Their Hero Academia – Chapter 90: Of Fire, Wings, and Things
Tartarus was not a good place. It never had been, and even with various protests and civil rights challenges over the years, it had not improved dramatically. Shoto was reminded of this every time he had to talk to prisoners there. It was an uncomfortable truth and an awkward balancing act that nearly every Hero of any substantial standing had to reckon with.
Super-human society made containment of prisoners difficult. Containment for every prisoner had to be accounted for individually, with unique countermeasures for their Quirks. There was no one size fits all method of imprisoning Villains. People had tried to develop suppressors for Quirks and some had even tried to weaponize them, but the few drug-based methods were not only short lasting, but wrecked such havoc on a person's systems that long term use had been deemed unethical.
His brother was, by all reports, a model prisoner. He had, after all, turned himself in with the idea of protecting his then-unborn daughter. A deranged murder he may have been, but he had been smart enough to know that Toga was perhaps the most unfit mother on the planet. Their father's fall from grace and forced retirement some years later had taken further wind out of his sails.
Some part of him was never sure what to call his brother. Toya was the name he had been born with, of course, but Shoto scarcely had any memory of him that way. But Dabi was the name of an enemy, one who had tried to kill him and his friends countless times. And Dabi was the name he had chosen for himself.
Dabi's cell was afforded a bed, a chair, a table, and even a small supply of books. There was also a very advanced fire suppression system built into it. The kind that smothered a fire by denying it oxygen, rather than one that tried to put it out with water. If the temperature ever rose above a certain point, they would activate and not only put out his flames, but knock him out as well. Or potentially worse, depending on how he resisted.
His brother looked up from the book he was reading, The Meta Liberation War. The book was controversial; Shoto wondered how he'd managed to be allowed a copy. "Well, if it isn't the favorite," he taunted. "To what do I owe the honor of a visit from the great Shoto?"
The two of them had never talked much. Regular visitors weren't something Tartarus allowed. And Tartarus didn't exactly lend itself to friendly conversations. Shoto wasn't really sure what he could ever have said. Trauma and worse had made his brother a very, very damaged individual.
Shoto frowned and got straight to the point. "There's been a sighting. Of Rei."
The book fell from Dabi's hands and hit the door with an audible thud. The guards, flanking either side of the cell, instantly went for their weapons, though neither pulled their guns from their holsters. Both eyed Dabi warily. Shoto could feel the temperature rising, even through the glass. A mechanical sound alerted him to the fire-suppression system powering up.
Dabi walked towards the glass, putting his hands on it. Shoto could see small flecks of blue flames dancing over his charred skin. "Tell. Me. Everything."
The guards had brought Dabi to an interrogation cell. He was restrained, hands behind his back, plenty of ceiling-mounted guns trained on him, with fire suppression systems built into the room as well. Shoto didn't think he'd have been a threat even with them. The fight had gone out of his brother years ago. He'd never stopped hating their father, of course, but without a target for all his rage…
Their third year of U.A. had been perilous. All for One had broken free of Tartarus and Tomura Shigaraki had rallied his League of Villains against society like never before. Dabi and all the rest had never ceased in their efforts to bring about social upheaval.
Shoto did not know and did not care to think about what kinds of circumstances might have led his brother and the serial killer named Himiko Toga to fall into bed together, let alone conceive a child. By all accounts, the conception was an accident. But his brother had let on that the madwoman had turned dangerously clingy upon finding out, making plans to be 'one big, happy family.'
His brother was many things: murderous, revenge-obsessed, a user of people. But he was also capable of recognizing when too much was too much. And after his own upbringing, he had been loath to expose any child of his own to danger. He had made a deal with the authorities, turning himself in, but offering information on the League for leniency. Without that information, things might have gone far worse. The revelation of his identity had been a major shock, even though it had been kept from the public at large. His father's abuses had been allowed to stay hidden then, for the so-called "good" of society.
