Five Months Ago
A gurgled breath echoed in the unlit parking garage. Fingers caked in blood and grime frantically scratch away, trying to pull in some direction that would lead out of the hell that it was currently in. The concrete pavement brings no solace to the rapidly cooling body, the heavy fabric now becoming soaked in scarlet coloring.
"Another rat stuck in a trap, hmm?"
The bloodied figure rolls his head slightly, eye making contact with cream and crimson rags, thick arms wrapped in white bandages and a mask that covers the scarring of a nose that had been cut away long ago. Greasy black hair scatters in all sorts of directions, and dull eyes watch him with a flicker of amusement.
The bleeding man opens his mouth but all that comes out is a wheezing cough and more scarlet.
"You're all rats, you know? And do you know how dangerous a rat can be?"
The figure in rags slid off the car hood he was perched on and glided closer to the man, a rusty blade dragging against the concrete emitting a teeth-rattling noise.
"Do you know how many people have been killed by rats? Rats that scurry around no bigger than a shoe, killing millions. How can something that weak be so deadly?"
The man makes no attempt to speak this time, his head only rolling slightly to the side to maintain the speaker in his field of vision.
"You must know the answer, yes? It's all rather simple when you think about it."
A car horn goes off in the distance. The sound of the city echoes faintly.
"Rat's carry diseases. If you ever read a book in whatever sad setting you called a school based on that sickening attire, you would know the rats that carried fleas that started the bubonic plague - rats and fleas killed almost a third of the population in Europe. Can you believe that? Rats and fleas killing on a scale like that... what a sickening concept."
The ragged figure now stands beside the man, cool steel pressed gently against the side of his cheek.
"And you're a rat too, you know? Carrying a disease that will kill this world. Do you know what that is?"
The man on the pavement slaps his hand on the ground as the steel is pressed further into his face. The noise echoes in the garage, bouncing off walls.
It reaches no one.
"It's that sick sense of heroism you carry, that's the disease that you have. But you must know that already, correct? A small part of your brain must be screaming to you every time you put on that childish costume and makeup that you aren't really a hero, right? You're just a fake, a man who acts for a roll but isn't built for the part. And you choosing to continue to live this life will only spread that disease to more and more and more. That's why there's a blade in your chest and that's why you're not leaving this garage alive."
The wounded man feels a slight nick against his throat and begins to taste more blood. It's becoming harder to breathe.
Chipped yellow teeth smile down on him from above, lips stretched almost ear to ear.
"I love the face of a dying hero, you know? In these last moments, your life begins to flash in front of your eyes and you are faced with the consequences of your own actions. The consequences of living as a fake, even you can see it now don't you, Pro Hero Native?"
Native's eyes rolled loosely in his head. He can understand the words but the darkening world seems to be closing in.
"A man that has spent more on public advertising of his company than Endeavor! More sponsorships than 7 of the heroes in the top twenty, just who do you think you are?"
A blade hangs loosely above Native's chest, gentry prodding with the tiny black box strapped around his torso.
"Even a sponsorship with HeroCam, correct? A service that can showcase a hero's day from start to finish."
The blade glides through one of the straps, jostling the camera.
"I wonder how many of your fans are watching right now, huh Native?"
A sharp kick against the hero's torso produces a hollow wheeze.
"Still alive? I'll wash you away then along with all of those fakes who try to be who he was. The only man that was actually a hero, the only man I'd ever let kill me."
A slight glimmer of rusty metal hangs above the Pro Hero Native head. He can't help looking at the face of the man holding the object instead. The whites of his eyes were more prominent than he had ever noticed, small pupils quivering in manic energy.
"But you know what I realize, huh hero? If the one hero that could stop me, if the one man that could actually kill me is dead…"
The blade comes down, no sound coming from the hero other than a slight gurgle before an overwhelming silence.
Cracked fingernails wrap around the tiny black box, yanking it off of the now-dead hero.
The light still flashed in the empty garage.
Akaguro Chizome grins at the camera, spittle, and sweat coming the bottom half of his unmasked face
"The streets will run red and a rat culling will soon begin; I'm going to make sure that there is not a single fake left in Japan once I'm done."
