Dial Tone

by Auresalia

(Inspired by HuntyDraws' "Hotline Tokyo" art piece) Something's happened to Izuku. He doesn't know what. All he knows is that everyone around him acts strange, and people both known and unknown are stalking him. At the same time, a vigilante has begun massacring criminal hideouts, and it all seems to center around him.

7. Thy Bones Fractured

The walls of the hospital lobby threatened to close in on Bakugou as he hunched himself over the seat on which he took refuge. He had found an empty spot, wedged in the corner where two giant glass panes intersected, towering over him as the dim twinkle of the bright street lights and the somewhat distant apartment complexes that stood almost menacingly on the horizon. Their collective luminance drowned out the twinkle of the stars above, suffocating it into an all-consuming void that always loomed over the city.

The blonde pro-hero felt his hands instinctively clasp themselves, his shoulders stiff and locked as he grinded his teeth in silence. Visiting hours were over, but the nurses had been more than kind enough to permit him to stay in the lobby overnight. Not that they had much of a choice- it was obvious enough to them that the barely functioning man would take no for an answer.

His stomach was on fire; he could practically feel his bile boiling as it escaped into his chest, the unbearable heat and pressure threatening to cook his heart as it beat. That bastard detective was alive, miraculously. But the events that surrounded the shooting ate his soul, withering his mind down to its very core. He felt pustules of energy burst within his system- but he couldn't bear to give them an outlet, not even an incessant tapping of the foot, let alone a barrage of sparks from his fingertips. It pooled within him, circulating and intensifying the flames stoking his innards, creating a feedback loop that threatened to dissolve him and everything around him.

His wordless, racing thoughts were cut short by the sound of the entrance sliding open automatically, the clack-clack of Oxford shoes against tile shooting across the barren lobby and bouncing across the walls. He glanced up to see the new visitor- a man dressed in a three piece suit, everything black as night except for his white shirt and dalmatian-spotted tie. Atop the collar sat the head of a beagle, with its brown and naturally droopy eyes surveying the room and its many chairs and the occasional potted plant. Eventually his eyes settled on Bakugou, who quickly broke the line of contact, opting to turn his head to face the floor beneath him.

Unfortunately for the disgraced hero, his attempts to go unnoticed failed miserably. His chest constricted slightly as he heard the sharp clicks of his shoes approach him, before taking their place in front of the seat on the other end of the aisle, directly facing him. He just barely shot his eyes over, just long enough to see the dog-faced man sit down in front of him, elbows resting on his knees as he laced his fingers together. His gaze quickly returned to the floor; his anger almost immediately subsided, replaced with a chill so drastically different that it felt as if he would go into shock.

"I'm glad to see you came as well." Tsuragamae began, his voice heavy and as sturdy as a rock. "Were you able to see Detective Tsukauchi's condition."

"...wasn't allowed in." Bakugou tersely muttered, his gaze still firmly planted on the ground.

"Is he still in critical condition?" The chief tilted his head. "I was told he was awake and stable."

"No, it's-" The hero cut himself off, producing some mixture between a sigh and a grunt. "Stupid fucking cops wouldn't let me see him. They didn't care I was working with him. Said 'real cops only.'"

"I see, woof." He leaned back, lifting a hand to pinch his chin with his index finger and thumb. He swung one of his legs up, folding it across so its ankle rested on his other knee. "You wouldn't happen to remember their names, would you?"

"Ayano and Nakamura. Why?"

"Nothing much. I'll see they get warned for being overzealous in their duties. While we do need to protect someone who has been attacked by a syndicated crime organization, they should know better than to prevent his partner from joining." He paused, waiting for a response from the pro-hero. When none arrived, he followed up with another question.

"Forgive me if I sound a little upfront, woof, but..." He trailed off, his stone cold eyes boring into the blonde's skull. "...Why are you so intent on making people think you're worse than you actually are?"

The chief held his position for a moment, waiting to see what reaction it would garner from his technical subordinate. Said associate seemed to ignore him, opting to stare intently at the tiling and grout beneath him.

"I'm known for being persistent, Ground Zero, and we have all the time in the world."

The mention of his professional name caused the pro-hero to visibly flinch, though he was quick to recompose himself. He looked up, his trademark glare shooting across the aisle to stare at the unaffected beagle-man interrogating him.

"What, you saying you think I pretend to be dumb for the hell of it or something?"

"I know so. I'm sure you didn't just grab those officer's names from nowhere- and they certainly didn't give you their IDs when you argued with them. You recognized them from seeing them work in another department, right?"

"Yeah, so what?" He shrugged, an exasperated sigh poorly masking the hints of exhaustion in his voice.

"If I were to ask anyone who has worked with you in recent history, they would all unequivocally say that you were incapable of listening or observing basic things, let alone make coherent plans for your future."

"And how would you know that?"

"Because I did, woof. Of all the people I interviewed, not one answered in a positive manner regarding your cognitive abilities. It baffles me, considering that this seems to differ vastly from the man in front of me now. The only explanation that comes to my mind is that you make a habit of misrepresenting yourself- and from what I've seen it's almost as if you revel in it."

Bakugou's glare sharpened, his eyes lowering to a glower as he pursed his lips. "I don't know what you're getting at, but I ain't biting. You're the fucking police chief, you should be doing something more than stalking me."

Tsuragamae sighed, shaking his head. "Well, perhaps there may be a time when you're willing to reconsider your perspectives. It is still my job to monitor those who are operating under my force, even if you don't like it."

"Tch. Whatever."

The police chief kept his gaze centered squarely on the pro-hero in front of him. "Tell me, do you know why Tsukauchi brought you on?"

"Yeah." Bakugou sighed, his shoulders slumping as he let his breath out. "All Might asked him to, didn't he?"

"...Something along those lines, more or less. How did you know?"

"With my history? Why the fuck would anyone else choose me if they didn't have to? Fucking skeleton shouldn't have bothered."

"You know, All Might did see something in you."

"No he didn't." He bit back, his fists scrunching up his jeans. "If he did then he wouldn't have tried to get me a babysitter."

"He wasn't trying to babysit you, Bakugou. He was attempting to mentor you the best he could. After everything that happened in that class, I don't blame him."

"You don't know anything about what happened-"

"I know everything that happened, woof." The police chief held his hand up, his commanding presence stopping the pro-hero's words in their tracks. "I was there for everything- the attacks on your school, the death of Iida Tenya at the hands of Stain, the disappearance of Todoroki Shouto and his father Endeavor, the massacre at the camp... and I was there when we rescued you from the Villain hideout as well. You know just as well what All Might wanted for you wasn't out of pity. And... Detective Tsukauchi isn't doing this out of obligation, either."

"Don't give me that bullshit." He hissed at the dog-faced man. "He ain't doing this out of the kindness of his own heart."

"Perhaps not, but that doesn't mean he isn't trying to look out for you in his own way." Tsuragamae leaned forward. "I've known him for a very long time. He hasn't always been as... coarse as he is now, but he wouldn't be doing this 'just because.' He's looking to help you right the ship, so to speak."

"And you think he's gonna do that?"

"Time will tell... and your willingness to listen will be a factor, as well."

Bakugou scoffed, folding his arms over his chest as he rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I've answered enough of your questions. Now I want you to answer some of mine."

"Very well, I'll answer what I can, woof." The police chief leaned back in his seat, palms splayed upwards on the arm-rests of his chair.

"Why the hell do you have that guy working all by himself? I know for a fact it ain't normal for a single guy to be tasked with chasing down a psychopath."

"...Actually, I have been meaning to approach you regarding this situation. I was hoping for a more appropriate time, however... the fact that he's now in the hospital means it wouldn't be wise to put it off any longer." Tsuragamae sighed, his ears flattening against the sides of his head as he continued. "To be blunt, Nao- Detective Tsukauchi is on a self-destructive path, woof. I'm sure you remember his demeanor when you first met him a few years ago."

"The USJ attack." Bakugou muttered, his knuckles growing white from the tension in his fists.

"Correct. After the death of All Might, he... changed. Normally, I would discharge someone like that from the force, but... well, call it nepotism or favoritism, but I wanted to keep him on in the hopes he would get better. I had him working solo cases, in the hopes that it would help clear his head, but I can't help but think I made the worst possible choice. Instead of helping, it's gotten to the point that he won't listen to protocol- if it weren't for the people cleaning up the mess behind him, many of his assignments would have been thrown out in court. He shows no signs of improvement, either."

The candidness of the police chief threw the pro-hero off guard for a moment. The beagle-man's recounting of their mutual contact reluctantly struck a chord in him, the tone echoing in his chest and resonating with another part inside of him- one he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"I assigned him this case hoping it would be a simple incident, but that was unfortunately not the case. If I were to let him go, let alone reassign the case... I know it will only lead to him spiraling further. I cannot allow that to happen, woof." He refocused his gaze on the uncomfortable blonde, who was numbly staring back at him. "That is where you come in."

"...Wait, what?"

"He clearly gives you the credence to consider you a partner of sorts. I understand very well that you're not the empathetic type, but... he's on his last leg. We've yet to interview him, but... the evidence points to the Yakuza putting a hit out on him. If we can't help him get back upright in time... things will not end well for him."

The implicit request practically jumpstarted Bakugou's heart, his hands snapping to the armrest as he squeezed his fingers tightly against the metal bars. "...Why do I have to do this?"

"Because it's become clear to me that I've lost his trust one way or the other, woof."

The pro-hero wasn't sure how to respond, shifting slightly in his chair as he felt his throat instinctively gulp a thick wad of saliva that nervously pooled in his throat.

"That reaction alone is proof enough that you know I'm speaking the truth. I won't ask why; I know he must have his reasons. And I have some inklings as to why that is the case. That's why I ask-"

His request was cut off by the sound of multiple footsteps racing down the hall to the lobby. Tsuragamae's ears perked up, head snapping to the hallway in time to see two police officers rush into the large foyer.

"Chief! I didn't expect to see you here!" One of them, an averaged size, almost unremarkable human called out.

"What in the world do you think you're doing, Ayano?!" He barked back, his commanding tone immediately taking over his voice. "Why aren't you guarding Detective Tsukauchi's room?"

"He- the window to his room was wide open, and he wasn't there, s-sir!" He called back, snapping to an unnecessary salute.

"What?!"

"Sir, we don't think he was kidnapped. When we went to report it, we found an open door in the adjacent hallway with its window open. We think he climbed out the window then re-entered another one to avoid us seeing him. We've got the nurses looking for him now, as well!"

"Why the hell would he do that?!" Bakugou exclaimed, reeling in confusion.

The other officer, a much stockier one with a set of sharp teeth jutting up from his lower lip in an almost comical underbite, replied. "I mean, it's Detective Tsukauchi. His job is to basically make everyone else's harder."

"Detective Nakamura!" Tsuragamae barked.

"What? You know it's the truth."

"Just get to finding him!" He commanded, pointing the two of them away. "We'll have a discussion about this later."

"Yes sir!" The two of them saluted, immediately taking off towards the hallway.

The police chief turned back to face the pro-hero, settling back into his chair. "Let's stay here for the moment. The entire staff is on red alert right now, and this is the only exit to the building. It would be wise for us to make sure we keep this place covered."

