1. Now

Bakugou Yae is born in the middle of a sweltering August heatwave, at a healthy weight with an even healthier set of lungs. She's so small in Katsuki's hands, nearly lost in the blankets she's swaddled in and ugly in that special way that newborns are when they're still red and wrinkly. She is simultaneously the ugliest and most beautiful thing that Katsuki's ever laid eyes on, and his feelings are a white-hot jumble deep in his chest. Distantly, he can hear his mother cooing on the side at the first grandchild (how cute; she's always wanted a daughter; et cetera—), and he thinks almost hysterically that it's unfair that people call him the attention hog. Yae has been on this earth for no more than three hours and has already been showered in adoration by no less than nine people. They are still in the hospital, so that count can only go up from now on.

Yae fits awkwardly into the crook of his elbow. Her little eyes are fixed into a sleepy little glare, squinted and unfocused. It's so stupidly endearing. Katsuki squeezes her as much as he dares (not much) and chokes back the thousand and one impulses to literally combust with feeling. The only thing he allows out is a strangled, quarter-volume, "What the fuck." He is rewarded with tiny Yae's equally tiny mouth opening in the world's smallest yawn, along with a scandalized glare from the nurse who had presented her to him.

He passes her gently to his mother, who manages to squeal in a whisper while his father does embarrassing things like take 400 pictures of them in the hallway. Then he backs up, two steps, and sits himself heavily into a plastic chair. What the fuck indeed. Nine months of preparation, and even more before that, and having the real live baby in his hands still knocked the wind right out of him.

"What the fuck," he says again, with even more feeling, and wishes desperately that he hadn't laughed back in April when Deku had sobbed all over little Makoto's blankets.

.

(In the end, Katsuki never cries onto Yae, so he still counts it as his victory.)

.

The terrible thing with being classmates and colleagues and—dare he say it—friends with Deku, in addition to having children of similar ages and working in the same agency and having a manageable distance between their homes, is that playdates are inevitably arranged. Katsuki, obviously, does none of the arranging. That's all on Mii, who is a staunch Uravity fan and therefore over the moon to have anything to do with Round Face. Before he quite realizes it, they end up having a rotating schedule between Deku's apartment and Katsuki's house, and when Icyhot's twins are added into the mix the half-and-half bastard's downsized but still over-the-top traditional home is also available. As if Katsuki didn't see these losers enough at work, now he has to see them on alternating off days as well. It's tragic.

But Yae babbles excitedly about both the Heroes that she's learned from Makoto (ha—figures that Deku's brat is as much a nerd as he is) and the Todoroki garden, and deep down Katsuki is a weak, weak man who enjoys indulging his daughter and making her happy. Grudgingly, he allows the playdates.

The second terrible thing about being classmates and colleagues and friends with Deku and Icyhot (along with having children of similar ages and working in the same agency and having a manageable distance between their homes) is that their children end up in the same kindergarten. It boggles Katsuki's mind. There are multiple kindergartens in this ward alone, and yet all of them are at the same one. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to stop squinting suspiciously at the other parents when he happens to be the one responsible for morning drop-off, on high alert for ridiculously gelled red hair or obnoxiously bright pink colors in general or even high-set ponytails.

So maybe it's a stretch to say that they're all at the same kindergarten when, last Katsuki heard, Shitty Hair's kid just turned one, Pinky still didn't have kids, and Yaoyorazu's was at some fancy-ass escalator system's kindergarten. But considering that it's Yae and Deku's brat and Todoroki's double trouble brats in the same goddamned class at the same goddamned kindergarten, it's a fair enough description and Katsuki will stand by it. If he sees a little Four Eyes or a tiny Pikachu anytime soon he may scream though. He's been taking it all remarkably well so far but there's always a limit to what he can tolerate.

He squints down at his son, who is one year younger than Yae and who blinks big round eyes back up at him. "You better not be in the same class as any of those extras' extras, you hear?" he says gruffly. But despite the harsh words, his hands are damningly gentle as they pick up his dandelion fluff of a second child. The little boy snuggles into his shoulder, giving him the world's tiniest squeeze.