The camera creaks in the iron grip and shaky hands of the man formerly known as the vigilante Stendahl.
"I swear it."
Present Day
Chizome was a far smarter man than most gave him credit for. He knew exactly what would happen after his live killing in Native; he had planned that very day for a number of weeks. Weeks that he spent sharpening his blade and listening to the chatter of the streets. The chatter of rats.
When All Might died, Akaguro began to drift. The world that he had been born into, the world that he had grown up into - was it all a lie? All Might was the light of Japan, the shining beacon that everyone else reached for but could never grasp. He was supposed to be untouchable, he was supposed to be a god amongst men.
Akaguro was one of the few that saw the body.
When rumors spread before the official reports were released, Chizome made his way to Central Hospital, the one place a man like All Might would be found if a serious injury were to ever occur.
It had been a little past three in the morning, clad in a form-fitting sweatshirt with dark combat boots, Akaguro slithered his way in through an entrance marked off for supply delivery. Empty hallways made it difficult to hide the click of footsteps as the vigilante prodded down to the basement of the building, winding his way meticulously around cameras and the occasional worker.
He had been to morgues before, asked to verify the identity of petty thugs from time to time when his work strayed more to the legal side of the law. Most were bleached white, the smell of cleaning chemicals so strong it could make your eyes water. The rooms would always be quiet, the faint scratching of pen on paper would be the only noise one could pick up.
The central morgue was different. The area was shockingly unguarded, slightly fading voices from a hallway over indicated that the workers might have finished up for the time being. The handle opens with a slight click, swinging inwards and revealing a bright room with two tables in the middle. Both hide figures obscured by pressed white sheets. Even no longer living, simply standing in the room with the two titans of heroics and villainy creates a presence so overwhelming it becomes difficult to breathe.
A light flick of the blade under his wrist knocks the blinking camera pointed toward the center of the room to the side; Chizome then slowly makes his way to the first table. He knows who lies underneath before he even pulls back the cloth.
Blonde curls seem faded with pale skins smothered in dirt and blood. No smile is seen on the man known as All Might, no jubilant laugh bouncing off the walls, all that remains is just a dead hero lying on a table. Chizome isn't entirely sure how long he stood there looking. It could have been five seconds or five hours. Everything seemed to stop when his eyes confirmed the awful whispers he had picked up just a few hours ago.
His eyes inspect the wounds. A stomach that had been ripped apart and an assortment of broken bones in the arms and legs. All injuries that could have been expected in the battle of gods. Before he looks away a slight mark makes his eyebrows furrow.
A slit above the man's right hand. Done far too cleanly for it to have occurred during the fight. Had the hero cut himself before it began? Or had someone cut him afterward?
With a slight frown, Akaguro decided it was pointless information at this point and slowly made note of the reality he was now living in.
All Might was dead. It was all over.
How could heroics continue without the greatest hero?
Hands shake in clenched fists while teeth dig into his bottom lip. The familiar tang of copper graces his tongue.
How could something like this even happen?!
Chizome's eyes shift to the second table, his breath shaky as he's pulled into the area. The figure can't match the height of All Might but is still well above average for a Japanese man. The sheet covering the killer of All Might is yanked and Akaguro can do nothing but hiss at the sight.
Blindingly white teeth staring back at him, lips twisted into a sinister smirk. The fucker was still smiling.
It was all unacceptable.
It was unacceptable that night when Chizome found his idol cold on a table and it was still unacceptable all these years later.
The warehouse he found himself in five months after the killing of Native was rather lively. The point of airing the murder live was for moments like these.
A man with a blade can kill a hero.
But a man with an army can kill heroics.
Everything he had done was for All Might. Everything that he was planning to do was for All Might.
Fakes like Native and most others that scuttled around the streets with those plastic smiles were destroying everything the greatest hero in Japan had built. None of them had the right to be given the same title as All Might. None of them had the right to consider themselves a hero.
None of them had the right to still be breathing.
"Are you all willing to follow me?"
The noise in the warehouse vanished within an instant. All chatter evaporates and he can feel all eyes on him.
"Are you all willing to do what it takes to rid this world of these maggots who call themselves heroes?"
