I do not own BNHA or its characters.
Enjoy Chapter Eight of "Collapse"
Written by swiftwidget and aoimikans.
In Memoriam
Pen in one hand and mug in the other, Naomasa took another slow sip and grimaced.
I may need to switch to canned coffee at this rate… Naomasa tapped the side of the mug with his index finger and huffed, Still burnt and too bitter.
Squinting in the dim light, he made out the loose grit of coffee grounds settling to the bottom of his mug. He put it aside with a quiet clack and adjusted his headset, returning his attention to the man on the other side of the one-way mirror.
Denji Matsuno, Ayumi Shiire's boyfriend. He was a lean man in his mid-twenties. No criminal record other than a few minor infractions involving improper quirk regulation.
Naomasa checked Sansa's notes. Matsuno's quirk was related to electromagnetism and difficult to control. Surges in emotion activated the quirk, sending out weak electromagnetic pulses which interfered with the power of surrounding electrical objects.
Inside the room, Matsuno glanced up at the flickering ceiling light and fidgeted nervously with the cord bracelet on his wrist.
Pressing the headset to his ear, Naomasa listened closely.
"Look," Matsuno began, "I just brought the car to the police station because my girlfriend asked. I didn't know it was stolen. I swear. "
Sansa's ears twitched back in a tiny, skeptical movement, "Why didn't you call a tow truck?"
Matsuno grimaced, scratching at his trimmed beard, "Ayumi tried to call one, but it was late. Most of the places were closed, man . That's why she asked me to take it."
"And you didn't wonder about the logo? The U.A. crest on the hood?" Sansa continued.
Matsuno shook his head and shrugged, "A car's a car, and the keys were sitting on the front seat. My girl asked for a favor, and I did it." He frowned, crossing his arms, "I don't see what the problem is. I took it to the police. You should be thanking me."
The lights flickered, and he winced, brushing down the hairs on his arms, "Sorry…"
Sansa remained quiet, pupils slits.
The lights flickered again.
Matsuno shifted uncomfortably and finally blurted, "Listen man, I was just doing my girlfriend a favor. Her supervisor is a real hardass and wanted the car gone. I didn't really think about it."
Tetsumi Inoshita ? Naomasa thought, frowning.
"Her supervisor?" Sansa pressed.
"I don't know his name. He's just 'the asshole' supervisor," Matsuno hunched further in his seat.
Not Inoshita, Naomasa jotted it down, Interesting…
As the interrogation continued, it became abundantly clear that was all the useful information Matsuno was aware of. Unfortunate for the investigation, but fortuate for Matsuno. At the very least, the man was honest. Defensive and uninformed, but honest.
Gathering the notes on Matsuno, Naomasa turned to the opposite interrogation room where Vera Lang sat across from Ayumi Shiire.
Wright stood in front of the one way mirror, scratching out notes after checking the surveillance camera timestamps.
Creating a timeline for lies. Naomasa quirked a smile, silently taking his seat and plugging in his own headset. That's useful.
"I'm disappointed. You had plenty of time to tell us about the car, Shiire," Lang said slowly, thumb tapping against her red and white cane, "You did the right thing helping us decode your supply records, but this was a poor decision on your part."
Shiire hunched in her seat, twirling her rapidly growing hair, "You didn't ask..."
Lang hummed, "Shifting the blame again?"
Shiire grimaced, looking away as her hair changed from blue to black, "No. I didn't mean - Look. I'm sorry about the car, but we were talking about the files and supply transfers. I forgot about it, okay? It was ages ago."
"Never a good sign when an aura flashes back and forth," Wright clicked his tongue, squinting in the dim light, "She's immature, defensive, and unwilling to self-reflect. It's hardly a wonder she was swayed by the money. I don't trust her."
Naomasa nodded, but his lips twitched with amusement, "Do you trust anyone ?"
Wright side-eyed him, muttering something in English that distinctly sounded like, "Fuck off."
Naomasa chuckled, Fair enough.
"At least it solves one mystery," he said, leaning back in his chair and setting his headset aside, "We know now that Matsuno isn't directly connected to Rishi or All for One. At most, he's an unknowing accomplish. Hardly an accessory to abduction."
Wright hummed, still watching Shiire.
"He did bring up a possible lead," Naomasa said, tapping his ear and pointing to the interrogation room, "Have Lang ask Shiire about her supervisor. Inoshita wasn't the one who ordered them to move the U.A. car."
Wright raised a brow, intrigued, "Will do."
Naomasa stood and tucked away his notes, "Your team is closest to Shiire. I'll leave the rest to you."
Wright raised a hand in farewell, and Naomasa quietly left the observation room.
Striding toward the bullpen, Naomasa plucked his phone from his pocket and sent a quick text to Toshinori, [Wrapping up at the precinct. Heading your way soon.]
He pocketed his phone as he reached his desk. Draining the rest of his coffee, he packed his briefcase with copied files from the Yagi abduction case. He paused a moment and hesitantly picked up the last small folder. There were only a few pages inside, but it was everything the forensic lab had so far. Confirmed results.
Naomasa slipped the folder into his briefcase and closed it with a soft snap .
It was just after dawn when Toshinori woke to a text from Isamu.
[Come downstairs. I've got some good news!]
Toshinori's tail swayed curiously, and a small smile tugged at his lips as the elevator doors opened.
"Good morning! Recovery Girl sent me," Isamu greeted with a grin, wearing brand new U.A. emblazoned scrubs, his name prominently embroidered on the breast pocket. He crossed into the living room and settled down on a plush chair.
Patting the couch beside him, he announced "She's giving you a clean bill of health!"
"That is good news!" Toshinori sighed in relief. He flopped down on the couch with a grunt and set his crutches aside for the last time, "And here I thought she would take advantage of my injury. Force me sit still a while longer."
He paused, brows furrowing suspiciously, "Though now that I think about it - How can she give me a clean bill of health without seeing me?"
Isamu snorted with a small, guilty shrug. His smile twitched, "You were actually fine yesterday."
Toshinori frowned, lip sticking out in a pout, and his tail swat the couch with an exasperated thwap .
"I should have known," he deadpanned. Shaking his head with a long suffering grin, he huffed, "Surprised she didn't force me sit still longer ."
Isamu muffled a laugh behind his hand, but didn't comment.
"I assume you're ready to get that brace off, then?" He asked instead, pulling Toshinori's left leg onto his lap. His smile grew and he stifled another laugh as Toshinori's tail wiggled excitedly, knocking a few decorative pillows to the floor.
"More than ready," Toshinori chuckled bashfully, pinning the middle of his tail to the couch.
Isamu grinned and nodded. He undid the straps and gently pulled the brace away. Running a hand under Toshinori's hock, he gave it a last look. Deft fingers skimmed over the elongated bones and wiry tendon. Finally, Isamu pat the bottom of Toshinori's foot, palm brushing against rough pads, and gently bent the hock. "There we go! How does it feel?"
Toshinori sighed in relief, humming softly. Something caught and rumbled in the back of his throat, and he coughed lightly to clear it.
Pushing back against Isamu's hand and splaying his clawed toes, Toshinori gave a satisfied grunt, "Good as new."
"You got your brace off?"
Toshinori perked up and looked over the back of the couch, "Midoriya, my boy! You're up early."
Izuku grinned shyly and ran a hand through his hair, still unruly with bedhead, "A-ah yeah, I was hoping to work on my Shoot Style while the gym is quiet."
"Perfect!" Toshinori stood and gestured to himself and Isamu, "Why don't you join us? I want to test out my leg."
"W-wait!" Isamu sputtered, "You still need to take it easy! Recovery Girl said -"
Toshinori playfully thumped Isamu's knee with his tail, shooting him a conspiratorial grin, "Just a test. I don't plan on straining myself."
He barked a laugh as Isamu sagged in relief.
Toshinori turned back to Izuku, "Sorry my boy. Would you still like to join us?"
Izuku nodded, grinning ear to ear, "Sure!"
"Wha-" Isamu squawked in distress, "Wait, us? "
"Well, you can be there in case I do manage to strain myself," Toshinori shrugged, earning a indignant huff. He chuckled and pat Isamu's shoulder, "Come on. The more the merrier."