"If I were a shitty dad like Endeavor, I wouldn't have cared about my kid and just got on with my crusade. But I'm not him. So I had to do the opposite of what he would."
And that had been the end of All for One and Tomura Shigaraki, who had fought to the death. The others were more scattered. Gigantomachia was being studied, last he knew, in a lab somewhere in the Arctic Circle. Doctor Ujiko had been executed for crimes against humanity. Mister Compress was still serving time in a slightly less high security facility. Twice had been confined to a mental institution, deemed incompetent to strand trial. Toga was, unfortunately, still out there killing people; they'd get sightings every now and then, but she was stupidly good at evading Heroes and the police. Spinner had somehow become inspired by Izuku's heroism and Stain's declaration of him as All Might's true successor and served his time quietly, now an advocate for Mutant rights. And Kurogiri was in a hospital, never expected to regain full awareness.
Shoto held the pictures up against the glass. They were blurry, but they showed Rei, in her red and black leather costume, with a woman dressed much like Mister Compress had. And they were lucky to have that much. They'd done a disturbingly good job evading I-Island's security systems.
"This is I-Island, a few weeks ago," Shoto said. "Digital enhancement confirmed Rei's identity, but the other woman's mask makes identifying her difficult. Did Mister Compress ever mention a daughter?"
Dabi chuckled at that, but Shoto noticed he didn't take his eyes off the pictures. "What, you think the old magician and I were buddy buddy?" He rubbed his chin, carefully avoiding the staples. "He did say he was training a protege once. Didn't ask about a name. Probably her. Why don't you ask him?"
"Trust me," Shoto said. "It's on my list."
Dabi finally tore his eyes from the picture. "She looks healthy," he said after a moment.
"She's killed thirty people that we know of." That got a laugh out of his brother, though Shoto didn't know what was so funny.
"But you didn't just bring those here to show me what she's been up to," Dabi said. "Or to ask about her new friend."
Shoto shook his head. "You're right. From what we've been able to piece together, she and the Compress-like woman did something on I-Island. There was a theft and other mayhem that we can lay at their feet, but the word is that they had a run in with thugs working for Chernabog, that left the thugs dead. Chernabog's looking for them.."
His brother's eyes widened. Even having been locked up for nearly two decades, he understood what that name meant.
"We've also heard whispers that there's a new League of Villains. Not like that group who tried to trade on the name. Viruses, Nomu-robots, technology thefts… they're organized and planning… something. Is there anyone, any ally, anything you didn't tell us about already? Anyone left who might be trying to keep your nightmarish dreams alive?"
Dabi shook his head, his eyes looking very haunted. "No," he said firmly. "I told you everything. That was the deal. And you all still couldn't keep my daughter safe."
Blue flames started to break out along his skin again. "You find her, dammit! Those Russian bastards will kill her! Find her!"
The fire suppression systems kicked in. Dabi struggled to stay conscious, flames flickering until they could burn no more. In moments, the flames were gone and his brother was out cold.
Shoto sighed. He'd learned almost nothing. And yet it had still gone better than he'd thought it would.
A section of the warehouse had been partitioned into a small room, well-furnished with a massive desk and an even more massive chair behind it, and overstuffed bookshelves. The room was mostly dark, lit only by the flickering light of multiple televisions on the wall opposite the desk. The two guards in the room were largely perfunctory, meant to intimidate. Not that the man seated in the large, ornate chair needed any help.
Two other guards dragged a small, crying man into the room. He was openly weeping and it looked like he had possibly soiled himself.
"Do you know," the man behind the desk began, speaking in Korean, "why they call me Big Poppa?"
The prisoner tried to scramble to his feet, but the guards kept him on his knees. He turned his head rapidly, looking for a way out. One of the guards hit him with the butt on his rifle. "The boss asked you a question."
The man, seeing no other options, looked up. "They say… they say it is because your whores know who is in charge!"