A hum of energy is injected into the crowd. Nodding and clapping are enough to know that they are on the same page. Akaguro's eyes lazily survey the figures that stand below him.
An odd bunch. But one that will follow him.
His fingers wrap around the fraying leather spine of a crimson notebook. He lifts it to the group.
"In this book, I have written down the names of those who will soon be purged from this country. While we have cut down some already in our short time together, nothing will compare as to what's to come."
More clapping and hollering echo in the building.
"No one will stand in our way. No one will stop this eradication of fakes in Japan."
Feelings reach a manic peak; he can feel their bated breath from every word that he utters. He controls them like cattle. A book with names would be the perfect way to enact his own will on the society that had taken the one thing he had held dear. They'll follow his wording to the letter.
"Sharpen your blades; a culling is upon us."
~Revelations~
"Do you understand, Kai?"
The teacup is placed back onto the plate with a slight clatter. Chisaki Kai lowers his head at the wording, interlaced fingers tightly gripping onto the white cloth gloves on his hands with a golden watch on his right wrist that ticked methodically. The man wore a dark dress shirt and slacks, fit properly to his lean frame along with a matching colored mask across the lower half of his face. The figure across from him wore large black robes, greying hair slicked backward with a few idle bangs clinging to his forehead.
"All the work we've done over the years to re-introduce the Shie Hassaikai into Japan as an ethical organization would be gone in an instant. You know that I welcome all ideas from our members but something like this? Even you must know that this is completely over the line."
Golden eyes stare back down at the teacup. He notices a small crack forming into the handle. The cup itself is well over sixty years old, a relic dating back to the true resurrection of the Yakuza. Fine chinaware replaced the guns and drugs that were kept and sold on the streets. A pleasant idea, but one that was never going to be sustainable. One that was never truly going to get them to where the Shie Hassaikai belonged.
For a crack like that on aged ceramic, there was really only one solution that made sense.
Replace the cup.
Chisaki bows his head, "I understand, sir. I apologize for overstepping my bounds."
The man chuckles slightly, his lips rising slightly at the professionalism that passed from his subordinate.
"It's quite alright Kai, I'm just glad you have seen the error in your ways. You're one of the smartest men I've ever been able to find for our group. I like the idea of you spending time with Eri, maybe even tutoring her. But nothing else will ever happen to the girl, not while I'm still around."
Chisaki bows again, dull eyes looking back to the cracked chinaware.
"Of course, sir. Now if you would excuse me, I'm needed in assisting Kurono with an errand." The gang member then slowly rises and makes his way across the dark tiling to the door of the office.
The older man smiles again, leaning back against the black leather couch he found himself on.
"You seem to be spending a lot of time with Kurono lately."
Kai visibly stutters in his step, hand inches away from the handle he was about to pull.
The man swallows and turns his head back to look at the aging boss.
"Would that be a problem?"
Another deep chuckle, "Of course not Kai, I hope you two enjoy yourselves."
Eyes narrow at the comment but Chisaki opts to say nothing and nod instead.
Days later he would realize that the boss thought they were going on a date.
The house is empty for a Friday afternoon. Members are out in the neighborhood, completing various odd jobs for the citizens of the area. Most of this work fetched little to no reward - the boss insisting on them trying out these acts with good intentions.
'Good intentions can spread like fire if done by the right person. That's how we will bring back the Shie Hassaikai to the golden days.'
Tch. Kai respected the man more than anyone in the world. And there was no other person he cared for more.
But things had to be done.
He finds Kurono outside leaning against one of the columns on the front porch. Grey hair swings lightly with the breeze picking up. Kai wonders for a moment if he should have brought a coat.
"How did it go?" Kurono matches Chisaki's pace as he continues out of the estate and further into the streets of Osaka.
"What do you think?"
Hari says nothing, only slightly adjusting the grey mask on his face.
Kai shoves his hands deeper into his pockets as they weave their way through the bumbling natives, incoherent rambling sputtering from their lips along with the smoke from the cigarettes that they cling to with their grubby fingers.
It was all so very disgusting.
Chisaki tried to avoid the outside as often as possible. Working from the compound as much as he could and if he needed to leave, opting to take one of the cars that the group had available to them. The boss made an effort to try to get him to leave, raising concerns about his agoraphobic tendencies. The older man didn't see the world as Kai did though.