Isamu shook his head in defeat, uneasily poking at his belly, but he couldn't hide his grin, "I'm not exactly in hero training shape…"
"Neither was I when I started!" Izuku offered enthusiastically.
Toshinori shifted his weight, humming happily when he felt no discomfort, "There should be extra gym clothes in the locker rooms. I'm sure we can find something your size, Isamu."
"Ha!" Isamu scoffed amicably, "Well, in that case I suppose I have no excuse!"
The locker rooms were empty when Toshinori entered, and considerably warmer than the campus outdoors. He shivered, hackles bristling, and hugged his tail to his chest.
"Goodness! It's brisk out," Toshinori exclaimed, scrubbing the cold from his bare skin, and swung his tail back around with a jittery flick.
Izuku hummed in agreement, rubbing his forearms, "I think we're supposed to get snow soon."
"Wouldn't surprise me," Isamu called as he slipped off his coat and draped it across a bench, "Where did you say the extra gym clothes were?"
"I'll show you," Izuku offered, beckoning Isamu to follow him.
Toshinori smiled fondly as they walked farther into locker room, their cheery voices echoing off the shower tiles in passing. He meandered to his own locker, shucking Maijima's latest shoe upgrade. They looked a bit like running shoes only rounder, and were made of red, white, and blue material with golden-yellow laces. His old All Might symbol decorated the sides.
"I can't make something for you without some of your flare!" the inventor claimed.
Toshinori had to admit, they were very him and they fit properly… But he couldn't shake the general discomfort and the ache at the base of his claws. He sighed in relief when both feet were bare, letting his toes spread freely. His claws curled and scraped on the slip-resistant floor.
I wonder... When it's warm I may not even have to wear shoes, he hummed, wiggling his toes. Not sure if I could get away with it.
Chuckling at himself, Toshinori tucked his shoes into the locker and pulled off his button-up, quickly replacing it with his running shirt.
"Ah -" The tight, cool material caught on a spike and tugged. Toshinori clicked his tongue, "Damn."
He walked to the sinks, twisting to find the proper opening for the snagged spike in the mirror -
He froze.
On either side of the ridged mane, the muscles in Toshinori's back rippled under his skin, more filled out and defined. His brows rose, and he straightened, turning this way and that. His arms and shoulders were the same. The lean, healthy muscle he thought lost in his true form was returning, filling in his profile. Even his ribs were less pronounced.
"Oh…"
Toshinori grinned wide, hackles bristling with a rush of relief and joy.
He was getting stronger.
Healthier.
Toshinori fixed his shirt with a satisfied tug.
Let's go.
He finished changing just as Isamu and Izuku returned.
"You found one that fits!" Toshinori laughed.
Isamu tugged at the U.A. gym clothes. The jacket was open and showed his white t-shirt underneath, "Yeah, there were plenty of sizes. Are you sure it's alright for me to borrow them?"
Izuku shrugged with a smile, "As long as you wash and return them, I don't see why not."
Toshinori looped his boxing gloves around his neck and closed his locker with a metallic clack , "Ready when you two are."
Leading the way into the open gym, Toshinori gently elbowed Izuku, "What do you plan to improve on today, Young Midoriya?"
Izuku hummed at Toshinori's side, pinching his lip, "I still need to work on incorporating my arms with my Shoot Style. My legs are my main focus, but I can't neglect how I use my arms. I'm still telegraphing my punches, which could be a problem if I need to rely on them. Then again, I could be telegraphing my kicks as well. I could always try for more variety in my movements that utilize my gear. Hm, could you watch m- ?"
Izuku stiffened as he caught himself, "No. Let me - Wai-" He clapped his hands over his mouth.
Toshinori stumbled -
- vision blurred.
Something yanked at the back of his mind.
Wait, I…
Toshinori stood still for a dizzying moment, gut churning. The world tipped and swayed, coming to a slow stop.
The gym creeped back into focus.
When he was certain he felt the ground beneath his feet again, he braced against Izuku's shoulder and squeezed gently.
"I-It's alright, my boy," Toshinori said, giving him a lopsided smile. His tail drooped at the miserable expression on Izuku's face.
Isamu suddenly pointed to the track, "I'm just - just going to warm up!"
Toshinori caught Isamu's concerned glance as he jogged away, but was grateful for his discretion, however unsubtle.
Toshinori sighed, tail gently wrapping around Izuku, and gestured to the sparring mat, "Let's sit for a moment."
Izuku nodded mutely and sat cross-legged beside him. His fingers fidgeted idly in his lap, tangled in the hair on the back of Toshinori's tail.
"I'm sorry," Izuku murmured, gaze downcast and brows pinched in frustration, "I should have - I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be, my boy," Toshinori gently ruffled Izuku's hair and squeezed his tail around him, "I know you didn't mean to, and I'm still here. No harm done."
Izuku was silent, frowning in thought. Then, quiet and uncertain, he asked, "Does it hurt?"
"Hm?" Toshinori leaned down to look Izuku in the face, "Does what hurt?"
"Commands. The lapses," Izuku explained shortly, shoulders tensed and bracing, "Does it hurt?"
Toshinori smiled fondly and shook his head, "No. It doesn't hurt." He absently rubbed circles on the back of Izuku's shoulder, thinking, "I'll admit it feels… strange. Like missing a step at the top of a staircase or forgetting why you entered a room."
He gave Izuku a pat and grinned, "It's a little jarring and disorienting, but it doesn't hurt."
"What about…" Izuku glanced at him uneasily, "What about the command from the police station?"
"I - Hm." Toshinori paused, "Well, I haven't thought about it really," he answered honestly.
The command from the station -
Don't ask me to do that!
Toshinori stiffened, hairs on the back of his neck bristling. Repulsion wrapped in fog buzzed at the back of his mind, threatening to pull the ground out from under him.
I won't. He pushed the thought away and suppressed a shiver. I won't ask…
The noise softened, curling smaller, but remained. Ever present. Unavoidable.
Toshinori's ears perked.
Is it unavoidable?
"All Might?" Izuku hesitantly called.
A slow smile pulled at his lips, and Toshinori hummed, Maybe I don't have to ask. If I'm indirect…
"Perhaps," he paused. He didn't feel the foreign recoil, and he continued, "We could figure out conditions and time limits to tack onto accidental commands. A stop-gap of sorts. Something that could hypothetically be practiced if need be."
His words flowed freely, skirting the edge of Izuku's command. Suggestions. What-ifs. Certainly not requests.
"O-oh?" Izuku straightened, his concern shifting to curiosity.
Toshinori grinned, hope blooming in his chest, "We might even find convenient loopholes."
Izuku snorted at his pun, but mumbled, gears turning as he pulled at his lower lip, "Loopholes would be helpful during emergencies like-" He glanced up furtively, "Like the beach."
Toshinori's smile softened, "If it helps, I may have found one already..."
"Really -?" Izuku's eyes widened in realization, "Oh!"
"Hm?" Toshinori quirked his brow, smile twitching as he coaxed Izuku to finish his thought, "What?"
"Just now! How could I have missed it?" The boy's brows suddenly furrowed in intense thought as he paled, mumbling, "Granted, I tried not to think about it, but - Hypotheticals and indirect consideration that defy a command are allowed. In that case - No… I'm still hesitant to try, even with low risk hypotheticals. I don't - You're still - We can't -"
"It's alright," Toshinori gently bopped the top of Izuku's head, "Enough of that for now. You're here to focus on your training."
He stood and offered Izuku his hand, pulling him up.
"Listen, my boy," Toshinori placed his hands on and squeezed Izuku's shoulders, "I know this has weighed on you, and I am thankful you want to put so much thought into this. Just remember you don't need to carry this burden on your own. It's mine too, and we'll work through it together."
Izuku conceded with a wobbly smile, failing to hide the tears welling in his eyes, "Okay. Y-yeah, of course!"
Toshinori barked a laugh, playfully nudging his cheek with a loose fist, "Thank you for being patient with your clumsy, rookie teacher."
"You're not a -"
Toshinori shook his head, holding up a hand, "It's alright. It's good to recognize one's own weaknesses."
He grinned down at Izuku, ruffling his hair, "I intend to keep my promise, and for that I need to grow further."
To become the teacher you need. One you deserve.
Toshinori smiled warmly at his successor, "I'm proud of you."