The mood in the room somehow became even chillier. The man behind the desk chuckled. It was a cruel sound, the kind that precipitated acts of violence. Still chuckling, he stood. He was a huge man, easily the size of Tentacole or Gale Force, if not bigger, and solidly muscled. He was dressed in red silk pants, with a furry red coat trimmed with white fur. His chest was bare, his skin blue, and his beard full and white. In his left hand, he gripped a gold cane topped with a ruby.
The man called Big Poppa came out from behind his desk and stood in front of the prisoner and took his face in one meaty hand. He made sure that the prisoner was looking him in the eye. "They call me that because I make sure the girls who work for me are well-taken care of. And because I don't tolerate anyone mistreating them."
The man began to shake. The threat was very clear.
Which meant it was time for Hitoshi to act.
His Capture Cloth shot out first, wrapping around the prisoner's midsection. As Hitoshi dropped from the rafters, the man went up, safely out of the way for the moment. Hitoshi landed and instantly went into action, slamming a fist into the nose of one of the guards, rocking him back, and a quick kick to the solar plexus disabled the other.
There was a tense moment as the other guards went for their guns, but Big Poppa held up a hand. "Well, well, well," he said, now speaking Japanese. "To what do I owe the honor of a visit from the Voice?"
"Information," Hitoshi said. "Preventing a murder was just a bonus."
Big Poppa chuckled again. "Oh, I was never going to kill him. He can't warn others if he's dead. But I was going to break some bones."
Big Poppa was of Korean origin and ran several local underground brothels and other illicit businesses. But the thing was, his earlier statement had also been true. He absolutely opposed sex trafficking, having even passed on information to the police and Heroes in the past or even taking direct action against his less ethical competitors, and everyone who worked for him did so because they genuinely wished to. He was a criminal, to be sure, and had definitely done numerous things that he should be in prison for. But he was also a valuable resource for Underground Heroes like Hitoshi, especially in some of the immigrant communities.
"Consider him scared," Hitoshi said. He didn't bother trying to use his Quirk. It wouldn't get him any information anyway, and Big Poppa was incredibly strong willed. Instead, he got down to business. "Weapons from your country are coming into this one. But not to the usual sources. I know gunrunning isn't your thing, but I do know people talk. Especially in more… intimate moments."
Big Poppa stared at him, stroking his beard. "Gun warfare's bad for business," he said. "People don't feel like going out, having a good time, when they could get shot. I haven't heard anything, but I'll see what I can find out. Usual information drop?"
"Yes," Hitoshi replied. "I'll check at our regular time."
Big Poppa relaxed slightly. "How's that boy of yours? Heard he was front and center when all that shit went down."
It took an act of will for Hitoshi to hide his surprise. He hadn't thought anyone had heard about Shota like that. "He's fine," he said.
"Good, good," Big Poppa said. "Got a dozen or so kids of my own, you know. Kids're the future. Got to treat them right."
He looked up. "Suppose you're taking this one?"
Hitoshi nodded. "Legally obligated to, since I prevented an assault."
Big Poppa's eyes narrowed. "He tried to use a knife on Aera," he said. "He's lucky I wasn't going to kill him."
Hitoshi held up under the gaze. "I think he'd rather confess than face your wrath."
"Good enough," Big Poppa said. "Get him out of here before I stop going soft."
Hawks was, in a word, bored. Ever since he'd been appointed the Deputy Commissioner of the Hero Public Safety Commission, he'd spent a lot of time being bored.
Appointed.
More like kicked upstairs, really. Between the League of Villains revealing the details of the Hatamoto Program that had created people like him and Lady Nagant more than twenty years ago and Endeavor's ultimate fall from grace almost a decade after that, the Commission had been desperate to still appear in control and strong. Putting someone like him who'd been a victim of its excesses in a high position of authority had been a sop to the public that everything was going to be okay. But for the most part it was a meaningless title with few actual responsibilities and way too many meetings.
