Aizawa grunted once in understanding, settling further into the couch cushions.
"Why don't we go down the hall," Wright suggested. He stepped out of the guest room and held the door for Toshinori.
Toshinori flashed a smile at Izuku and Bakugou, giving them a encouraging thumbs up before ducking into the hall. Shutting the door, Toshinori sighed and regarded Wright with a strained smile, "Where to?"
Wright suddenly grimaced, squinting, "First, let's get this out of the way. My quirk detects even the slightest bit of dishonesty as a bright, white light." Wright pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed under his eyes, "Including well-intentioned, false smiles."
Toshinori's brows rose in surprise, smile dropping, "Eh? Is that so?"
Wright breathed a relieved sigh and nodded, "I… understand your motivation, but you certainly don't need to smile for my sake. I actually prefer if you didn't."
"I… see," Toshinori stammered, suppressing a twitch of an awkward grin, "My apologies."
Wright waved dismissively and sauntered toward the interrogation rooms, "I understand you're getting approval to work with us. I assume Detective Tsukauchi updated you today?"
Toshinori paused, tail flicking thoughtfully, then followed after the oddly blunt foreign investigator, "Yes. Two more people were reported missing this morning."
Toshinori's hackles bristled, Two teenagers… Kids. He absently rubbed his wrists, faded scars hidden beneath his cuffs, No one should ever go through that.
In his pocket, his cell phone buzzed twice. Pulling it out, Toshinori stole a glance at the screen. His shoulders sagged in relief.
[Wrapped up here. Heading to the precinct soon.] Naomasa's text read.
"In here," Wright called from further down the hall, stopping and holding open a heavy wooden door.
Toshinori pocketed his phone and stepped into the dimly lit room. His eyes immediately adjusted to the dark. Color faded as the edges of the tables, darkened computer monitors, and the porous ceiling tiles came into sharp focus. Two windows overlooked the rooms on either side, each with a table and sets of chairs inside.
Observation Room , Toshinori remembered, glancing around at the recording equipment and headsets. His ears perked, tail swaying curiously, brushing against the chairs tucked against the tables.
"It's been a while since I've been on this side of an investigation," Toshinori admitted and playfully made a loose fist, "I usually kept to the field unless they needed a little more muscle in here. Brings me back."
Wright hummed behind him, "I heard you were resting and couldn't come in."
Naomasa. Toshinori quirked a fond, lopsided smile, Still watching my back.
"Well, that's certainly true. Recovery takes time," he chuckled softly. Turning to Wright, he straightened his neatly tailored suit jacket, "But then again, I've never been able to sit still for very long. Not when I can still be of use."
Wright crossed his arms, shifting as he looked Toshinori up and down. Sharp green eyes examined the area around Toshinori's shoulders and finally settled on his face.
"All Might and Toshinori Yagi … seem like two very different people," Wright finally said, brows pinched.
Toshinori barked a loud laugh and shook his head, "Not at all! I assure you, I am only one person!" He wheezed, catching his breath. Plucking a handkerchief from his breast pocket, he wiped a dot of blood from his lip, "Although, I'm certain you aren't the first to think so."
A small frown tugged at the corner of Wright's mouth.
Toshinori's tail swayed contently, and he offered the conflicted investigator a lopsided grin, "I'm sure there will be plenty of time for you to give your final verdict on me."
"I'm sure," Wright echoed thoughtfully.
Toshinori huffed a soft laugh when the investigator's arms remained crossed. He pulled out a chair with his tail and made himself comfortable. Glancing at his watch, Toshinori -
"The Good Doctor."
Toshinori tensed, turning his attention back to Wright.
Wright's face remained impassive, but his forefinger tapped against his elbow. Sharp and stiff little jerking motions.
"What kind of man is the Good Doctor?" Wright asked.
The smallest shiver raced down Toshinori's spine. His lips pressed in a thin frown.
"Dangerous," Toshinori answered after a moment, brushing his thumb over his palm and up his pinkie finger. The clipped claw was nearly back to its original length, and the cut end of the quick had long since healed. The cut tip was likely with the rest of the samples found at Espa Clinic. Bits and pieces of his own body stored away in evidence.
"Honestly, you're worse than half the children I see."
"He was my doctor."
"The worst kind of villain," Toshinori decided, "Cut from the same cloth as All for One. Manipulative and self-serving. Abuses whatever trust he gains to get what he wants or satisfy his morbid curiosity."
The fog stirred at the back of his mind, tinged with saltwater and protect. He shoved it back with a long, slow breath.
Izuku's in the other room. Safe, he reassured it - reassured himself.
"Thank you," Wright's voice was quiet, and his arms finally dropping to his sides. He sighed and nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets, "For being honest."
There was a knock at the door and Officer Noboru peeked inside, "Midoriya and Bakugou's parents are here."
"Good," Wright straightened, sparing Toshinori a parting glance as he joined the officer in the hall, "It shouldn't take too long to explain the situation."
The door closed with a soft click and left Toshinori in the dark, his eyes faintly reflecting a pale, glowing blue in the one-way mirror. He sagged in his seat and ran a hand down his face, brushing away memories of leather straps, syringes, and the tastes of sterile metal and latex.
A dark inferno raged cold in the center of All for One's chest as power flowed in his veins.
Quirks. Dozens of names he'd forgotten over the decades. Nevertheless, he intimately knew each and every one: uses, activation, drawbacks, the best pairs and stacks of them.
Except the most recent addition to his collection.
Reaching into that fire, All for One plucked out the unfamiliar quirk and breathed into the small spark. The quirk flared in his veins and blades like fins sprung from his skin, rippling down his arms and over his hands.
"Interesting," All for One pondered with an amused smile, flexing the quirk, pushing it. The blades grew longer, sharper, and stuttered to a stop. He ran his fingertips along the longest blade, "Ten centimeters. Could use improvement."