"Eh-?" Izuku froze, eyes wide. A scarlet blush bled up from his neck, burning his cheeks. His arms flung up, tangling around his head, "I -! You -! Wh-? Oh! Okay!"
Chuckling, Toshinori nudged Izuku toward the track, "Go ahead and warm up with Isamu. Looks like he's slowing down. I still need to stretch."
"Yup!" Izuku squeaked and nodded, flustered, "Yes, I can do that!" He bolted off, and Toshinori grinned when he spotted the light of One for All zip across his skin.
Tail swinging, Toshinori shook his head and dropped to all fours, stretching out his legs and back. He hummed, chest rumbling lightly.
That's my boy.
The U.A. faculty gym's curved metal roof glinted in the morning sunlight as Naomasa stepped into its shadow. His coat billowed softly in the cold breeze, and he scrunched his shoulders to his ears with a shiver. Hoisting his briefcase up, he adjusted his grip on the handle and shouldered open the gym door.
A rush of warm, dry air greeted him as he stepped inside and shook away the lingering cold. Faint laughter, gasping breaths, and pounding footsteps floated to the entry over the rattle of old exposed heating ducts.
"Keep it up!" Midoriya's voice called as Naomasa stepped into the main gym. Midoriya jogged backwards on the track, encouraging Nurse Sato who stumbled after him and looked on the verge of collapse. They both waved as they passed, and Midoriya pointed to the far side of the gym.
Bap-bap! Bap! Bap-bap! The familiar sound echoed through the open space.
Naomasa grinned, easily spotting the blonde shock of hair glinting in the morning sun.
Toshinori was back on the boxing mat, panting and punching the sandbag with swift, practiced jabs. His left hock was out of its brace. It bent with ease as he bounced to the side and struck the bag, sending another cloud of dust motes swirling in the air.
As Naomasa got closer, Toshinori abruptly twisted, crouched, and braced. His tail whipped around and soundly struck the bag, sending it swinging wildly on creaking chains.
"Smash…" Chuckling under his breath, Toshinori straightened and caught the bag mid-swing, grinning with a grunt as its momentum nearly tipped him over. His tail counterbalanced with an easy swing and gave a satisfied flick, "It's different. But I still got it."
Naomasa smiled.
He looks good.
An unexpected jolt zipped through Naomasa's gut, and he hastily cleared his throat.
Ears twitching, Toshinori perked up and turned, smiling wide.
"Naomasa!" he called, still catching his breath. He pulled off his boxing gloves and wiped the sweat from his brow, "Good to see you!"
Toshinori's face was pleasantly flushed, and his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. Tail wagging, his hackles fluffed pleasantly as he jogged up to Naomasa.
"Thank you for coming today! I know my call was short notice," he said, clapping his hand on Naomasa's shoulder.
Naomasa shook his head and smiled up at Toshinori's grinning face, "You know I always try to make time for you."
"I don't need to be an Empath to know that look."
Naomasa promptly shoved down the sudden flutter in his gut.
Know what look?
His intuition pulled toward an answer, but he quashed it along with that old, strange, familiar, alarming feeling.
Toshinori's grin fell a fraction.
"Your detective face is on. Something wrong?" he asked, brows pinched warily.
"Hm?" Mentally shaking himself, Naomasa pat his chest and smiled, "No. My apologies, Toshinori. Too much coffee this morning, I think."
Toshinori barked a laugh, "Ha! How unlike you! Are you sure you don't need more? You spaced out a little there." He waved his hand in front of Naomasa's face, teasing.
"Shut up," Naomasa huffed, ears burning, and lightly shoved Toshinori away.
Toshinori flopped dramatically onto the mat with a grunt, "Pushing over an old man?" He clutched at his chest, tail wagging and shoulders shaking with muffled laughter, "How could you!?"
"Tosh-!" Naomasa covered his face to hide his smile, "Toshinori… Be careful. "
Still snickering, Toshinori pat the mat beside himself, "Here, take a seat! Get into any trouble today?"
"Not until I got here," Naomasa grumbled amicably, lowering himself onto the mat. He took off his hat and bumped his knee against Toshinori's, "I see the foot's all healed."
Toshinori grinned, stretching out his leg and flexing his clawed toes. He nodded to where Midoriya was offering water to a kneeling, panting Sato, "Isamu took the brace off this morning. It's good as new!"
"That's great to hear," Naomasa watched curiously as Toshinori's padded toes absently kneaded the air.
Toshinori chuckled, tail flopping happily against the mat. As he leaned comfortably back, it swung and wrapped snugly around Naomasa's waist.
"Oh -" Naomasa smiled lopsidedly, resting his hands on the middle of the tail.
Toshinori caught his look, and his ears reddened.
"Sorry," he said with a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm afraid it's habit at this point."
"I don't mind," Naomasa said honestly, giving the warm tail a pat before pulling his briefcase into his lap, "I brought my notes on your case and a few regarding the recent abductions. Since you technically aren't working as a consultant, this needs to be considered a continuation of our last debrief."
Toshinori nodded, expression sobering.
He was more than familiar with police procedure regarding hero-police partnerships. He had to know they were skirting the edge. Before, he at least had the benefit of his active Pro-Hero license. Now that he was technically retired…
"That's fair," Toshinori said, "Thank you, Naomasa. I need this."
"Don't thank me yet. These cases are still open. There's a lot we don't know," Naomasa cautioned, "To be honest, I'm not sure how much good this will do you."
"Thank you ," Toshinori repeated earnestly and gently squeezed Naomasa with his tail.
"Alright," Naomasa huffed a soft laugh and pulled out the first files.
"Starting with those directly involved with your case: We were able to cut a deal with Ayumi Shiire, the day-shift supply coordinator at Rishi General Hospital. She was reluctant at first, but agreed to work with us when she realized how much trouble she was in," Naomasa listed off a few charges, counting on his fingers, "Falsifying official medical documents, accessory to abduction after the fact, conspiracy, grand larceny -"
Naomasa flipped through to the next file, "And she wanted to protect her boyfriend. He dropped off Hibiki Genji's car at the station at her request, and she didn't want him more involved."
Naomasa pulled out a photo - Just in case. - and held it out to Toshinori.
"Is he familiar?" Naomasa asked.
Toshinori hummed and shook his head, "Not at all."
Naomasa tucked the photo away, "Thought you might not."
"All we have is hearsay at the moment," he continued, "But based off his statements, Nurse Inoshita wasn't the one who ordered Shiire to move the car."
"Which means there are others at Rishi who were involved with the Good Doctor and All for One," Toshinori murmured, his mouth a grim line.
"Whether or not they are still in contact with All for One or his doctor, they need to found and detained," Naomasa said.
Toshinori sighed, "I doubt All for One kept in contact with anyone left at Rishi. It isn't worth the risk or the effort." His expression darkened, "For now."
Naomasa thumbed through his notes, "Either way, it'll get us one step closer to clearing the hospital of his influence. With Shiire cooperating, we can kill two birds with one stone. Find those who worked for All for One and possible leads on where the Good Doctor is having the missing supplies delivered." Naomasa pulled out his phone, tapping it, "I received another update before I arrived. Shiire agreed to help Lang and Shin find and decode hidden transactions in other medical supply logs. Supply logs from outside Rishi using the same methods to hide disappearing surplus," he pointed at Toshinori, adding, "A method of concealing information that she was taught ."
Toshinori's ears perked and hackles bristled.
"Which could tell us which hospitals are connected to All for One through our Rishi General connection," Toshinori caught on fast, and a fierce grin split his face, "Any connections found so far?"
"Surprise, surprise. Espa Clinic," Naomasa said, scrolling through the email on his phone, "Their files have the same pattern signatures. Most involved drugs funneled in that were neither reported as used nor destroyed by the clinic: Prescription opioids, sedatives, adrenaline -"
"Sounds familiar," Toshinori said, expression dark.
Naomasa nodded, "Working with Ryukyu the Dragoon Hero, we were able to confirm that the owner of the building has connections to local gangs. Unfortunately, the thugs we found in the maintenance tunnels were unaware of exactly who the Doctor was."
He shrugged, "It's frustrating, but not entirely unexpected."
"Did they not recognize him? Even after showing them the sketch?" Toshinori leaned closer and read over the supply chain. His tail tuft flicked thoughtfully, tapping against Naomasa's side.
