TACO Run

Chapter 38

"Thank you for being willing to do this interview." Naomasa gave Olberic a relieved smile when he stepped into the interview room. "I'm sure you're tired, and want to spend more time with your friends."

Olberic shrugged, sitting down easily enough. "Yes, but I understand the necessity, and I appreciate your patience in allowing me and my companions to rest a little first, and wash away the remains of our battle." A slight frown. "I do have a request of you, though, Truthseeker."

"Oh?" Naomasa folded his hands, giving Olberic a curious look—he rarely asked for anything. "What is it?" He probably wanted an assurance that they wouldn't arrest his thief friend, which… frankly, Naomasa couldn't give him. If they received evidence that a crime had been committed, they couldn't just ignore it.

"You called out a name, to the beast we fought. If my thinking is right, and it was once a man… do not tell Alfyn." Olberic's face was serious. "I would not ask that you lie to him, should he inquire, but I would ask that you not reveal it unless he does inquire directly."

Naomasa blinked. He hadn't realized that Olberic had caught that. "I don't have a problem with that, but… may I ask why?"

Olberic nodded, and explained about the witch Lyblac, and Graham Crossford, and the beast called Redeye. "We did not learn the truth of the matter until much later," he said, "and even had we known, our choices would have remained the same. But Crossford's death haunts Alfyn still, and to learn that he once again had a hand in the death of one whose mind and body had been warped to monstrousness—it would hurt him."

"I understand," Naomasa said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "Actually, thank you for the warning. Interviews can be taxing enough as it is; causing the subject emotional distress is generally a bad idea. And if it makes you feel better, I'm pretty sure that the Villain you faced today wasn't Unagisawa."

"But you believe it to have been a Villain nonetheless, and therefore human."

Naomasa grimaced. "…yes." Even if he was good at lying, he wouldn't want to. Not about this. "Or at least based off of a human. The person I mentioned, Unagisawa, has been captured and manipulated by people more than once. The Villain today shared a lot of the same traits, and nearly the same Quirk, but it wasn't him. I hate to speculate on such minimal evidence, but whether that Villain was ever originally human or not, it was at least based off of one. I would have preferred a live capture, but… some things are too much to ask." They'd been fighting for their lives, and the lives of civilians, and they weren't Heroes. "I don't think the little ones were ever human at all, though, if that makes you feel better." They'd been a mindless swarm without even an animal's self-preservation instincts, let alone human self-awareness.

Olberic bent his head. "I understand," he said shortly. "And I will pray later. For now, you have questions, Truthseeker. Ask them, and I will answer as best I may."

The interview went smoothly after that, and didn't take very long—Olberic's observations of the battle were surprisingly concise and clear, considering he'd been in the thick of things, but he remained humble about it when Naomasa commented on it.

"When you have been in as many battles as I have, you will also remain clear-headed, no matter how desperate the fight becomes," he shrugged. "And I am certain that if you wish for an analysis of the battle, Cyrus' views will have far more depth and clarity."

"I suppose I should interview him next, then," Naomasa mused, tapping his pen against the report he'd been writing. "He was the last to arrive, but if you think that highly of his insights, I'll definitely want them." Not to mention, he'd want an explanation for just what all 'magic' Cyrus could do. The level of destruction he'd wrought was frankly ridiculous, and if it wasn't for the fact that the Villain's electrical discharges and his summoned lightning had taken out both the local power grid and every security camera in the area, Naomasa was sure that video of the battle would already be flooding the web.

As it was, someone was probably going to splice something vaguely coherent together from shaky phone-camera shots over the next few days, which meant that if there was any way for the handsome spellcaster to teleport them home quickly, it needed to be done ASAP.

"He will likely enjoy your questioning," Olberic said, amusement crinkling his eyes in a smile. "He was very excited when I explained to him what your title meant." His smile faded. "Therion will not be so eager."

Naomasa kept his voice calm and even. "I wouldn't think so, no," he agreed. "Career criminals don't generally like being questioned by the police."

"I would suggest you make no attempts to restrain him, Truthseeker," Olberic cautioned. "Therion is a thief, but he is a good man. I make no excuses for his behavior, and neither does he… but I would ask that you weigh that knowledge against what you have seen this day."