The pro-hero simply nodded, his capacity for conversation completely depleted at this point. The two of them kept their eyes trained on the different hallways, keeping their eyes peeled for any sort of movement. What little they found for the first few minutes were from the nurses and security officers, frantically racing from one room to the next as they attempted to track down their missing patient. Eventually, the commotion died down, culminating in the sound of rolling wheels moving into the lobby as the sound of beeping pagers sporadically echoed down the hall.

The two occupants of the lobby were presented with the sight of a small convoy of nurses and security officers escorting a gurney into the lobby, from one hallway into the next. They quickly rushed over to the group, getting close enough to recognize the unconscious figure of Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi, his hand resting against the spot on his gown above the wound in his abdomen.

"Where did you find him?" Tsuragamae asked, eyes moving from one escort to the next.

"I found him in the mailroom." One of the nurses spoke up, her hand firmly grasping the metal rail along the bedding. "He was in a state of delirium and was quickly becoming aggressive when I suggested he return to his room. I used my quirk to sedate him."

She lifted her arm, a thin spine protruding from her wrist as she flexed her hand. Satisfied with the debriefing, the police chief waved them away, allowing the group to bring the patient back to his room. As they left, the dog-faced man turned to his blonde acquaintance, who had a rather blank expression on his face from the whole ordeal.

"It seems that he is in a worse state than we thought-"

"No shit."

"In any case," The police chief spoke over the pro-hero's retort. "It's likely he will be restrained and probably won't be able to speak with anyone for the time being. I think it's best you go home, Bakugou. I'm going to make sure the guards know to contact you immediately when he's coherent enough to speak with someone. They won't dare defy a direct order from me."

"Fine, whatever." The blonde grimaced, turning on his heels and sauntering out of the hospital.

The cool night air hit him square in the face as he moved past the sliding glass doors, the tile giving way to a brick paved walking path surrounded by plants and vehicle posts. The sidewalk and road were both completely empty, the hedge and tree lined paths feeling sparse compared to the densely packed homes and apartment complexes just a short distance away.

The further he moved away from the building, the more he felt the bile rise up in his system once more. With each step he felt his heart stiffen as his breath hitched. He clenched his teeth, leaning up against the gate of a nearby building for support as he did his best to keep himself upright.

"You... stupid..." He managed to eke out, before pushing himself back onto his feet and spinning to face the general direction of the hospital.

"You fucking bastard!" He screamed, clenching his teeth as he clutched at his chest.

He knew for a fact that he had woken a few people up, but he couldn't really care about that. In the end, he wasn't entirely sure who he was yelling at, whether it be the incapable police chief, the self-destructive detective under him, or the failed pro-hero who hated every atom within himself.

Whoever it was for, it felt good to get it out.

---

The television static quietly reflected off of the lithe form of Neo-Mokai, who was yet again performing a check-up on the Avatar that he diligently kept in working order for his unpleasant compatriot. At the present moment, his fingers were firmly jammed into Izuku's mouth, curled downwards in order to use the inside of the young adult's jaw as a leverage point from which he could hold him effortlessly in the air. The squid-faced man paid little attention to the incessant twitching of his subject's dangling limbs, opting instead to use the position to use his glistening, bulbous, black-as-night eye to peer into the green-haired human's ear canal from various angles.

Yokumitsu, as usual, sat cross-legged on his dingy bed, his emotionless mirror-mask trained on the duo in front of him as he wordlessly watched the examination take place. He watched over the young human like a guard dog- or perhaps more accurately, like a distrusting child watching his mom clean off his favorite toy. Neo-Mokai was not sure exactly what the warden of this place did with what was basically little more than a puppet, and he didn't quite care to find out or test the extent of his possessive attitude. Not when there were more important matters at hand.

The squid-faced man sighed, flippantly releasing his grip on Izuku's jaw, watching as he collapsed clumsily into the chair next to him.

"Well, the barrier seems to have stabilized, from what I can tell." He reported, placing a loosely clenched fist over the bunch of tentacles where his mouth should be.

"You sound like you don't know why." Yokumitsu noted.

"What an astute observation," came the snide response. "Did you also notice that the sky is blue, and that water is wet?"

"...Are you going to insult me every time I speak with you?" The mirror-masked man sighed, exasperation quickly building in his tone.

"Only when you say something stupid, which is apparently every time. Of course I didn't 'fix' the issue. I haven't done any sort of operation since the first time we noticed that the barrier was crumbling. Now it seems to have been resealed, reinforced even." He leaned back against the metal operating table behind him, back hunching over as he began to lose himself in thought. "Neither you nor the half-breed brute would know how to tinker with the boy's inner workings like that... so who could have done so?"

Yokumitsu folded his arms over his chest and remained silent, already fed up with the conversation.

"...This is quite the confounding issue." Neo-Mokai concluded, a tone of disappointment ringing from his perplexed voice. "I'll need to do a full examination later- this could be problematic."

"If you're done, then leave." The other being in the room demanded simply.

The squid-headed man clicked his tongue repeatedly, shaking his head. "You could stand to be more friendly with me. You've only got a handful of allies left- you've rejected everyone else. You cannot afford to lose someone like me as you are now."

"If it weren't for Machihan's colossal screw-up, you would have never spoken with me to begin with. I've spent a very long life away from you and the others, and all you've done is made me miss being alone even more."

"Is that so?" Neo-Mokai pushed himself off the table, swooping down behind Izuku's limp figure, holding his head next to his own as he gingerly held the sides of the young adult's jaw with his thumb and index finger. "And who would you have to thank for giving you this little gift, then?"

Before the mirror-masked man could utter the slightest of indignant responses, they were both cut off as the door to the apartment unceremoniously flew open, revealing the presence of the third of the trio, the Samurai armor clad Machihan.

Neo-Mokai straightened himself back up, resting his hands on the back of the chair in front of him.

"Good morning, warrior."

"That remains to be seen." He gruffly replied, striding over to the chair to roughly grab Izuku. With an effortless lift, he slung the young adult over his shoulder, before walking to the operating table and unceremoniously dumping the figure on the metal slab like a bag of potatoes. "Still plotting on how you'll do me in?"

"Oh, a little bit of this, a little bit of that... Though you seem to be doing a good job of that by yourself."

"You won't get me to react that easily, you of all people should know that." He calmly replied, methodically removing the articles of clothing off of the Avatar, leaving the unconscious figure only in his underwear.

"You'll have to forgive my light teasing. It's been a while since we've properly spoken."

"For a good reason." He nonchalantly rebutted. He slid his index finger down the young adult's shin, watching as the skin beneath quickly split open, as if there were a scalpel trained right where he was pointing. He gripped the leg with both hands, using his thumbs to pull the incision back wider, exposing the layers and layers of fibrous muscle tissue that lay beneath.

"Now, Machihan, you're being a little uncharitable towards me. I'm simply trying to show you how misguided you are-"

"No, you are ignoring the voice of the people." He replied. "They've become degenerates, and they're fully aware of it. I am simply doing that which they demand in order to bring us back from ruin."

"And it just so happens that you'll rule over it all once your... 'rebirth' has been completed."

"If the will of the people demands it, then I will rule over them. But right now they demand a strong man to guide their weak hearts."

Neo-Mokai moved from behind the chair, walking over to the edge of the table where Izuku's head lay. He laid his hands on either side of the young adult's head, looking directly at his rival. "And yet there are those who oppose this narrative."

The Samurai pushed his fingers into the open wound, watching as his Avatar's nerves twitched and spasmed, before the fibrous material began to swell to an almost grotesque extent. It was as if a tumor had grown and nearly encompassed Izuku's entire lower leg.

"Those who fight the people will know their wrath sooner or later." He replied, a sense of bottled rage forming in his voice. "You should know this already, dammit! We've lost our place in the world- we've been derided, emasculated, neutered, even! They all feel it- how we used to be so much more than we are now. Our people have been in a silent and slow stranglehold for as long as they can remember- action must be taken!"

"Your 'action' will lead to a mass grave." The squid being intoned, his voice quickly losing its teasing tone. "You haven't properly thought about what you'll lead us to."

"Look where 'thinking' got us, you fucking octopus." Machihan grunted, using his finger to once more seal the incision he made earlier. He pressed down on the large mass of muscle he created, using his palms to slowly move the tumor-like tissue up, spreading it out like a sculptor would clay on a model. "We've thought, and we've thought, and we've thought, and all it's led to is weakness. We've lost so much of ourselves- and the people have been begging to get that back ever since."

"And this is precisely why I cannot afford to leave you be." Neo-Mokai clenched his fists, leaning forward as he watched his antagonist slowly etch more muscle into the Avatar. "All you know to do is rally your troops into battle- you don't actually care about their wellbeing as long as it means someone is reveling in the battlefield for your glory. You've become obsolete, Machihan. This world has come under my domain now. You failed, and I was here to pick up the shattered remains you left behind. I will not allow you to break it again."

"And yet those who believe in me grow in numbers day by day- you cannot stop me, you never could. The people have recognized that you sold them a lie, and their voice demands that someone bring back their strength once more."

Once the grotesque massage was finished, the Samurai armor clad man stood back to inspect his work. Izuku's muscles had already been fairly well defined, but his handiwork had only intensified those effects. His figure practically radiated strength, unquestionably intimidating yet still fitting his form.

"I think we're done here." Machihan concluded, rolling Izuku onto his stomach in order to more easily put his clothes back on. "I've no interest in debating someone who let things deteriorate to the sorry state they're in now."

"Very well," Neo-Mokai responded, shrugging his shoulders as he walked to the door. "Be that as it may, I will not stop until this farce is killed in its crib."

"You'll fail." The samurai stated confidently. "I've finally got a successful Avatar, and they've been doing a wonderful job of cleaning up the fucking mess you made. And they won't stop, not until the people finally get their lives back in their hands-"

Yokumitsu angrily waved his hand, and in that very instant the other two inhabitants of the room vanished into thin air.

"They just don't shut up..." He sighed, falling back onto the bed. The mattress springs screeched from the sudden shift of weight. He pulled a pillow over his face, practically hugging the material as he tried to clear his thoughts.

"Izuku!" His muffled voice called from under the fluffy material. He heard the sound of feet hitting the ground next to the operating table. When he pulled the pillow back to look, he saw Izuku standing next to the bed, staring blankly as he waited patiently for his order.

Yokumitsu waved his hand again, this time producing a composite notebook and a set of drawing pencils. He flipped through the pages, looking at the half-decent sketches, ranging from renditions of popular heroes to famous landmarks and places around the country. He eventually landed on a blank page, prompting him to hold it out towards the green-haired man along with the set of drawing materials.

"Show me something else from your life... something really important to you."

The young adult quietly took the materials, sitting himself on the bed as he began to robotically draw into the notebook. The mirror-masked man leaned back up, readjusting himself to settle down next to him.

It wasn't long before the scene was fully rendered- it was an underpass, in a semi-rural area that Yokumitsu wasn't quite familiar with. Izuku had drawn himself in the picture, seemingly suspended in the air as he was propped up by an amorphous blob extending from a nearby sewer entrance, with various organs and detritus floating around inside its mass. The boy himself was visibly struggling clutching at his neck as the creature holding him captive revealed its insidious grin.