He didn't see the filth that Kai could.
"Everything is set, correct?"
He doesn't look to Hari, eyes darting back and forth for any potential hurdles.
Kurono keeps his voice low as he walks a step behind him, "Yes, I went to the location myself with the request that you wrote out. It took some convincing but they agreed."
Chisaki nods slightly. Good. He didn't need any necessary headaches at this point. Maybe he'd keep the fools alive that fulfilled the order.
Maybe.
The apothecary store they end up in is ragged. Located down a long alley off one of the main streets, little to no people can be found but the stench of the city still clings to the air. Dark fabric is strung up on the wall, an obvious attempt to create some sort of ominous vibe that is immediately dispelled by the worker who works the cash register wearing a witch hat.
The worker is an older woman, large spectacles sliding down slightly on the bridge of her nose. Grey hair, tied into a sloppy bun, hangs over her left shoulder. Her lips twist into a grin as she locks eyes with Chisaki, taking a deep breath to make some pathetic attempt at a witch's cackle when she glances over to Kurono and freezes.
Kai slows up, no words needing to be said to Hari for him to know that he should take the lead in this situation. Kai, being more or less a spectator in this realm, brings a hand up to re-tighten the black mask over his mouth after looking at the dust that had accumulated in the shop.
He grits his teeth. Don't these people have a broom at least?
Hari walks up to the register and looks down at the woman, "Is it ready?"
She nods shakily, bending down behind the counter and pulling out a tin box. A matte black coloring sprayed on top makes it innocuous. With a slight click she pulls the top off and Hari brings his head down to inspect the contents.
Two vials appear fastened to a foam interior. One containing a dark liquid, the other containing a clear liquid.
Kurono's eyes betray nothing as he reaches down and gently pulls out the darker-colored liquid.
"And how long will it last?"
The woman frowns at the vial, hand slowly rising to scratch her cheek, "One milliliter will last one month. You must be careful to not put too much at one time or the effects will become permanent."
Hari's eyes move to the second vial. "Permanent? I thought the point of the second vial is to alleviate any concerns about a permanent situation."
Chisaki watches the woman closely, even from a few meters away he can see that she is shaking slightly, "Y-Yes, but if you were to overdo it then you would trick the brain into falling into a deeper state. A state that the second vial couldn't pull the subject out of!"
The woman fidgets slightly, her hat becoming slightly eschewed under the gaze of the two men. She holds her hands close to her stomach, clammy fingers being wrung together to try to bring warmth to them.
Kai takes a step forward, hands still deep in his pockets, "And how long will the product last, in its entirety?"
"I-If applied in an appropriate manner.." her eye trails over to Kurono who places the vial back in the box before gently placing the top back on, "The s-subject would stay asleep for over two y-years."
Kai hums to himself and turns to the door. He had heard enough.
The streets had emptied for their walk back. The two men walk side by side, Hari having tucked the box into a jacket pocket.
"When will you do it?"
Kai glances at the man for a moment and then looks back to the sidewalk in front of him.
"Soon. The organizational structure is clear so we can eliminate any of the childish in-fighting if it would occur. Once we make the move, I want the plan to start immediately."
"And that would be targeting the suppliers?"
Kai nods slightly, "We require funds in order to make the needed purchases for the real operation. Kill the drug suppliers and then we'll become the drug suppliers. After a few months, we'll have enough to buy everything we'll need."
Kurono is silent; his footsteps are in perfect sync with Kai's.
Kai opts to continue, "Once we know it works we can wake him up. We need him to see the results of our actions and he'll understand Kurono. Once we're really running this city, we'll conquer the prefecture. After that, we'll move to Tokyo and then things will really take off. You do understand the long-term vision, right? I can trust you, can't I? "
Hari nods slowly, "You have my absolute loyalty."
Kai's lips turn upwards under his mask, "Good. I'll need you to watch Eri for the first few weeks, gain her trust, and the next steps will be easier."
"Wouldn't it be better for her to trust you than me? Maybe we can make her understand what we're trying to do."