Of course, the grand irony of his being trapped in a meaningless position and too many meetings was that he was the one who had always dreamed about a world where Heroes had "too much free time." At least he'd lived to see that much. Heroes were raising families in record numbers, Villain crime was down, and faith in the Pro-Hero system was at an all time high.
He even had a daughter of his own. Another thing he'd never expected. Especially when you considered that he and Rumi had incompatible orientations, what with her being a lesbian and him being ready, willing, and able to hit on anything that moved. But she'd wanted a family and he was one of her best friends and, well, it'd all worked out.
None of which changed the fact that he was bored. He'd tried tossing his pen up into the air and catching it, but even with his eyes closed, his reflexes and intuition were just too good. There was no challenge in it.
The intercom on his desk crackled to life. "Mister Hawks?" his secretary asked. Getting her to call him Hawks had been a struggle. But he'd called himself that for so long, he barely remembered who Keigo Takami was. "There's an angry pomeranian here to see you." A pause, then, "I mean, Ground Zero is here to see you."
Hawks chuckled. He'd hired her specifically because she was 95% attitude by volume. He needed at least one person other than Rumi who didn't kiss his ass. And also because she was highly competent and was both his professional and personal secretary. Because, according to Rumi he was "incapable of running his own life." So what if he forgot to pay a bill or three sometimes? Or had to eat cereal out of a frisbee because he didn't have any clean bowls or real food. Or once had to send some of his feathers out with cash taped to them to buy new pants because he couldn't remember when he'd last done laundry. Or how to do laundry.
It didn't mean he was helpless!
"Does he have an appointment?" he asked.
"He does, actually. I put it on your electronic calendar."
Hawks looked guiltily at his computer, which was open to a game of Solitaire.
"And put a note on your desk."
Where had she…? Ah, over there. He'd put the other stack of papers he was ignoring on it.
"Well, send him in."
If nothing else, this ought to be fun.
"Ah, Ground Zero," Hawks said as Katsuki stormed into the room. He was smiling, that same laid back, disarming smile he always used. The one that he used to put civilians at ease and gladhand other Heroes. It just pissed Katsuki off. "What can I do for you? And can I get you some water? Some kind of snack?"
"Don't try any of that stuff with me, you damn turkey," he growled. "I've got a bone to pick with and I'm not above throwing you out that window."
Hawks chuckled. "You do remember I can fly, don't you?" He grinned again. How exactly had Endeavor not killed this guy during all the times they'd worked together? Katsuki remembered why he'd usually avoided Hawks.
Dammit, why had he said that? "Yeah," Katsuki snapped, "but it'll make me feel better."
Hawks shrugged. "If it's all the same then, I'd rather you didn't. I'm not as young as I used to be." He turned off the charm just a little, standing a little straighter, dropping the false smile. "In all seriousness, what can I do for you? I don't get a lot of visits from Heroes in the field, on medical leave or otherwise."
Katsuki had to make himself remember that for all his bravado and the irritation he caused, Hawks was dangerously intelligent, with actual intelligence training. He couldn't afford to slip up here or let his guard down. "Seung Park," he said. No point in dancing around it.
Hawks tilted his head slightly, blinking those weird ass eyes of his. "Am I supposed to know who that is? I know I'm the Deputy Commissioner, but even I can't keep track of every Hero out there."
Katsuki would have bet money that that was a damn lie. "She's not a Hero. She's a Shiketsu student I met during U.A.'s training camp. A fifteen year old girl."
Understanding dawned in Hawks' eyes. He snapped his fingers. "Ah, one of our little "scholarship kids.". How's she doing?"
Katsuki fought down his Quirk, a small crackle spreading across his palms. If Hawks noticed–and Katsuki was sure he had–he didn't let on. This was important. He didn't need to lose his cool now. "She's got the makings of a damn fine Hero," he said. "But that's not the point here."