His lips twitched, and he smiled, spreading his fingers and stretching his Reach.
His fingertips unravelled and morphed into black and red geometric claws. Activating both quirks, he sensed the short blades multiplying along each jagged digit like thorny vines.
Chuckling, All for One released the quirks and retracted his fingers, "A curious combination… But one I have no use for."
Perhaps a noumu…
Search flared at the back of All for One's mind and he pulled through the Warp .
Moments later, there was a distant splash and unfamiliar coughing. An angry bellow and frantic struggle vibrated through the old walls as the Doctor's newest subject got his feet underneath him.
Search added a bruising blow to the Doctor's thigh to his short list of weaknesses.
Another terrified shout sent minute tremors through the walls as the Doctor called on his noumu and the struggling abruptly ceased.
The door down the hall opened and closed with an echoing clack.
All for One steepled his fingers and waited.
Familiar footsteps shuffled closer, and finally the door to his own temporary home opened.
"Doctor," All for One greeted without turning. He grinned, "You seem agitated."
The Doctor's hazy form lit up as he limped across the room, brushing thick transmission residue from his coat, "I was recognized."
"Oh?"
"The boy, Sunaba, recognized my face," the Doctor griped, shaking what sounded like sand from his clothes, "A composite sketch was released to the media this morning."
"You underestimated him, " All for One said easily. He'd made the same mistake.
The Doctor's lip curled, but he measured his clipped response, "Apparently, All Might has a remarkable memory for faces, even heavily drugged." He shuffled around, checking the hissing, beeping medical equipment plugged into All for One, "At the very least, my subjects are all collected. I have most of what I need, but it will be difficult going out and retrieving supplies myself."
"So your movements are restricted, are they?" All for One sneered lightly, running his fingertips down the tubes and wires draped over his suit, "A shame."
"It's only a setback, and certainly not the first," the Doctor bristled and grumbled, "I'll adapt."
All for One chuckled, "I am sure you will."
He allowed the Doctor to fume silently for a moment, then tapped his steepled fingers thoughtfully, "Are you content with your selection?"
The Doctor clicked his tongue, but nodded, "Sunaba makes ten. A decent selection I've split in two groups. The first few are making progress, faster now with the growth accelerant in their water." Satisfied with the tangle of tubes across All for One's chest, the Doctor crossed the room to his computer, "Other than fatigue, it should not negatively affect their minds. I don't want my results tainted."
He grinned and chuckled, "I have high hopes. If All Might survived the repeated rebound from that healing quirk, my subjects should be able to handle a manufactured derivative easily enough."
The Doctor clicked at his computer, rubbing his mustache as he rambled, "Group One has some small freedom of movement. Generously sized observation cells, escorted bathroom trips -" he smirked - "and some bargaining power with me. All to give them some sense of autonomy. If I'm right, that may prove to have some positive effects."
All for One nodded, half-listening. His awareness branched out, sensing the heat and movement beyond his small room.
"What are their quirks?" He asked, flexing his fingers and rubbing at his palms.
Scrolling down his list, the Doctor read, "In Group One: Mirai Shimeno, Quirk Fast Forward. A emitter type predictive quirk limited to herself and a six hour cut-off point. Details are apparently difficult for her to make out, and overuse causes moderate to severe vertigo. She is currently reacting well to Ram Horns . No mental degradation, but she is showing behavioral adaptation. Very promising.
"Souma Ogawa, Quirk Blow Off Steam. Emitter type. He heats and exhales steam, limited by his lung capacity. It caused an interesting mutation of the Scales quirk. I'm not yet sure what the changes may be other than his manageable overheating and the developing tail. I was concerned he wouldn't remain cognitively intact, but he's still communicating."
The Doctor glanced at All for One, "Nozomi Shishiki, previously Quirkless. I'm testing her quirk factor tolerance with Chromatophore. It would be a shame to overwhelm her system so early. There aren't many like her these days."
"No, not many," All for One agreed.
"Chris Kougami - half American," the Doctor explained with a careless gesture, "Heteromorph type Armadillo Form . Self-explanatory. I may give him Geode. Inorganic quirks are difficult to work with, but he's young and heteromorphs fair better with drastic change, in my experience.
"Lastly, Taeka Yoyogi. Quirk Sphinx Form and Vanish. Incredible subject with both a heteromorph and emitter quirk. Quadruped lioness body - much like classical sphinx imagery - and limited invisibility."
"Oh?" All for One asked. His fingers twitched curiously, and he ran a thumb over his palm, "Limited how?"
"She remains invisible for as long as she is motionless," the Doctor clarified, looking up from his list, "A simple survival quirk."
All for One's thumb circled the divot in the center of his palm, nail catching against its edge.
The Doctor sent aside his notes and chuckled, "Has that caught your interest?"
All for One grinned.
Naomasa stopped by the conference room first, exchanging quiet greetings with Lang and Tsuda as he crossed to the whiteboard at the end of the room.
Seven photographs lined the middle of the board in two columns, each a confirmed case of abduction by transmission. Red twine stretched from the magnetic tacks pinning each to the board and connected to the location of residue found at each abduction site. Dated. Timestamped.
Naomasa solemnly pinned the photographs of Chris Kougami and Kouichi Sunaba to the board and marked off where the transmission quirk residue had been found. Two more locations where the abductees frequented: Another library and a community park.
Still within the same general area, Naomasa frowned thoughtfully, stepping back to view the whole map.
The pharmacy shared by Souma Ogawa, Kousuke Shiga, and Tayori Yamadori came up clean. Its supply chain was unconnected to Rishi General Hospital, and it had no spotty history as a locally owned business. Beyond that, according to the families of the other abductees, they used different pharmacies and clinics spread out across the map.
Given that information, the theory of the pharmacy acting as a central point was unlikely.