"Well, whatever," Katsuki grunts. There's a faint clatter in the kitchen, and then Mii is scolding their cat, who should honestly have been named Asshole after its personality and not Garbage after its habits. The baby monitor is blessedly quiet. "I got Number 3 to nap so now it's your turn."

"No," says Heisuke into the crook of his neck, but tough luck; Katsuki knows all of his son's weak points. All he has to do is pace for five minutes in their sun-drenched back room, and the boy is out like a light, breath fanning like a ghost against Katsuki's skin. He grins, hiding it expertly with a quick kiss to the top of a fluffy head.

"Ha!" he crows softly, "You're a hundred years too early to get the best on your old man."

.

Katsuki is attempting to fly a spoonful of mashed sweet potatoes into the uncooperating mouth of baby number 3 when dinner goes downhill. He's so distracted with making the best damn airplane noises that it takes him two more seconds than usual to process the absolute mess that's happening at the rest of the table. More than that, though, he's just really confused.

Mealtimes, blessedly, have always been fairly easy to navigate in the Bakugou household. Katsuki's shifts tend to be all over the place, but it's nothing he can't handle when he's got the deals already circled in bright red on the pamphlets. His wife is just as strong a cook as he is, so they trade meal duties easily, despite how Sunday meals are Katsuki's and he'll let her have them only if the city is literally going up into flames. Shitty Hair and Deku liked to whine about how smoothly his mealtimes went, because their kids are apparently notoriously picky little shits. Katsuki likes to gloat in their faces, but privately he's at least 90% sure it's because of Mii.

When he'd first met Mii he had laughed because tasting the feelings that went into making food? What kind of useless bullshit was that? He's not singing that tune now; not when Yae has inherited at least some part of that ability and Mii was overflowing with love and other tasty feel-good feelings. So Yae is always ready to eat anything on their table, and Heisuke is always trying to copy her, and it's apparently a great recipe for success.

Tonight was a Mii dinner night, and there's even one of Yae's favorites on the table. Katsuki could have also sworn that he heard his brat squeal about how tasty it was no more than ten minutes ago. So there's two seconds of whirlwind confusion before his brain finally connects to his eyes and he sees—

—well, first he sees the absolute mess Yae had made when she had flung her spoon. Secondly, and most importantly, he sees the little sparks crackling on Yae's palms. When she notices that he's looking, she waves her hands wildly in his direction, beaming as the sparks shower harmlessly down onto her plate. Katsuki reaches out and gives her little blonde head a ruffle with his spoon-free hand. "Good on you, brat," he says, voice thick with emotion that he'll deny for the rest of his days at seeing some version of his Quirk in his own child. "I'd expect nothing less. But!"

He holds up a finger to her nose. She goes a little cross-eyed trying to look at it, which makes her scrunch up her nose into a pout. "We don't throw anything at the table, you hear me?"

"Sorry, Daddy," she says, not sorry at all. She only looks sheepish when her mother echoes the statement. What an insufferable brat.

Katsuki loves her to pieces.

.

Bakugou Heisuke is four years old and blisters bubble up on the palms of his tiny hands. It hurts, it hurts, it burns, and Katsuki had always thought it cheesy when people claimed that they could acutely feel others' pain. But this? Katsuki feels this, alright.

He'd have to be blind not to see this as a sign of Quirk manifestation—of Explosion manifesting—but his eyesight is as good as it's always been. He switches out his night shifts with Deku and Icyhot, on edge for the first eruption and not willing to chance it happening in the middle of the night, when his family was at its most vulnerable and with only Mii available. Heisuke rarely fights him on anything but he fights tooth and nail now, as Katsuki holds him tight so that he can clean and bandage the blisters. He's a toddler and he wants to touch things, so this frustrates him to no end. Katsuki keeps the tot close to him whenever he can, hyper-aware of even baby-nitroglycerin-pops against the soft unprotected skin of his mother and the baby. All of this leads to temper tantrums the likes of which he's come to expect from Yae, but he grits his teeth and weathers it through. He's even impressed, honestly, to see that under Heisuke's skittish nature he's evidently inherited Katsuki's insufferable stubborn streak as well as his blond-haired-red-eyed looks.