Chisaki shakes his head, "That girl will never understand. She'll begin to suffer soon and nothing you say will convince her to look at me more than a monster. That's fine. You'll become her entire support system and we can use that to convince her to continue. She has a simple mind; I doubt we'll have much trouble with her."
"And why me? Won't you need me for other jobs?"
Kai shrugs lightly, "Most of the jobs will only require a sledgehammer to accomplish what we need. Throwing idiots like Rappa at the suppliers will be a win for everyone. But there are some jobs that require a more delicate touch, a finer tool. Wouldn't you agree?"
Hari nods again, "Yes, I think I do. I'll start to work on Eri this evening."
Chisaki looks back to his watch as they approach the gate, "Excellent. I won't expect anything less than perfection from you."
At the front door, Kurono slowly moves his hand, reaching inside his coat and handing the tin box to Chisaki.
He finds the boss still in the office, reading poetry from a writer who had been dead for longer than Kai had been alive. The same flicker is there when their eyes meet, the older man slowly closing the book and looking back to the tea set that still sat at the center of the table.
"Did you come back for more?" The man asks with a slight smile.
Chisaki nods slightly, sitting down on the opposite couch. Weathered hands grab the still-warm teapot and pour steaming water into both cups. Kai finds himself staring again at the same cracked handle as the boss slowly gets to his feet to grab a different blend for the drinks.
The watch on Kai's wrist continues to tick with the marking of each second of the passing day.
The drawer with bags is only a few feet away, the man only turning his back for a moment.
The clicking from the watch ceases, the world around Kai becoming silent.
Becoming still.
The Yakuza member reaches into his pocket and pulls out a dropper, already containing the opaque liquid they had picked up earlier. A white-clad hand hovers above the teacup that sits on the opposite side of the table and squeezes the dropper.
For most people, if they had been in the room, they wouldn't have been able to see the action even if they looked right at the cup when it occurred. It just would have been a slight flash, something that would have been attributed to a trick on the eyes.
Maybe if that person knew who else was sitting on the couch, they would have thought otherwise.
Maybe if they knew what kind of quirk the man was, they would understand the truth.
Because for Chisaki Kai, a single moment can be all the time in the world.
~Revelations~
Thirty Years Ago
The manor was usually quiet in the morning. The day would start when the light began peaking over the horizon, coloring the sky in an orange hue that barely made its way unto the study. Round velvet furniture and heavy wooden desks gave the impression that the room had been left behind in a separate age altogether. Dust gathered on chairs and the thick purple carpet smelled faintly of smoke from past fires in the wide chimney.
A young boy could be found curled up on one of these couches, swallowed up by books he had pulled down and the heavy blanket draped over his shoulders. His chest rises gently, head slumped against one of the heavier pillows while his arms flop loosely by his sides. The child still wore the same white dress shirt and trousers that he had on last night at dinner, obviously failing to change into something more appropriate for slumber when his mind was pulled elsewhere in the later hours.
It was a common occurrence by this point. The books provided stimulation to an empty mind, the boy never being allowed to leave the manor nor have guests at the estate. Due to the treatment of the workers who fed and took care of him, he never considered himself a prisoner, but he often found himself looking out the window at the stretching green yards in front of him and wanting to truly spread his wings.
He had little recollection of his time before the estate, being brought to live at the place somewhere between his third and fourth birthday. His only memories were a slowly swinging light illuminating a dark hallway stained in crimson. His mother's hand wrapped around his, her skin cool to the touch.
Sleeping in his new bedroom is where the nightmares were the worst. An unfamiliar bed in a room larger than any in his previous house felt foreign and misplaced.
The library had always been a favorite of his and was the reason he had found himself in that room on that morning.
When everything changed.
While the boy didn't stir, the workers of the manner scurried around frantically dusting and cleaning any surface they could find. The kitchen had been fired up, an ensemble being generated that would make a baker blush.
The car arrived shortly after seven in the morning. No attempt at subtlety being made with the vehicle, bright rims, and bumpers to the point of them being a traffic hazard from the reflected early morning light.
The library door swings open. The maid chosen for the job walks over and gently picks the child up and sits him upright. The boy blinks, sleep still being clear in his eyes as he looks at the women and then to the rising sun outside.
