"Oh, Kawajiri..." The gorgeous young lady gasped with no small amount of over-dramatic flair as she flung herself into the arms of the tall, handsome man with the curled reddish-brown hair, nuzzling her face into his shirt as the rain coming down from above swept them both, as if the Gods had decided to punish them for their forbidden love. "You've done so much for me… So, so much..." She even squeezed out some tears, mixing with the rainfall on her compatriot's clothing. "Promise me… Promise me for the love of God that we won't ever have to seperate ourselves again!"

To this, the lean Kawajiri simply placed one dainty hand under the woman's chin and tilted her head upwards so that her large, round eyes were no longer buried in his chest and were now looking straight up at his own brown irises. A broad smile was present, playing upon his face as he held the girl. "Please now, my darling. I shall do everything to make you the happiest lady under the sun for as long as both of us live. I can promise you that." There was nothing more that needed to be said, as the lovers tenderly embraced, shut off to the harsh weather that molested their clothes and hair, not just the wind, but the rain too.

"Annnd, that's a wrap for today!" Called out a voice from just out of the line of sight of the two as a short alarm sounded, and the rain lifted away, the wind suddenly coming to a stop. Ensured that the cameras had finished rolling, the two actors prised themselves away from one another, the man taking a few moments to adjust his shirt as he swept back his mane of curly hair. "Excellent as always, Sako!"

"No problem, sir. 'Tis always an honour, Ms. Wakaba." The long-time actor and heartthrob Atsuhiro Sako nodded as he descended from the set, making his way to a chair where his suit jacket sat. With no pause, he grabbed the jacket, took a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket and, as if performing a magic trick, gracefully drew one from the packet, slotting it into his mouth as he pat down the rest of the pockets for his lighter. Once he found it, which he managed with very little hardship, he was off, with a polite wave to his fellow cast and crew members. "I'll be in my room if anybody needs me. Don't hesitate to stop by."

No one prevented him from leaving as he walked through the double doors out into the hallway of Fugikawa Studios, itself among the most prolific of producers in the modern age. In his time as an actor, of which lasted nearly ten years, Sako had struck up many, many interesting roles in his life, and his current one was almost boring by comparison; Just an upcoming romance, a chick-flick as Sako believed was the slang term for it. For someone of his charm, he was an easy pick for the studio and, with very few jobs currently under his belt in the modern state of the economy, the film had been a relatively easy pick for the man. Anything was better than no work.

"Ah, Sako, you're done." Came a voice from just behind him, as Atsuhiro let out a small sigh. Judith Lynch, the American-born agent who had seemingly come to Japan with the express purpose of looking after Sako's career, because she sure as hell didn't have any other clientele, as far as the man knew. Rumours had floated around the industry that she had hoped Atsuhiro's recent popularity would propel her own fame; If that had been her plan, which seemed doubtful, it certainly wasn't proving to be very successful.

As the two walked alongside each other on the way to Sako's room, the agent sighed with unconcealed exasperation, as she looked to the actor out of the corner of her eyes. "Seriously, Sako? You're still smoking? How many times have I had to tell you it's a bad habit?"

Atsuhiro removed the cigarette from his clamped lips for a few seconds to let loose a puff of smoke, drifting up and vanishing into the atmosphere. "I daresay probably too many."

"Well, you really need to cut it out." The brunette rolled her eyes, probably upset that she was far too short in comparison to her sole client to even consider yanking it out of his mouth. "Those dashing good looks aren't gonna stay around forever, you know, and you aren't helping with habits like that."

"I don't drink, do I?" Was his counter as a good-natured, mischievous grin made itself present on his features. "Besides, Ms. Lynch, the Japanese have had a habit of aging better than some other cultures."

"Uh, yeah. Probably because smoking rates aren't as high. God, you're impossible…" The agent tucked a length of hair behind her hair, keeping a tight hold of her apparently omnipresent clipboard as they walked. "I swear, when I took you on, I didn't realize you were going to be so irresponsible."

"Judith, I was twenty-five at the time. A lot can change in six years, right?"

"Yes, but you're meant to change for the better!" She put extra emphasis on those last three words. "You didn't smoke back then."

"Call it the stress of showbiz."

"I'm sure that would hold up in court when you inevitably run some poor bastard over." The slightly playful bounce was back in the American's voice as the two reached a corridor with a door on one side marked "Sako" in yellow lettering. With a chuckle, the man turned around so that he was now facing his agent and gave her wink as he held open the door.

"Admit it, you wouldn't have me any other way. Anyone else would be far too boring for you."

Judith's smile wasn't quite all-conquering, but it was definitely impossible to keep hidden from the handsome young actor for any longer. "You're probably right there, at least."