The mirror-masked man quietly looked at the visage in awe, grabbing the notebook to settle it in his own lap. He pointed down at it excitedly, turning to face the incognizant human next to him.

"This looks... please tell me about what happened here!"

---

The tide of rain could only slightly stem the tide of customers that poured into Takamagahara, the torrential downpour pelting the windows and casting the thin alleyway outside in a sheet of water that made it difficult to even see the Yakitori-ya that stood just a few feet across from the coffee shop. Its to-go counter was closed, with a small handful of customers perched in a small eating area, just barely sheltered from the rain as they made small talk and munched on some delicious looking chargrilled chicken skewers.

Izuku felt his stomach gurgle as he walked past the hole-in-the-wall restaurant, the delicious scent wiggling through the droplets of rain and underneath his umbrella. He hadn't eaten yet today- perhaps he should stop by there after his shift was over at work. He made a quiet wish for the weather to clear in the next eight or so hours, swinging through the small accessway to the backside of his workplace. He spent no time unlocking the back door, throwing his body quickly through the entrance and out of the torrential downpour. He quickly discarded his umbrella in its holding bin, before attempting to shake the cold off of his shoulders. He sighed, pulling the sliding door of the changing room open-

...And yelped out loud as he found an unexpected visitor standing in the middle of the room. Standing before him was another man, just slightly taller than him, though his mass of purple hair practically standing on its end seemed to exaggerate the difference in height. His dress shirt was only half-buttoned as he stared back with an expression just as bewildered as the green-haired intruder.

The two of them froze for but a moment, as if they were expecting the other to rush forward like an animal on the attack. The two of them leapt into action, vigorously turning away from each other; Izuku felt his face turn a deep red as he covered it with his hands, while his new acquaintance furiously tried to finish getting his clothes on.

"I- I-I-I'm sorry, I d-didn't m-mean t-t-to-!"

"-It's fine." The other young adult quickly cut him off, his voice stalwart as his fumbling fingers betrayed his miniature panic attack. "You don't need to act embarrassed about it."

"I... I g-guess so..." Izuku closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath as he tried to calm the frantic beating inside his chest. He wasn't quite sure what came over him, it wasn't as if he hadn't seen people changing clothes in the locker rooms while he was in school. And of course someone would be changing into their uniform in the changing room, that's what it's for, after all... Maybe it was just the surprise of meeting someone else; this was basically the only other person he's seen at the shop, aside from the very occasional visit by his boss, Minaka.

...Yes, that must have been the reason. There was no other explanation. He took a deep breath, holding it in as he steeled himself in order to set the right first impression. Slowly letting it out, he turned around, hoping the redness in his face would die down as he attempted to introduce himself.

"A-alright, well... I take it you're a new hire?"

The other man finished buttoning his shirt, turning to face his supposedly new acquaintance. His expression was... kind of cold, to say the least; it was as if there was a thick pane of glass between the two of them, allowing clarity but preventing Izuku from actually connecting with his newfound partner.

"You would be correct." He replied coolly, grabbing a well-fitted bartender's vest from inside the open locker next to him. He slipped it on, following up with a finely creased bowtie that was effortlessly knotted around his throat.

"I see..." Izuku trailed off, his mind racing in a million directions and causing him to lose his train of thought. He quickly shook his head, doing his best to reorganize himself as he attempted to put the conversation back on track. "...My name is Izuku Midoriya, but you can just call me Izuku. What's your name?"

"...Hitoshi Shinsou." He simply replied, staring blankly back at his counterpart.

There was something off-putting about the way the purple-haired newcomer looked at Izuku. Sure, the sense of detachment was kind of abrasive, but... he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The way Shinsou looked at him... it was as if he was trying to keep calm while looking directly at a monster, or something that seriously disturbed him. It left a kind of pit in the barista's stomach, but he knew better than to mention such strange things out loud, let alone someone he just met.

"...Right..." He trailed off. "...Have you worked at a coffee shop before?"

"...Uh..." The purple-haired man sighed, looking away as he rubbed the back of his head with his hand. "...Not at all."

"Oh... Well, that's not a problem!" Izuku forced a smile on his face, beaming at the new hire. "I didn't know anything about the job when I started, but now I can basically run the whole shop on my own! Well... I kind of already do- A-anyway, it'll be a breeze!"

"I'm sure it will, Senpai." He blankly replied.

The response caused Izuku's heart to jump once more, having heard a phrase he legitimately never thought he heard before. It was as if a weight had sunk onto his chest, informing him of the new responsibilities he now had to undertake. Though... it certainly would be a good investment, seeing as how Shinsou could start sharing the task burden-

The barista's eyes widened as he quickly dashed to the door, peering from behind the frame at the main serving area. The weather outside still looked horrid, but that didn't stop a line from beginning to form at the counter-

"Shoot!" He whispered to himself, going back into the changing room. He started to take off his shirt, pausing only as he realized that he now had a pair of eyes staring intently at him. He felt his face grow red once more, before settling the hem of his shirt back across his waistline.

"I'm sorry, can you..." He motioned to the door, his cheeks growing redder as he tried to avoid the embarrassment of vocalizing his emotions. "Just... ah, wait outside?"

Shinsou, still looking as disinterested as ever, huffed slightly as he nodded. "Sure thing."

The moment the purple-haired man left the room, Izuku kicked into warp speed, quickly throwing on his uniform, hastily putting his bowtie in a loose knot as he shoved his bunched up regular clothes in a corner at the bottom of his locker. He briefly glanced at himself in the mirror before walking out, meeting face to face once more with his new coworker.

"We'll have more time to do some proper training later." He explained, pointing at the line forming just on the other side of the swinging doors separating the back of house from the front. "For now, do you mind picking up the cups customers leave and washing them? We've got an industrial dishwasher in the next room over, just pop them in and let the machine do the work- you don't have to worry about drying them either, it's hot enough that you can let them sit and the water evaporates itself."

"...Very well."

The utterance of that phrase caught Izuku off guard, causing a jolt of lightning to shoot down his spine. He felt his limbs seize up as he struggled to regain his breath, looking up to stare at his coworker directly in the eyes as he struggled to keep his footing.

"What did you just say?"

A static-filled whine droned in the back of his ears as he waited for an answer, feeling the color draining out of his face as he clenched his fists.

"I just-" Shinsou cut himself off, eyes darting to the side as he tried to avoid the intense stare the barista was giving him. "I'll start cleaning up, that's all. Should I wipe down the tables, too?"

"Right... uh- yeah." Izuku quickly recovered himself, shaking his head as if to throw the weird sensation out of his head. "We've got some towels in the supply closet. Help yourself."

"Will do." Shinsou simply acknowledged, slipping away from his counterpart to do his assigned job.

The barista quickly made his own way to his station, greeting the customers with his regularly performed smile while he fulfilled their orders. He couldn't help but glance back at his new partner at every opportunity, a sense of dread pooling in his stomach as he replayed their greeting over and over again in his mind. He practically messed up every chance he had to leave a good impression- it was no wonder Shinsou had that almost wary expression when they first met; perhaps he could tell just from looking at him? Was he going to be the crazy senior that Shinsou would tell all his friends about, and laugh at him behind his back? He practically guaranteed it-

His catastrophizing thoughts ground to a halt as he realized he had subconsciously cleared out the line of customers, depriving him of the menial tasks needed to let his mind run away. He took a deep breath, doing his best to calm himself and make a note to attempt to salvage the situation. His new coworker was still working here, so that was a good sign. He hadn't driven out his potential friend quite yet.

Izuku got to work cleaning out his equipment, running boiling water over his pour over drippers and portafilters. He didn't have to use that high of a temperature for cleaning (he made a note to warn Shinsou against doing this if he was to take over the station), but he preferred keeping the equipment hot as often as possible.

Once he was done with his cleaning duties, he quickly glanced out the window- jumping in place and clutching the counter in instinctive fear as the strikingly familiar blonde hair of Katsuki Bakugou appearing just in the corner of his vision. The disgraced pro-hero had just turned the corner, walking into the alley. Their eyes met each other through the window, the fiery red irises piercing through his own. The look seemed to only embolden him, as he marched towards the door to the establishment with renewed vigor.

It was just as the blonde was about the grasp through the door that something truly unexpected happened. Another person strode down the alleyway, their identity hidden by a cyan biker's helmet and a neon purple puffer vest with an awfully familiar logo on it. The mysterious person quickly strode to Bakugou, hooking their elbow with his to forcefully drag him away from the front door and out of sight.

Izuku let out a sigh of relief; he wasn't sure who that person was, but was very glad that they answered his silent prayers. Just as he felt his adrenaline subside, he quickly realized he had forgotten to do an important task.

Just as Shinsou finished unloading a stack of mugs behind the counter, the barista motioned for him to wait a moment.

"Can you do a favor for me?" He asked, preemptively bowing his head in apology.

"What do you want me to do?" The purple-haired man replied, his voice as unfazed as ever.

"Tomorrow is our inventory day, and I haven't done it yet. Can you go back to the roasting room and count how many bags there are?"

"That's it?"

"Well, it's a little more than that." Izuku winced. "We get our beans from farmers we work with, so I need you to count how many of each bag. If it helps, we only have one farm per country we work with, so if you want, you can count how many bags we have from Guatemala, Kenya, Rwanda... you get the gist. Just write down how many unopened bags we have, got it?"

Shinsou stared at his senpai for just a moment, before finally responding. "...Sure thing. I'll give you the count when I'm done."

"Thanks a lot!" He chirped, just before his coworker left to do his assigned job, he quickly added in. "Oh, by the way- did you, ah- did you want to, like... try some of the Yakitori next door after the shift is over? Think of it as a welcoming gift for the new job!"

The purple-haired man seemed genuinely caught off guard by the offer, his body tensing as if he had to keep himself from physically recoiling.

"I... won't be able to accept that."

Izuku did his best to keep his expression from falling as he felt his fears get confirmed.

Shinsou paused for a moment, before looking away as he explained. "I just have a lot of things on my plate and I don't think now's the time. But I would definitely consider it in the future."

"O-oh!" The barista failed to keep the surprise from registering on his face, his doubts almost immediately washed away. "That's fair- more than fair, actually. Yeah! Just let me know when you're able and I'll treat you to some good food!"

"I'll keep that in mind." The new hire nodded, before walking through the swinging doors to the back of the house. "I'll be right back."

"I'll be waiting!" Izuku grinned, turning back to face the counter. He mindlessly wiped down the counter, doing his best not to hum aloud as he felt some semblance of his spirits return.

He heard the door chime as it opened, letting yet another customer in from the torrent outside. He lifted his head up, letting his smile brighten up the room as he dutifully greeted them with a light and airy "Welcome!"

Just as the words left his mouth, he felt his emotions get caught in his throat, stifling him and threatening to choke him as he bore witness to the second reemergence of Bakugou that day. The pro-hero looked soaked to the bone, despite his hair standing tall in defiance of the weather battering it for who knows how long. There was an unfortunately familiar rage that emanated from the young man's features, his breathing heavy as he stomped over to the counter.

"Dead eye to-go." He gruffly barked, harshly sliding a few coins towards the barista.