Naomasa frowned. "We don't have any direct evidence of lawbreaking on his part, at the moment," he allowed, but didn't commit to anything harder than that.

"I understand," Olberic bent his head slightly in acknowledgement of what Naomasa was saying—and what he wasn't. "But know that, even should you attempt to take him, you will not hold him for long."

Naomasa smiled slightly. "I think you underestimate the Tokyo Police Department." Therion was fast, and nimble, and probably made mechanical locks whimper just by looking at them—but the police were prepared to hold anyone they had to, once they were captured. No matter what Quirks they had.

Olberic gave him an even, measured gaze. "Perhaps," he allowed, in a soft, solemn tone that had Naomasa frowning again, as he tried to recall when he'd heard it from Olberic before. "If that is all, Truthseeker, I shall take my leave." He rose to his feet. "I will let Cyrus know that you wish to speak with him next." A faint, humorous smile. "And I apologize in advance for your headache."

"Thank you?" Naomasa said, puzzled, as Olberic let himself out.

Biwa, the officer who'd first summoned Olberic for him, held the door, and then slipped inside and shut it once he was gone. "Sir," he said, voice quietly urgent. "I think there's something you should know." Briefly, he outlined what he'd heard Olberic and his friends say while Olberic prepared to meet with Naomasa. It was enlightening…

And frankly, a little terrifying. Because as he spoke, explaining how all three of the other men were prepared to walk directly into a fight with the entire Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department to un-incarcerate their friend… Naomasa remembered where he'd heard that particular tone from Olberic. That first afternoon, while being questioned on his origins, Olberic had compared his arrival to an armed invasion. Naomasa had smiled then, finding the idea a funny bit of hyperbole. "I don't think one man defending himself from a failed mugging counts as an 'invasion'."

Olberic had just looked at him, mild and considering. "…perhaps not."

At the time, Naomasa had been amused, thinking that Olberic was being a little too serious about the ramifications of his arrival. Now, though, having seen what he could do, and recalling the stories he'd told Kikuchi so matter-of-factly over the past week…

He wasn't joking at all, or even overstating, Naomasa realized. He genuinely expected to be treated as an invading army all by himself. Considering he'd held his own in single combat against a manufactured Villain with truly ridiculous regeneration abilities, which outweighed him several times over, armed only with a sword that was locked into its sheath, and had come out of the encounter with little more than superficial injuries…

Naomasa paled.

His sword wasn't locked into its sheath anymore.

"You will not hold him for long."

That wasn't an observation. That was a warning.

"Sir?" Biwa sounded suddenly concerned.

"I'm alright," Naomasa assured Biwa automatically, not wanting to alarm him or cause anyone to do something rash. Olberic might be incredibly frightening on a human level, but he wasn't the one who had turned the tide of battle with the manufactured Villains. That had been Cyrus, who had, in a few short moments, wiped out all of the little Villains and most of the city block, all while cheerfully analyzing the main Villain's abilities and potential weaknesses and formulating a plan to defeat it on the fly—while showing access to not one, but six different forms of energy or matter manipulation on a scale most Heroes could only dream of.

Quirkless, Naomasa recalled suddenly, feeling sweat trickle down the back of his neck. All four of them are Quirkless. Which meant that they couldn't count on Eraserhead's ability to counter them. And we have no ideawhat Cyrus' limits are on that… that destructive magic. If he even has any. Quirks were essentially biological functions. No matter how powerful they were, they had limits; they had a cost. Ingenium's blinding speed could cause his engines to overheat, or he could run out of fuel if he didn't stay hydrated and supplied with easy carbohydrates in the form of juice or sports drinks. Endeavor could give himself heatstroke if he overused his flames, though his limit was high enough that it rarely became an issue. Fat Gum's defenses were dependent upon his body fat being high. Eraserhead had to maintain line-of-sight to use his Erasure.

So far, other than being unsuited for physical combat and requiring brief incantations, Cyrus didn't seem to have any limits at all.

It's like facing down the Sorcerer Supreme in those old comic books, Naomasa realized faintly, ill at ease. And with Olberic to serve as his physical protection…

It wasn't worth it. A thief whose crimes had caused no lasting harm, and had yet to even be proven, was absolutely not worth the loss of life that would ensue if they tried to hold him against his will, with those two willing to do whatever it took to get him back. And that wasn't even getting into whatever it was Alfyn was capable of. He'd called down some kind of lightning-bird, and called up a stalagmite of ice; he was dangerous with a fire-axe, and at some point during the fight he'd cheerfully quipped about poison.