"Yes," Naomasa frowned, "I only interrogated a few personally. Sansa and the others took care of the majority. No one recognized him from the sketch. They claimed the man they were ordered to protect was already in the building, and they were forbidden to meet him." He glanced toward the track, "Ah - Now that I think about it, Nurse Sato said something similar. It seems the Good Doctor doesn't like to show his face."
Toshinori rubbed his chin in thought, "He's careful."
He paused, brows raising, "It… may be possible that he is in the public eye. Full-time villains don't last very long unless they have the resources for it. Even then, they couldn't last as long as the Doctor has. A separate civilian life would be a very good reason to hide his face."
"I agree," Naomasa said seriously, "There's no doubt that he's a skilled surgeon. His … work on the noumu is evidence enough. Assuming he took care of All for One after your first battle…" he glanced down to where Toshinori's shirt covered his scar and shook his head, "He must have some influence or name recognition, at least in medical circles."
"It's possible he's still taking pa-… patients ," Toshinori suddenly stiffened at Naomasa's side, tail tensing and squeezing around him, " Kids. "
"Tosh-?"
Teeth bared, Toshinori bowed his head, "God damnit! I -" His abdomen tensed and he covered his mouth with a stifled cough, "Something he said to me - He implied he worked with kids ."
Naomasa flinched, yanking his pricked hand from the ridged mane on Toshinori's tail. The hairs down his spine bristled, growing stiffer - needle sharp.
A low gurgling noise rose in Toshinori's throat, and something dripped from behind his hand, landing on the mat with a hiss.
That's not blood.
"Toshinori," Naomasa cautioned.
Toshinori's pupils slowly constricted.
Naomasa grabbed Toshinori's shoulder, whispering urgently, " Toshinori! "
Toshinori froze, blinking as his eyes returned to normal. He let out a trembling breath, and his hackles relaxed, "I'm… I'm sorry."
He wiped his mouth and hand on his towel and grimaced at the dissolved divot in the mat.
"You're alright," Naomasa said softly, "You're alright."
Toshinori ran a hand over his eyes, "With everything that happened, I forgot... Damn it. How could I forget something like that?"
Naomasa considered Toshinori's heavily bent shoulders for a moment.
Hesitantly, he reached out and ran his fingers through the softened line of hair at the base of Toshinori's neck, fingertips brushing against his spikes, "Hey. It's alright, Toshinori. You were drugged . It's remarkable you remembered it at all. I'll add that to what we know about him. It'll help narrow the search, I'm sure."
With his free hand, Naomasa sent a brief text to Sansa, "There. The information is sent."
"Thank you," Toshinori sighed, leaning into the touch.
Naomasa gave Toshinori a pat and squeezed his shoulder, earning a half-hidden smile.
Taking a deep breath, Naomasa gestured to the composite in his case, "I've asked that the sketch be released to the local news stations, along with a press release. The tipline alone hasn't gotten us anywhere helpful yet. We can at least advise the public to keep an eye out for their own safety."
Toshinori hummed, massaging away the crease in his forehead, "With the recent increase in abductions, the only thing we can do is raise awareness."
"Someone has to know him. Especially if you are right, and he's still seeing regular patients," Naomasa said, putting aside the supply files, "We'll get him Toshinori, and we'll find the people he abducted."
Toshinori pursed his lips, quiet for a moment.
Then, fidgeting with his claws, he asked softly, "Is there anything more you can tell me about the abductions? I'd like… I need to know, Naomasa. Not knowing is - Well, look." He said and gestured to his tail. The tuft was tightly curled on itself, an uncomfortable looking contortion.
Naomasa watched as Toshinori pressed at his tail, searching for something.
"Got it," Toshinori grunted in relief as his tail shuddered and relaxed. He frowned, "That started up shortly after the first abductions."
Stress… Naomasa realized, "I see."
He smiled softly and passed Toshinori a number of smaller folders, each containing brief descriptions of the abductees. It wasn't much. There was still so much they did not know, and some things Naomasa simply could not leak. But this much he could do.
"Good thing I came prepared then, huh?"
Toshinori's ears perked as he took the folders, glancing back at Nao before opening them. He flipped through the files, eyes darting across the pages inside.
"Six total now?" he asked, breath rushing out of him.
"Yes. Taeka Yoyogi was reported missing yesterday by her husband," Naomasa said, tapping the sphinx-form woman's file, "She was expected at -"
Naomasa stiffened. Kids… She's expecting.
We need to hurry.
He grimaced, running his hand over the back of his head, "She had an appointment at Rishi General in the morning and never showed. All for One's transmission residue was found outside her home."
Toshinori frowned grimly, "We need to find a way to stop his transmission quirk."
"We have some idea of how to manage that," Naomasa said, "Assuming it reacts to lead the same way sensing and teleport quirks do, a lead-lined container like our iron maidens could prevent him from pulling others to himself. While that won't help any possible abductees… It will be helpful when we capture the Doctor."
Toshinori hummed with a twitch of a smile, "I suppose simple solutions still prove the best."
Naomasa shrugged, a weight lifting off his shoulders as Toshinori smiled, "It's crude, but it works. We've even tested it with Bellamy's empathy quirk. He's not able to sense anyone inside the iron maiden, and vice versa." Naomasa laughed, "He said it was eerily peaceful."
"At least we have that insurance," Toshinori said, tail shifting pensively and settling more comfortably around Naomasa.
Patting his tail, Naomasa continued, "We've sent officers to search nearby medical facilities. We can only do so much without a warrant. Fortunately, many of the smaller clinics have allowed quick searches of their rooms. They just want to clear their buildings from our list and continue normal operations." Naomasa smiled, "And with Shiire's full cooperation, I believe we'll find proof enough to get a warrant for the hospitals demanding one."
He clapped his hand on Toshinori's shoulder, "We're going to find them, Toshinori."
Toshinori relaxed further, eyes drifting shut, "Thank you, Naomasa. I needed this."
Naomasa watched Toshinori, gaze lingering on the shadows under his eyes. A flicker of guilt squeezed inside Naomasa's chest.
He looks exhausted…
Shaking his head, Naomasa leaned over, bumping Toshinori's shoulder with his own, "Have you been getting enough rest?"
Toshinori hummed, eyes still closed, "Have you ?"
Naomasa snorted, "Don't dodge the question."
Toshinori leaned back and stretched, tail shifting lightly around Naomasa's waist. He smiled wryly, looking down with tired eyes, "Probably not as much as I should."
Running a hand through his hair he huffed, "I'm still lapsing while I sleep. Hard to get any real rest when that happens… Some of my sharper students have definitely noticed," Toshinori tacked on with chuckle, looking over to where Midoriya was doing chin-ups while Sato counted.
"Physically, I feel incredible. Recovery Girl and Isamu have both said I'm healthy." He casually flexed. New, lean muscle rippled up his arm and under his shirt. His skin was back to a healthy color.
Naomasa sighed in relief, and shook away the memories from Espa Clinic.
Toshinori grinned, but his eyes were distant. He rubbed his temple, "But that damn fog is still right there -" He chuckled, strained, gesturing to the punching bag with his thumb - "And this only distracts so much."
His grin faltered -
"Hey, if you want a distraction," Naomasa elbowed Toshinori gently, "I could send Tyto and Sansa your way."
"Hm?" The strain suddenly melted away as Toshinori gave Naomasa an odd look, "Wait, why?"
Huffing a relieved laugh, Naomasa explained, "Tyto is an incorrigible flirt and has Sansa wrapped around her little talon. I'm surprised they get as much work done as they do."
"Really now?" Toshinori chuckled, a genuine grin lighting his face, brows raised. He settled his arm on a bent knee and rested his chin against it, relaxing.
His eyelids drifted downward, half-closed.
Naomasa's smile went lopsided, watching Toshinori's ears droop sleepily.
You've worn yourself out, haven't you?
Shaking his head, Naomasa continued, "Tyto tags along wherever Sansa goes and has taken to calling him Tama kawaii . Which, no, I will never let him live down."
Toshinori hummed a soft laugh, relaxing further, and absently leaned against Naomasa's side.
Naomasa grinned and easily shifted to support him.