Izuku wordlessly nodded as he began completing the request. He could feel the disgraced hero's eyes burning a hole in his skull as he packed three portafilters and throwing them into the espresso machine. Within a few moments he had three shots of espresso, which he dumped into a paper cup and filled it with regular drip coffee. He popped a lid on it and shakily slid it over to Bakugou, grabbing the coins as he moved his hand back. He quickly counted them, confirming the amount he was given.

"Tha-that's exact ch-change, s-s-sir. Have a g-good day-"

"Who are you?" Bakugou leaned in, tilting his head as he stared intensely at the barista.

Izuku recoiled from the accusatory question, staring down at the floor as he wringed his wrists. "I d-don't know what y-you mean, I'm j-just the ba-barista here."

"Don't bullshit me." The pro-hero muttered, clenching his fist on the counter. "What's your name?"

"I don't s-s-see how that's imp-p-portant-"

"I said tell me your fucking name." He growled, causing Izuku to retreat further as he felt his legs begin to give out from under him.

"I-I-Izuku... Midoriy-ya." He whimpered, clenching his teeth as if he was expecting a punch to the face.

"That's a familiar name... we know each other, don't we?"

His only response was a mild whine as Izuku struggled to keep his composure.

"Answer me, Izuku. I'm going to get answers out of you one way or the other."

The barista struggled to look back at the disgraced pro-hero, his entire body trembling as he forced out what words he could.

"I d-don't w-want to speak w-with you anym-more. Please, j-j-just go."

"Oh no you aren't." He threatened, pushing himself off the counter. "I'm not done talking to you yet-"

Bakugou was just about to move around to the other end of the counter, to face the barista directly. It was only then that he was stopped by the same biker helmet clad man from earlier. He appeared from practically nowhere, just in time to grab Bakugou's wrist with a firm grasp.

"The hell are you doing?!" The pro-hero shouted in anger, though it provoked no reaction from his counterpart.

"This is not the time nor the place. Take a look around you." The biker quietly intoned.

Izuku took a look, just as Bakugou did at the Biker's request. It was only then that the barista realized the countenances of the seated customers that lined the booths of the coffee shop.

All of them were staring directly at the pro-hero with what could only be described as a gaze of utter contempt and hatred. It was well beyond that of disapproval at the way he treated their favorite coffee craftsman- it was more like they were witnessing their idol being defaced and were about to jump into action to enact retribution on the vandal who did it. Their visible murderous intent pierced Bakugou to his core, the color draining from his skin as he registered just how silent the café had grown.

"We need to leave, now." The Biker reasserted.

"...Okay." The pro-hero quietly replied, gritting his teeth as his partner slowly walked him out by the wrist.

Izuku could only watch with a growing void in his chest as all of the customers uniformly kept their eyes on their mark, keeping their intense stares on him as he walked out the door and down the alleyway. Even after he left, they remained deathly silent, the conversation only picking up once they knew for sure that he was gone.

It wasn't long before Shinsou returned to the front of the house, a folded piece of paper in hand.

"I counted the inventory." He reported.

The barista clumsily grabbed the information from his new coworker, pushing past him to move into the back rooms.

"Thanks." He weakly replied, not even really bothering to check if Shinsou could hear him. "I'm going to take a quick break. Just... do what you want for the time being."

---

Shigaraki stared quietly at his phone as he walked, its light reflecting off his annoyed expression as he read its contents for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

"Meiji Shrine. Yoyogi Park. Midnight. Bring your friends with you. Don't be late."

He felt his gloved fingers tighten around the thin plastic clamshell of the device, his grip causing the flimsy material to distend ever so slightly. This wastrel of a human being having the nerve to order him around like a dog... He knew that was his lot for now, but it still stung every time he was forced to acknowledge the reality in front of him. His free hand reached up to his neck, scratching furiously in a bid to relieve the oncoming frustration faster than it could build.

"We're in the same boat, boss." The stoic interjection rang from Magne, who was just a few feet behind him. She slightly quickened her pace to set herself beside him, though being wary enough to stay just out of arm's reach of him. "Overhaul has been getting antsier as of late. And we'd all still like to repay him for killing Dabi."

"I'm aware. I don't have time for friendly fire." He relayed, his seething tone carrying just the slightest tinge of reassurance. "We'll just meet up with him and leave. He'll reap what he sows soon enough."

"I'm really excited to meet him again!" Twice chirped, scanning the surrounding grassy areas for any sign of hostility. "I've been looking forward to it all day."

Mr. Compress sighed, holding his cane up to point at the all-black clad villain next to him.

"Twice, my comrade, I understand sometimes the things that come out of your mouth aren't as things are, but I must ask that you choose your words carefully if you decide to speak up." He intoned.

"Hey!" Toga turned around, shooting a pouting glare back at the magician. "Don't get on his case for something he has trouble helping!"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort." He held his hands up, shaking his head. "It's just that we're not in the position to get into a fight quite yet, let alone make him a target."

"Shiggy!" The young girl cried aloud, pointing her knife accusingly at the gentlemanly villain. "Make him stop bullying Twice!"

"All of you just shut up." Came the reply, causing them all to continue their journey in complete silence.

The leader of the now subjugated League of Villains slammed his phone shut, stuffing it in his pocket as he continued his trek through the closed park. They stuck to the concrete paths, following them as they moved between large swathes of ginkgo forests, and across small wooden bridges over the handful of small lakes that dotted the park's topography. Eventually, they made their way to a pavilion of sorts that split into two exits- one led to the large crosswalk leading back to the densely packed apartment complexes and shopping centers of Shibuya, while the other proudly announced itself with a large wooden Torii gate, inviting the group deeper into a path leading deeper into the forest with the promise of a spiritual destination.

The road past the Torii opened wide, a large and rough concrete path that was surrounded by stone tile paving on either side, just large enough for two people wide. The villains kept themselves on the paved path, only diverging when the path split into two and another gate directed them to their destination. Along the way they passed a large array of sake barrels, stacked high and decorated with lavishly colored designs. Opposite of those lay a wooden rack of burgundy wine barrels, each one emblazoned with a plaque, written in French. The final gate led to a new courtyard, surrounded on all sides by a large wooden wall, and a giant pair of closed doors facing opposite of them.

"It seems they have closed for the night." Mr. Compass announced, resting his frame against his cane as he tilted his head towards his leader. "I don't assume we were expecting our generous benefactor to allow us passage into the shrine proper?"

"...Maybe we gotta get inside?" Toga asked, shrugging.

"I mean, we ain't got a lot of ways to do that." Magne shrugged. "Boss and I could break it down easy, but I don't think we can really get away with destroying the thing."

"Let's... avoid doing that." The magician slowly contested. "I wouldn't appreciate the destruction of a place such as this. It would be unbecoming of me."

"If Kurogiri was here, we wouldn't have a problem with this!" Twice sighed, putting his hands on his hips. "It's a shame he's still locked up in Tartarus-"

The black and grey villain immediately cut himself off, covering his mouth in a feeble attempt to shove the words back into his mouth. Everyone froze, their heads snapping towards Shigaraki as he stood square in the middle of the final Torii gate, facing away from all of them.

The leader of the League remained stone still, but that didn't prevent the rest of the villains from feeling the hair on the back of their necks rise as beads of sweat formed on their brows. They eventually heard a sigh.

"We're locked out of that route, can't do anything about it now." He shook his head, continuing to look away. "And we may have to just leave him behind. Let's just figure out what we're supposed to do here."

He pressed forward, leaving everyone else in an uncomfortable silence as the distance between them grew. Despite his spoken words, their instinctive fear did not subside, and they knew very well to listen to what it had to say when dealing with the former protégé of All for One.

They eventually followed his lead, quickly catching up to their leader. They regained their formation, casually making their way towards the large wooden door.

Then, just as they crossed the center point of the courtyard, all hell broke loose.

From behind and within every auxiliary building dotting the entry courtyard burst forth a tidal wave of armed men, assault rifles pointed at the group of surprised villains. They eventually settled into a semicircle formation, with at least a few dozen of them lined up behind each other.

There was no way for any of the members of the League to make a move without subjecting all of them to a volley of bullets. The group remained in place, unable to even take a defensive stance as they waited for the other shoe to drop.

The apex of their formation split into two, giving the troupe a view of who was the apparent leader of this operation, and unsurprisingly it was none other than their unyielding master, Overhaul.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Shigaraki grunted angrily, fingers twitching wildly at his hips.

"Not at all, this is simply an expression of power. It seems you only answer to that." The leader of the Yakuza replied, grabbing his mask to press it deeper into his face. "You seem to be lagging behind on your given task."

"You're asking us to find a single unidentified vigilante in the largest city on the planet. You've given us no clues aside from a codename and a costume." The leader hissed back, his composure quickly crumbling as irritation began to seep into his nerves. "If I could simply pay to reduce the wait time on this job, I would have done so already. You can't rush this."

"I don't think you understand the position you're in." Overhaul droned back, clearly uninterested in the excuse given to him. "As it stands, you're in the same amount of danger as the rest of us. You do work for me, after all. Yet why is it that I haven't heard a single report from you?"

"You can cram your reports up your-"

"If I may..." Mr. Compress smoothly stepped forward, swinging his cane between him and his leader as if to separate them. "We didn't think it prudent to waste your time with empty reports. We are scouring the streets, but if you would like us to report exactly where we looked, we would be happy to oblige."

"And how exactly are you getting your reports?"

"That would be our dear comrade Twice, over here." The magician smoothly explained, pointing at his compatriot with a flourish. "He's got the astounding ability to clone himself indefinitely- and we have been using it to create a sizable force of scouts who line the streets, looking for anyone who fits the description or appearance of Jackrabbit. He's quite invaluable."

"Really, then?" The Yakuza boss disinterestedly replied, turning to face the black and grey clothed villain. "Twice, was it? How has your search progressed so far?"

Now at the center of attention, Twice seized up, audibly gulping as he tried to force the right words to come out of his mouth. Then, without a second thought, he blurted out-

"I haven't found Jackrabbit yet!"

The villains' hearts froze solid in their chest as they did their best to betray any sort of worry in their minds. They all knew, they knew, this wasn't the voice of Jin Bubaigawara simply lying- the way he said it, it was clearly his tic forcing him to say the opposite of what he knew was true. Each of them stoically prayed that the mentally frazzled Overhaul would simply take his words at face value, hoping that the spiritual presence just on the other side of those wooden doors would aid them...

After a tense period of silence, they were met with an exasperated sigh from the Yakuza boss.

"...I see. From now on I want you to make notes of exactly where you searched. I expect a nightly report from your leader on your movements."

Twice snapped into a taut salute, limbs trembling as he shouted out. "Y-yes sir!"

Casting one more glance to the group of villains before him, the plague-beaked man waved his hand, shooing them away.

"You may go. I expect results next time."

The group quietly turned around, feeling the guns trained on their backs as they slowly sauntered towards the gate. They were just on the precipice, about to leave when they heard their owner call out once more.

"Actually, wait. There's one more thing."

The group collectively stopped, turning to face the Yakuza boss. From behind the rows of armed guards, they watched as he slowly removed a glove from his hand.

"There is one thing that concerns me." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small bottle of hand sanitizer. He turned the bottle downwards, squirting out a small pool of the liquid onto the stone pavement in front of him.

"What is it now?" Shigaraki pushed the words through his gritted teeth, bringing his fingers up to his neck to scratch the rough, leathery skin.