The Police Department could probably still win against them, in the end. Bullets were a great equalizer if the opponent lacked a defensive Quirk. But that level of escalation and potential bloodshed was far beyond the scope of what should be required to deal with petty thievery.

Not to mention, if it came down to lethal force, his men would hesitate. Olberic and his friends would not. No matter how peaceable they were normally.

A brisk knocking at the door had Naomasa straightening, and Biwa hurrying over to open it. Professor Albright swept in, dazzlingly handsome despite how utterly ridiculous he looked in a tee shirt and sweatpants. He gave a flourishing bow to Naomasa, dark grey eyes sparkling with delight, and opened his mouth.

"Greetings, my good sir! For the assistance and consideration which you have given myself and my friends, I must thank you ever so fervently. My name, as I'm sure Olberic has already told you, is Cyrus Albright. And yours?" He held out an elegant hand.

"Tsukauchi Naomasa." Naomasa shook his hand, and gestured him into a seat. "You've met my younger sister."

"Ah, yes, the redoubtable Makoto!" Grey eyes were alert and incisive, scrutinizing Naomasa's face and body language as if picking out the familial resemblance. "A lovely, charming young lady, and quite generous to assist a stranger in need. You must be very proud of her accomplishments!"

"Sometimes," Naomasa frowned at the overly familiar address, thinking of the many ways Makoto had skirted the edge of the law, or of dangerous situations, just to find out what she wanted to. "Did Sir Olberic explain to you why I wanted this interview?"

"Indeed he did!" Cyrus beamed as he sat, crossing one leg elegantly over the other and scooting the chair forward idly, to gaze intensely at Naomasa. "He has also informed me of your title's meaning—one who seeks out the truth of criminal matters, so that the innocent are not punished for crimes they did not commit, and so that the perpetrators themselves cannot roam free. A worthy and fascinating calling, and no doubt one that requires both a keen intellect and a sharp eye for observation. I should very much like to learn your methods if at all possible, as I myself," he admitted with a faint air of humility that was mostly subsumed by eagerness, "do enjoy unravelling similar mysteries, though only as a hobby. Why, should we for some reason find ourselves unable to return home for an extended period, I might even endeavor to become your apprentice!"

Oh my god, Naomasa realized, as the conflicting emotions of dawning dread and utter hilarity bubbled up. He's a detective fanboy.

And his world didn't even have a word for detectives.

By the time he was done with Cyrus' interview, Naomasa did, in fact, have a headache from the sheer amount of information he'd been inundated with. Cyrus had answered his questions clearly and in detail, but he'd also thrown out the answers to questions Naomasa hadn't asked, including some details that were useful, some that were at least a little relevant, and several that had no relevance whatsoever—including, at least once, a digression into the history of some minor aspect of his or his friends' clothing, weapons, or skills.

He'd also asked as many questions as he answered, if not more. Unlike Olberic, who'd seemed content to accept the oddities of the world around him as long as they didn't disturb or endanger anyone, Cyrus wanted to know everything. From the somewhat relevant—the structure and function of the police force, and Naomasa's role in it—to the relatively reasonable—was the advent of the Quirk Era the reason behind the seemingly expanded range of accepted 'normal' hair colors and styles, or had that been normal beforehand?—to the frankly personal—how old was Naomasa, did he have siblings besides Makoto, did they also have lie-detection Quirks, and how did such a lie-detection ability function?

When Naomasa said that that last one was difficult to explain, Cyrus had immediately agreed that the question had been too broadly worded. Did the ability detect only deliberate lies? Did it reveal the actual truth of the matter, or only when a person spoke untruly? Did it detect subterfuge and lies of omission, or only outright falsehoods? If it functioned by detecting a person's self-acknowledgement of what they said as false, could not a sufficiently advanced charlatan, the kind who halfway convinced themselves of the accuracy of their claims, bypass his detection ability? Did it work with the written word, or only the spoken? What about linguistic barriers—did they apply? After all, if he could not tell what Cyrus said directly, but only through the translation of his marvelous phone…

Naomasa had dealt with worse, interviewing witnesses on other occasions. At least Cyrus was reasonably polite, and immediately apologized whenever Naomasa made it plain that he was getting off-topic or too aggressive in his interrogation.

