Mirio let out a sigh of relief as he stepped out of the shower and reached for the fresh towel sitting atop the countertop, neatly folded into a square. He unfurled the cloth and immediately ran it through his hair, ruffling the blond strands as he closed his eyes and retraced his steps through the day in his mind. Everything had seemed to happen so fast, and yet, he felt like he had been out with Dabi for days rather than hours. Though he was filled with mixed emotions surrounding just about everything that had gone on, his mind was preoccupied with a sense of merciful clarity- his headache had disappeared at some point during the shower, and he felt that he could finally think coherently again.

Despite the newfound presence of mind that Mirio had been graced with, he took the opportunity to really stop thinking as he lowered the towel and began to dry off the rest of his body. Rather than consider the implications behind his actions or the fact that he was quite literally naked in the home of an enemy, he instead just looked around and began to take in the mundane details he had missed before. A plastic cup upon the sink had two toothbrushes within it- one a dark red, and the other saffron. Next to the cup was a small plastic container of floss, a single strand hanging out the side. Just to the side of the floss were two small containers of hair dye- black and blonde. Above the sink and sitting within a wire basket mounted to the wall was a shaving razor, as well as a stick of women's deodorant and a spray bottle of men's. The final items of note in the bathroom were a pair of towels hanging from a rack, one in black and one in white.

Something about the items bothered Mirio, though he couldn't quite put a finger on what exactly was so unsettling. He simply knew that something felt off. His stomach churned in a combination of unease and hunger, and he was quick to finish toweling off before changing into the borrowed jeans and red sleeveless shirt that Dabi had loaned to him. Mirio paused for just a moment to look at himself in the mirror as the fog from the shower cleared. Other than his hair being down, everything looked normal. Familiar. As it should be.

It was then, as he turned and stepped out of the bathroom, that Mirio realized exactly what was bothering him about Rizumu's penthouse apartment. It was normal.

The layout of the apartment was incredibly typical, and none of the decorations were all that strange. Directly across the bathroom was a large framed black and white photo of Rizumu herself onstage, showing off quite a bit of tattooed skin as she was perched sideways upon a stripper's pole. That was perhaps the only thing that Mirio found to be somewhat unusual or unique as he made his way down the short hallway- everything else qualified as things he could imagine in any apartment, or even his own dorm.

The walls were all painted a muted off-white, shelves with photos and small ceramic decorations were all about, and the kitchen at the end of the hall seemed pretty typical. Appliances, spice racks, a refrigerator with notes stuck to it, plants along the windowsill. Even the couple sitting at the small circular table in the center of the room seemed entirely normal, by Quirk society standards.

It was enough to make Mirio pause as he entered the kitchen, a single thought on his mind- at what point during the day had he stopped seeing Dabi and his girlfriend as a potential threat to be monitored and more as regular people who just so happened to have ties to the enemy?

"Hey there, stud," Rizumu joked with a smirk as Mirio finally arrived. "You already look a thousand percent better. Let me make you something as a pick-me-up. Eggs and toast?"

Mirio simply stared for a moment in lieu of a response. Again, Dabi and Rizumu had their hands intertwined, the pair of them rested atop the surface of the small table. Dabi had finally removed his coat and hung it over the back of the chair, showing off the patches of burnt flesh all along both of his arms. Rizumu was gently massaging the deadened flesh upon Dabi's wrist with her thumb as he kept his fingers interlocked with hers. It wasn't until he raised a questioning brow that Mirio managed to stop staring and process the question.

"Oh! Uh… yeah, sure! That sounds great!" Mirio insisted as he approached the table. He pulled out a chair and sat down perpendicular to the couple before folding his hands in his lap. "And I feel a lot better. It really was just the suit and the mask, I guess."

"And the crime," Dabi added with a smirk as he watched his girlfriend stand from the table and begin gathering ingredients. "Don't forget the whole 'first time committing crimes' thing. I remember my first. It fucks with you a bit."

"…really?" Mirio asked, his interest piqued.

"Yeah," Dabi said with a smile as he leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up onto the edge of the table. "Stole a candy bar from a convenience store when I was five. Felt so guilty about it that I cried like a little bitch the entire way home, and then didn't even eat the stupid thing. Ended up pawning it off on someone else to get rid of it."

"Wow," Rizumu said with a laugh as she gave Dabi a playful look. "You've come a long way. How do you like your eggs?"

"A very long way," Mirio agreed. "And… scrambled is good. I've actually been thinking about today while I was in the shower, and… you know, I honestly don't feel all that bad about it, knowing what you told me about Jiro. He tried to screw us over, and now he's paying for it. Literally."

The feeling of unease only intensified with how casually the lie came out. Not only did the apartment feel normal- it was beginning to feel comfortable.

"That's the spirit," Dabi encouraged as he folded his hands behind the back of his head. "See? Even the outsiders like us have rules and codes we follow. Most of 'em are unwritten, but everybody knows the list. The biggest one? Don't try to fuck over the people putting in work for you. Never ends well."

"You'll have to fill me in on the rest," Mirio reminded as he turned his attention to Rizumu. "Speaking of- Dabi told me that there are some specific rules for this place that I need to know?"

"Yeah, there are," Rizumu confirmed as she cracked an egg into the frying pan waiting atop the stove. "They're simple in theory, but one of them is difficult in practice. Let's start small- don't touch my girls. This is a nightclub on one side, a strip club on the other side, but it's not a whorehouse. It's a museum. Not a playpen."

"I wouldn't dare," Mirio reassured. "And speaking of… isn't this place a little… unusual? I've never heard of a club like this before, especially connected by a… kitchen?"