"I'm beginning to wonder if perhaps I'm letting you run too loose of a ship." Overhaul squatted down, staring at the tiny puddle of cleaning liquid on the ground. "After all, your performance reflects directly onto me, does it not?"

"What are you suggesting?" Mr. Compress called out, once again providing a more negotiating voice than his leader. "I'm sure if there is actionable feedback, we'd be more than happy to-"

"What I am suggesting is that since I am responsible for your outcomes, I must take it upon myself to prune those who are too undisciplined to be effective dogs for my purposes."

The magician felt a pit forming in his stomach. He had an inkling of what was to happen, the pieces slowly fitting together in his mind.

Overhaul pressed his bare finger into the small pool of hand sanitizer, wincing in disgust as his skin made contact with the rough pavement. Almost immediately, the ground swelled up under his finger, the small mount rushing forward, weaving in between the feet of the armed guards in front of him. It began to grow in size, ballooning to the size of a watermelon as it stopped right in front of the gentlemanly villain. Then, without any noise or fanfare, the swelling burst into a rectangular pillar rushing upwards at an angle, straight for his head.

The rest of the League could only watch as in that instant, the stone smashed against his face. The magician flew back, his splayed limbs skidding against the concrete as he painfully grinded to a halt. His cane clattered to the ground, rolling in a small circle to stop against the front of Shigaraki's shoes.

Magne immediately rushed over to their fallen comrade, pulling his torso up as she took stock of the injuries. His mask was shattered, bits of it digging into his skin and exposing his balaclava. Miraculously, he was still breathing, small bubbles of blood escaping his lips as he unconsciously drew and expelled air.

"I will not tolerate someone who is so undisciplined as to casually speak over those above him. I will not have this disorder fester under my ranks. That will be my only warning. If you fail to get your subordinates under control, then I will take more drastic measures. You are dismissed."

The group remained quiet, unsure of what to do. They were all snapped back to reality as Shigaraki slowly turned, bending over to pick up the cane with his gloved hands before quietly passing through the gate. He crept back down the path, towards the mass of buildings shining down on them from above the treeline. The rest of his group silently followed suit, with Magne picking up the unconscious villain and slinging him over her shoulder.

"He was..." She trailed off, her dulled voice cutting through the silence like an ice pick. "He was just looking for a reason to punish us, wasn't he?"

"Yeah..." Shigaraki hissed, unwilling to expand any further on the matter.

"He..." Twice echoed, feeling a knot begin to form in his throat. "I sh-should have said s-something..."

"It was going to happen anyway, don't get worked up over it." Magne quietly replied, a heavy weight settling on her voice as her shoulders slumped. "Overhaul is getting desperate, with how much he's lost so far. We'll just have to tough it out."

She grunted quietly, readjusting the gentlemanly villain's body on her broad shoulders. She looked down at Toga, who had been uncharacteristically quiet at the moment.

"Himiko..." Magne moved next to her partner, placing her free hand on the younger girl's shoulder. "If you wanna-"

"No." She cut her off, not even waiting for her to finish as she slapped the comforting hand off of her. "What I want to do is string that bastard up by his feet and make him bleed from his head. I want to skin him alive, and tan it so I can use the tatters to tie him up while I slice him into little pieces. I'm going to tear open his stomach and make him eat his own intestines-"

She cut herself off running forward to cut off her leader. She planted her feet on the ground, forcing the entire group to halt as she confronted her boss.

"We can't just let this happen! Are you going to just stand there?!" She swung her bare fist down in a stabbing motion, thumping him in the chest. The other two villains paused in shock, waiting to see what would happen.

"What happened to the guy who wanted to destroy society, huh?! He never would have walked away like this! Say something, you idiot!"

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt Shigaraki's rough fingers clench her outstretched wrist, putting it firmly into an iron grip. She looked up, only just then noticing her boss's neck- it had been scratched so deeply that the rough, cracked flesh was torn open, profusely dripping blood onto the white t-shirt that was slowly changing color from the top-down. Looking up just a bit further, she finally witnessed his searing rage, red eyes blazing and ignited by an anger so profound that she couldn't begin to fathom its depth.

Despite that, she knew that his feelings weren't directed at her- they all knew who it was really for.

"I want to get back at that bastard." He spat, fiery bursts of malfeasance exuding from his mouth with every syllable. He pushed her fist off his chest, letting go just as he threw it back to her. "You're only going to get the gibs I leave behind after I'm done with him."

"Boss, I want a piece of him too," Magne began, keeping her distance, "but what are we going to do?"

He shoved his hands into his pockets, fishing out his phone. He quickly got to work, opening the browser as he rapidly typed on his keypad. Within a few seconds, he had pulled up the Jackrabbit fan site, holding the screen outwards as he showed his subordinates the wildly moving chat room.

"We can't get at him yet- that's more than fine." The blue-haired leader hissed as he turned the phone screen back towards himself, eyes scrolling wildly as he tried to keep up with the conversation. "This place right here is full of rabid fans of his- and no connection to us, either."

"...I'm not sure what you mean." The large woman replied, looking back up at her boss with a look of confusion on her face.

Shigaraki felt the corners of his mouth pull back, forming a disgusting grin that caused his skin to crack even further. His smile went from ear to ear, the tension so much that it caused the skin on his neck to widen even further, causing a fresh spurt of blood to jet out and splatter on the white backlit screen.

"I'm saying we give the people what they want- some places where there's a lot of Yakuza in need of fragging." He felt a peal of laughter crawl up his throat, his words dripping with a cruel joy. "We know for a fact that our dear friend Shinsou is watching, he'll be more than happy to pass the news along to our new ally. Or perhaps..."

He trailed off, hunching over the phone as he began furiously tapping on the number pad, composing his message as quickly as he could. He felt a sense of liberation build within him, as if he was finally beginning to take his life back into his hands. Yes, that's what it was! It was the end of the League of Villains as a subsidiary of the Eight Precepts of Death, and the beginning of their reclamation of the mantle left for them by All for One.

With a sense of true elation in his chest, Shigaraki pressed the send button with all his might. The moment he confirmed the message was sent, he slammed the phone shut, not even bothering to wipe off the droplets of blood that tainted his screen. He looked back at his shocked companions, feeling truly proud of himself- something he hadn't felt in a very long time.

"I'm thinking... perhaps something even better will come of this... We'll have to see."

---

All for One idly tapped on his armrest, sighing wistfully as he rested his head against his free hand.

Life had become so boring. Utterly, truly mindless.

But that was to be expected. Tartarus was the lowest pit that this society could build, reserved only for the vilest of the vile, and completely devoid of privileges that even most prisoners could enjoy. His room was little more than a cube- what color they were was unknown to his infrared sight, but he could assume they were some shade of white. Wedged in opposing corners of the simple room was little more than a dingy bed and a toilet/sink combination, though both items went largely unused due to his confinement to his wheelchair.

He removed his hand from his armrest, pressing his fingers against his leg, squeezing the limb tightly. His muscle mass was still largely intact; while most of his healing quirks were dedicated just to keeping his heart beating, what little reserve they had sought to stave off the atrophy caused from his state. It allowed him to walk for a very short period of time, though no more than a few moments- his fight with All Might had reduced that time even further, scrapping any real chance he could have for an escape.

His only active connection to the outside world was a rather curious one. His guards were specifically assigned to him, living in a bunker on the surface of the prison and switched out at regular intervals. He had attempted to speak to each of them- probing their mannerisms and reactions as he slipped honeyed words into their ears. None of them proved receptive in the slightest; they had proven to be little more than stone statues, only moving to action once a nurse came in to switch out his TPN and colostomy bags.

That is, save for one of his dedicated watchdogs- he had practically barely eked a greeting from behind the unused food tray slot before being almost overwhelmed with an avalanche of profuse praise and words of inspiration. In what was his most prolific (and only) conversation in years, he learned all that he could about this guard- she was quite the fan of villains but had no ability of her own to become one or support another. She instead resolved to become a guard at this very facility, so she could observe and study her childhood idols up close.

Her words stuck clearly to the insides of his skull: "It's like having a collection of the best action figures in your room, all neatly organized and preserved in pristine condition."

Now that she was personally assigned to his detail, she could not resist striking up a conversation- and now that he was able to speak with someone, neither was he. Naturally, an arrangement was struck. In exchange for her gathering benign info on the outside world and keeping him up to date, he would recount some of the many exploits and accounts of his heyday. This "story for story" deal had been working like a well oiled machine for the past few years, the two of them heavily enriched from it.

Truth be told, it dismayed him greatly to know that his protégé had been reduced to an even more pathetic state than what he was left in. But he couldn't say he wasn't surprised; he was never able to fully cultivate his hatred towards a suitable nemesis- none had ever formed. Without a clear goal for himself, he languished in his own chaos, unable to adequately make any ideals of his own. He doubted that he was able to recruit the help of the doctor Garaki or Gigantomachia in the state that he was, knowing that they had already objected to his choice to give his mantle to the erratic and ill-trained boy.

When he was finally arrested, he was strong in his conviction that Bakugou would rise up and become the shining hero for his adoptive child to rally against, but it clearly wasn't to be. The blonde idiot refused the successes granted to him, squandering every opportunity he had and somehow blundering those that were forced upon him. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that he absolutely despised that failure of a human being, and it was no surprise that Shigaraki wouldn't be able to truly realize himself when pitted against what was little more than an attack dog determined to gnaw its own legs off. He had no doubt that putting any stock in that waste of flesh's success was his greatest regret.

The former mastermind's thoughts were slowly intruded on as he heard something rather unusual from the other side of the door- footsteps, what sounded like an entire platoon of them coming down the hall at a rapid pace. His head snapped to its side as he heard the machine gun turrets in the corners of his ceiling power down, their motors whirring down as their barrels slumped, hitting their walls with a dull thud.

He heard the sharp clack of steel-reinforced boots as the guard outside of his door snapped to attention. He wasn't sure what exactly was happening- the numerous possibilities rushing through his head gave him a rush of excitement, manifesting as a twitching smile that crawled up his face like a spider on its web.

Somewhat expectedly, the door to his cell was thrown open by the guard on duty, allowing for them and a group of some odd twenty people to flood into his room and surround him. They were all wearing casual clothing, only linked by the fact that they all wore what appeared to be the same sort of hoodie. It didn't take him long to start piecing things together.

"...Am I to assume that you lot are all wearing blue and white?" He smiled wider, pointing to the webbed scarring that covered the empty sockets where his eyes used to be. "You'll have to forgive me for not being as... perceptive as I used to."

"You would be correct." A solemn voice confirmed from the back of the group. The group circling him split apart just long enough to allow him to the front, his facial features obscured by the medical mask tightly pulled against his face. "I was told you have had previous encounters with us, I guess that confirms it."

"I believe this is the first time that anyone from your organization has attempted to speak with me." He noted.

"We normally don't for people we believe to be threats."

"Does this mean you don't consider me a threat any longer?"

"You tell me." The man replied, pulling out a small canister from his pants pocket. "Do you still consider yourself to be a threat to the world?"

"Perhaps not." All for One admitted, the smile on his face only slightly fading. "What is your name?"

"You may call me the Caretaker."