And when Naomasa had realized that he was being interrogated, by an accidental illegal immigrant, in his own interview room, he'd nearly thumped his head down on the table. "I think we've covered everything I needed to, Professor Albright," he said instead, standing up to escort the handsome man—a few years his elder, it was hard to remember that—to the interview room's door.

"Ah, of course, forgive my rambling," Cyrus said, rising with a bright and energetic smile. "If ever we have the time, however, I would very much enjoy the chance to study the ethics, philosophy, and methodology of your profession."

Naomasa would be lying if he said he looked forward to that, but he pasted a smile on his face regardless. "I doubt we'll have the time, Professor," he said diplomatically. "After all, you're trying to get home, aren't you?"

"Oh, certainly!" For the briefest moment, the energetic fervor faded. "As marvelous as your world is, Truthseeker, I miss my own dearly. My students, my peers, and the friends who remain there. Not to mention the responsibilities I have left behind, and the studies as yet left incomplete." A sigh. "I'm afraid, however, that our return may take longer than we would like. As I'm sure Olberic has told you, our arrival here was an accident; blindly reciting the incantation again would be foolhardy in the extreme, now that I know it can have such dangerous effects. Until such time as I can discern and recreate the full ritual involved in the spell's proper execution, I'm afraid that we shan't be going home."

Oh. Damn. "I hadn't considered that," Naomasa admitted, rubbing a hand over his face, not quite despairingly. The arrangements he'd asked Chief Tsuragamae to make were only for a few days' lodging, in case they'd needed the time to recover before they left. He couldn't exactly put all four of them up in the apartment he shared with Makoto.

He couldn't exactly demand that they blind-teleport to another dimension just to make his life easier, either. "I'll see what I can do about living arrangements for you all, then," he sighed, looking up at Cyrus again to see a concerned look on the handsome scholar's face. "In the meantime, would you mind asking mister Greengrass if he's willing to hold an interview? I'd like to get his perspective on things as well."

"Of course." Cyrus dipped his head in acquiescence. "I shall take my leave, then."

Once he was gone, Naomasa sighed and moved to sit back down at the interview table, knuckling the spot between his brows. "Biwa?" he asked tiredly, trying not to wince at the way his ribs ached. "Do you have anything for a headache?" It had been a very long day. "And maybe some coffee. I'll even take the battery acid they make down in the cafeteria."

"Not on an empty stomach you won't, sir," Biwa said, smiling crookedly and seeming entirely too amused at Naomasa's suffering. Any nervousness he'd had before had been expertly eroded by Cyrus' chatty and enthusiastic nature. "That's a good way to get ulcers, and you're on your way there already unless I miss my guess."

Naomasa sighed, but didn't disagree. "Fine. I think I'll be okay on my own for a while, if you want to bring up a snack or something. Get yourself something too—" He tossed Biwa his wallet. "—and maybe see if the officers keeping an eye on our guests are hungry. We've all had a long day."

"Got it, sir," Biwa grinned. "I'll grab you something quick and simple, and call in a delivery order for the rest. You'll want the receipt for the expenses account, right?"

"Please." Once Biwa was gone, Naomasa sighed and rubbed his face again tiredly. It really had been a long day, and it didn't look to be ending any time soon. The medics had cleared him for continued duty, saying his ribs were only bruised this time, but they'd warned him to get as much rest as he could.

He'd rest later.

Biwa had only been gone for a minute when someone knocked on the door, and then pushed it open to poke their head in before Naomasa could answer. "Hey there, mister Truthseeker, sir," Alfyn said, scrubbing at the back of his neck with one hand. "You wanted to talk to me?"

Naomasa couldn't help but smile. "If you have the time," he said, rising from his seat and gesturing towards the other one welcomingly.

"Shucks, sir, it's not like I've got anything else to do right now," Alfyn grinned, pushing the door the rest of the way open and coming inside, closing it behind him politely before striding casually over to the chair. "These 'phone' things his Lordship and the Professor've got are real neat, though, aren't they?" He pointed at the earbud resting in his right ear. "Sir Olberic let me borrow his for this, since he said I'll need it more'n him."