"What is it?" He mumbles not meeting the woman's gaze. She places a gentle head on his head, trying to pull out any knots in his hair that formed from the pillow he had used.
"Someone has come here to meet you, sweetie. Do you think you could come into the parlor room with me? We have some snacks set up there as well."
She smiles slightly as the boy's head perks up immediately, "Snacks?!" he turns and begins to make his way out of the room with the worker following closely behind.
In a matter of moments, they make their way to the room, with large windows overlooking the front yard. A light-colored carpet covers the floor and a large oak table sits in the center of the room. At the table, sit two guests. An older man in a dark suit, greying hair cut short and rectangular glasses. He holds a teacup in his hand and takes slow sips. Across from him sits a woman with dark brown hair. The makeup on her face does little to hide the dark bags that circle her eyes. A mug filled with coffee sits on the table and while she watches it intently, breathing in the steam that slowly rises from the scalding liquid.
The man locks eyes with the boy and rises, a hand extended out to where the boy was going to be.
The boy looks at the hand and then back up at the man.
He hesitantly takes it, almost overwhelmed by how much it swallows up his own.
It feels nothing like his mother's.
The man bends down slightly, his lips slowly forming into a grin as he gets a better look at the child.
"It's so good to finally meet you, my boy," the man's voice came out in a much lower baritone than the kid expected. The man gestures to the chair at the head of the table, "Please do have a seat, we have so much to talk about, Yotusbashi Rikiya."
Rikiya looks up at the man and then over to the woman whose eyes have finally lifted from the cup to stare at him with a mixture of curiosity and something that was harder to place.
"Who are you?"
The man lets out a laugh at the question, a deep boisterous sound that feels like it could shake the foundation of the manor. He then looks down to Rikiya and then over to the woman.
"My name is Arakawa Nanato and that would be my wife, Kaori," The man pauses for a moment and looks back at the boy, "I guess you could say we're friends of your family."
Rikiya's eyes widen, "You knew my family?!"
Nanato nods slowly, "Indeed we did. A truly horrible thing that happened to them, and for you to be there as well - what a tragic scene."
Rikiya frowns at the words, "I don't remember much about them."
Arakawa nods, "That's what we've heard. I would love to tell you stories about them and the people that they were but we have something else that we'd like to discuss first."
Nanat0 gestures to the table and Rikiya finally moves to sit in the large wooden seat. A tray is placed next to him with an assortment of biscuits and jams by the maid who woke him up earlier. After giving him another warm smile, she departs from the room to leave Rikiya with the two adults.
"Do you know why your parents were killed, Rikiya?"
The boy looks up from the biscuit tray, his appetite fading with the question that was asked.
He slowly shakes his head.
Arakawa nods, "There's no shame in not knowing, Rikiya. Your parents were killed by people that are trying to hurt you. They died in order to protect you from these people."
Rikiya's eyes widen, his stomach twisting in a way that makes him think he'll throw up.
Kaori frowns at the comment, "You're scaring him, Nanato."
The older man looks to her and back to the boy. His bottom lip trembles as his auburn hair hang over his face, obscuring his eyes.
"Hmm, well it's okay to be scared at a time like this. It was a scary moment. The key is turning that fear into something that you can use." The man then looks back to his wife, "You know a thing or two about fear, don't you Kaori?"
The woman makes no acknowledgment of the comment. Her arms, clad in a heavy black coat lay on the table with pale hands clinging to the coffee mug.
After a moment of silence, Nanato continues, "Rikiya, those men tried to hurt you because you are special. You're someone that can change everything and they were scared of that. They were scared of you!"
The boy's eyes widened and he looked down to his small hands, "S-Scared of me? Why would they be scared of me? And why would they hurt my parents?!"
Nanato's lips twitch upward again as he picks up the teacup and takes another long sip. He places the item back down on its plate with a delicate clink before turning back to the buy.
"I'll tell you why Rikiya. It has everything to do with a man that you are related to. It has everything to do with a man named Destro. And Rikiya, I can see it now, you are going to be the one that fulfills the prophecy that he started. It is your destiny, my boy."
Present Day
"And what do you think, Rikiya?"