The word rang very familiar in the villain's head, bringing back a good deal of memories of his conversations with the Failure that had rescued him many times from the group in front of him.

"Am I to take it that you finally succeeded?" He asked, lightly tapping the front of his armrest. "Has your precious Avatar produced themselves?"

"He has, and he's more exquisite than I could have ever imagined."

The caretaker's smile widened behind his fabric mask, its obscured form rivaling even that of All for One's.

"What do you plan to do with him?"

"He'll purify this country. He's been working quite hard to do so, and the fire he's kindling has just begun to spread."

"You wish to burn away the imperfections, then." The villain concluded. "I take it your willingness to tell me these things means you intend to kill me?"

The Caretaker unscrewed the top of the canister, tilting it to allow four syringes to slide out onto his palm.

"We've already taken care of your doctor associate. I was asked to kill you with the turrets in your room, but I couldn't have a ruckus being caused." He informed the wheelchair bound man, removing the safety cap off of one of the needles. "We settled on something quiet and painless, which I'm sure is probably not how most of your enemies would prefer you to go out."

"How thoughtful." All for One smiled, tilting his head. "It would make quite a few people angry. Do you mind answering a few questions for me? In exchange, I'll accept your sentence."

"I'm surprised you would be so willing to accept."

"Alas, I am but a man with nothing aside from his curiosity. You and the heroes have seen to that."

The Caretaker paused, considering the proposal for a moment.

"State your questions. Don't make it too long."

All for One chuckled, raising his hands as he shook his head. "No need to worry, I have only three. Why did you decide to kill me now, of all times? You must have known that I was here for quite some time."

"You've been a thorn in our side for longer than I've been alive, that is true. Most of our leadership was content with letting you rot here. However, we received word that you spoke of us during your last visitation. Originally, there were calls for a public execution, but once we confirmed you didn't reveal much, I managed to talk them down to something more... reasonable. This is simply a measure to make sure you don't give them anything more."

"Thanks for giving a thorough response. Your rationale is understandable, I suppose. If I were in a similar position, I would have done the same."

"Next question." The Caretaker demanded, clearly not interested in All for One's input.

"Right. When you spoke of the Avatar, I noticed something peculiar about you all. Your bodies... they began producing more heat, not unlike people in love. But you, Caretaker..." He pointed at the man in question. "...You reacted the most intensely of anyone here. What exactly do you think of the Avatar personally?"

"You could ask any of us, and we would all say that we love him. But..." He tilted his head slightly downwards, pressing his free hand against his chest as he gripped the syringes more tightly. "I love him the most of anyone in the world."

"Spoken like a true fanatic... though I'm inclined to say that you may be correct."

"You've got one more question. Make it count."

"I'm sure you already know what it is." All for One leaned forward. "Who runs your organization?"

"Well, we aren't exactly allowed to say his name."

"Then allow me to rephrase the question. The things my allies have said about your group seem impossible, even in the world we live in today. Your leader... are they a human?"

"...No."

"Then I have the answers I need. Please feel free to carry out your execution."

"Very well." He replied, before pointing to the bed perched in the corner of the room. "Are you able to lay yourself down? I'm sure it would be more comfortable for you."

All for One shook his head, smiling. "That won't be necessary. I'd rather not waste time by dealing with these blasted tubes. There's an entry port right below the main saline bag."

The Caretaker nodded, quickly moving behind the wheelchair and finding the tube the fallen villain mentioned.

"I understand I've expended my questions, but if you wouldn't mind informing me how you plan to kill me?"

"We got our hands on some quirk-erasing drugs just for you. We also have pentobarbital and pancuronium to knock you out and stop your breathing, and cyanide to quickly kill your heart. You won't feel the last one."

"Preferable to hanging, I suppose." All for One tilted his head back, resting it against the top of the wheelchair. "I offer my best wishes for your new world. Perhaps I will be reincarnated to see it surpass my life's work as punishment."

The Caretaker didn't immediately respond, slowly sticking in the first syringe into the IV drip. He double checked the line, making sure it led to the crippled villain's wrist before pressing down on the plunger and administering the sickly black ichor.

"One can only hope," he agreed.

---

In a previous era, it wouldn't have been unusual to see Yakuza clans work openly in broad daylight. Many of them operated as at least nominally legitimate businesses. It wouldn't have been unusual to see offices in the areas they ruled, many of them even having plaques that proudly displayed their clan's name for the public to see. Some had even been set up right next to police stations, as a jeering way to express that they were so untouchable that they could stand right up to those sworn to take them down without the slightest worry of retribution.

That era ended long ago, just when the advent of heroism and villainism took over. Subterfuge and dense corporatism gave way to the bombastic theatre of explosions and catch phrases, with the tightly knit and organized groups slowly losing their influence as the communities that supported them were dragged into the lurid fanfare. Had it not been for the timely and decisive direction Overhaul had implemented, they would have surely gone extinct.

One of the first things to go was the concept of "open business." They still needed fronts, but no longer were they going to gaudily dance in the open, mocking those who wouldn't dare step foot in their domains.

One such change happened in Yokohama. Not far from Chinatown, with its colorful Pairo gates and hundreds of red and yellow neon-doused restaurants and shops from the mainland, lay an office building. It was rather nondescript, nestled between a few cheap hotels and right across the street from a worker's union office. Its exterior was a mix of black and white, accented by a few balconies that jutted out from the main office, providing easy access to a smoking area while on the job. Just outside its front door, a small black and bronze plaque read "Executive Management Advisory Group."

This sign, in fact, was currently in the process of being wedged off a wall, a heavy metal crowbar smashing into the concrete wall behind it with a loud clang!

It didn't take long for the metal to give way, creaking and groaning as it distended from the leveraged force being exerted on it. It wasn't long before it snapped off with a clean pop, clattering to the ground as it jittered back and forth.

The assailant looked down and saw their reflection in the vandalized plaque; green jumpsuit, white gloved and bearing those familiar rabbit-like ears that sprung off his head with an eagerness to move. A pair of excited whispers behind him grabbed his attention, looking wide-eyed at a couple who had leaned in close to one another, clearly recognizing him from the news stories. He couldn't help but notice that they looked rather excited, one of them even snapping a picture as they ran off, scurrying back into the business hotel they had initially left.

Saying nothing, Jackrabbit returned to the task at hand, moving past the small entrance and towards the black metal doors that blocked his way.

He tested the doorknobs- locked, as expected. He pulled out a flask, stepping back slightly as he poured its contents out onto the metal attachment. He watched intently as the knobs began to smoke profusely, fizzling away before his eyes. Once the safety bolt was exposed, he splashed a bit more onto the security mechanism, watching a similar reaction unfold. After that, all it took was a solid kick to the doors, watching as they flew back with no resistance.

The sudden intrusion surprised the guard sitting at the desk right next to the door. He scrambled to his feet, yelling in surprise as he struggled to pull his gun from his holster. He was just able to free it in time to see the masked vigilante slide out from behind the door, arm stretched wide behind his back. He twisted his torso, using his shoulder as a kind of slingshot to swing the crowbar directly into his skull. The killer watched as the man's skull caved in from the impact, his gun clattering to the ground as the rest of his body followed suit.

The crowbar refused to let go of its catch, causing it to slip out of Jackrabbit's hand as the weight caused him to stumble a little. He stopped his fall by catching himself on the desk, quickly recovering and jumping over to grab his tool once more. He pressed his foot against the dead man's skull, grunting loudly as he twisted the metal instrument to the side, watching it pull freely with a wet crunching noise.

He looked at the bloodied end of the weapon, pausing as he saw the bits of bone and flesh cling to the crowbar. He looked back down at the man's head, letting out a shaky breath as the light exposed the large hole in his skull and the grey matter that lay beneath. He wildly shook his head, looking away as he quickly grabbed the discarded gun next to him. With that, he continued into the building.

The first floor was pretty much empty- something that was to be expected at this time of night. However, the second floor had much more inside of it. The halls were littered with the sort of keepsakes that the Yakuza valued- inherited wooden plaques, portraits, ceremonial weapons, pottery - the sort of memorabilia that cemented the familial aspects of the clan.

None of it was beyond destruction. With his crowbar, glass panes were shattered, the ancient artistry was either torn or splintered, the delicate and brittle weapons bent and snapped into two. The clay vases were shattered and their contents, be they ash or water, thrown callously onto the tile floor and mixed together in a disgusting sludge. It wasn't long before the destruction attracted attention.

"What the hell is going on out there?!" One of the nearby doors slid open, the head of a rather burly man popping out to discern the cause of the ruckus. His eyes widened as he saw the green figure practically jump, rushing forward and swinging his crowbar once more in a wild fashion. The spiked metal tip collided with his jaw, a clean snap resonating as he reared back in pain.

He watched as the assailant rounded the corner, frantically gearing up for another strike- this time, he was ready for it. He brought up his forearm, thrusting it out to catch the wrist of his attacker. With his free hand he grabbed Jackrabbit's neck, feeling his fingers squeeze against the warm flesh as he was rewarded with a pained gurgling noise.

The Yakuza lifted him off the ground, watching the assailant's feet begin to flail wildly as his access to air was cut off. His grip intensified on the man's neck and wrist, a smile forming on his face as he felt the bones begin to creak under the immense pressure.

It was too late that he realized that he left Jackrabbit's other hand without restraint- by the time he realized it, he could only watch as the struggling vigilante pulled the gun out from between his waistband and back, bringing it up just high enough to fire a round of bullets from his chest up to his head. His head went slack, grip loosening as he fell to his knees.

The assailant tore himself free from the chokehold, gasping for air as he stepped back in order to avoid getting caught as the Yakuza slowly slumped onto the ground.

He wasn't given any time to recover- almost as soon as he freed himself, he heard another voice shout from the hallway.

"He's in here!"

The sound of a gun being cocked was the only warning he had. Jackrabbit quickly dove behind a desk, hearing the sound of bullets raining through the other side of the wall as they made a line from one end of the room to the next.

One of the bullets whizzed by, bouncing wildly off the concrete wall and sinking right into his leg with a gruesome crunch. He could feel his mouth open to scream, only stifled by his hands snapping up to muffle it before it could be heard. Breathing in deeply, he slowly dragged himself across the room, listening closely just in case anyone else tried to bust into the room. He quietly made his way to another exit, staying prone as he quietly cracked the door just wide enough to see what was on the other side.

It was the same hallway he had come from, but down quite a bit from where he was now. He opened it just wide enough to pop his head through-

There were two very young Yakuza on either side of the door he came in through, each holding a submachine gun close to their chest as they apparently waited to hear if they shot the intruder or not. Neither of them had noticed him.

Deciding not to waste the opportunity, Jackrabbit pushed the door open wider, sliding his arms through and holding the gun straight out towards his targets. He winced as the carpet rubbed against his fresh wound, but it didn't stop him from pulling a trigger. The jolt of pain from the first shot was enough to cause him to miss, but thankfully these people were clearly undertrained- if not completely new to the family. They both recoiled in shock, giving the assailant time to compensate as he fired another volley of shots into his targets. The ten or so bullets left in the vigilante's magazine was enough to riddle them with holes and bring them down.

Jackrabbit grabbed the frame of the sliding door, using it to pull himself to his feet. He limped over to the duo, taking a good look at them from above.