"Right-o! Well, then, Judith, please take care and I shall see you later tonight. Is that all fine by you?" A curt nod answered his question, before he quickly closed the door, turning to the peaceful serenity of the small, yet well-stocked and comfortable room. It would have to be, since this was where he ended up spending most of his day when he wasn't on set.

Slowly moving to his dresser, Atsuhiro worked on unbuttoning his white shirt, still slicked wet from the rain earlier, which had in actual fact been generated by one of the crew members who could create storm clouds, a Quirk that seemed almost entirely useless, were it not for his fated career as a backstage hand. Looking in the mirror at himself, Sako pulled the shirt off fully and spent a few lazy moments examining his well-toned body.

It was still there.

"Damn." The man muttered as he brought one finger to the rather hideous and noticeable gash on his left shoulder. "It really doesn't want to heal, does it? How annoying..."

Continuing with the moaning about the state of his shoulder, Sako slid open his closet, flicking through the vast array of available shirts to find something to cover up that awful gash. Eventually, he came to one that pleased him, orange in colour, and lifted it from the wardrobe, taking a hold of it in one hand as he pulled it from the hanger. Yes, that would do.

He wasted no time in pulling the shirt over his slim frame, bringing his hands down to carefully and methodically button it up, his fingers working fast. His ex always had said he was good with his hands, likely for more reasons than just his Compression Quirk. The man admired himself in the mirror as he did up the buttons, one by one, before he came to the third from the top, and paused, leaving a significant portion of his collar area exposed.

"I'll leave it as that for now." He mused, his hands trailing away from the intricate fabric. "It does look rather fetching." And with that, he strode over to the seat in his room, quickly sitting down as he continued to stare into his reflection. Into those piercing, brown eyes, that perfectly styled red hair…

"Has anyone ever told you that you look just like your great great grandfather, Atsuhiro?" The middle-aged, clean-cut man asked as he led his teenaged son down the hall. "Yes, a near spitting image, even at your age."

That always had been one of the famous quotes of Kazama Sako. He loved to remind his son that he had gotten the good genes from his mother's side of the family. In the past, it had always confused the then-young Atsuhiro as to the reason behind this odd fascination. It had only been as he progressively aged that he had learned the truth, the true cause of his lineage.

It sat proudly on the small bookshelf in the room, the spine facing inwards so that nobody walking in would see the title printed on the side. For, as much as Sako treasured the memoirs of his ancestor, it would likely not be a very good idea for anyone else to know he did so. As far as most of the world was concerned, the infamous Peerless Thief, Oji Harima, had died without any family to continue his legacy, let alone the fact that he had birthed three children. Of those three, two had gone on to have children of their own, and so forth, and now, Atsuhiro stood as the youngest living descendent of the great villain.

No.

Villain really was not the right word to describe Harima and doing such was a great disservice to his fine name. The man could more appropriately have been aligned as a vigilante, a classic Robin Hood type. He stole from the undeserving false heroes in society, of which there were many, who used their standing for their own gain. He was not unlike the recent Hero Killer Stain, who had managed to pop up all over the news as of late. Well, in some ways, at least…

"Uh, Sako?" Came Judith's distinctive voice as she poked her head around the door into the room. "Oh, thank God, you're dressed."

With a sly grin, Atsuhiro spun to face his agent. "Would you prefer if I wasn't?"

"Oh lord no!" When Lynch spoke in English, it could only mean one thing and that was that she had become extremely flustered. It was always quite fun to tease her into this state, blushing red face and all, for a woman who was typically so composed. "Umm..." Back to her near-fluent Japanese. "As I was trying to say… Mr. Okuta's here to see you again."

"Ah!" The actor lit up another cigarette as he beamed from ear to ear. "I wondered what was keeping him. Go ahead, let him in, Ms. Lynch. I've been waiting to have another chance to talk."

"Of course, Sako." Judith bowed out without another word and in stepped a very familiar figure, a man rapidly approaching the mid-point of his life, with a penchant for admittedly garish suits and smoking, the latter even more so than Sako himself. His hair was short and a cross between blue and white in colour, and that usual omnipresent scarf remained tightly wrapped around his neck.

"Now, I gotta say, Sako." Kagero Okuta lamented as he flicked his finished cigarette butt into the trash basket by the door. "Your secretary is one fine catch."

"Oh, shush you." Atsuhiro laughed as he stood up from his chair and went to embrace his longtime friend. "You're too old for her, I'd hazard a guess at saying."

"Watch it, you!" Okuta scolded playfully as the short, friendly embrace came to an end. "You ain't that far behind me, kid, never forget that."