Eventually, Katsuki's rewarded for his patience. Boom boom boom! goes Heisuke's tiny hands one night as Katsuki is getting him ready for bed. The impact only tickles against Katsuki's own palms, sturdy and acclimated to years of using Explosion,but Heisuke screeches as the blisters all pop as one, tears spilling down baby-round cheeks. Katsuki works at high speeds to ice and clean and wrap, no words of comfort save for the solid expanse of his chest that Heisuke is trying to burrow into and the steady beating of his heart.

"I've got you," he finally says gruffly, when everything's done and he's free to cage the child into a hug. "'M right here. I ain't going anywhere." A sniffle, loud and wet, and Katsuki wonders if his parents, too, had hurt this much when Katsuki had suffered his first firestorm, or if they had also spent the night on the floor of his bedroom, clumsily whispering quiet words of reassurance into soft blond fluff.

Shouto's day had been going peacefully, so it stands to reason that his sons' kindergarten teacher would call him in the middle of a routine patrol. "Aki-kun has a high fever and will need to be retrieved immediately," she says, professionally kind. Shouto's heart stutters sharply in his chest before he can collect himself. After he delegates the rest of the days' patrols to his sidekicks, he's hustling to kindergarten, where he bursts in in full hero costume to the shock and delight of all staff and children. Akishi is a small miserable furnace that presses into Shouto's right side with no complaint when he picks him up, and he doesn't even put up a fight when Shouto peels him away from his twin. Shouto feels miserable just looking at him.

The pediatrician spends as much time soothing Akishi as she does soothing Shouto, which is embarrassing. He's given fever reducers and told to come back in a week if it didn't appear to get any better or if there was no sign of the fever being Quirk-related. And well, that's the most embarrassing thing of all for this entire ordeal—Shouto had forgotten all about Quirk manifestation.

"Oh," he says, as Akishi squirms in his hold, shivering hard even as he buries his face into the side of Shouto's neck in what can only be an honest effort to merge himself with his father. Shouto has every intention to play down his oversight, but when his wife calls shortly after they get home he finds himself giving the entire version anyway. He set himself up for that, he supposes, given his cryptic and highly concerning text: no punctuation and sprinkled with unhelpful autocorrected words.

"Oh, right," his wife says, after he's suitably updated her on the situation and convinced Akishi to unfuse from his shoulder just enough so that he can eat an ice pop, "they turned four just a few weeks ago." It's more comforting than Shouto would have ever thought to know that they both seemed to have forgotten about it.

"Do you need me to come home right away?" she asks. Shouto considers the offer.

"No, I think we'll be fine," he finally says. "We'll eat ice pops and watch cartoons."

"As long as you feed my child some actual food at some point," is the response he gets, and he huffs out a laugh as he rummages through their cupboards. "Just add some rice to this morning's leftover miso soup. You can do that much."

"I can," Shouto agrees good-naturedly. He's well aware of where his strengths lie, and unfortunately they are not in the kitchen, although he does quite well for himself during summer barbeques. "Stay safe. Arrest some villains for us." There's a smile in his voice and he can practically feel the roll of her eyes.

"I'll see what I can do," she says mildly, "I'll leave you to your fun afternoon now." Shouto hums as he helps his son pick out a DVD, holding the phone out so that the little boy can wave at it and shout "Bye-bye, Mama!" to the best of his raspy capability. An affectionate laugh rings out through the speaker, followed by an echo of the phrase and then the click of the dial-tone. Akishi dives into the DVD pile and emerges with a classic All Might cartoon that Shouto had gotten from last year's agency white elephant.

If Shouto happens to let himself be won over by his son's puppy-dog look into getting the two of them popcorn, well—his wife doesn't need to know about that.

.

Shouto subscribes heavily to the parenting style that is as far from Endeavor's as he can possibly make it while still laying down reasonable boundaries. He has no particular high demands as far as what quirks he wants his children to have—that road only leads to misery and toxic family relationships that he has no desire of repeating. He is fully prepared and ready to be happy and supportive of whichever quirk or combination of quirks his boys end up with.