Naomasa's brows rose. "His Lordship?" he asked mildly instead. "I wasn't aware that Sir Olberic held a title." He'd heard Alfyn yell that before, during the fight, but it hadn't quite registered.

"Well, sure." Alfyn blinked at him. "He's a Sir, isn't he? He's not nobility or anything, but that's splittin' hairs."

"Ah." The explanation made sense, though Naomasa added it to the list of ways in which Olberic was far too humble for his own good. "Well, I don't want to keep you too long, but as I'm sure Sir Olberic told you, I'm trying to get the clearest and most comprehensive account of today's events I can. On top of that, though, I'd really like to know how you've all been faring for the past week—where you've been, and how you've managed to take care of yourself, and how you ended up in Hosu today."

"Oh, that." Alfyn shrugged a little, chewing on a twig the way some men worked a toothpick. "Dunno the names of where all I've been for the past several days, but there was this real nice kid and lady who let me stay with them for a bit when I first showed up…"

Alfyn was a talker, much like Cyrus, but he seemed a lot more socially aware than the professor was, and stuck mostly to relevant topics, answering Naomasa's questions easily and with such an amiable manner that Naomasa found himself relaxing and actively bringing up a few brief stories of his own, mostly about his sister's bad habits of skirting the law and flirting with danger in her search for sources while writing her thesis the previous autumn. Nothing classified, and nothing really private, but certainly a lot more than he'd ever have talked about in an interview normally.

Retrospectively, it was surprising enough to almost be disturbing, but Naomasa couldn't find it in himself to mind too much.

"So about the fight, earlier," he said, gently steering the conversation back on-topic. "I saw you summon ice and electricity—is that all you can do?"

"Huh? Oh! Well, not really." Alfyn scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Magic's not my strong suit, not like the professor, though I'm not bad. Being an apothecary, I specialize in making medicine, performing first aid… concocting poisons sometimes, if I gotta. I can use Icicle—that's the ice spell—as a source of pure water, or to cool down fevers, that kind of thing. Miss H'aanit—that's a Huntress friend of ours—she taught me some of her trade too, since there's lots of reagents you've gotta collect from animals. You know, to make antivenoms and such."

Naomasa nodded along as Alfyn leaned back thoughtfully in his chair.

"And, see, I guess Draefendi—that's the hunter-god, mind—I guess she liked what she saw, 'cause when we visited her shrine she gave me her blessing. So now I can use Thunderbird too—that's the electric bird thing I tried at first. Not that it did any good." A wry smile.

Naomasa blinked. "You were… blessed by a god?" he managed.

"Huh? Well, yeah." Alfyn ducked his head a little awkwardly. "I mean, I'm not bragging or anything! It's not like I'm the only one. The professor managed to impress Dreisang the Archmagus personally, which's why he can use all six elements instead of just three. And his Lordship went toe-to-toe with Warbringer Winnehild to get her approval. And Therion caught the eye of the Lady of Grace herself! Besides, we all helped each other out, too; none of us was fighting alone."

Naomasa remembered Cyrus' prayer, and the ethereal figure who had answered. "But the professor called on someone named Alephan," he pointed out, amazed at how steady his own voice sounded. This was a paradigm shift on a level with learning Olberic was from another world in the first place. Even the story about Galdera had felt like that—a story, with a mad Villain and a tragic ending. This, though… this was immediate.

"Well, sure. Alephan's the god of scholars," Alfyn agreed easily. "I figure you already realized that the professor's not exactly good at, uh, precision attacks," he chuckled wryly. "Alephan's enlightenment lets him focus his spells on just one target, instead of the whole area, and it ups the power too. Thing is, you can't just call on the gods willy-nilly, you know? It really takes it out of you, so you gotta have a really good reason. S'why Therion doesn't call on Aeber often—it's a risky thing, invoking the Prince of Thieves when you're already desperate."

Naomasa blinked. "I… guess it would be."