"The working relationship with Wright's team has improved. They're a bit of a rag-tag group, but good people. They know their way around evidence and have a good deal of expertise with suspects and witnesses. It won't be long until -" Naomasa paused, gaze snapping incredulously to Toshinori.
A low noise rolled from his chest. Not quite a snore, it was a deep, crisp rumble shifting as he breathed in and out.
"Toshinori?" Naomasa called, nudging his shoulder.
Sitting up sharply, Toshinori swayed and blinked rapidly. He took a deep, rumbling breath, "What? Sorry?"
Even his voice vibrated strangely.
Naomasa barely stifled a laugh, "Are… Are you purring? " He reached over and pressed a hand to Toshinori's chest. The low rumble vibrated against his palm, "You are!"
Brows pinched in confusion, Toshinori looked down at his chest like he'd never seen it before and brushed his fingers against his throat. His ears burned red and flicked bashfully, the rumble petering out.
Oh, Naomasa realized, This is brand new.
"There's nothing wrong with it! Sansa purrs," he quickly supplied.
"No, of course not. Right," Toshinori said, still looking incredulously at his chest. He rubbed the back of his neck, "Just different."
After a moment of uncertain silence, Naomasa asked, "I'm guessing this hasn't happened before?"
Toshinori shook his head, lips pursed in a small frown, "Not that I've noticed, it hasn't."
Naomasa pat Toshinori's tail in thought, "Another mutation?"
"Maybe," Toshinori huffed a sigh, gesturing to his left hock, "Isamu's spike quirk came with a secondary healing trait. I'm not sure what's actually new and what's only showing up now." The tuft of his tail flicked, and he rubbed his throat, "Who knows what traits were tacked onto the quirks I have?"
A bittersweet smile tugged at the corner of Naomasa's mouth, "Well. I might have something that can help with that."
Shifting through his briefcase, Naomasa pulled out the last and smallest of his files, "I gave your blood sample to our DNA analysts, and they've found two."
"Two?" Toshinori stared at the plain, manila folder as Naomasa held it out.
"Yeah," Naomasa smiled, waving the folder gently, "Go on. It's yours."
Glancing tentatively at Naomasa, Toshinori delicately took the folder and laid it open in his lap.
"Tomoyo Yamaguchi," Toshinori read quietly, "Age, 54. Quirk-" His breath caught, and his gaze snapped back to Naomasa, "Devour? This is..?" His voice faltered, and he breathed a soft, disbelieving laugh.
"Yamaguchi's DNA was the closest match to one of the alterations in yours. She had the Devour quirk before you. Yes," Naomasa said with a small nod.
Toshinori's hands shook as he turned back to the file, tracing his claws over the woman's picture. She was middle aged. Black hair framed a thin face. A gentle smile.
His blue eyes sharp, Toshinori scoured over the rest of the page.
"Oh," he tensed, ears drooping, "She's…"
Something tugged bittersweetly at Naomasa's chest, and he absently rubbed slow circles on Toshinori's tail.
"I'm sorry, Toshinori -" Naomasa began, but Toshinori shook his head and gave him a gentle smile.
"No, I expected as much. This is All for One's work after all," he said, tenderly resting his hand on his abdomen.
Cause of Death: Pancreatic Cancer , Naomasa knew the page read.
Signed, Tetsumi Inoshita, Kamino Ward Hospice
"Could this be used as evidence against Inoshita?" Toshinori asked softly.
"It's possible," Naomasa idly tapped his hat against his knee, "Alone, it's too circumstantial, but with Sato's testimony it provides further evidence of her connection to All for One beyond your abduction."
"Good… Good."
Toshinori took a deep breath and carefully flipped to the second file.
Naomasa braced, placing a steady hand on Toshinori's tail.
Toshinori's shoulders sagged, and he whispered, "Oh my goodness."
"It was the only image they had on file," Naomasa sighed regretfully.
On the top left corner was a picture of Toshinori in full All Might regalia.
Sitting on his sturdy shoulder was a tiny boy in hospital pajamas, his tail wrapped snugly around the back of Toshinori's muscled neck. Both smiled wide for the camera, peace signs thrown in the air.
"Shiichi Heian..." Toshinori read, his tail tightening around Naomasa. His ridged mane stiffened against Naomasa's palm, "I… I met him? I knew him."
Naomasa nodded, running his hand through the mane, smoothing out the bristling hair.
"Little Lionboy…" Toshinori tapped the picture, nodding. "He was at the Children's Hospital. I used to visit there when I still had more time as All Might," Toshinori said softly, "This picture must have been taken - It had to be four or five years ago. Back when I… " He placed a hand on his scarred side, "When I still made time to visit patients."
"I remember," Naomasa said. He gestured to Heian in the photo, "He looks like a fighter."
"He had spirit." A bittersweet smile pulled at Toshinori's lips, "He had leukemia, I think… Less than a year left when I saw him. But look at that smile. You wouldn't know it by looking at him."
Naomasa's smile softened, "Now that sounds familiar."
Toshinori chuckled, and his tuft flicked against Naomasa's side. The tuft matched the boy's in all but color.
That dry rumble returned, rolling deeply in Toshinori's chest. He let it be, breathing slow and steady.
"Secondary trait," he finally said with a soft grin.
"You sure?" Naomasa asked gently.
Toshinori nodded, fingers brushing against his chest, "The kid was a purr machine. I remember that much."
The rumble slowly petered out again, and Toshinori frowned, "He was just a kid… All for One took the quirk of a dying child ."
Naomasa sighed, There are no lines a villain like him would not cross. Even children -
He suddenly paled, remembering, "The winged noumu."
The youngest noumu, approximately fifteen based on the autopsy. Another child.
Toshinori's brows furrowed, "Sorry?"
"From the Hosu incident," Naomasa glanced at Midoriya. The boy's laugh rang through the space as Sato gestured wildly while he spoke, "The one killed by Stain. It -" He winced, " He was only a teenager."
Toshinori's tail tightened around Naomasa, and his lips pressed into a thin line. He looked across the gym, at Midoriya. He was silent for a moment, then he nodded.
"I want to get back in the field," Toshinori stated, "My former Pro-Hero status still carries some weight, even retired -"
Naomasa's brows rose, "Toshinori, hold on -"
"No," Toshinori glared down at his hand, capped claws curling, "All for One is still out there, and his Good Doctor is trying to recreate what was done to me. Neither mind usingchildren as raw material or exploiting innocent people to get what they want. And they are using medical facilities as harvesting grounds . Rishi General, Espa Clinic -" His fist loosened, and he brushed his fingertips over Heian's file, "The Children's Hospital…"
"Damn," Naomasa huffed a sigh, setting his hat on his knee, "More than likely. I'll add it to the search list."
Toshinori looked up, his troubled gaze drifting across the clerestory windows. Morning light streamed through the dusty panes, illuminating the swirling motes high in the steel rafters.
"Naomasa," Toshinori's voice was hushed, but resonated with deep conviction, "I know I am not the Pro-Hero I was. The Symbol of Peace died at Kamino when I used the last of One for All. But I am the same man I've always been. I want to keep people safe. I want them to know they're safe.
"That can't happen while All for One and that doctor are free to do as they please," Toshinori turned back toward Naomasa, a quiet fire burning in his eyes, "They need to be stopped."
Naomasa held his intense gaze, "I know. But -"
Toshinori shook his head and held out his wrist. The faded scars raised his skin in uneven lines.
"What happened at Rishi General is etched into every part of me - every fiber of my being. My skin and bones," He clenched his fist, capped claws curling, "It's written into my DNA …"
He exhaled, whispering, "And my mind ."
Naomasa's fingers curled in the hair along Toshinori's tail. Blonde like the hair on his head. Just as soft.
"But as personal as this is, this isn't just about me," Toshinori bowed his head, pressing Yamaguchi and Heian's files to his chest, "It's never been just about me. I can't sit in safety behind the walls of U.A. knowing that I could be doing something to help find those All for One and that doctor abducted." Toshinori's tail squeezed around Naomasa's waist, a shiver running through him, "I can't, Naomasa. Not when I know what they are going through. Not when I know -"
"Alright."
Gently, Naomasa took Toshinori's wrist in his hands. His thumbs brushed over the faded marks.
I haven't treated you fairly, have I? Naomasa traced the most prominent scar across Toshinori's wrist and sighed, I only wanted to keep you safe…
"Naomasa?"