What Shouto is not prepared for is the misery and helplessness that accompanies watching his toddler struggle through the worst fever he's ever had to endure in his short life. Their movie had been cut short when Akishi's temperature had spiked just before the climactic battle, and Shouto had made the executive decision then that it was now bedtime. Things had only gotten worse from there. It is emotionally exhausting, being this helpless, and having all the fever tricks he's picked up in the past few years fail over and over again.

And because Shouto is now an adult, as well as a Pro Hero, with certain responsibilities to society, there is the whole issue that comes with the reshuffling of staff and coverage of his designated routes from taking a long and last-minute holiday. He has enough vacation days saved up to take a week off, thankfully, and his sidekicks are more than capable of handling themselves in the interim if nothing went wrong. It helps that Midoriya (graciously) and Bakugou (less graciously) also agree to split his sectors between them until he can get back.

Akishi's fever rages for four solid days. It finally breaks on the fifth day as flame licks its way down his arms. Shouto doesn't even have the time to be relieved when he's struggling to soothe a hazy and terrified baby while still protecting their vulnerable furnishings.

On Day 6, after Shouto's just managed to save the dining room table from going up in flames, Midoriya texts him asking him how the entire manifestation went down. The only word Shouto can come up with is "terrible." This must be the pinnacle of emotional and physical drainage when one becomes a parent. He hoists Akishi to a better position against his shoulder and hums along when the little boy chatters around an ice pop. There is a ping from his phone.

Midoriya [1:37 PM] Chin up! You still have another one to go!

Shouto groans. He had forgotten about the other one.

.

Mafuyu's quirk manifests in the middle of one of his epic tantrums, and it is simultaneously better and worse than Akishi's week-long struggle. It's better, because the entire thing more or less happens in the span of three minutes. It's worse, because Mafuyu gives them absolutely no time to prep and so their living room suffers a surprising amount of damage.

It happens like this: Mafuyu wakes up cranky; goes through his day petulantly while considering a tantrum; and apparently decides to act on it when Shouto asks him if he wants to brush his teeth before or after his bath. Shouto deposits his screaming toddler in the living room, on a cushion and away from any hazards. Mafuyu's temper tantrums are short and explosive but generally run like clockwork if he's left to his own devices, so Shouto estimates that they can do calm-down-time and bathtime in about half an hour with no major hiccups in the bedtime routine. Shouto is very, very wrong.

First comes the drop in temperature. It falls on them like a blanket, so suddenly that Akishi sneezes and startles himself with a burst of flame. Shouto has just turned around to check on Mafuyu when the boy's pitch changes mid-scream, high with fear. If Shouto's heart had stuttered when he had heard about Akishi from their kindergarten teacher, it rattles hard against his ribs now. His son shouldn't ever sound like that.

Then comes the ice, jagged crystals of it that unfurl like the worst carpet Shouto's ever seen. The tatami is ruined—Shouto doesn't even need to step into the room to know that they'll have to replace the entire room and possibly most of the furniture. The floorboards of the hall just barely escape that same fate thanks to his wife, who makes a sharp sound of distress as she hoists Akishi out of the path of a particularly stubborn crystal, eyes wide with her own Quirk activated.

But that's fine. Shouto can deal with temper tantrums and ruined tatami. What he can't deal with is his tiny son, in the middle of an iced-over room, immobilized and terrified. His little cheeks are covered in so many crystals that it's threatening to freeze his eyes shut, and he flexes his fingers desperately in what little wiggle room he has available. Panic claws up Shouto's throat in a way that doesn't happen even when he's fighting for his life against a villain. Heat pours out of him instantly as he starts to carve a path out towards his child, making shushing noises that he's not sure Mafuyu can even hear over the sound of his crying. Shouto's not entirely sure if they're meant to calm Mafuyu or himself, honestly. Finally, he softens the ice enough to pluck his son as gently as he can from the crystals, cradling him to his left side as he starts to bring the boy's body temperature back up. No one sleeps well that night, and Mafuyu catches a cold immediately after, but the pediatrician assures them that a speedy recovery is on the horizon.