So, Naomasa paused at each marked medical facility and warehouse, Assuming the transmission quirk has a limited range, you have to be based somewhere within reach of the abduction sites. Where?
"Detective Tsukauchi?" Officer Ishii called from the opened doorway. The noise of the bullpen, distant phones ringing and office chatter, filtered in from behind her.
"Yes?" Naomasa asked, fingers deftly tying red twine to the new abduction locations.
Officer Ishii pointed over her shoulder with a jab of her thumb, "Field techs from the Kougami scene are back and heading to evidence."
"Could you ask Yori to send up an initial report when they have it?" Naomasa requested. He pulled off his coat, draping it over the back of a chair, and set his hat beside it.
"Sure thing," Ishii said. She stepped away only to lean back through the doorway, "Also! Wright said the U.A. students' parents arrived and are down the hall. Their teachers are in the observation room."
"Thanks. I'll head there now," Naomasa said and, grabbing his notepad on his way out of the conference room, made his way to the quieter corner of the building.
He rapped twice on the door to the observation room before pushing it open, "Have I missed anything?"
Inside, Toshinori startled in his seat, tail bumping the underside of the monitor-laden table with a dull thunk.
"Detective," Eraserhead greeted calmly from the far side of the small room. His gaze remained fixed on the one-way mirror and into the interrogation room, ignoring Toshinori as he rubbed at his bumped tail.
"Nothing yet here," Toshinori said, letting his tail go with a tender pat, "The boys' mothers arrived not too long ago." He rocked up and out of his seat and brushed non-existent wrinkles from the front of his blue, pinstripe jacket, "You got my texts?"
"Yeah. You mentioned Midoriya and Bakugou might have recognized our ' Good Doctor .' We'll need confirmation from their parents if he was their pediatrician…" Naomasa paused.
A small smile slipped onto his face as he looked up at Toshinori, "You're wearing your suit."
Ears perking, Toshinori grinned and tugged the suit's front straight, "Ah, yes. Isamu was kind enough to send a few of my suits to his family tailor. Fortunately, I won't need to replace my whole wardrobe!"
"No kidding," Naomasa agreed. He moved further into the dim room and gestured through the one way mirror. Inside, Wright passed a small water cup to Mrs. Midoriya with a polite smile, "Has Wright given you any trouble?"
"No trouble, " Toshinori snorted, and his tail nudged Naomasa's side amicably, "But he's certainly a character."
"Does he purposefully come off as an ass?" Eraserhead grumbled, earning a barely muffled, choked laugh from Toshinori.
"Now now, Aizawa -" Toshinori coughed and pat his chest - "That's a little harsh."
Eraserhead side-eyed Toshinori, saying flatly, "It's a fair observation."
That's true, Naomasa refrained from saying aloud, schooling his expression.
"Anything I should know before heading in there?" he asked instead.
Toshinori shot Eraserhead a lopsided smile and gestured to Mrs. Bakugou and Mrs. Midoriya, "Those two are quite the protective pair." He paused, expression sobering, "And the boys seemed shaken when they recognized the Doctor. I… think it's fair to say they've both made the connection between my own abduction and the recent ones. And what that could mean for those abducted by the Doctor."
Toshinori's tail twitched and curled uneasily around the middle of the desk chair.
Naomasa discreetly pat Toshinori's back.
"I suggest against coddling them," Eraserhead spoke up.
"Of course," Naomasa answered easily. He'd been present when both heroes-in-training were debriefed after the Kiyashi Ward Mall and Kamino incidents. They handled themselves well enough.
"Alright," clapping his notepad against his palm, Naomasa nodded, "Let's see what they know."
Izuku tapped his fingers against his knee in nervous thought, biting his lip to keep from muttering.
Dr. Tsubasa is working for All for One. He was at the clinic where Shigaraki took All Might. All Might described his face in the sketch from the news. Detective Tsukauchi said they tried to reprogram All Might's imprint… As if All Might is anything like a - a real noumu. Dr. Tsubasa probably - Izuku's stomach churned, and he swallowed roughly - He probably helps make noumu. So, all those abductions -
Bakugou's elbow thunked loudly against the table, interrupting Izuku's speeding thoughts. He glared at the opposite end of the room, only sparing Izuku a brief, uneasy glance before returning his attention to the wall.
Yeah… Izuku sighed and tapped at his knee again, Those people he abducted are in danger. We could help with what we… with what we remember. We have to help save them any possible way we can.
There was a knock on the door, and Izuku straightened in his seat as it swung open.
"Sorry about the wait," Detective Tsukauchi said. He closed the door quietly behind him, "I hope we didn't call you in at bad time."
"Detective Tsukauchi," Inko Midoriya set down her foam cup of water, nervously running her thumb up and down its side, "No, it's alright. Aizawa-sensei mentioned it was important."
"It's my day off," Mitsuki Bakugou said with a shrug, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair. She ruffled Bakugou's hair and smirked teasingly when he bristled and swat her hand away, "I'm just glad it isn't another emergency."
Tsukauchi smiled politely and rounded the table. He nodded to the other investigator - William Wright, he'd said his name was - where he'd settled in a chair in the corner, jotting something down in his notepad.
Tsukauchi pulled out a chair and sat in the center of the table across from Izuku's and Bakugou's mothers, hands folding together in front of him professionally, "We appreciate you coming in on such short notice. It's our understanding you may have some very crucial information regarding the recent abductions across Musutafu."
"The abductions?" Inko tensed beside Izuku, and he took her hand beneath the table, squeezing gently.
It's alright, Mom.
"I - um -" Izuku pointed at Bakugou and himself, "We saw someone on the news that we recognized… from when we were little."
Inko nodded slowly, sighing and sagging in relief. She pat his hand, "Okay."
Izuku offered his mother a wobbly smile, Sorry I made you worry again.