"Yep! I guess I could've asked Draefendi for help, but, well, her blessings only apply to bows, and I don't have one right now…" A self-deprecating chuckle. "See, each of the twelve gods watches over the people who follow their path—uh, the professor would probably explain this better, or maybe Ophilia…" He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling wryly. "Anyway, I follow Dohter. He keeps watch over apothecaries, midwives, anyone who practices medicine—he's a god of healing, so he won't give blessings that harm others, even your enemies. Though if anyone had been hurt really badly, you can bet I'd've called on him for help! You already know about Aeber and Alephan and Draefendi, so… Oh! His Lordship follows Brand the Thunderblade. He's the god of warriors and sell-swords."

"But he got the blessing of someone named Winnehild…?"

"Yeah, Winnehild the Warbringer. Uh, the professor said that four of the gods drew away from humanity a long time ago, after something called the Great Cataclysm. Those were Dreisang the Archmagus, Winnehild the Warbringer, Balogar the Runeblade, and Steorra the Starseer. They don't have anyone who worships them anymore, or who follows their paths—just really, really rare people who stumble on their shrines and either impress them enough to receive their blessing, or, uh, die in the attempt I guess…" He frowned uneasily at that. "I think he said something about them supposedly deciding that humanity was better off without 'em? Like, Dreisang's magic being too powerful and dangerous to allow just anyone to wield, and Winnehild's influence causing an awful lot of wars. And I think Steorra's visions drove some people crazy or something? Not sure about Balogar…" He scratched his head awkwardly. "Uh, anyway, is there anything else I can help you with?"

Naomasa sighed and rubbed his forehead. Biwa had come back with a canned coffee, headache medicine, and a ham-and-cheese sandwich during the early part of Alfyn's interview, so his headache had eased to manageable levels, but it wasn't gone entirely. "No, I think we're done here," he said at last, lifting his head to meet Alfyn's worried gaze with a smile. "I'm sure you're hungry, so why don't you go rejoin the others? There should be food arriving relatively soon."

A snarl from Alfyn's midsection—the third one so far during this interview—caused the younger man to blush and scrub at his hair sheepishly again, standing up. "Haha, guess it's pretty obvious, huh?"

Naomasa couldn't help but smile back. "Maybe a bit." He stood up to give Alfyn a polite handshake farewell. "Would you do me one last favor, actually? I'd like to interview your friend Therion as well, but Sir Olberic brought up that he's unlikely to be willing to talk to me, even with translation made possible. While these interviews are supposed to be private, they're also supposed to be voluntary, so I don't want to push the issue. Could you try to reassure him?"

Alfyn blinked, and then frowned, arms crossing over his chest in way that somehow turned his amiable stance wary and defensive. "You're not gonna try to arrest him, are you?" he asked, caught between worry and suspicion. "'Cause you'll hafta go through me to do it."

Naomasa sighed wearily, shaking his head with a frown. "No, I'm not." It wasn't what he wanted to say, but it was, unfortunately, the only honest answer he could make. "I've thought about it, and despite being a self-admitted thief, he hasn't actually done anything worth being arrested for under these circumstances." Those circumstances being 'The other three will tear the department apart to get him back'.

Alfyn relaxed almost immediately. "Heheh, yeah!" he grinned. "Not to mention he helped us take down that nasty monster before—hell, he was a lot more help than I was." A rueful smile.

"I don't know about that," Naomasa said encouragingly, walking Alfyn out the interview room's door. "My lungs are putting in a pretty big vote of confidence for your medical skills." He'd asked the paramedics to take a look, just in case, and they said his lungs were amazingly clear, considering the circumstances. Most of the other bystanders weren't so lucky, though he'd been the only one close enough to really risk permanent damage from smoke inhalation.

"Oh, that's right!" Alfyn brightened, snapping his fingers in realization. "Glad to see that worked as well as it did; the professor and I were talking about it, and he said there's no magic here. At all, I mean, which is really weird… but anyway! He thinks that since there's no magic here, nobody's got any resistance to magic, so all the little, you know, side-effects of elemental magic getting thrown around nearby are a lot worse for you guys than for us. I mean, sometimes we'll get a little rough-voiced or something when the professor breaks out the really big stuff like today. But I can take care of that easy enough, and most of the time we're fine, even Olberic."

Remembering what Olberic had said about his own inability to use magic, Naomasa blinked. So people from their world are resistant to breathing in smoke and ash, as long as it's got magic mixed up in it? Oh god, I hope it doesn't work like radiation poisoning. "Is there anything else that you think I ought to know?" he asked. He'd already confirmed with the professor that he could, in fact, cast each of those ridiculously destructive spells at least once before exhausting himself, and that Alfyn was capable of concocting potions that would restore his stamina. Cyrus had also noted that he had slightly—slightly—less destructive versions of the fire, ice, and lightning spells available to him, as those were the elements he had put actual decades into mastering.