The piano plays faintly in the darkened room. Candlelight floods the white tablecloth creating an orange coloring generated that could almost replicate the look of the sunset. Large hands hold a small teacup, as it's gently placed back on the platter that it arrived on.
The man slowly pulls up the napkin on his lap and lightly daps his lips before folding it onto the table and turning toward the speaker.
"I thought it was a lovely piece, Chitose. Your progression as a writer for these stories has been truly extraordinary."
The woman to his left looks away slightly while pulling her periwinkle hair through her left ear to cover the light blush on her cheeks.
The man across the table chuckles to himself while taking another sip of his espresso, "You must learn to reign in the compliments once in a while, Rikiya, or you're going to give some people the wrong idea."
Yotsubashi frowns at the man and looks back to Chitose, "The wrong idea? Maybe it is you that should learn to be a bit more giving when it comes to compliments, Shingo. That gloomy building you work in might be a bit brighter if you introduce some cheer every now and then."
The final man at the table gave a light chortle looking up from the cup that hovered near his lips. Violet spectacles reflect the candlelight, hiding his eyes from the rest of the dinner guests.
"Arakawa Shingo giving out compliments? I think Mari would have you arrested for identity theft if you ever tried that."
The table erupts into laughter again.
After a brief moment of silence, Rikiya turns back to Shingo, "And how is the commission faring? You all seem to be avoiding most of the bad press that seems to be on all televisions nowadays. It's quite the trick getting the media to spin the exact narrative that you would like to see, isn't it?"
Arakawa snorts and slowly runs a hand through his hair, "As we predicted it's easier to point the finger at an individual than an organization. As long as Endeavor is the number one hero, the blame will always find a way to his shoulders. Of course, it doesn't hurt to lead the media in that direction but the masses are always simple creatures."
Rikiya nods and looks back down to the table, "And Team One? How is that project coming along for you and Sasaki?"
Shingo shrugs, "Things have been smooth with Hawks and Miruko. The issue is finding the remainder of the group since, according to Kase, Shimura has dropped off completely. We're looking into why but she might just not be the person Mirai thought she'd be."
Yotsubashi picks up the teacup and swirls the amber liquid slowly, "A power like hers too, it would be a shame for you to lose a piece like that."
"Not all can be winners. Sasaki has found other candidates and we're still a ways off before the official launch so I'd say things could certainly be worse." Arakawa pauses for a moment to sip on his drink, "And how about you? I've seen that book has been popping up more as of late, are you starting to ramp up your own operations?"
Rikiya smiles as he looks back to the woman on his left, "Chitose has done an excellent job with the book if I do say so myself. And in terms of operations, while we are passionate about the cause, we will mirror you in a slower approach." The man stalls for a moment, his smiling beginning to fade, "Maybe once things cool down in the south we will move forward."
Shingo's eyebrows rise slightly at the comment, "The south? You know how important that group is for the future, don't you?"
"Of course I do, and I'm not against it in the slightest. I just want those things taken care of before we have our own revival party."
Shingo stares at the man for a long moment before nodding slowly, "We'll deal with him once the time is right, but for now it's best for him to think that he's in control with that doctor of his."
Rikiya snorts, "Him and the doctor, two peas in a pod aren't they?"
Shingo smiles, white teeth peeking from under his lips, "Something like that."
The President then looks again at his watch and slowly climbs from his seat, grabbing the heavy brown coat that had been slung over the back of the chair.
A large hand is extended which Rikiya welcomes with his own. The two men look at each other for a brief moment.
"It's always good to see you, Rikiya."
Yotsubashi nods slowly looking up at the man while remaining in his seat, "You as well, Shingo."
The President then moves to the door before freezing for a moment and turning back to the table, "By the way, I've heard the weather will be poor in Nagoya next weekend. Might be best to avoid the area."
Rikiya looks at the man and nods, "I'll keep that in mind. You do know how much I hate bad weather."
Shingo nods again and then slowly leaves the restaurant. The piano still plays, most other guests having headed home, leaving the room with a rather intimate feel.
Rikiya takes another moment before sipping again on the tea at the table. It was cool by now.