Detective Tsukauchi flipped through a small folder Wright left on the table and pulled out two slips of paper, "Do either of you recognize this man?"
Izuku braced as Tsukauchi placed the small sheets on the table, frowning down at the photo and composite sketch of Dr. Tsubasa. The same photographs from the morning newscast.
"Oh my!" Inko gasped sharply at Izuku's side, looking between him and the images, "That's…"
"Dr. Tsubasa?" Mitsuki Bakugou leaned forward and pulled the photograph closer, brows furrowing lightly, "Yeah, I used to take Katsuki to him for his yearly check-ups. What does he have to do with the abductions?"
"He's currently our prime suspect," Wright chimed in from the corner of the room. He paused, hands folding together, fingers intertwined, "You seem surprised."
"Well, yes," Mitsuki's brows pinched further, "He just - I would have never pegged him for some crazy kidnapper. Granted, it's been years. "
Izuku's mother nodded uncertainly, "Dr. Tsubasa was maybe a little odd. Eccentric, I mean. But never dangerous …"
Tsukauchi wrote something down on his notepad, "You saw him often?"
Inko paused and gave Izuku's hand a small squeeze, "Well, he was Izuku's primary pediatrician at the Children's Evazan Clinic. Since Izuku was a - um - late bloomer, we needed a specialist in quirk development. He came highly recommended."
"The C.E. Clinic is on the same block as the elementary school," Mitsuki added slowly, "Lots of the other parents brought their kids there. All things considered, it was more affordable than most of the other childcare clinics in the area."
If Izuku hadn't already been interviewed by Detective Tsukauchi before, he may have missed the way the crease on Tsukauchi's brow deepened marginally, expression darkening.
Whatever the detective's thoughts, his voice was level when he asked, "About how long ago was this?"
"I started taking Izuku to him when he was around four," Inko paused to think, "It must have been - yes, eleven years ago."
Wright looked up from his notes, brows raised and eyes wide for a beat before catching Izuku looking his way. The foreign investigator's expression relaxed, returning to neutral, as he added to his own notes.
Something significant? Izuku wondered, brow furrowing curiously.
"Masaru and I took him to Dr. Tsubasa for Quirk Potential Testing when Katsuki started burning holes through his play shirts," Mitsuki said, arm draped across Bakugou's shoulders, "Ten or eleven years sounds right. I can probably find the appointment slips in my records."
Tsukauchi nodded and asked, "And for how long was he your pediatrician?"
Izuku pinched his lip, thinking back.
The last appointment he could remember…
"I was nine or ten, I think?" Izuku murmured.
"Same for me," Bakugou said gruffly, squirming out from under his mother's arm.
"Well, he and his grandson moved away around six years ago. I remember it took a while to find a replacement," Mitsuki said, settling her arm on the back of her son's chair.
Six years…?
Inko nodded, "It was a rather small clinic."
Izuku stiffened, fist curling in his lap.
"This was never made public. That is, I asked that it not be made public…"
All Might held up his shirt. The debilitating scar cratering his thin side spread in jagged lines over his impossibly bony chest, bruised and inflamed red.
"Five years ago…" All Might wheezed, "An enemy did this to me."
Five years… Izuku bit his lip, Plus the ten months of hell training and…
A small, cold stone settled in the pit of Izuku's stomach.
All Might injured All for One in that fight too. Injured enough to assume he was gone, at least until attack on USJ. If Dr. Tsubasa really was his doctor - The timeline worked out.
"You said he moved with his grandson?" Tsukauchi asked slowly.
Tense silence answered.
Brows pinching and lips pressed in a strained line, Izuku shared an uneasy look with Bakugou.
Dr. Tsubasa's grandson.
Izuku hadn't thought about him in a long time.
Hiroshi Tsubasa. Short and a little chubby for his age, close cut hair, and big red wings. He was in the background of nearly every one of Izuku's childhood memories. He'd… always been quick to cheer on Kacchan and quick to jeer at Izuku.
"You don't think he would be in danger, do you?" Inko asked, quietly concerned.
"Right now, we can't know that for sure," Detective Tsukauchi answered honestly, "Do you know his grandson's name? What he looked like."
"Hiroshi," Bakugou answered.
"I have a picture, I think," Mitsuki dug into her purse and retrieved her wallet. She opened it and let the accordion picture book unfold and flop onto the table. Each sleeve was filled with pictures of baby, toddler, and middle school Kacchan.
"M-!" Bakugou bristled. A panicked, mortified look flashed across his face before settling on insulted, "Mom! Don't - ghk! "
Izuku stared, eyes wide as Mitsuki held Bakugou at arm's length as she easily flipped through the small photos.
"Here it is," she said, pulling the second to last photo from the sleeve, "This one's the most recent, I believe this was from the final ceremony - What was it? Second - no third grade? Hiroshi is on the right, here."
"You two were friends? Have you kept in contact at all?" Tsukauchi asked and pulled the picture toward himself, murmuring, "Wings?"
Wings.
"Not really," Bakugou answered as he shook off his mother's hand, fuming, "He moved away and didn't say where. It wasn't like it was his first move. Said he was used to it. I didn't ask."
Wait…
Frowning, Izuku pinched his lip, mind racing. There was… something…
The Doctor from Espa Clinic. The doctor responsible for noumu. Hiroshi's grandfather. Hiroshi, who's been away for years. Wings. Noumu.
Izuku sat back in his chair, eyes wide.
Wings!
Izuku felt phantom claws grip around his abdomen, squeezing the air from his lungs and tugging him high into the air. High above Hosu.
His stomach dropped, and he gripped the sides of his chair as if the ground would fall out from under him.
Inko gave Izuku's arm a sudden squeeze, "Izuku honey, are you alright?"
"I'm…" The words caught in Izuku's throat. Horror sunk heavily in his gut.