When Shouto calls his mother, she says: "Touya had a rough manifestation, but the rest of you were fine, all things considered." When she turns the camera of the vidcall to his father, Endeavor frowns into the screen.

"At least one aspect of any Quirk gets stronger with each successive generation," he says, and god, Shouto realizes that there's probably nothing his father can do about his face at this point in time but he hates how disappointed Endeavor's frown always manages to look. It automatically fills him with instinctual spite. "Chin up, Shouto. If you need any assistance don't hesitate to call your mother or I."

Shouto hums out a non-committal thanks. So basically he has to wing it. OK, he thinks. He can do that. He spent all of high school basically winging it from one disaster to another with Midoriya and Bakugou. What's two toddlers compared to the League of Villains or Nabu Island?

"Careful you don't tempt fate, man," Sero tells him, when their paths cross while working the same case and they both go out for after-work drinks. "Villains tend to have a plan. Toddlers kind of, er… toddle aimlessly around."

"I'll keep that in mind," Todoroki says. Sero grins and slaps him on the shoulder.

Twin Peaks Heroics is a powerhouse hero agency, one that the media liked to say sprung up out from the woodworks seemingly overnight with Midoriya Izuku and Bakugou Katsuki at its helm. That's not true, of course, but it does make Izuku laugh every time he comes across old news articles gushing about how they just sprang onto the scene with a BOOM thanks largely in part to Kacchan.

"Shut the fuck up!" Kacchan liked to bark at him whenever he gets like that, especially when he gets his "disgustingly nostalgic" face on. Unfortunately for Kacchan, that reaction only gets Izuku to laugh more these days, which in turns never fails to make his childhood friend grind his teeth and stomp over to his desk to slam through their neverending paperwork. Small stupid moments like these were what made all the work it took to get Kacchan to warm up to the idea of being hero partners and co-found their own agency so worth it.

They'd acquired Todoroki about a year after they got off the ground thanks in large part to their U.A. connections. Todoroki had been looking to move his career back into the Tokyo area after spending several years in Hokkaido, and offices all around were clamoring for the honor of adding him to their ranks. Izuku had first floated the idea of bringing their old classmate on to Kacchan one day over lunch, just to test the waters, but once he got the customary scoff from the explosive man—"Why the fuck would I ever want to lower myself to seeing Icyhot every damn day?"—he had thrown himself into a massive 100-slide powerpoint presentation on why Todoroki ought to join them at Twin Peaks, and not elsewhere. Obviously, he had had stiff competition from Endeavor Hero Agency in particular, but Izuku was rarely deterred when he decided that he wanted something.

Kacchan had called his presentation theme ugly and violently vetoed the tacky animations that Izuku had set up, but that was fine! Izuku's hard work had finally paid off and he only cried a little when they had brought Todoroki into their office so that they could officially sign him on. It was time well spent. He had barely been able to sit through all the press conferences later on where they had formally introduced their partnership to the public. Kacchan had been endlessly irritated by the entire thing.

Izuku's tried to get other classmates of theirs into their agency too, of course. Unfortunately, Uraraka and Sero had opted to settle at Frontier Rescues, a hero agency founded by an upperclassman. Yaoyorozu had gone to work at her family's agency, although not without much regret at being unable to accept Izuku's invitation. Similarly, Iida was determined to revive his brother's office. They'd gotten Kirishima for a couple years before Suneater had put in a transfer offer to him, and not even Kacchan was cruel enough to deny their friend the chance to work with his favorite upperclassman.

"Cheer up, man!" Kaminari had said brightly when Izuku's moping had gotten a little out of hand. "You've still got Kyouka and me! And it's not like Amajiki-senpai took Kiri far. I heard he just needed another close-ranged fighter to step in while Lemilion is setting up their branch office. We might get him back."

"Heard that steel simpleton went with him too," Kacchan had grumbled out, to which Kaminari had yelled: "They're gonna have the manliest riot!" Kacchan had looked disgusted, but Izuku had laughed.