"So says the man who is referring to me as a kid." Sako rolled his eyes. "Here's a hint: Using that phrase is a good way to immediately age yourself by forty years." He stared as Kagero lit up another stick of death. "And those certainly will help you lose your youth even faster."

"Pfft." The man snickered as the two of them walked over to Sako's table and both sat down, facing one another. "That Lynch girl's a real bad influence on you. Next thing, you'll be on a vegan diet."

"I'll Compress my own behind before I ever willingly do that." Was the retort that came from the actor's lips as he took out two bottles of water, handing one to his friend.

"What, no alcohol?"

"Surprisingly, the studio doesn't want their actors inebriated on set. It's what we in the business call a bad look."

"Ha! With looks like yours, you could murder someone and there'd still be companies that would want to take you on." The aging man snubbed out his second cigarette on the table, leaving a small pile of ash behind in its wake. "But on the topic of business..." Suddenly, he was in serious mode, steepling his fingers on his lap as he transformed from light-hearted geezer Kagero Okuta to the Underworld's most trusted broker, Giran. "... That's actually why I paid you this little visit."

Immediately, a switch flipped in his brain, Atsuhiro was in his serious mode too. Whenever it came to Giran, work was always important, and if he explicitly came to see him just to talk about it, then it had to be something big. Okuta was a very 'leave it at the office' guy and with good reason. He couldn't afford to slip up ever, in spite of him never actively engaging in villain attacks, his connections alone could put him in Tartarus for the rest of his life. So, he never talked, or even thought, work when not with a client.

"I'm listening."

"Alright." The broker pulled his smartphone out and started scrolling through something or other that was hidden to Atsuhiro as he talked. "So, how have things been going for you in regards to your mission?"

"Oh, much of the usual." The red-headed man explained. "A steady stream of targets have been building up, at the very least. Last week, I was able to successfully steal five hundred thousand yen in cash and assets from that one Pro Hero. What's her name? The rabbit. You know the one. A delightful woman, I'm sure, but one who I'm positive Oji would have had no issue choosing as a target of his own." He chuckled, as he went to do up some more of his shirt buttons, wincing at the thought of that heist. It was where he had gained that scar on his shoulder. "Honestly, at this rate, I may end up taking on biweekly, even triweekly, jobs, there are just so many heroes out there prioritising profit over all else."

"Hm..." Oh dear. That definitely sounded disapproving. Clearly finding what he was looking for on his phone, Giran looked up, his face tight. "Sako, have you ever stopped and considered all of this?"

"Oh?"

"Your mission, I mean."

One of Atsuhiro's eyebrows raised, but Giran was quick to step in again.

"No, no, I don't mean if we're doing the right thing, I've stuck with ya for twenty God-damned years and all throughout I've known of the mission. Now ain't the time for a midlife crisis about the morality of our actions." He chuckled and lit yet another cigarette. And Judith said Sako was addicted. "What I mean is the futility of it all."

A short pause for thought. "I don't quite follow."

"Think about it. Burglarising heroes, is that really the right way to go about it anymore?" Giran flicked up his lighter. "These days, damned near everything's insured, thanks in part to the paranoia caused by your dear old great great grandpops and his loin, and let's face it, the bastards out there ain't getting any poorer just because you're robbing 'em blind. And even that aside, you just said it yourself, there are so many of them nowadays. At this rate, theft won't achieve anything. Hell, it hardly does already."

"Hm..." Atsuhiro Saoo leaned back, looking up to the slowly rotating ceiling fan in his room. "You do raise a good point..." Truth be told, he had been thinking about that very thing himself as of recent. In Oji's day, a grand-scale robbery would have seen the hero disappear from the public spotlight altogether. In the days passed since the previous week, Miss Mirko had shown absolutely zero signs of it affecting her, and as one of the top ten Pros, she was in the public eye a lot. He had to admit, it was becoming harder and less effective to carry out the exact legacy of Harima to a perfect T.

"I… You know, you do have a point..." Sako hesitantly agreed, to which Giran nodded and turned his phone to show the actor. "Well, I might have a solution, Atsuhiro." On the screen was a video, a very famous video in fact. "You've seen this before, right?"

Sako nodded within a split second. "Of course… The Hero Killer video. The government's attempts to take it down have proved quite futile against an army of basement dwellers with nothing better to do with their time than reupload it."

"Well, those basement dwellers are very good for business." The broker pointed out, exhaling a cloud from deep within his shrivelled lungs, as the clip played. "Here's the thing, Sako, and I'm sure you get this much: People are agreeing with the Hero Killer. Not everyone granted, not even half everyone, and out of those that are, a tiny fraction of them are any more than some edgy kids online who wouldn't steal a cookie from the jar, but it's enough. People like his sentiment, he's a very marketable icon." Giran's grin deepened. "And I'd like you to take a potshot of a guess at who stands at the head of all this, who stands to benefit the most… Aside from myself, of course."