Alfyn scratched his hair thoughtfully, twig wiggling between his teeth. "Weeell…" he dragged the word out slowly, almost reluctantly. "Therion hates being trapped. Even in a conversation. So maybe don't do that, if you want to get more outta him than glares. Oh! An' he can use fire and dark magic. Just a little Wildfire, kinda like my Icicle, only, you know, the complete opposite. He wouldn't ever use it on anyone if they didn't threaten him, though! Just, you know, thought you ought to know that."

"I see." Naomasa would make doubly sure to make himself non-threatening, then. Doing that while maintaining a position of authority wasn't easy, but it was doable. "Go ahead and go back to your friends, then. I'll be here for a while, if you do manage to convince mister Therion—Biwa, could you escort mister Greengrass back to the cafeteria? That way you can show mister Therion how to get here, if he chooses to come."

"Yes, sir," Biwa agreed, smiling at Alfyn.

Naomasa went back into the interview room and shut the door, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he did. He needed to make a few calls, and this was the best time to do it.

Naomasa was busy going over his notes from the interviews to compare observations when he felt a faint breeze whisper over his skin and looked up. Therion was just closing the door behind him, visible green eye flickering over Naomasa and around the room in the kind of efficient, instinctual threat assessment that made a note of every possible escape route or improvised weapon available.

Naomasa blinked at him. He hadn't seen the thief since the four men had been escorted to the showers, and Biwa had… failed to mention what his change of clothes looked like.

Dark lavender stirrup leggings directly connected to flat-bottomed straw sandals. A midriff-baring lavender top that clung to and accentuated his lean, supple build via an asymmetrical strap over one shoulder. Detached sleeves that covered the backs of his hands, and were held on by a gold ring around the middle finger and a gold cuff just above the elbow, emphasizing the lean muscles of his upper arms. A flowing, gauzy hip-sash of paler lavender with gold ornaments strung along it on a thin gold chain. Similar bangles around his ankles.

Oh my god he's dressed like a stripper.

No. No, no, no. No, no. No. Alfyn had said that Therion had been blessed by the 'Lady of Grace', which, no, could not possibly be a goddess of strippers. Dancers, maybe. Exotic dancers. But not strippers.

"See something you like?"

Naomasa's eyes snapped up to Therion's face. If it hadn't been for the completely flat, almost bored tone, the line almost might have been flirtatious. "Something I didn't expect," he corrected, keeping his own tone mild and even. "Those aren't exactly the spare clothes I imagined a pickpocket would keep around." Therion had an earbud in his right ear, the cord trailing down behind his shoulder, so the phone itself was probably tucked into the back of his waistband.

"…master thief."

Naomasa raised a brow. He hadn't expected him to admit that, even as a correction. Seemed like Therion had some pride in his skills. "Master thief," he agreed easily. "Why don't you sit down, mister Therion?" He gestured towards the chair.

Therion's own eyes narrowed, and he deliberately reached forward left-handed to pull the chair back a little way from the table. Far enough that if Naomasa wanted to grab him, he'd have to lunge all the way across, not just reach quickly. Only then did he sit—and promptly kick his feet up onto the table in a casual slouch, chair tipped up on its back two legs, and fold his arms over his chest. The whole time, his eyes never left Naomasa's face.

Naomasa sighed and knuckled between his brows, making no attempts to hide his growing headache. Therion's pose might look casual, but every muscle in his body was subtly tensed, and Naomasa could tell that one wrong move on his part would have the thief kicking off the table's edge and tumbling backwards to the door he'd left deliberately cracked. "Please don't put your feet on the table," he said mildly, looking up again with undisguised weariness. "It's unsanitary."

"…" Therion didn't change expression. But he did put his feet down, letting the chair's legs touch the floor again without so much as a thump.

"Thank you," Naomasa said sincerely. "Do you know why I asked you here?"

Therion just stared at him. "To ask pointless questions, apparently."