Today, Izuku bounds excitedly into the office, laden down with coffee and pastries. Both Kacchan and Todoroki look up from their desks—Todoroki's eyes brighten at the familiar logo, while Kacchan's narrow before slicing over to the clock. "I know, I know!" Izuku says cheerily, dropping his grumpy partner's coffee down on his desk and tossing the pastry bag to Todoroki. "But this time I had put in the order ahead of time so I was in and out in two minutes, tops! I promise!"

"This isn't part of your usual order," Todoroki remarks, instantly betraying him as he pulls out a truly enormous blueberry-studded pastry.

Izuku flounders under Kacchan's glare, coffee-free hands waving around wildly. "OK, so I might have stayed to chat a bit?" he tries. "And then the owner might have mentioned that they have new items? So I, er—bought them? After some deliberation?"

Kacchan sneers at him. "Number Four Pro Hero Deku continues to waste time at local bakery joint," he recites flatly, taking a judgemental slurp of his piping hot coffee. "Next you're going to tell me that you saved a cat from the tree on the corner to justify you taking up space there?"

"Well," Izuku starts, before cutting himself off with a shriek as Kacchan hurls a muffin at his head. "Don't you know better than to waste food like that, Kacchan!?" he yells, snatching the muffin out of the air, careful not to squish it in his fingers. His friend's eyes roll so hard Izuku is surprised they don't fall right out of his head. Todoroki passes the remaining pastries off to Izumi Kota, their intern, who sets off the early-morning pastry train through their office.

Kacchan jabs a finger aggressively at Izuku's chest. It would be a lot more threatening if he wasn't munching on his bagel. "Follow your own damn rules, Deku," he huffs, growling around his mouthful. "Professional names in a professional setting and no loitering when you have backlogged reports." There's a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "Because guess what, loser? Shittyroki and I are all." Jab. "Caught." Jab. "Up." His grin is absolutely villainous.

Izuku gasps. "That's two-for-two that you've thrown me under the bus today, Shoto," he complains without heat. "It's not even eight yet."

Todoroki shrugs, unrepentant. "Rules are rules, Deku," he says, as if he had never rebelled against authority in his life. "I suppose that means Ground Zero and I will take this afternoon's joint patrol. Should I take Izumi with me?"

Izuku brushes crumbs off of his reports. "Nah," he says, "He's going to spar with me and some of the sidekicks so I'll keep him in the office today." He leans back in his chair, eyes on the clear blue sky out their office window. "It's such a beautiful day out. It'd be good if nothing big happened in our sectors today."

"I don't want to deal with a string of petty crime," Kacchan says petulantly, draining the last of his coffee in one long drag. "That shit's boring."

"It's necessary," Izuku says patiently. He tosses the last of his muffin into his mouth, then stands up. "Alright. Let's gather everyone up and do our morning debrief."

"Ugh," says Kacchan, but he falls into step with them as they head up to the conference rooms anyway.

Izuku grins. This is good, he thinks. This is great, even. He might not have all the heroes he wants at his own agency, but he has his two best friends. He's got a reliable team of sidekicks and a precocious intern. He and Kacchan are the Wonder Duo, even though Kacchan keeps rejecting his suggestions that they take the rankings with their hero team rather than individually. It's been a good week so far, and it's going to keep being a good week; he can feel it in his bones.

.

Chargebolt has been hot on the trail of this petty thief for the past five minutes, and it's beginning to piss him off. No petty thief should be this agile and annoying this early in the morning. Electricity sparks around his legs as he hurdles around a corner, finally trapping the thief into a dead-end alley.

"Got ya now!" he shouts. He takes aim and is about to shoot off his electricity when a sharp sense of unease crackles down his spine. His eyes snap upwards just in time to see a black blur come hurtling down towards him, and he barely has the time to leap backwards and out of the way. The thief he's got backed into the corner screams at the sudden turn of events.

Kaminari grits his teeth, falling back into a defensive stance beaten into him from countless sparring sessions with Bakugou, sparks dancing between his fingers. "Oh?" he asks, grin sharp just like that of his friend's. "Talk about a dramatic way to crash in to save your friend."

"Friend?" asks the unwanted intruder as the debris kicked up from their entrance clears away. "I guess if it comes down to Us vs. Them, then we are all one singular mass. That's mighty convenient for you, I bet."

