Rikiya Yotsubashi hated meetings. Hated them. They stretched on and on, filled with worthless platitudes and meaningless promises. And yet here he was, attending one yet again. Wasting his precious time. The Detnaret Corporation could surely have sent someone else in his stead, perhaps one of his many beloved assistants, each so eager to please.
"Mr. Yotsubashi, any thoughts?" One of the faceless, meaningless suits gestured towards where he sat, his long fingers steepled together, elbows resting on the reflective glass table. Rikiya leaned forward, catching a glimpse of himself in one of the similarly reflective windows that lined the boardroom.
His Stress was showing. Just a bit. A smudge, faint and barely noticeable. He closed his eyes.
"It's clear from your report that you're promising some incredible reports. I'm convinced you'll deliver, based on your stellar record so far." The tension in the room dissipated somewhat with those reassuring words. Rikiya stood, facing the window, looking out over the city below. The sky was blue, the sun was shining.
Behind him, the meeting continued. And Rikiya watched the streets below.
Stress. It bubbled up from within him, filled his thoughts with irritation. He contemplated how much of his life was spent with such meaningless wastes of time.
He could feel his quirk, too, at the back of his mind. Feeding off his anger. Using it to grow.
Despite himself, he smiled. He hated meetings. Hated them for their pedantry, their wastefulness. But even more than he hated meetings, he loved being strong. And in the reflective glass of the window, ReDestro's Stress smiled back.
Rikiya was a complex man. His outer shell, his human form, was giddy and often excited. He rarely showed negative emotions, even in situations where they'd be appropriate - or even expected. A business deal that fell through was "a learning experience" or "growing pains," and a sour conversation was instead "the potential for mutual understanding." In truth, though, his emotions were as complex or as varied as the average well adjusted person. He certainly felt pain, or anger, or sadness, or fear. He just processed it very differently than the average person.
His quirk, Stress, did most of his heavy lifting - both emotionally and physically. When he felt stress, his quirk took that emotion and stored it away, feeling its power and growing stronger, hungrier. And when he needed it, it was more than willing to turn that power into raw, impossible strength.
His alter ego, ReDestro, relished that strength. The sheer joy of being able to crush anything in his path. To never fear an ambush or attack - to almost yearn for one, instead, hoping to find an excuse to let his built up power free, damn the consequences.
Sadly, he rarely had an excuse.
His life as a pampered CEO was far from boring, but what little excitement it garnered him was never enough. Not close to what his quirk was suited for. And when the news or conversations turned to heroes, to villains, to large scale fights and catastrophic battles, Rikiya would silently muse to himself, "that could have been me."
Not that he was unsuited to the life he was living, of course. When you can eat your own stress for breakfast, negotiations suddenly become quite a breeze. In truth, his presence was genuinely enjoyed by both his peers and his rivals. His joviality and carefree nature made him easy to like, easier still to work with.
But still, he often found himself thinking, he felt unsuited to this hands off approach. His quirk was designed to be used, not to lie in wait in perpetuity. And after the decades he had spent honing it into a lethal weapon, it was almost a shame to not let himself go once in a while.
And so, as it happened, that is why Rikiya could barely keep a smile off his face as the League of Villains made their entrance. Oh, it was a shame, a real frustrating shame, that they'd managed to make it past the security. He felt the anger of his fallen comrades well up, feeding his quirk. But the anticipation of a good fight, that was more than enough to make him grin.
Finally. An excuse.
The League of Villains looked like they were in rough shape. At least two of the four were visibly unsteady on their feet. Shigaraki himself looked about as close to dead as a living human could reasonably look.
ReDestro took stock of the situation. The Broker, his hostage, was beaten and bloody and tied to a chair a few feet to his left. Rikiya still relished the impact of those blows. It had helped him blow off some steam, and the intel was certainly quite interesting. The League themselves - or rather, the few that had made it this far - consisted of the duplicator, the compressor, Tomura Shigaraki, and another duplicator? Strange. He was told he couldn't duplicate himself.
He felt his grin grow wider. Maybe this fight would be interesting.
Twice, the duplicator of the bunch, began making copies, each aimed at the broker. When one of the assailants lunged for his hostage, ReDestro let some of his Stress go. Just a touch, a flick of a finger, and it was more than enough. Strength filled his hand, and as it carved through the copies, they dissolved into dust and then simply nothing at all.
The force of the impact broke every window on the floor.
Shigaraki dove for him next, but Rikiya was already moving. He let his Stress go even further, up to his shoulder this time. The force of his power expanding outwards would have been too much to bear ten years ago, but years of practice had taught him exactly how much pressure he could apply. And so, the game of cat and mouse began.
Rikiya was still warming up when the tower collapsed underneath his feet. He reacted quickly, letting his Stress cover him, easily shielding his body from the fall. When the dust settled, and the real Shigaraki was all that remained standing in the disparate chunks of concrete and rebar, he couldn't help but laugh. He was just a child, Rikiya mused. A child against the world. It reminded him of himself. Rikiya loomed over him, standing twenty feet tall, and couldn't help but see his own past self in Shigaraki's place. To see someone so desperate to fill shoes that big...
No, he thought. He, ReDestro, the son of Destro, was more than a mindless villain. He had a legacy to uphold, an ideal to work towards. He would bring about the liberation that his father had worked so hard to realize. This villain was simply lashing out. There was no legacy of All For One, or at least, no legacy worth remembering.
"Such a struggle, all from someone so small. So insignificant." Rikiya lifted Shigaraki easily with a single hand that had grown to be as wide as his prey was tall. He turned the villain to face him. "You are no match for me."
Shigaraki spit blood and grinned back. Rikiya simply sneered, and grasped one of Shigaraki's hands between two of his fingers. "Is this the hand that has caused so much suffering?" It only took the slightest pinch to break his hand. A sickening crack and a broken scream echoed through the crater as he continued. "What do you hope to accomplish here?"
"I don't want to accomplish anything," the bleeding villain spat, grimacing. "I just want to destroy. To leave nothing behind."
Rikiya's cell phone, somehow still attached to his belt, beeped urgently, interrupting them. He lazily tossed the boy away, leaving him to contemplate his fate, and carefully answered, taking his time to avoid crushing the phone between his fingertips.
"They have a weapon," came a desperate voice from the other line. "It was a trap. They lured him into the city!" A rumbling crash from outside the crater caught his attention. He could see a large monster, bigger than he was, stumbling as it bashed its way through buildings. It looked almost mournful as it rampaged, strangely enough.
Rikiya took one last look at the dying villain slumped against a broken chunk of concrete, contemplating the situation. He could almost certainly meet this challenge head-on. It was what his quirk was meant for, and truth be told, he would do almost anything to prolong this battle. To see just how far his Stress could go.
But he had greater responsibilities. To the Meta Liberation Army. To Destro. And to himself. He would not become a villain who only lived to destroy. And so, as he let his Stress retreat, escaping into the chaos and rendezvousing with his associates, he would live to fight another day. And he idly hoped that the next fight would be the one that pushed him to his limits.