Izuku struggled, pressed to the ground.
"Both this sham-filled society… and the criminals who wield their power in the name of petty mischief… are the targets of my purge…" Stain panted above him, voice haggard, "All for the sake… of a better society."
His knife slashed.
Blood splattered.
The winged noumu twitched and stilled, blood pooling on the pavement.
Izuku pressed a hand to his mouth, arms shaking.
Tsubasa?
"I'm … worried about Hiroshi..." Izuku said softly, swallowing his building nausea.
"Huh? " Bakugou squinted at Izuku, brows furrowed.
In the corner of the room, Wright stood up from his chair, eyes narrowing and watching the space around Izuku's shoulders.
"It's not just that," the foreign investigator said slowly.
"Midoriya?" Tsukauchi pressed lightly.
"If… If Dr. Tsubasa is the one abducting people… I'm worried about Hiroshi," Izuku shifted, gaze darting briefly to Bakugou.
He wasn't there. He wasn't in Hosu. He wouldn't know…
"I don't want to jump to conclusions…" he mumbled.
Wright hummed, "Looks like you already have."
Izuku folded his hands in his lap, brows creased. He sighed and finally looked to Detective Tsukauchi, "Do you remember Hosu? The… one that grabbed me -"
Of all the people on the street - it chose me.
Izuku shivered.
Don't be right. I don't want to be right.
"The noumu with wings."
Tsukauchi's brows rose, and he and Wright shared a brief, grim look.
"We'll look into it," Tsukauchi said.
"Izuku?" Inko pat Izuku's folded hands, "What do you mean?"
"Wh- ?" Bakugou stiffened in his chair. Realization, denial, and disgust flashed across his face. Teeth bared, he ground out, "That shitty old man. "
"Excuse me?" Mitsuki interjected, pinning the teens with an intense stare, " Hosu? Noumu? Like those things at Kamino? What are you two not telling us?"
"My apologies," Tsukauchi raised his hand soberly, "That information has to do with an older case. As for what we can tell you - This is an ongoing investigation. There is only so much I am willing share, but it is our belief that he is also tied with the Villain Alliance, partly responsible for the incidents in Hosu," He nodded to Bakugou, "And Kamino."
With a tired, disbelieving huff, Mitsuki sat back in her chair. She placed her hand on Bakugou's shoulder, squeezing, "I see…"
Silence hung in the air by a string. Tense. Fraying.
"Is there anything else you can remember about Dr. Tsubasa?" Tsukauchi asked quietly.
"No," Mitsuki murmured.
"I'm sorry," Inko shook her head.
"That's alright," Tsukauchi gave them a sympathetic smile.
Standing with a soft grunt, he bowed his head formally, "We don't need the details of any doctor appointments, but if you do still have slips with dates or any sort of contact information, that would be a great help. Other than that, I think that's all for today. Thank you for coming in."
Going to the door, Tsukauchi opened it and called to the officer outside. He held the door open as Inko and Mitsuki stepped quietly into the hall.
"Noboru will take you back up to the front. Ah-" Tsukauchi reached into his breast pocket and offered Mitsuki and Inko each his card, "And if you can think of anything else, call this number at any time."
They nodded and thanked Tsukauchi.
"If Dr. Tsubasa is the man you're looking for, I hope you catch the son of a bitch," Mitsuki stated, lips drawn in a tight line as she watched her son shove his fists into his pockets.
Inko frowned and nodded, glaring at the floor as she squeezed Izuku's hand.
Mom… Izuku squeezed back gently.
"We'll do what we can," Detective Tsukauchi promised.
The door to the observation room clicked open, and Aizawa-sensei ducked into the hall. He adjusted his capture gear and shut the door behind him.
Tsukauchi gave him a curious look, and Aizawa nodded slightly to the door and scrubbed his hand through his hair with a sigh.
"If we're all done here, I can take young Bakugou and Midoriya back to U.A." he said flatly.
Mitsuki and Inko shared a small look.
"How about lunch?" Mitsuki asked, tugging Bakugou into a one-armed hold.
Bakugou jolted out of his thoughts and struggled, snapping, "Let go of me, you old -"
"My treat," Mitsuki interrupted, ignoring Bakugou as he fumed.
"I really shouldn't -" Aizawa hesitated.
Inko insisted, "Even teachers need to eat, Aizawa-sensei."
Aizawa looked between the two mothers, glancing back at the observation room, and nodded, "Alright then."
"Great!" Mitsuki grinned and lead the way down the hall, dragging Bakugou along with her.
"Mrs. Midoriya, did you drive here?" Aizawa asked.
Inko released Izuku's hand with a pat and shook her head, "I took the train."
"I'll drive you," Aizawa offered as he followed her toward the front.
Hanging back, Izuku turned and looked around.
Where's… All Might?
Detective Tsukauchi cleared his throat and pointed to the observation room door. The door creaked open as All Might peeked outside. His ears perked when he spotted Izuku, and he waved with a lopsided grin.
"I'm going to keep him here for a while," Tsukauchi said with a small snort as he shooed the tuft of All Might's tail back into the room, "He has some paperwork to fill out."
"Oh," Izuku nodded. He lowered his voice, "I'll see you later, All Might."
"Yes, I'll see you later," All Might chuckled quietly and gave Izuku a thumbs up, "Don't give Aizawa any trouble, my boy."
There were no more empty cells.
In the cell to Taeka's right was a kid no older than eighteen, she was sure. The poor boy had curled into a tight ball the moment he'd been chained to the floor. Like herself, he had an animal-based heteromorph quirk. Armadillo, she figured, based on the leathery armored plates and the defensive ball.
"Hey," Taeka called gently, patting the glass wall between them again, "The Doctor is gone. You can come out."
The teen flinched and only curled tighter.
Taeka sighed, glancing back and shrugging at the others.