Kaminari's eyes narrow. He drops lower to the ground, pointers unlocked and ready to shoot. The intruder that grins at him is tall and lanky, dressed in an unassuming hoodie and ripped jeans. There's a smile on his face that would be open and unassuming on anyone else but him. It immediately gives Kaminari the creeps. One of his hands is casually stretched out, palm other is fisted in the collar of the thief he had previously been chasing, and the thief looks terrified.

Kaminari sends a shock of electricity to his earpiece, powering it up discreetly. "Twin Peaks Heroics, Tactical Support," buzzes quietly in his ear, but he pays it no mind. The moment it turns on, it'll be transmitting his location and recording any sounds around him. That's all Kaminari needs. "Release the man and stand down!" he shouts, pulling his hero license out with practiced ease and flashing it for identification. "This is Twin Peaks Heroics' Chargebolt! I'll be taking you in for willful interference with law enforcement. Also, vigilantism is against the law, man."

His opponent sounds largely unconcerned. "I'm quite aware, thank you," he says politely. It's mildly infuriating, that tone, so it's no wonder Bakugou always seems to blow a fuse whenever his villains get mouthy with him. "But I don't really have any business with you today, Number 16 Hero." The thief in his hands squirms futilely.

"What are you—" Kaminari starts, only to be cut off with a twitch of the other's fingers. Something dark and wispy pours out from the pads of his fingers. It looks, Kaminari realizes with a horrified jolt, a lot like Kurogiri's warp holes, except Kaminari hasn't seen a comparable Quirk to Kurogiri's in years. "Oi! Stop that!" he shouts, hurling two of his pointers in quick succession. They plant themselves into the brick of the alley walls, sinking in and powering on. He lets loose a bolt of lightning at the same time the other slams his free hand into the captive man's face. The resounding slap sounds painful, although it's quickly drowned out by the crack of Kaminari's electrical cage and the roar of a hungry black hole, tinged red along the edges. Whatever it is has such a strong gravitational force that Kaminari is forced to cancel his own attack and brace himself, even as he feels it pull him an inch or so forward. With a pop! it closes around the entirety of the captive man, yanking him in and zipping shut.

The villain pushes his sleeve up, glancing down at his wristwatch. Kaminari shakes off his stupor and charges, two more bolts of electricity flying off his own fingertips. Two warp panels appear from the fingerpads of the villain's hand this time, both without the red outline. Once again, Kaminari has barely a moment to react before he's leaping out of the way of his redirected attack, rolling safely away, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling.

With a swing of his hand, the villain moves one panel to his feet. Kaminari scrambles out of the way as the other one seems to rush at him, only to spring skywards at the last possible moment. The villain steps into the portal on the ground, falling right through it. Kaminari's third zap smashes into the ground where the portal used to be. A pitying click of the tongue sounds above his head.

The villain pokes his head into the alleyway from the roofs of the neighboring building. Another head pops up next to his: an entirely new face. "Too bad, Chargebolt," he says, as Kaminari charges up one more attack, "but you can tell them that my tests were finally a success."

"Tell who!?" Kaminari shouts, unleashing his attack. The heads scramble out of the way, only to pop back up again when it dissipates, hairs sticking up every which way from static electricity.

"Inspector Togami, of course!" comes the cheery reply. "She's been chasing us for ages. I feel bad for her. Tell her I was the one leaving little presents at her crime scenes. She'll know who I am immediately. Oh, you can have this, too!"

He tosses something down into the alleyway that Kaminari catches on instinct. Kaminari's fingers unfurl to find the king piece from chess nestled in his palm. When he looks back up again, both villains are gone.

His earpiece crackles to life. "P. H. Shoto is en route," his operator says. "Should I relay anything else to him?"

"Yeah," Kaminari growls, clenching his hand around the chess piece. "He just warped a whole-ass man to who-knows-where and gave me a game piece. There's at least one accomplice. Get Deku on the line with Metropolitan Police Force's Togami."

"Right away, sir."

By the time Todoroki arrives on the scene, the two villains are long gone.

The next morning, news breaks all over the Kanto region of a massive serial abduction case.