They really were extremely young- both of them looked almost like they were fresh out of high school. One had blood leaking from his mouth, eyes glassy and dark, staring wide at the ceiling. The other one was still barely alive, chest heaving wildly as he stared at the killer standing over him.

The masked vigilante quickly knocked the gun from his still-living victim's shaking hand, walking away only briefly to grab the crowbar he left by the corpse of the much larger gangster. He dragged it along the floor, watching as the blank eyes of the young Yakuza slowly grew more and more fearful. A babble of weak pleas for mercy sprang from the bubbles of blood coming from his mouth, but they were only met with the sound of Jackrabbit's knees planting themselves on either side of his chest.

Seeing the crowbar raised over his head, the young man screamed.

"Mama!" he cried, voice full of agony as his bleeding chest was wracked with sobs.

The crowbar halted its defense for just a moment, the silent pensiveness cut short with a quick shaking of the head as Jackrabbit pulled back even farther.

The young man didn't bother with any further please, whimpering as he saw the bits of meat and bone on the tip of the murder weapon join with his own. Cruelly, the first impact didn't do the job, a searing pain wracking his skull as the weapon pulled back for a second strike... and a third... and fourth...

His vision was going red, and in his last moments he saw Jackrabbit hyperventilating, before yelling as he brought down the weapon a final time.

The vigilante kneeled there quietly for some time, holding tightly onto the crowbar that stuck out of the Yakuza's horribly disfigured face. With a deep breath, he pushed himself back to his feet, the blood coated crowbar pulling out much more easily than before. He did a quick round of the rest of the building not finding any more personnel to speak of. He continued his process of destroying all possible sentimental items, before breaking into the executive office to wrench the computer's hard drive from its tower. Satisfied with the job, he staggered down the stairwell, exiting the front door and leaning against the wall where the building's plaque used to be.

He shakily pulled out his phone, dialing the first number on speed dial.

"I did it." He sighed, his shoulders slumping as the words left his mouth. "It's done. Come pick me up."

Almost immediately, a white van came screeching around the corner, slamming to a stop right in front of the entranceway. Jackrabbit slumped to the vehicle, the door opening as an eerie purple light emanated out from the interior. Two casually dressed teens jumped out, hooking their hands under his armpits to help drag him into the vehicle. He slumped against one of the side-mounted bench seats, watching the door slam shut behind him as the vehicle sped off.

He looked around, the neon interior lights casting everything in a smoky violet light. Surrounding him were five or so teens, each looking at him expectantly.

Eventually, his silence caused one of them to react.

"...Hello!" She shouted, waving her palm wildly in front of his face. "Earth to Hibito, you still there?"

Jackrabbit reached up, using his hands to grasp his ears. With a gentle tug, he pulled the mask off, revealing his face to the crowd.

He was just as young as them- definitely in high school. His spiky orange-red hair practically bounced out of the mask once it was free, drenched in sweat yet still defiant of gravity.

"Dude..." Another guy called, leaning in to check on his friend. "You look really roughed up man. Glad you made it out. How was it?"

"I-" Hibito swallowed thickly, looking down at his bloodied gloves. "It was..."

Everyone leaned in, waiting to hear his answer.

"It was fucking AWESOME!" He cheered, practically flailing his limbs in wild joy, cackling as he threw his head back. "Holy shit man! They didn't see a thing coming!"

The group simultaneously cheered, the girl from before grabbing Hibito by the shoulder to roughly jostle him as a kind of congratulation.

Almost as immediately as the celebration began, it was cut off as the spiky haired assailant yelped, grabbing his shin in pain. His leg was still profusely bleeding, the thick liquid staining the jumpsuit down in a long line.

"Oh, quit being such a crybaby." One of the guys jeered. "Want me to kiss it and make it all better for you?"

"Don't make it all fucking weird, Kazuma." Hibito winced, folding back the fabric to expose the wound. "Just hurry up and heal me already."

The boy named Kazuma, a black haired bespectacled kid with long bangs and his hair tied in a bun, leaned over to closely inspect the wound. Once he was satisfied, he unceremoniously spat on the bullet hole, and the group watched as the bullet quickly wrenched itself out of Hibito's leg. It fell to the floor with a dull plonk.

"There we go!" The black haired kid cheered, grabbing the condensed metal slug and holding it out to his friend. "It's like pulling out your first wisdom tooth! The rest of your leg'll heal up here in a few minutes, good as new!"

"Thanks." Hibito sighed in relief, rolling the bullet in his hands. "Dudes, like... my hands are still shaking... You guys need to try this shit out next time."

"I call dibs!" The girl cheerily raised her hands, leaning in to pull Hibito into a tight side-hug. "I got the second longest straw- I wanna go next time!"

"You're really excited, huh Yuzu?"

"Well duh!" She pretended to look offended for a brief moment. "This was all my idea, after all! You're lucky I didn't call executive privilege and just go first myself."

"Fair enough." The spiky haired kid laughed. "I don't have a problem with that."

"So... did the camera make it?" Another light voice rang from the back, coming from a thin, almost spider-like kid from the back.

"Uh- Oh!" Hibito jumped in shock, reaching under the collar of his jumpsuit, the sound of something under his clothes clicking as it was wrenched free. He pulled his hand back out to reveal a small sports camera, positioned with a harness to have its lens look through a conveniently placed hole in the green outfit. "Yeah, looks all good. We should really redesign this when we get the jacket finished- I think the insignia is gonna cover the hole we made."

"That's to be expected." The person replied, their eyes focused on a tablet, the only other source of illumination aside from the neon lights. "This was only a trial run, after all. We'll get the minutiae down pat in time for the next time."

"Well, if that was just a trial run, then..."

Hibito's implied proposal was quickly shot down, in the form of a smack to the back of his head from Yuzu.

"Can it!" She barked out, gritting her teeth. "I said I'm going next, that's that!"

"Alright, alright, geez..." He trailed off, handing the camera to the fourth person in the back of the van. "Learn to take a joke."

"Get better jokes, then!"

"You two really can't stop going for each other's throats, can you?" Kazuma laughed.

"I'm not the one who started it!" Hibito and Yuzu shouted in unison, before quickly looking away from each other with a pouting look on their faces.

The black haired kid had to keep from bursting into peals of laughter at the reaction, looking over to their fourth comrade.

"Hey Junpei, does the footage look good?"

Junpei nodded, their eyes not once moving from the screen. "Yup. The recording is crystal clear, aside from some bits. I can have this edited into something usable in no time."

"I wanna see-"

"Absolutely not." Junpei flashed a glare to their classmate. "Kyoko's driving right now, she shouldn't be left out of this either."

"Fiiiiine." Kazuma sighed, leaning back into his seat. "Did you hear that Kyoko? Put the pedal to the medal and we'll all get to see the footage faster!"

"I just got this license, Kazuma! I'm not gonna, like, run a red light and get us all in trouble." She sighed, having her hand from the front seat. "I'm the only one who can drive here, and I'm sure you all don't wanna walk home after you're done with these raids!"

Her slight outburst was only met with laughter.

"Oh. Oh oh oh oh oh!" Junpei called out, hands shaking with excitement as they stared wildly at the screen. "Uh... guys... something big just happened."

"What do you mean?" Hibito asked, leaning forward.

"So... you know the forum threads where the leaks we got posted? Someone did some research into the firms who own them and managed to dig up some info... they found what looks like a safehouse owned by the same company we just hit. They're only supposed to do commercial properties, but they owned a small apartment complex that's been under renovation for years now."

"So wait..." Yuzu grinned, more excitement pumping into her veins. "You saying we already have a new target?"

"No, that's the thing-" Junpei shook their head. "Someone is already there. They just- what?!"

"Don't leave me hanging!" The girl pouted, furrowing her brow.

"Just- all of you get over here." They waved their friends over. "All of you need to see this now."

---

Bakugou curled tightly under the thick padding of his futon. The lack of air conditioning in his one room apartment meant the damp walls made the whole place suffocating and humid during the hot nights. Even so, he refused to uncover himself, opting to clutch the hem of his blanket and pull it closer, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He clenched his eyes shut as hard as he could, huffing into the pillow beneath him.

Despite the achingly creaky floor underneath him, he couldn't help but feel helplessly adrift in a sea of his own emotions. His confused thoughts washed over him, filling his mouth and strangling his lungs as his anxious imagination grabbed him by the ankles, insistently pulling him deeper into the abyss. He could feel his breath growing increasingly shallower as he continued to ruminate on the events from earlier today. Just the thought of it alone made his heart grow more frantic, insisting that he simply run as fast and as far as he could- damn the consequences.

Something was plainly wrong about that coffee shop. Before, it was simply a place whose only apparent barista served the best coffee in Shinjuku. But now... it was as if a curtain had been lifted from his mind, revealing far more than he probably wanted to know. That... Izuku, that was the name he gave- Izuku knew him from somewhere. But he couldn't quite figure out from where.

He wondered if he ever would find out. The look of the patrons there struck a genuine fear in his heart. Just the memories of it caused a shiver to run down his spine. They looked as if they would all have murdered him on the spot for his transgression. Had it not been for the timely intervention of his cryptic acquaintance, he couldn't quite say if that resolve would have been put into action or not.

He felt his heart quietly quicken its pace, the weak beats languidly pushing the sludge-like blood within his veins. This sensation had plagued him all day, immobilizing him completely while his mind rushed to envision every single thing that could go wrong-

The sudden knock on the door caused his body to convulse rapidly, practically jumping a foot into the air only to land harshly back on his side. The pain he would have felt had been nulled at that moment, adrenaline coursing through his system as his breath fully solidified in his throat. He miserably failed to calm himself, his nerves frying as the rapid banging on his door intensified.

Bakugou rolled himself onto his feet slowly, grimacing as the floor creaked below him. Drenched in sweat, he quietly threw off his comforter, padding his way to the small kitchen-esque part of the apartment. He looked into his sink, grabbing the sharpest looking knife he had. Clutching it closely to his chest, he pressed himself against the wall next to the door. He took a deep breath in through his nose, holding it as a third round of incessant banging shook the poorly secured, hollow metal slab.

"Open the door, Bakugou." A tired, disinterested voice rang from the other side. "It's me."

Almost immediately, the dulled voice of the Biker sent a wave of relief over his body. The rapid shift from tension caused the grip on his knife to slip, the blade clattering to the ground as he clutched his chest.

He spun on his heel, facing the door as he pulled on the handle, opening a crack just small enough to see what lay on the other side. He was greeted with the familiar sight of his own face, reflected in the jet black visor of the helmet of the man in front of him. Seeing no one else, he let the door swing back on its loose hinges, allowing his impromptu visitor in.

"The hell are you here for?" The pro hero grunted, reaching forward to clutch the man's puffer vest as he pulled him into the apartment.

The Biker stood quietly for a moment, using the silence as an opportunity to reach behind him and shut the door. He lifted up his hand, showing Bakugou the heavy duty tote bag he carried with him.

"I brought some things." He simply replied.

"I ain't one for surprises. You could have at least said something if you were gonna drop by."

"I don't have a phone."

"Well- Just-" The blonde angrily let go of his partner, turning around as he threw his hands in the air in frustration. "Do whatever the fuck you want then, I don't care."