"That gray one… Is it gone too?" came a shy, muffled voice.
Finally . Taeka smiled sympathetically. She pushed down a sudden spike of nausea, swallowed roughly, and nodded, "Yeah, it's gone too."
Hesitantly, the ball of leathery armor loosened and between the plates a small gap opened. Two ears perked and swiveled from the gap before the teen peeked out.
"I'm Taeka Yoyogi. What's your name?" Taeka asked quietly, tucking her paws into her hoodie's pockets.
"Chris," he said, voice deep but shy, "Er - Kougami."
Chris uncurled the rest of the way and rocked up, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Under the leather armor, he still wore his puffy maroon coat and an unseasonable hawaiian shirt, shorts, and flip-flops.
His ears twitched as he looked around the cold, grey room, eyes widening in uncertain terror. Taking a slow, nervous breath, he asked, "Where are we?"
Taeka winced and, glancing back at Mirai, hesitantly explained, "We think we're in a hospital. Someplace with a morgue. Do you remember where you were taken?"
Fear flashing in his eyes, Chris shivered and hunched, "I was at the library." He said quickly, then shook his head and gave Taeka a strained look, "A morgue? "
"Sorry…" Taeka murmured, "If it helps, I haven't been here long either."
How long has it been? She placed a paw to her abdomen, It was so fast.
The stranger in the coat from the alley, the Doctor, stole her away only steps away from home.
Marc must be worried sick...
Shivering, Taeka rubbed her abdomen gently, pausing as she brushed lower.
There it was. That slight curve.
Chris's ears perked, and he leaned over, looking behind Taeka, "Who're they?"
Taeka shifted back, chain dragging across the floor as she sat against the back wall.
"That's Mirai, Souma, and Nozomi," Taeka named each, "Mirai was here first."
Mirai nodded in the furthest cell, wrapped up in her blanket, and asked, "Can you hear me from there?"
"Y-yeah…" Chris answered, pulling his thin, plated tail into his lap and fidgeting.
He froze, ears swivelling to the door, and hunched further. He drew his knees up to his chest, "Someone's coming."
They quieted.
Taeka strained her ears and held completely still, ignoring Chris's squeak of surprise when she vanished.
Hard-soled shoes clacked down the hall. The footsteps slow, measured.
Taeka's hackles stood on end and she unsheathed her claws, flickering in and out of sight again.
It's someone else. Someone different.
"She's just in here," the Doctor said as he opened the door and stepped inside.
Mirai whimpered a curse and lowered her horns in Taeka's periphery, and steam hissed from Souma's cell.
"Oh my god, " Nozomi whimpered and faded to a pale yellow, black and bright blue rings blooming across her skin. She shook her head and covered her mouth with a trembling hand.
Chris retreated into his armored ball with a choked cry of terror.
It's him .
They all knew. Of course, they knew.
The masked villain from the Kamino Ward Battle.
All Might's final stand.
Countless casualties.
The end of the Era of Peace streamed live worldwide.
The only villain known to have mysteriously escaped Tartarus.
"She's in the fourth cell, Sensei," the Doctor chuckled, "Already displaying her quirk."
Sensei turned his masked face, tilting it ever so slightly. Toward Taeka.
"Heat signature doesn't appear affected," the villain's deep voice sent an icy spear through Taeka's chest.
Me. She felt sick. He's talking about me.
She didn't move.
"Sphinx Form you said…" Sensei stepped closer to her cell. His shoes clicked loud against the tile floor, "Tell me, Doctor, do you have a quirk in mind?"
"At least one for her. I am, as always, open to suggestion," the Doctor replied easily, following behind him with his keys.
No. Oh god. Stay away. Stay away!
Taeka's breathing shuddered, and she flickered.
"There you are," the Doctor's eyes locked onto her as she vanished again.
No no no - Don't touch me.
A tear rolled down Taeka's face as the cell door opened and Sensei stepped inside.
"I have something that may work well with her," the villain said easily, "A trade for what I will take. Quirk for Quirk."
"No! " Taeka bellowed and lunged in a panic, claws tearing through the villain's suit.
A hand closed around her mouth, and Taeka bit down with a throat-tearing roar.
Not my baby! You won't hurt my baby!
"Taeka! "
Blood seeped between her teeth. Sharp. Metallic.
Something in her chest snuffed out.
Taeka screamed.
Something else took its place.
"Taeka?"
The floor was cold and hard against Taeka's side. The tile scraped roughly against her temple. A bruising ache thrummed through her body. It radiated out from between her shoulder blades and down her limbs, slowly painting her body back into place.
She tasted blood - tacky and metallic on her tongue.
"Taeka."
Someone rapped their knuckle against glass. The sound echoed and lingered, ringing like a tuning fork.
Taeka winced.
What -?
A strange, feather-soft weight brushed against her back - a warm twitch that sent a shudder down her spine.
Taeka gasped awake, head swimming as she scrambled to her feet.
"Taeka! Are you okay?" Nozomi asked, knocking on the glass.
Chris pressed close to the wall between them, "You were unconscious for so -"
Taeka shook her head, short and sharp, and held up a paw. She pressed her free paw to her belly, searching.
There it was. Unchanged. That little growing bump.
A relieved sob tore out of Taeka's throat, "Thank God. Thank God. "
"Oh my god," she distantly heard Mirai gasp, "She's pregnant. Why didn't you -? You didn't say anything to us."
Taeka shook her head again, hair falling down around her face and nausea roiling in her gut as she curled forward.
"Ah -" she winced.
That warm weight - no - weights shifted against her back, pinned beneath her hoodie.
They twitched. She felt them.
"What - What the hell? " she shuddered, goosebumps spreading across her skin.
"There's something in your shirt!" Chris squawked, hunching in a half ball.
Cold panic seized her, and Taeka scrambled. Her claws hooked in the hem of her hoodie and she tugged it over her head, tossing it across the cell.