"I hope not; I don't like wasting my time." Naomasa deliberately looked away from Therion, keeping him in his peripheral vision but avoiding a staring contest. "These interviews are meant to help me gain a better picture of what all exactly happened today—as well as what's been happening to the four of you since your arrival."

Therion said nothing.

"Did Sir Olberic tell you about my Quirk?"

Narrowed eyes. A minute nod.

Naomasa would take it. "Professor Albright might have told you more, since he asked a lot of questions about it during our interview, but to make one thing very plain—I know when people near me lie. That includes myself, and I literally can't ignore it or shove it aside. So while I can lie to someone, it's very uncomfortable and I find myself almost compelled to tell the truth immediately afterwards."

More silent staring.

"Having said that, as I told mister Greengrass—" Aha, that got an actual expression out of him, even if it was only a tiny twitch of eyebrows. "—I have no intention of trying to take you into custody."

"…" Therion stared at him a little longer. "…why the hells not?"

Naomasa's mouth twitched. "Other than the fact that you helped save a lot of lives today, my own included?" It didn't excuse his crimes, but it did put them into perspective. Alfyn was right about that. "Biwa overheard your friends' willingness to fight the whole police force to get you back. I'm not going to do that to my men."

Therion's brows twitched closer together. "You're that scared of three people."

"Terrified," Naomasa admitted honestly. "Professor Albright melted the city block. I don't know about your world, but in this one, normal police can't survive being immolated."

Therion's face went abruptly blank again. "…no," he said quietly after a moment, looking away. "They can't."

Naomasa didn't react to that, but it was telling. Maybe the people in their world were resistant to magical side-effects and such, but they weren't immune to the damage caused by magic itself. And more than that, Therion's reaction said that he'd probably seen someone burned alive, and wasn't comfortable with that memory.

Which, frankly, made Naomasa feel better about his decision. Therion might be a thief, but at least he wasn't callous. "With that out of the way," he said, tone deliberately light, "would you mind if I asked you a few questions, both about the fight today and about your circumstances over the past few days? I have a basic idea of how you've survived, but you might have come across something that could be useful to one of my other investigations."

"…" Therion eyed him suspiciously for a long moment, and then gave a small, reluctant nod.

Getting legitimate and concrete information out of Therion was, unsurprisingly, like pulling teeth. Even if he'd agreed to it, he was reticent, reluctant, and incredibly tense the whole time, as if constantly anticipating pain. Seven times in ten, when Naomasa asked a question he was answered with a grunt, a nod or shake of the head, or dead silence. The remaining three tenths of the time involved sarcasm sharp enough to cut with.

That said, every observation he did share was concise, honest, and accurate. Not as detailed as Cyrus', maybe, but in some ways more useful. With the aid of a map and some explanations on Naomasa's part, he was able to pinpoint the location of several incidents over the past week which had taken place in Old Naruhata and the surrounding area, most of which had already been resolved, but at least one of which might be connected to the Villain Factory somehow.

By the time they were done, Naomasa's headache was back with a vengeance, but it honestly had nothing to do with Therion. It was an exhaustion headache more than anything, and it wasn't going to really go away until he got a solid ten hours horizontal.

"I think we're done here," Naomasa stated firmly, setting his pen aside decisively. "Thank you very much for your time and assistance, mister Therion. I won't keep you away from your friends any longer."

"So we're free to go." It wasn't a question, but it wasn't quite a factual statement either.

"Yes and no," Naomasa said wryly. "We won't hold you here against your will, but we can't exactly let the four of you wander off into the night—that would be dangerous, as well as illegal, and while I have no doubt you can take care of yourselves, chances are something would happen that would get us involved again, so it's better to get things resolved before you leave."

Therion gave him a wary look.

Naomasa smiled as reassuringly as he could. "I've gotten in contact with someone willing to give you four somewhere to stay until Professor Albright can find you a way home."

A/N: Naomasa considered calling Kayama Nemuri—Midnight—in to put the guys to sleep, but keeping Cyrus sedated for an extended period would be bad for his health, and a pretty big violation of human rights, considering he's not a criminal, certainly not a Villain, and therefore outside of Heroic jurisdiction.

A/N: Naomasa being able to see the gods grant the guys their blessings for the Divine Skills is not something that will be explained in this story, but suffice it to say that it's significant, and the guys can't see them.