Releasing Toshinori's wrist, Naomasa groaned and mussed the hair on the back of his head, "Alright. I'll need to ask the chief whether or not you can serve as a consultant. Maybe reinstate a temporary license -"
Naomasa grunted in surprise as Toshinori leaned heavily against his side, and he wrapped his arm around his back to steady him.
Toshinori sighed in relief, shoulders sagging, "Thank you."
Nodding, Naomasa pat Toshinori's side and smiled, "Looks like I'll be depending on you again."
"No more than I depend on you," Toshinori chuckled.
He sat up and Naomasa reluctantly let him go. He busied himself with placing the Yagi and Abduction case files back in his briefcase.
"Can I keep these?" Toshinori asked, closing the small folder and cradling it protectively in his lap.
Naomasa paused, surprised by the tenderness of Toshinori's grip, "Y-yes. They're yours."
Toshinori nodded slowly, his tail giving Naomasa a last squeeze.
"Thank you."
It was snowing that day. A light flurry adding to the thick layer of snow coating the rows of brick townhouses. Loose flakes whipped and swirled over shovelled walkways and brushed against the den's windows with a tinkling hush.
"I'm going for a walk, William," Montgomery called from the foyer, pulling on his woolen flat cap and adjusting his bulky, red scarf. Cane in hand and oxygen tube hooked under his nose, he smiled amicably, "After that, I'll be meeting with a new acquaintance. I'm not sure what time I'll be back."
A small frown pulled at William's lips, and he set his newspaper on the side table, "Would you like me to come with you? The wind -"
Montgomery chuckled and waved his hand, nonchalant, "No need. I can still manage a leisurely afternoon walk. I have my wallet and phone. If I need anything, I'll call."
Glancing at the velvety black aura around Montgomery, William nodded and leaned back into the armchair.
"If it gets late, give me a call and I'll pick you up. I don't want you walking around at night," he said, scanning through the article.
When Montgomery didn't answer, William looked up from his newspaper again.
Montgomery leaned on his cane, smiling fondly from the doorway.
"Something on your mind?" William asked.
Chuckling softly, Montgomery grinned and shook his head, "Just looking." With that he tipped his cap, "I'm off."
William hummed and waved from his chair, returning his attention to the newspaper.
Moments later, the door to the large home clicked shut.
It was the last time William saw Arch Montgomery.
William Wright sipped his coffee and tucked away the old memory with a sigh. His thumb brushed over the soft yellow pages of Montgomery's old copy of The Island of Doctor Moreau .
The anniversary of Montgomery's disappearance always made William… sentimental.
His mentor's scribbled notes covered the page margins in his favorite red ink, curling and twisting but always legible.
William never understood the obsession Montgomery had with the book, besides the character with a shared name… But it was left specifically to him with the simple note on the inner cover.
"To William. Keep chasing."
Flipping through the pages, William returned to his spot, skimming along.
Montgomery—that was the name of the flaxen-haired man—came in again as I stood there, and I asked him for some clothes. He lent me some duck things of his own, for those I had worn in the boat had been thrown overboard…
William's eyes skipped across the page, the words blending together. He shook himself with a click of his tongue. He'd read the story countless times, but that was no excuse for losing focus.
As I assumed the clothes, I began asking him some questions about the destination of the ship. He said the ship was bound to Hawaii, but that it had to land him first. Where?" said I. "It's an island, where I live. So far as I know, it hasn't got a name ."
Montgomery's red underline was paired with a scribbled, "Moreau. VII. UK. 37."
Other than a reference to the title and the antagonist's introduction, William had no idea what the short note meant. He'd spent hours digging through the book's pages over the years, the short scribbles, the random numbers, but found nothing.
The "37" had no significant meaning. There were no related notes on page 37. There was no pattern.
All dead ends.
Then again… Montgomery liked his little games and didn't believe in dead ends.
William sighed and closed the book.
"Done with your break?" Genji asked, not looking up from the Espa Clinic's supply files. He was the only other person in the small conference room. Vera and Mary were with Shiire in an interrogation room, creating a more complete list of those Shiire knew were involved in diverting medical supplies from Rishi General. Bellamy and Alba were with Sansa serving a warrant to Espa's partner clinic.
Downing the last of his coffee, William set the book aside and nodded, "Yes. Have you found anything - !" He jerked as the book tipped off the edge of the table, "Damn -!"
The old book fell to the floor with a loud crack!
William's stomach dropped, Damn it.
He scooped up the damaged hardcover book, wincing at the loose swing of the broken spine. Turning it, he ran his fingers down the -
"What's this?" William's brows pinched.
Carefully glued to the inside of the spine was a small, silver memory drive.
He stared at the drive, fingertips hesitantly brushing against it, half expecting it to disappear.
"Mr. Wright?" Genji called softly from the end of the table.
William stood and returned to the conference table. He pushed a file box away and carefully set the book down in the cleared space. Booting up his laptop, he dug into his briefcase.
"I know I have that penknife somewhere - Ah!" William grabbed the wooden handle and unfolded the small blade. He flattened the broken spine and gently slid the blade along the side of the drive. The sharp edge cut smoothly through the old glue.
There was a soft click, and the memory drive popped off the spine, skittering onto the table.
"What did you find?" Genji asked, leaning curiously over the Espa files.
"I'm not sure yet," William said, uncapping the drive and plugging it into his computer's usb port.
A new folder appeared on the screen, labeled only as Keep Chasing.
Breath caught in his throat, William clicked into it and scrolled through the dozens of files. He opened a random document.
[Error: Corrupted File]
No. He opened another.
[Error: Corrupted File]
No no no. I did not find this for nothing. William's heart pounded, What did you leave me?
Ordering the files by date, William scrolled past the documents and selected the most recent video file.
"- camera, damn it. Ah. There!" Arch Montgomery appeared in the window, leaning back into his chair and grinning, "Well now! Isn't this fun!"
William gaped at the screen as his old mentor laughed boisterously before coughing. He held up a finger and hooked his oxygen tube under his nose.
"Dear me, I've gotten too wound up. I really shouldn't do that - You're only down the hall and I'd like for this to be my little secret for now," Montgomery chuckled, voiced quiet as he shushed himself, "No offense, but you still have a bit of a stick up your arse. I'm hoping that's cured by the time you're my age."
William huffed a startled laugh and hastily covered the wide grin that split his face. He cleared his throat, pointedly ignoring the way Genji gawked at him.
On the screen, Montgomery smiled and folded his hands over his belly, "Now where to begin?"
For a long while, he was silent.
Then he nodded.
"I am dying, William. It won't be long now, I think. I feel it. In my bones." Montgomery took his glasses off, wiping the clean lenses with a very soft chuckle, "I'm not afraid, and I don't want you to worry about me. Just listen for a moment."
William paused the video. His humor vanished.
He glanced at Genji, voice flatter than he intended, "I'd like some privacy. Now."
Genji sat back with a wince, "Yes, Mr. Wright." He gathered up his files and retreated to the door, pausing a moment, "… I'm sorry about Mr. Montgomery."
William nodded, tight-lipped - not trusting his voice.
As soon as the door shut, he resumed the video.
"With that said," Montgomery slipped his glasses into place and his expression brightened, "Recently, Lucia and I made some interesting discoveries. Very interesting. You see, while you and your team were working to take down the opioid smugglers, I might have taken a peek through your files. To my surprise, I found some connections to cases I consulted for over the years. One moment -"
Rifling through the books and papers on his desk, Montgomery pulled out photos from between the pages of multiple novels.
"My filing system is a bit -" he tilted his hand back and forth - "unorganized, but it keeps your nose clean. You aren't very fond of fiction, after all."
"You knew those books gave me headaches," William griped at the screen.
So all this time, you were hiding things from me.
"Regardless," Montgomery held up the photo in front of the camera.
Three handcuffed men sat on along a bench, eyes glassy and not quite looking into the lens. William remembered them. During the raid, they had been carrying crates from the smugglers' truck. They were memorable not for their sheer bulk or the scars on their faces, but for their behavior. They didn't run or fight. They simply stopped when the officers seized and cuffed them.
"These are the men captured when your team tackled the opioid smuggling organization - the ones pumped full of that odd drug concoction. The ones that remained unresponsive after their arrest."