"How can you do that?" Rikiya turns to see the black sclera staring at him with intent, "How can you shake hands and have dinner with a man like that? A man who will get in our way sooner or later?"
The CEO of Detnerat shrugs and looks down to his hands that rest on the table, "Everyone that isn't with us will be against us eventually. Patience is necessary for games like this since at this point, our goals are more or less the same. We will use Arakawa for as long as we can as he will with us; it's a mutually beneficial relationship right now. Things will change so we should celebrate times like these Chitose, before it all comes crashing down."
Hanabata looks up from his drink, face betraying no clear thoughts, "And when do you think that will happen?"
Rikiya looks at the man and smiles, "Soon my friends; the liberation is almost upon us."
~Revelations~
A knock on the door pulls him out of another daydream. He glances at the man who stands in the door, long grey hair tied into a bun, wearing a dark sleeved shirt and jeans.
"Is everything set?"
The man at the door nods then walks over and places a folder on the large oak desk.
"Testing came back stronger than we initially thought. It seems we're good to go for the drop next week."
"Excellent. And how are things progressing with Garaki's high-end project? What is the timing we are looking at for that?"
The man in long hair frowns for a moment and looks away from the desk, "It seems like we are still a number of weeks away from that to be set. The test next week should provide us with a better idea of how far away we are, sir."
The man at the desk nods slowly, "And how is your treatment coming along? I'm guessing if you're still here it must be better than the others before you."
"It's been excellent according to Garaki. We've had some hurdles but I'm confident that the doctor will be able to figure it out."
The man at the desk chuckles, "You seem awfully confident in a man that's lost more than his fair share of subjects for his most important project. What do they call you, anyway?"
"It would be Nine, Director."
The Director laughs again from his chair, "Eight failures and you feel confident! Have you even tried an assimilation run yet?"
Nine shakes his head, "No, Director. The Doctor has planned a slower schedule for me after apparent failures with Seventh and Eight. I believe his thought process is to spend more time on getting my physical body ready for the toll it will bring."
The Director nods again, "I wish the best for you Nine. I could see you becoming a very important piece to the organization if things go well."
Nine nods again, "I appreciate your kind words, Director. I'm also thankful for the opportunity you are providing me."
The Director shrugs slightly at the words, "I'm invested in your future Nine, since the more you succeed, the more I'll succeed. The future of our organization hinges on these experiments from the mad doctor paying dividends."
Nine nods again and the Director then gestures for him to leave.
The room is then silent again. The Director leans further into his chair and slowly brings his hands to rub his weary eyes.
It had been difficult to sleep with the stage the organization was at. With how much progress they've made and how much they could already do. He'd have to make sure to have the news on whenever the drop time is finalized.
If Shingo wanted a show, he would damn well bring him a show.
It seemed that everyone that ever talked to him inherently looked down on him. Like they favored underestimating him rather than overestimate the power that he had.
And the power he could have in the future.
The commission and the liberation army could both believe that they would be the ones to call the shots in whatever came after the inevitable crash that was going to occur.
This was fine with the Director, he could play the ignorant fool for a little longer.
But with the power the Doctor was working on, there was simply no doubt about it.
He would be the last one standing after the world goes to hell.
Key Player Log:
Akaguro Chizome. Age 30.
Chisaki Kai. Age 27.
Kurono Hari. Age 27.
Yotsubashi Rikiya. Age 40.
Arakawa Shingo. Age 58. *
Kizuki Chitose. Age: 27.
Hanabata Kōkū. Age 33.
Chapter Notes
I'm back with the penultimate chapter for the Introduction Act! I wanted to take some time to build out some characters who will be seeing much more of as the story progresses to Act 2 so we have some base to work with when I bring them back!
One note on Chisaki, if anyone has wondered what exactly happened to him since Izuku is the one with Overhaul, hopefully, this answers some of your questions. I'll have more on exactly what went down but for those who did not recognize it, Chisaki's quirk in this world is 'Overclock' from the vigilante spinoff series. I'll have more on what exactly happened later on but I liked the idea of bringing this unique quirk into the world and discovering how not having Overhaul will change Chisaki and his plan with Eri.
Thanks again for reading and I'll see you next time for the finale of act one of Revelations!