The helmeted visitor tilted his head for a moment, before setting the bag down on the ground.

"Do you prefer the lights off?" He asked, pointing to the inactive bulbs in the ceiling.

"Keep 'em off." Bakugou waved his hand flippantly. "They're better like that."

"Is it because you're concerned someone would think you were in here if they saw them on?"

The pro hero turned his head to glare back at the other man over his shoulder.

"Shut the fuck up."

"It's understandable."

"I don't give a damn if you 'understand' it." He bit back, falling back onto his futon and roughly throwing the blankets over him. "If you've got something to say, just say it."

The Biker walked over to an empty section of the wall, kneeling next to an unused outlet. From his tote bag he pulled an electric kettle, producing some bottles of filtered water to fill it with. Within seconds of plugging it in, the light on the kettle's stem turned blue, indicating that it was heating the contents within.

"I apologize for running off so quickly after pulling you out of there." He curled into a squat, patiently staring at the electric device. "There were other matters that I needed to attend to."

Bakugou didn't respond.

"I'm guessing by your current state, you understand that you were in grave danger."

The blonde simply rolled rover, pulling his stuffy comforter over his head again.

"You shouldn't go back to that place."

"Yeah, no shit." The pro hero muttered into the pillow.

"Takamagahara is a sacred place." The Biker quietly said to himself. "Those who guard it jealously do not harbor any mercy for those who transgress on its domain."

"The hell are you mumbling about?"

"It's nothing." He shook his head, watching as the kettle chirped out a shrill beep! "You're safe for now, that's what matters."

The helmeted visitor swirled the pot around for a few minutes, watching as small billows of steam escaped from the spout. Once he was satisfied with the temperature, he reached back into the tote bag and pulled a few more items out- A small paper sachet folded like an envelope, a wooden whisk, and a small rounded cup. He opened the flap of the paper container, pouring a fine green powder into the bowl. Pouring in a small bit of water, he used the whisk to thoroughly mix the two ingredients together, watching as a light green foam began to settle onto the much darker, thick liquid.

Satisfied with his work, he got to his feet and walked over to the prone hero. He kneeled down, folding his legs under his thighs as he rested his rear on the heels of his feet. He leaned forward, tapping his partner on the shoulder through the comforter.

"Here, take this."

Bakugou slowly peeked out into the dark room through the folds of his blanket, eyes settling on the cup held in front of him. He slowly leaned up into a sitting position, grabbing the wide-rimmed vessel as he stared at the liquid inside.

"Matcha?"

"Have some." The Biker nodded, motioning for him to drink it.

"Are you- alright, fine. Whatever." He shook his head in exasperation, taking a precautious sip from the bowl. Almost immediately his eyes widened as the warm liquid coated his tongue, taking another drink as he swallowed the soothing liquid down his throat. "That's different, isn't it?"

"Well, I have some blends from a few prominent tea masters." He admitted, tilting his head back and forth. "This one in particular has worked well to help you recover from intense emotional situations... like panic attacks."

"...What are you trying to-"

The Biker held his hand up. "I'm not trying to say anything. Just enjoy the drink, it's good for you."

"...Fine." He muttered. As he finished off the gift, his eyes moved up and down the mysterious man's figure, his visibly relaxed expression studying every detail he could find.

"So were you into tea ceremonies, or martial arts?"

"Both. What makes you ask?"

Bakugou gestured his now-emptied container at the Biker's legs.

"Not a lot of people can sit Seiza style anymore. Not that I blame 'em since it hurts like all hell to do. Shit died out a while ago for a reason." He placed the cup down on the floor, turning to face his helmeted visitor as he crossed his legs. "So I doubt you came here for just a wellness check."

"...Among other things."

"Well, let's talk about those 'other things,' then. That 'Izuku' person... I think I'm missing something big about him."

"Considering how you can see him when others cannot, I would assume so. Have you done anything aside from going to him directly?"

The blonde shrugged. "Nothing else. I dunno where I should start, really."

"He likely had other connections close to you. Have you considered asking someone like your parents-"

"Not a chance in hell." Bakugou immediately cut him off, shaking his head. "We... ain't on speaking terms."

The Biker hesitated for a moment, watching as the briefest glimpses of shame and regret passed through his red irises.

"...I see. Perhaps this doesn't need to be sought after. Confronting him directly seems... inadvisable at the moment as well. Perhaps we should wait for an opportunity to present itself."

"Actually, I've been wonderin'. You pretty much came out of nowhere and dragged me away from the coffee shop before I even went in." He noted.

"...About that." He paused, placing his hands on his knees as he let out a pained sigh. "Some things... well... There's a best place and best time for everything. And... There's also a worst place and worst time as well. When you were about to go in, had it not been for the delay I caused... things would have been a lot worse."

Bakugou felt a pit form in his stomach as he clenched his teeth. "What do you mean?"

"...You would have died. I don't know why, but... there was something that happened in those few seconds that would have led to death had you been present at the time."

"...You're bullshitting me." The pro hero rebutted, but even he could tell his tone rang insincerely.

"Well, what's done is done. You're alive, that's all that matters."

"...You really think I'm the one that's gonna save everyone?" He scoffed quietly, looking over to the door. "You know who I am, right?"

"I can't say I know much about you, but... I do know you're the key to all of this. Of that I am certain."

Bakugou shook his head, sighing. "Then you really don't know shit. You noticed this ain't the place of a ranked hero, right?"

"A hero won't stop Jackrabbit." The Biker shook his head. "But you won't shake my convictions. Right now, you're the one who is needed."

The blonde stared back at his helmeted partner, completely taken aback by the conviction he had in a failed pro hero. He instinctively wanted to just outright reject what this mysterious person had to say, but his almost prescient abilities made it impossible to say otherwise.

It was at that moment that Bakugou noticed a blinking light, reflecting back at him through the rounded visor of the man sitting in front of him. He glanced to his side, tracing the rays of light back to his phone, plugged into the wall, it's notification light blinking slowly but steadily. He crawled off his futon, going over to the device and pressing his thumb down on the power button to turn the screen on. The notification light blinked away, replaced by a bright red banner that practically shouted its headline back to him.

Breaking news: 18 mins ago

Large explosion in Yokohama, police responding.

"What the hell?" He muttered. He furrowed his brow, feeling an unease settling into his chest as he reread the news briefing. These happened semi-regularly, so it shouldn't be too off-putting... so why were his hands shaking as he read it?

It was only when he looked at the time of the notification that he realized the source of his disturbance.

"This... this came in the exact same time you knocked on the door, didn't it?" He looked back at the Biker, who remained quietly staring at the futon.

Bakugou stomped over, grabbing him by the collar of his puffer vest.

"Answer me, damnit! This-"

He cut himself off, another ping of realization piercing his brain. He quickly opened his web browser, fumbling his way to the Jackrabbit fan site. As the page loaded, a large red banner sprang to life at the top of the page, presenting him with more information.

News Alert: Yakuza hideout believed to be for Overhaul's use has been demolished, following the clearing of a nearby money laundering front. Footage for both in Forums.

"You said it was to protect me from the worst case scenario, right?"

He looked back down at the Biker, his scowl deepening. "So what would be-"

He cut himself off, eyes widening to their brink as he let go of the helmeted man's chest. He could feel his blood freezing in his veins, the last of his movement used to just barely eke out a single "No."

The Biker clenched his fists, resting them against his knees as he continued staring down at the futon.

"It is what it is. I'm sorry."

Just as quickly as his veins solidified, he felt them turn molten as his heart kicked into overdrive. He turned around, scrambling for the door in a frenzied panic. He threw the door open, rushing down the stairs and leaving the destitute visitor right where he left him.

Bakugou ran. Even if the possibility had crossed his mind, all the trains and busses had stopped for the night. He felt his legs burn like fire from his lapse in exercise, but that was the last thing on his mind. He breathed in, deep enough to make his lungs feel as if they were about to pop, trying his best to stave off any sort of fatigue as he retraced the exact same route that he took just the night before.

It had to have been at least an hour of extended sprinting- nothing was fast enough. A part of his brain screamed at him to use his quirk, if only to make the journey shorter... but it was immediately quashed by a visceral fear that only served to increase his adrenaline rush and make his frantic marathon even faster.

By the time he made it to Shounan Kamakura General Hospital, he could only just barely stand. He was scared to his very core, his breath robbed from him as his heart threatened to tear through his ribcage and throw itself onto the floor in brick pavers in front of the doors.

He slowly approached the door, swallowing with a mixture of exhaustion and trepidation as the glass panes slid apart to let him inside. He entered the empty lobby, glancing at the corner he and Tsuragamae had spoken in less than 24 hours ago.

He looked around, before painfully bellowing out, feeling his whole body tremble as he yelled out.

"Is anyone there?! Please answer me!"

The lobby itself was empty, with all of the nurse stations just as vacant as they were last time. He could hear his voice echoing back just slightly over the ringing in his ears. He tried repeatedly to clench his fists, only to fail each time as his muscles refused to maintain their composure.

He slowly stumbled down the hallway closest to him, eventually coming across an intersection facing a bay of elevators. He slumped against the cold metal doors, reaching over to press the button to call the machine to the ground floor. Once it arrived with a sickeningly sweet chime, he slipped between the doors, dragging his finger up from the first floor, second, third, and then finally pushing the button for the fifth.

The ride was achingly slow, driving his erratic vitals to an extreme he didn't think possible. All the sweat he exerted from the run was wicked away by the cool air, only to be replaced with the sweat caused by the fever manifesting from a delirium he was just barely able to stave off.

The moment the doors opened, his suspicions were confirmed. Curled around the fifth floor nurses' desk appeared to be the entire night staff, bound together and gagged to prevent anyone from making a ruckus. There was a chorus of muffled cries as they saw help, only to be quieted as they realized who it was.

Bakugou stumbled past them, feeling their eyes bore holes into his back as they quietly waited for him to find what he was looking for. It didn't take long- two empty chairs sat on either side of the door to room 514, the barest of red speckling along the wall giving a hint as to what may have happened to them.

The pro hero gulped, placing his fingers into the handle and slowly sliding it back to reveal what was inside.

He dropped to his knees; his body unable to support him for any longer. All he could too was prop his torso against the frame as he stared at the room that was supposed to be for Naomasa Tsukauchi.

In an almost cruel mockery of what unfolded, the room looked meticulously cleaned- to a degree that was simply not there in any other part of the hospital. That is, save for the bed.

Lying on top of the pristine white sheets and blankets lay the legs of the infamous detective, atop of which lay the folded clamshell of his personal phone.

Everything above the waist was simply gone, replaced by a horrid smelling, red blotch that pooled in the divots where the man's chest, arms, and head used to exist.

Bakugou could only stare, his body refusing to cast any tears, forcing him to take in the scene in excruciating detail.

It wasn't long before he heard a scream echo through the room and the hallway behind him. It was filled to the brim with rage and despair, mixing into anguish only to separate once more.

It was a sound so alien to him that he didn't realize at first that it was coming from his own mouth.

---

A/N: Well, things certainly seem to be getting out of control. Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out, I've got a ton of plans in store and it's taking me a bit of time to put everything in concrete. Hope you enjoyed it, and I would really appreciate it if you left a comment letting me know what you think!

As always, have a great day!