He pulled the picture back, flicking the corner of it with his thumb, a thoughtful look on his face, "Funny things, chance and coincidence. I had just been to brunch with my lieutenant friend, Maley, and he brought up one of the missing person cases I helped him solve. The woman we found had the same drug concoction in her system. Same unresponsiveness. And I got to thinking - Could they be connected? So, I dug around my old files a bit and found two more similarities."
William's brows furrowed, leaning back in his chair.
He never mentioned this. Why didn't he -
Montgomery grinned, patting a novel on his desk - The Island of Doctor Moreau.
"I told you there were no dead ends, William," he said, "The buildings with false owners. The missing person cases. Your opioid smugglers. Yes, all connected to All for One, just as I said… But also, not directly. The -"
William flinched at the loud, phlegmy cough that punched through Montgomery's old body.
"Excuse me," Montgomery rasped. He cleared his throat and continued, "The stolen identities and false names used in these cases have only been used for the last couple decades and only in specific areas." He plucked more photographs from his books, holding them out, "Each missing person case where these names appeared, there were strange overdoses, sudden behavior changes in survivors, signs of surgical alterations, and three cases where the person found could no longer use their quirk . Just like the apparently quirkless man I met in Uruguay with Lucia. Just like…"
Montgomery's expression suddenly fell. He let out a shuddering sigh, leaning back in his chair, "I managed to convince Lucia to look into that man again. I shouldn't have done that… It's my fault she's…" He licked his lips nervously, glancing at the closed office door, "I'm a selfish man, William, always have been. Anything for the truth, like I taught you. Even if you may be sticking your nose into trouble." He shook his head, "But I underestimated the men that work for All for One. I asked too much of her, and now she's gone. Lucia was murdered. In her home. Blunt force trauma."
Lord have mercy… William slumped back in his chair. That's why she never answered my letters.
Montgomery sighed, "I hope you can forgive me for one last selfish act. But this is personal now. I mean to see it through."
"Montgomery, you old fool," William cursed softly, leaning into his hand.
"I found a name still being used. The same name used to rent a warehouse in Brazil where surgically altered bodies were found. He likely thought no one would connect the name to a clinic in London," Montgomery huffed a hollow laugh, "This man certainly has a morbid sense of humor. Franklin Moreau. Appropriate considering what was done to the bodies.Moreau Horrors indeed."
Montgomery held up the very same novel as the one sitting beside William's computer.
"I'm leaving this to you," he said, "Everything is in here. Names, addresses, photographs, everything I was able to collect. It isn't much to go on, but I have faith in you. You've already found the drive and you are sharp. I'm sure you'll work out the crumbs I left behind… If that is what you want."
The antique grandfather clock chimed behind Montgomery.
He took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded, "It's nearly time to go."
Brows furrowed in confusion, William watched as Montgomery gathered up the photographs and tossed them into his steadily crackling fireplace, leaning on his cane as he watched them burn. He returned to his desk, sitting again and resting his hand on the old novel.
"I may have done something very foolish," Montgomery's gaze was distant but he smiled, "I made contact with this so-called Dr. Moreau . We agreed to meet this afternoon."
No. William paled. You're fucking kidding me.
Montgomery only smiled wider.
"If I am right, I get my answers. If I'm wrong, well," he chuckled, "Well, then this will seem very overdramatic should I forget to delete this video."
Nodding, he lifted his bulky, red scarf from the arm of his chair and draped it across his shoulders.
He sat a moment longer in his old wooden chair, looking around his office, at his books, his collected artifacts, his maps, at the door leading into the hall. Old, worn fingers brushed against the woodgrain of his desk. He breathed slow. Lingering.
"I have to say… I'm a little excited," Montgomery murmured, "This is so much better than feeding birds in my golden years. One last case. One last puzzle. All before the Final Mystery." He grinned wider, wistful, "I'm not afraid."
Rapping his knuckles against the desk, Montgomery straightened his suit jacket and sat up with a wink, eyes twinkling, "I'm not a man for goodbyes, you know that much. So. Take care of yourself, William."
He reached forward, and the video ended.
Left on the screen, Arch Montgomery sat frozen in time. Still smiling.
For a blissful moment, it was like he was in the room. As alive and well and vibrant as he was in the video. As he was in memory.
Only a moment…
William let out a trembling breath, small, fragile, even in the silence of the empty conference room. It tore William's chest to pieces and crushed his throat with old pain.
But only for a moment.
William closed the video with a soft, "Thank you, Montgomery."
Scrolling through the remaining files in the drive folder, he clicked through the image files, "Now, what did you leave me?"
A few came up with only errors, but on his third attempt a small window appeared with a password box. The prompt said only: [name]
"What? That isn't a question," William mumurred. Then paused, glancing at the book, "Oh."
Flipping through the familiar pages, he found again the underlined word, name , and the note in the margin. He typed in, [ Moreau. VII. UK. 37. ]
The zip file opened. There were at least two dozen image files.
William leaned closer to the screen, peering into the photographs.
The images looked like they were taken from a distance, focusing on one man in the crowds. Half the photos were blurry and more only showed the back of the bald man's head.
William clicked on the final image.
He froze.
The man was looking directly into the camera.
Bespectacled, bald, and sporting a thick mustache. Despite being just over a decade younger, there was no mistaking the resemblance.
William sunk back into his chair, turning to stare at the police sketch on the whiteboard.
"Son of a bitch."
Kou Shiga leaned against the back wall, staring at the ceiling and retracing the lines in the ceiling tiles. He didn't want to look at his arms, crossed and resting on his drawn knees.
The sickly green tinge was spreading. It had started in his fingertips and crept steadily higher, toward his shoulders.
Trick of the light , a small scared voice said in the back of his mind.
If only.
He could feel it spread under his hospital gown and across his chest.
"God damn ," Kou grimaced, scratching at his neck. Everything itched .
"Language, young man," said the small, elderly woman in the cell beside him.
Kou barked a bitter laugh and ran a hand down his face, flinching at flash of green.
"You're wasting yer time if you're tryin' to fix how I talk," he huffed.
A shudder rushed up his spine and sent goosebumps across his skin. Exhaustion weighed down his limbs as his stomach cramped and gurgled. Despite his hunger, Kou hadn't touched the food left out for him. The very idea of eating the plastic-wrapped sandwich made him want to vomit. Even the juice he managed to force down sat too heavy in his gut.
He craved a salad. Mixed greens, vegetables, tea, fresh water, a day on his boat under a clear sky.
Sunlight on his skin…
"Oh dear," Yamadori rapped against the glass wall, brows pinched with worry, "Kou. On your arm…"
"It's my quirk. They're thorns. I'm irritated," Kou griped, returning his gaze to the ceiling.
"Kou…" Her voice was gentle, worried, "Those aren't thorns, dear."
Her words fell heavy, a hammer striking the final nail in his coffin.
Kou finally looked down at his too-green arms. There on his left, just below his elbow, a sprout grew out from his skin - a small stem and two tiny leaves. He jerked back, swiping at his arm with a yelp.
The sprout broke away and fell to the tile floor, a spot of green on slate grey.
Kou's chest heaved with panicked breaths as he turned to Yamadori, pointing accusingly at the tiny plant, "What is that? What is that? "
Yamadori gave him and the tiny plant a somber look, finally settling her gentle gaze on him.
"You're going to be alright," she said. She shifted and sat in a seiza, "Don't look at your arms, look at me."
Kou looked at his arms. More of the tiny plants sprouted from his skin, twisting and growing toward the fluorescent light panels. He grabbed a fist-full of them and tore them from his skin, wincing at the sudden feeling of disconnection.
They weren't just growing out of him. They were a part of him.
"Kou, look at me."
Kou did, eyes too wide and ears ringing. He felt lightheaded.
There was something… something wrong with his head.
The small, white-haired woman held his gaze and took a slow, deep breath.
"Breathe with me, Kou," she said softly, "You're going to be alright. For now, breathe."
Kou followed as best he could. His breath stuttered, and his hands shook as the plants grew - only to slowly wilt and fall away, littering the floor around him.
Shuddering, he brushed off the remaining plants and collapsed against the back corner of his cell.
His stomach twisted with a strange hunger, and his mouth felt too dry. The green of his arms dulled, and fatigue rolled through his body.