She froze.
Two white, down feathers fluttered in front of her face, falling in lazy spirals to the floor. Taeka reached out and stopped just short of touching them. The weights on her back shifted again.
"Oh my…" Nozomi breathed, covering her mouth. Her skin fluctuated, pale.
"These horns aren't mine," Mirai had said.
"I .. was Quirkless," Nozomi had confessed.
Taeka gasped through her teeth. She hadn't wanted to believe them.
Swallowing roughly, she pulled her hair to one side and looked over her shoulder.
Wings. Each no longer than her forearms and covered in light white down feathers. Peeking through the fresh down were speckled golden brown and grey feathers. They sprouted seamlessly from between her shoulder blades, separated by the center strap of her gym tank top.
Chris curled into a ball with a quiet thump.
"Taeka?" Mirai called.
Taeka tore her gaze from the growing wings, blinking astonished tears from her eyes.
Mirai pressed her horned forehead to the glass of her cell, lips pressed in a thin line. Souma grimaced empathetically, scales glinting in the light. Nozomi sat back against her calves, skin unnaturally pale and flashing faint orange spots.
All staring.
Taeka wanted to disappear. To get their eyes off her. To -
A shudder rushed down her spine as she stilled, willing herself to vanish.
"Taeka," Mirai hesitated, then nodded, horns bumping into the glass,"You're… We're going to be okay."
They were still staring.
They can see -?
Taeka squeezed her eyes shut, holding herself tense.
"Taeka -" Nozomi called gently.
"I can't -" Taeka shivered and stared at her arms, holding still.
Nothing.
She didn't disappear.
"My quirk. It isn't working-" She shook her arms and tensed, teeth gritting and voice breaking, "I can't feel it anymore. I can't vanish. He did something else to me. "
Souma's brows pinched in confusion. Behind him, Mirai's brows raised in realization.
"Oh," Mirai sat heavily back, "He took it, didn't he? Just like … Mr. Miya." She ran her fingertips over the curve of her horns.
A trade. Quirk for Quirk.
Fatigue rushed through Taeka's body. Shivering, she curled into herself. Her fledgling wings folded weakly against her back, aching and itching fiercely as down feathers floated to the floor.
Taeka pressed softly against her belly.
"I need to get out," she whimpered. Before they take something else.
"We will," Mirai swore, "We already have a plan. We just need to hold on."
Taeka nodded mutely.
Mirai pressed her hand to the glass, "We're getting you and your baby out. I promise, we will."
The sink across from their cells was dripping again. Tap… Tap… Tapping into the wide, metal utility sink.
"So... You can't break your chains?" The new kid, Kouichi Sunaba, asked quietly to Shin'ya Misawa's far right. The fight had gone out of his voice the moment that Doctor left. Replaced with fear, uncertainty, and a curious bravado only teens possessed.
Tap… tap… tap…
"Afraid not, kiddo," Mamoru Tani sighed, "I may look it, but I don't have a strength quirk."
The sharp jangle of chains shocked Shin'ya out of his brooding. He winced, blinking as his migraine throbbed with a fury behind his pale gold eyes. Annoyance flared bitterly in his chest and sent his skin crawling.
"Please -" Shin'ya snapped, voice choked and quiet. He rubbed at his temple, "Just - Please? "
His fingers shook.
"Is he okay?" Kouichi asked, concern softening his too-young voice.
Fuck no - Shit - Shit - The panicky thoughts pinged off the sides of Shin'ya's skull. He grit his teeth and hugged his knees closer to his chest, shooting a pointed glare at the massive woman in the next too-small cell.
Mamoru towered over him even sitting. She stuck out like a sore thumb with her rosy complection and bright, flowery tattoos that wound down the length of her toned arms. She gently laid down her chains with a surprisingly soft look for a woman with tusks - short and jutting out and up from her lower lip.
Shin'ya bristled at the look but took a slow, steadying breath.
"Fine… Just a headache," he lied.
"Oh," Kouichi said, but the boy's brows furrowed at Shin'ya, disbelieving.
Drop it. Just drop it. Shin'ya thought, thumb tapping a nervous rhythm on his knee.
The boy's attention mercifully returned to Mamoru.
"No offense," he said, giving Mamoru an impressed once-over, "but you look like you could arm wrestle All Might in his prime and give him a run for his money."
Mamoru snorted a laugh and pressed her hand to her heart, "Well, aren't you sweet! I like you, kiddo."
Her cheer echoed hollow in the dreary morgue and faded.
She was pretending. Just like they all were. As if things were fine.
Tap… Tap… Tap…
Something brushed against Shin'ya's leg, green and coiling.
He scrambled away with a yelp.
More groping ivy slithered and spiraled up from the slits in the left wall separating Shin'ya from -
"Ah! No!" Shin'ya yelled, frantically kicking at the spreading foliage, "Sh-Shit! He's doing it again! Yamadori! Wake up!"
The old woman in the first cell stirred from her sleep and stiffly pushed herself up. She winced as her chain shifted and fell, twisting the shackle on her thin wrist.
The ivy surged, winding up the glass walls.
"Yamadori! Get him to stop!" Shin'ya called, strained. He pointed, panicked, past the growing green tendrils to the man in the space between them.
Kou leaned against the back wall of his cell, slumped as if he'd been tossed and left there. His face was tilted up, brown eyes staring at the light above him. Unblinking. Vacant.
Broad leafed vines grew from his green tinged skin, and moss carpeted the floor around him where soil was dumped in haphazard piles. A heavy pot full of the dark soil sat at Kou's side. His wrist had been chained to its edge, hand forcibly pressed against its center. Pale, hair-thin roots spiderwebbed from his fingers and into the rich dirt.