"There's a hallway that goes around the kitchen," Dabi explained. "That's where the general public gets filtered into the naughty side of the club… or where they get turned away, as needed. It's the only way inside, other than the direct route through the kitchen. And that's because…"

"…this isn't just a club," Rizumu finished as she cracked another egg. "I mean, it is, but that's not all it is. This little joint, the Glistening Pearl? This is the border between the hero world, the villain world, and the Shie Hassaikai world. I took it over from my parents early last year, and I've been working inside of it since I was a little girl. Think of me as a border guard, and this place as the only point in town where those three worlds brush up against each other outside of open conflict. Lightly touching… but never anything more."

Mirio furrowed his brows, trying his best to make sense of the explanation.

"I'm not entirely sure what you mean by that…"

"The easiest way to explain it is with Rule Two- the difficult one. Do not start shit in my club," Rizumu warned. "Ever, for any reason, no matter who you see. If you do, you're out on your ass. Not just out of the club- out of the Shie Hassaikai."

"Alright, I'm lost," Mirio admitted as he brought up a hand to scratch at his hair. "Why would I start a fight? Getting kicked out is the last thing I want to do. I've got nothing left for me among hero society."

"That's exactly why- all sorts of people come here," Dabi let on. "Yaks, villains, heroes. Big heroes. Turns out all three of those groups love alcohol and pussy. Who would've guessed?"

"…oh," Mirio replied, somewhat at a loss for words. "Big heroes like…?"

"Endeavor, for one, that absolute prick," Rizumu spat as she began to count off on her fingers. "I've seen several. Hawks, Mirko, Gang Orca. Mt. Lady's come by once or twice. Midnight's a regular, surprising no one. I've seen just as many big-name villains, too. They all know that this place is sitting on a knife's edge, and if they dare to push it in either direction, we all come crashing down. They wouldn't dare."

"And that works?" Mirio asked in disbelief. "People just… come through the door and put the outside world aside?"

"For the most part, yes," Rizumu confirmed. "In the history of this establishment, a fight has only broken out twice. Heroes, cops, villains, Yaks- there's an unspoken understanding that when you step through the front door, you enter a different world."

"A world of debauchery," Dabi added, bouncing a foot as he flashed Mirio a grin. "Be it sex, money, drugs, or whatever else."

"Besides," Rizumu added, "not everyone who enters can enter the fun side. More goes on below us than strip shows and overpriced alcohol. Backdoor deals, secret meetings, shady negotiations… this place is a hotspot for that kind of thing. All sorts of people are willing to pay me very well to keep the doors locked and under guard."

Mirio nodded in understanding as Rizumu slid him a plate of hot food.

"Thanks! I think I understand, now. I'll be on my best behavior, here. Promise."

"Of course you will," Dabi agreed as he finally let his feet drop back down to the floor and leaned forward. "Like I said- we're not the villains you're so used to fighting. Sure, we might fuck someone up every now and then, but it's always deserved. The real villains are out there doing far worse things than we are, and from what I can see? Most of the time, heroes don't even know about those people and what they're doing until it's too late."

Tomura Shigaraki sat in a black computer chair, staring into his desktop background of a man in futuristic combat armor holding a pistol in one hand and flag in the other. The light from the screen was the only thing providing visibility in the small, nearly featureless room, though the young man wasn't really looking at the picture so much as staring through it. He reached up to brush his ghost white, scraggly hair from his face before bringing his hand down and scratching at his neck. His flesh itched horribly, and the annoying sensation soon jumped to the side of his lip, where the skin was raw and peeling. Tomura continued to scratch as he sat seething in the dark, working the scraping sound into a rhythm.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway behind him, stopping suddenly. The noises caused pins and needles to creep up Tomura's back, and for a moment, he stopped scratching. He knew exactly who was standing behind him, and he also knew what was about to be said. After taking a deep breath, he resumed raking his nails along his upper chest, eyes fixated upon his computer monitor.

"Still sulking," an echoing voice boomed throughout the area. "It is unhealthy to fixate so heavily upon a single failure."

Tomura breathed in sharply through his nose.

"It's not about a single failure," the man hissed, his voice coming out in a raspy breath full of anger. "It's everything. All of society, every single facet is rotten. Corrupted. In need of cleansing. The so-called heroes do nothing to actually fix it. They're training the next generation with frivolous bullshit and grooming them to become celebrities."

"I warned you, did I not?" the deeper voice asked as its owner walked into the room. "And yet, you foolishly clung to hope, to the point of attempting the U.A. entrance exam. A waste of your time. The path of the so-called 'hero' is anything but, when those who crown said heroes are responsible for the problems their champions set out to fix."

"I wanted to see for myself," Tomura insisted as a heavy hand gripped the back of his computer chair. "It was a waste of time. A total failure. Game Over from the word go… but you aren't doing much better on your quest, are you? Your message at the mall? It's been months. All Might hasn't so much as come looking for you, even though he knows. He has to know it's from you. You know what I think? I think he doesn't even see you as a threat, anymore. There are bigger fish, now."

Tomura shifted and held on to the armrests of his chair for dear life as it was suddenly spun around. For a moment, he felt the icy grip of fear in his chest as he looked up at the towering man standing before him. In the low light from his monitor, he could just barely make out the angular details of the black mask and its respiration hoses upon the man's head as he leaned down to Tomura's level.

"If you think my opening gambit was so ineffective… then I invite you to send the next message, Tomura. Show me how it's done."

Tomura quickly regained control of his breathing before his mouth widened into a smile. He could feel the skin around his lips splitting from the crazed gesture, but the sudden joy at being given an opportunity trumped the stinging pain and resulting itch easily.

"Oh… I've got an idea or two…"

Author's Note:

One, maybe two chapters to the start of U.A.!

-RD