Harima Oji's great great grandson leaned back in his chair even further, as he brought his hand to his chin and pondered, thinking back to the news when the incident had first occurred. The next day, talk was all over the place, on the internet, the news, on street corners, in the office breakroom, everyone was talking about Stain. But what else had been mentioned? There was of course, the Number Two Pro Endeavour, who had apprehended the killer himself. Hmm…

Plausible, it was definitely likely that Endeavour was going to get a much-needed popularity boost from all of this, thanks to the infamy of the Hero Killer, but for the life of him, Sako could not decipher what that may have to do with him.

Think harder…

There were more Pros there, but all of them suffered the same issues, besides they had mostly just handled the rampaging Nomu, instead of Stain himself.

Nomu…

Nomu?

In an instant, Atsuhiro Sako had reached his answer. "The League of Villains."

"Exactly." Giran snapped his fingers. "The crazy cunts behind the USJ attack clearly had some involvement in the tangled web of Mr. Stain's story, but let's face it, he certainly isn't revealing anything. He's a smart guy, he knows that the government wants him gone, and ratting out others won't do him a damned thing." Okuta finished yet another cigarette, slipping it into his jacket pocket. "But, for now, I think we can assume that Stain was in bed with the League and their charming leader." That last part really sounded like sarcasm. "Every two-bit con, every guy with a grudge, is now turning to the League and Tomura Shigaraki for guidance. It's already starting, I've recruited three- No, four people into their ranks in the past two weeks alone. That's unheard of. You used to have to be real cuckoo to ever wanna go near a villain group, especially with All Might on the prowl. I'd get maybe one or two guys in a year looking to join some kind of organisation. Four in two weeks?"

"Amazing." Sako murmured. He then again raised his voice. "I see where you're going with this, Okuta."

"Oh?"

"Yes." Atsuhiro got up to his feet, beginning to pace the small, homey room. "You're suggesting that I join up to this League of Villains." He shook his head. "Unimaginable. As I've said before, my family and I are not common crooks or villains. To associate with such a clique is unthinkable. Why, it would cripple the integrity of our lineage." Leaning against the mirror, looking deep into his reflection, he sighed. "I'd have to quit the movie gig completely, and never look back."

"It always was just a cover." Giran retorted calmly, bringing up one leg to rest it on his lap. "You should've known it wouldn't last forever."

"A part of me did, a very large part of me, but-"

"-But it all seems so sudden."

"Exactly!" The man nodded, still gazing into the mirror. "Alongside the compromises in the good Oji name that must be made in order to do so."

"Sako..." kagero removed his glasses and began polishing them on his scarf. "What was the main point of chapter eight of his memoirs, again?"

"Hm?" Sako finally turned around to yet again face his friend and comrade. "Oh, very clever. I know where you're going with this-"

"Basically," Okuta interrupted before any further protest could be raised. "If one wishes to carry on his will, they must adapt to the modern age, as it shall undoubtedly be different from the one he left behind. Now, doesn't that quite accurately describe our little conundrum that we find ourselves in?"

Atsuhiro shook his head. "You sly bastard-"

"Just think it through, Sako, okay?" Kagero had genuine hope in his voice. "For the future of the cause your family has fought so hard for."

"To align with villains..."

"Sometimes, it has to be done." With those final morbid words, Giran got up from his seat, resting a hand on his younger friend's shoulder. "Thanks for the talk, Sako, it was good catching up. Just think about it."

He made his way over to the door and opened it, revealing Judith Lynch on the other side. "Whoops. 'Scuse me, lady." Gracefully, the older gentleman shimmied past her in the doorway and was gone, off down the hallway, the putrid smell of rancid smoke following him, leaving just the professional actor and his agent alone.

"Was that a good catch-up, sir?" Lynch enquired absent-mindedly as she sorted through her clipboard.

"Hm? Oh..." Atsuhiro had already taken his seat again, staring at that intentionally badly positioned memoir on his shelf. "Yeah. A real riot."

"Everything alright, Sako?" She had been around him long enough that she knew when something was up.

"Yes, yes, I'm perfectly fine." He waved a dismissive hand as he kept his focus on that book. "Just… thinking about the future. About what I should do with my life."

"And what do you think you're going to do with it?"

"I don't rightly know." Still, his gaze remained firmly clamped on the book. "But I have a pretty good idea..."

{-}

Thanks for checking out the chapter. Feedback is always, and I do mean always, appreciated, even if it's in a negative format. Hope you could enjoy though. I might update this with more content sooner down the line. Perhaps.

- BNW.