Yamadori carefully knelt beside the glass, as close to Kou as she could manage, and rapped against it gently, "Kou dear. Can you hear me? I know it's hard, but you need to wake on up."
Kou shivered. His fingers twitched and curled into trembling fists. His eyes rolled back, squeezing shut.
Kouichi leaned around Mamoru, brows pinching, "What's… What's wrong with him? I thought he was sleeping."
"It's alright," Mamoru lied, then amended with a wince, "He's just … having an episode. He'll wake up. Just give him some time."
It's not alright. It's not alright! Nothing about this is alright!
"I can't - I can't do this -" Shin'ya whimpered, cradling his head in his arms and covering his ears.
"Shin'ya," Mamoru turned her motherly attention to him, sliding closer to the wall between them, "You are going to wear yourself out if you keep using your quirk. Just -"
"No! No, I can't - I just - I want out! " Shin'ya shook his head and curled into himself.
"Shin'ya, we have to -!"
The morgue tilted sharply and silenced Mamoru's warnings. Silenced everything but Shin'ya's own gasping.
He breathed. In and out.
Slower.
In and out, until the ringing in his ears faded to silence too. He opened his eyes, shivering at the change in perspective.
He stood outside his cell, floating lighter than air in a slowly tilting, rotating world. He rubbed his numb wrists, free of shackles, and finally breathed a shaky sigh of relief.
Okay… His thoughts reverberated around him, half-sound half-ripple. Faint, watery lights danced at the edge of his vision, warping the sharp lines of the walls, the tables, the tile.
Okay.
Shin'ya's footsteps didn't make a sound as he walked across the room to the door - the only way out. Without sparing so much as a glance at his unconscious body or the others in their cells, he slipped through the keyhole in the deadbolt and into the long, branching hall.
The world creaked like an old ship and slowly turned on its axis. Tile lines and doors doubled and overlapped until they slowed and settled.
Shin'ya looked left and right.
Down , he decided.
The hall was long and uniform. Going door by door, Shin'ya slipped through keyholes and cracks. Many of the rooms were nearly empty save the dust-covered metal tables and old, stored equipment.
Shin'ya added another room on his mental map even as his dreaming body grew heavy.
Exhausted. Sooner than usual.
He felt the tug of his real body calling him back. Back into that cell.
Just one more. Just a little more time. He pressed further, forcing through another door, There has to be… a way out.
Shin'ya stumbled soundnessly as the world groaned and slowly righted itself.
Wh… What? He froze, staring at the glass cages in the room. When did I … turn around?
His gaze drift to the middle cell, where his unconscious body -
A gray-haired woman lay on a small cot in his place.
The world heaved.
Shin'ya dug in his heels against the pull of his body.
He gaped.
The other cells -!
Shin'ya jerked upright, gasping at the sudden rush of touch and sound and cold. He clutched his head in shaking hands.
Holy shit! Holy shit!
"There you are," Mamoru sighed, "Are you alright? You were gone for -"
Shin'ya shook his head rapidly, jabbing his finger toward the door.
"There's -!" he choked and coughed, body shaking with fatigue.
"Cool yer jets," came Kou's gruff voice. He sat hunched in his cell, fists full of withering, torn ivy and roots, "Did you find a way out yet or not?"
"No -"
"Then what? " Kou demanded, scrubbing his hand down his face.
Shin'ya grasped onto the demand, anchored himself with it.
"Down the hall, I saw -" Shin'ya ran his fingers through his hair. Something - something too soon to call hope - stirred in his chest, "There are more people trapped here with us.
"We aren't alone."
Toshinori signed and dated the final form with a flourish and set it on top of the stack. He stretched his arms overhead, arching his back and grunting as his spine popped.
"Done!" he called.
Finally.
Naomasa jerked, face slipping from his hand, and blinked. He sat up from the break room couch with a soft grunt, yawning and stretching his arms. He rocked to his feet and sidled up beside Toshinori.
"About time. You're slower than before. How'd that happen?" he teased, amicably elbowing Toshinori's shoulder.
"Hey now!" Toshinori snorted, ears flicking, "In my defense, I haven't had to fill out anything like this in a while. Those new quirk forms were no walk in the park, and I don't exactly have only one quirk these days."
Naomasa cracked a smile and flipped through the stack.
Toshinori held his breath as Naomasa reviewed each form. Pro-Hero history, retirement date and circumstances, reasons for coming out of retirement, medical history, police-hero partnership policies and privacy forms, seven copies of quirk registry forms…
Naomasa lifted and tapped the stack against the desk, smiling, "Looks like everything is in order." He grinned and stifled a laugh as Toshinori's tail thumped against the floor.
"And?" Toshinori asked, a smile growing on his face and hackles standing on end.
"I'll have to get these on Tsuragamae's desk right away," Naomasa continued, a teasing light in his eye as he paused.
Toshinori playfully thumped Naomasa with his tail.
"Alright! Alright," Naomasa stifled a cough and retrieved his briefcase from the couch. He returned, tucked the signed forms into a pocket, and took out a bright red folder.
"Is that it?" Toshinori asked, tail swinging - nearly knocking over the other chairs.
"This is it," Naomasa confirmed. From the folder, he pulled a slip of paper and a familiar card and handed them to Toshinori, "With this, you can join the investigation in an official capacity."
Toshinori ran his thumb across the face of the updated card.
He bowed his head, breathing a shaky sigh of relief as a knot of tension unraveled in his chest. He smiled and slipped his tail around Naomasa, squeezing gently, "Thank you."
Naomasa huffed a soft laugh and pat Toshinori's shoulder.
"Welcome back, All Might."
Thank you for sticking with us on this journey! I hope you continue to enjoy the ride with Contained!
Please leave us your thoughts and comments - Aoi and I love hearing from you. Also check out our sideblog, Toshinoumu on Tumblr for extra content, fan art, posts from us, and all kinds of extras! :3