"I need … t' go outside," he heard himself say.
Too far.
Too cold.
Too quiet.
His vision swirled…
The door opened with an echoing click.
"Well, this is promising," the damn Doctor said with a smug, satisfied smile as he closed the door behind him, "You've taken well to your new quirk."
Kou struggled to glare at the Doctor, fighting to keep his eyes open as something like sleep pulled at the back of his mind.
"Hmm," the Doctor stepped closer, glasses reflecting the cold light as he appraised him, "Already advanced this far after only one? How disappointing. And here I thought you would have the mental fortitude. Not going to fight with me today?"
Kou shuddered and grimaced at the acrid taste in his mouth, "Fuck off…"
The Doctor chuckled, "There we go. You're a fighter after all."
Another wave of fatigue rushed through Kou as a small patch of sprouts grew out from his skin - wilting almost as soon as their tiny leaves uncurled. His skin faded to a pale, sickly green.
Nausea pressed at his throat, and he gagged, stomach twisting, "What'd you do t' me?"
"Weren't you paying attention? You have a new quirk," the Doctor explained, gathering a few supplies from the cabinet by the door.
"Hm... What was the name? Ah - Germinate . That's right." He hung a couple solution bags filled with some opaque green liquid to an IV pole and rolled it to Kou's cell door. "Your biology, your cellular structure is changing to accommodate plant germination."
The Doctor looked up, tutting as he opened the cell door, "No, these lights won't do. I'll need to remedy that."
Lights? Germinate?
"The fuck 're yah going on about?" Kou snapped weakly, hands curling into half-formed fists as the Doctor approached.
"You'll figure it out eventually," the Doctor said dismissively.
He locked the IV pole in place and knelt, easily lifting Kou's trembling hand.
Thorns - not sharp twists of hair, but actual thorns - pushed through his skin. Small and dull, underdeveloped.
"You're wasting your energy," the Doctor chided as he slipped the IV into place, "You'll die if you keep that up, and I'm not done with you."
Kou watched, disconnected, as green liquid seeped into his veins.
This isn't real. Can't be real.
But the green of his skin was already beginning to brighten.
The Doctor stood with a grunt.
"That should hold you over until I adjust your diet, Kousuke," he said.
" 's Kou…" Kou grumbled, eyelids drooping. The thing like sleep tugged at the back of his mind, and everything seemed to be just a step farther away.
Turning, the Doctor exited and locked Kou's cell.
"So much to do," he said, writing on the clipboard in front of Kou's cell, "And you'll have a new neighbor soon."
Beside Kou, Yamadori pressed her hand to the glass, just over his shoulder.
A tiny sprout grew from his arm, arching toward her calloused hand as if it were the only source of light in the room.
"Just breathe."
"Woah, Bakugou! You tryin' to kill us?!" Kaminari squawked, watching in horror as Bakugou dumped another heaping spoonful of red cayenne pepper into the dry ingredients bowl.
"Not my fault you have weakass taste buds," Bakugou countered, "Pass the salt."
Ashido shoved Kaminari aside, grinning maniacally at the spice mix.
"Red chili paste next!" she goaded, "I want my mouth on fire!"
Sero paled, "Guys these are just supposed to be omelettes…"
Toshinori chuckled and swooped in, deftly plucking the spice-filled bowl from the counter, "Now, now-"
"Hey!" Bakugou spun, glaring - and stiffened, "All Might…"
Toshinori shook his head with a smile, "Keep in mind these are for everyone. So if you'd like to make extra spicy omelettes," he grabbed a smaller bowl from the cabinet and poured some of the egg and veggie mix into it, "Perhaps limit the spice to individual portions."
Bakugou grumbled but nodded to the relief of Kaminari and Sero.
Grinning, Toshinori pat Sero's back and filled his own plate with scrambled eggs and a couple mini pancakes. He wound his way between other cooking students to the dining area and joined Yaoyorozu and Shoji at the table.
"Good morning, All Might-sensei," Yaoyorozu greeted with a pleasant smile.
"Good morning," Toshinori replied, glancing back into the chaos in the kitchen, "Everyone is lively today."
Shoji hummed in agreement, feeding another spoonful of rice to one of his tentacle mouths.
Toshinori followed suit, chewing thoughtfully on his eggs as he watched the students rush around. Half were in their pajamas, some still sporting bedhead. The other half were dressed and ready for the school day.
Smiling, Toshinori paused to straighten his tie and smooth down the front of his freshly tailored blue suit. His tail swished across the floor and curled back under the table, the short tail-sleeve in the back of his pants was surprisingly comfortable.
Feels good to be dressed professionally again, Toshinori brushed capped claws over his golden tie, flattening it against his chest. Then, tucked back into his breakfast, sipping at his peach tea between bites.
The chaos in the kitchen slowly moved into the dining area as the young heroes finished cooking. Above the mixed conversations and clinking of dishware, Toshinori almost didn't hear when the television switched over to the early morning news.
Glancing over curiously, Toshinori -
Red eyes glared from the yellow cocoon of a sleeping bag right below the television.
Oh shit! Toshinori's hackles fluffed up, and he pointedly looked away, clearing his throat. He chuckled quietly as he pat his chest, I see Aizawa is enforcing my news ban.
It was for the best, Toshinori figured. Even with Naomasa working on the permissions needed to bring him in as an official consultant, which would take some time, there was still a risk that breaking news would trigger a lapse.
Of all things he could not currently afford today, a lapse was one of them. There were quizzes to grade, and an avoidable lapse would not be a good enough reason for a late submission. At least, in Aizawa's book.
Collecting his dishes, Toshinori wove his way back into the kitchen. He sidled up to the sink and grinned at the teen already washing pots and pans.
"Midoriya, good morning," Toshinori greeted quietly, rolling up his sleeves and rinsing off his own plate, "Did you just come down?"
"G'morning, All Might," Izuku greeted, barely avoiding rubbing sleep from his eyes with a soapy hand, "Yeah, I was up reviewing rescue videos. I was trying to find parallel examples to last week's rescue simulation. And I might have lost track of time."
Toshinori laughed at Izuku's bashful smile, patting the boy's back, "Try to keep a better eye on that in the future. You need your sleep before school."
"I wi-" Izuku yawned wide, "- will."
Toshinori chuckled and grinned fondly at the boy, a low rumble starting up in his chest. Ears heating and flicking, Toshinori hastily cleared his throat - too late to cover up the sound.
Izuku glanced around before giving Toshinori an odd look, "Was that… you?"
Toshinori coughed lightly, swallowing the low rumble and his embarrassment, "Ah, it's just a uh recent development."
"Oh?" Izuku quirked a lopsided smile.
Something caught the boy's attention, and he glanced past him.
His smile fell, eyes widening.
"Wh-what?"
"Midoriya? What is it?" Toshinori turned, looking into the living room.
Two pictures flashed on the television as the morning news anchor spoke, her voice lost under the noise in the dining room. The first was the police sketch, the second was the photo Wright brought to Naomasa attention the night before. He'd texted the decade old photo to Toshinori for confirmation.
The man in the photo was a little less wrinkled, but it was definitely him. The Good Doctor.
Toshinori would never forget that face.
"That's … the man from the clinic?" Izuku asked, voice wavering.
The hackles on the back of Toshinori's neck rose, fog stirring at the horror in Izuku's voice.
"Yes," Toshinori gently squeezed Izuku's shoulder, "My boy, what's wrong?"
"I know him!" Izuku blurted. Then softer, stunned, "I knew him..."
Fog roared and Toshinori shoved it down.
"How?" he asked urgently, "Midoriya, who is he?"
"When I was little," Izuku swallowed, jaw working as he shook his head, "My Mom used to take me to the family clinic down the road. He was there."
"Honestly, you're worse than half the children I see," the doctor huffed, syringe in hand.
Toshinori couldn't breathe. Couldn't swallow.
His chest burned.
"Dr. Tsubasa," Izuku looked back up at Toshinori, "He was my doctor."
Thank you for reading! Join us in the next part of the "I Am..." series, "Contained" Coming Soon
Please comment with your thoughts! We absolutely love reading them, and we do read every single one. They make our day and give us writing energy! :)
Also hey! Check out the blog "Toshinoumu" on Tumblr for more content and lots of fan art!