He made a fist. "From what she told me, the Hero Commission offered to pay for her Hero training, all expenses, everything, in exchange for being their 'in' for taking down the Korean gangs when she graduates, with an agency ready to go and paid for by them. Carrot and stick: give her the legal opportunity to do what she was going to do anyway."
He pointed a finger. "So I do some digging. I talk to some people. Follow the money. People always forget. I'm a damn good investigator. Better at it than just about anybody except maybe Lemillion, and I will deny that I ever said that. So I come to find out she's not the first. There's four of them at U.A. alone, and more at other schools! All of them promised agencies after they finish their education, in spots the Commission's picked out for them, with specific areas and specialties all lined up. Not that anyone told us. Hell, I find out there's been at least a half dozen recent grads from Hero schools from your little project."
He forced himself to take a breath. Getting mad was good. This was something worth getting mad about. Letting his rage take control though wouldn't do anyone any favors.
Katsuki fixed Hawks with his best glare. "Everything the Commission did to you. To Nagant. We saw what happened when that dirty laundry got leaked. How many kids they fucked up. And here you are, letting the same damn thing happen. Child soldiers, all over again!"
Hawks held up his hands in a disarming gesture. "You've got it all wrong, Ground Zero," he said. "It's not the same thing at all. There's a choice, every step of the way. And we're hardly the only country doing this. Hell, there's countries where every Hero gets their assignments handed down on high like that. Compared to them, we're hands off."
He went on, still trying to be disarming. "Look, the whole point of this is not to be what happened to me. Commissioner Mera consulted me every step of the way. Didn't always take my advice, but he listened. But it is his pet project. He saw what happened when All Might fell, and he's seen what happened when the wrong choices get made, like with Ignition. He's trying to make sure the future's always secure. And he feels that means the right person, in the right place."
"Shut up!" Katsuki snapped. That was one of the biggest loads of bullshit he'd ever heard. It was never that easy. The Hero Commission was certainly more ethical than it had been a couple of decades ago, but there was still a lot of shady shit that went down. Some of it was moderately forgivable, some of it wasn't.
If you made someone that level of beholden to you, they owned you, even if they claimed they didn't. Maybe they were handing off the training to others, but the end result was the same.
A small grin played across his face. "How much does the public know about this recruitment program? Because for all the digging I did, I could only turn up a few new Heroes giving interviews about Commission scouts suggesting they'd be good at it."
Hawks' posture changed instantly, his eyes narrowing and his wings flaring. The air was thick with tension, neither one of them willing to make the first move. It was as though they stood on a precipice, with the only question being which one of them went over first. But Hawks let his shoulders droop. "The optics aren't ideal," he said after a moment. "So we're not trying to draw attention to it. Ignition was the Commission's darling, and that crashed and burned. And like you said, folks like me and Nagant. But it's not like someone couldn't do like you did, follow the money, talk to people. And we're not stealing childhoods, anything like that."
"It's fishy as hell," Katsuki said, "and you know it. You wouldn't be making so many excuses if you didn't. And I don't like it."
Hawks response was cut off as the door to the office burst open.
The man who'd entered wore some kind of uniform, with an insignia Katsuki didn't recognize, probably some kind of government official. No major mutations or enhancements, beyond pale, almost albino skin, but he definitely carried himself like a former military man.
"Sorry, sir," Hawks' secretary said. "I tried to tell him you were in a meeting, but he insisted."
"It's fine, Ichigo" Hawks said, slipping back into his more casual persona in an instant. The change in posture and persona was so complete it was almost like looking at a different man. "I was expecting this visit anyway."
When the man spoke it was soft, but an unmistakable hint of something more fierce behind it. "I suspected one of you would come in here sooner or later, believing your position as Heroes somehow entitles you to tell the government how to do its job." He walked into the room, showing no concern to either Hawks or Katsuki, as if they weren't both veteran Pro-Heroes. He clasped his hands behind his back. He turns to Hawks. "Is this going to be a problem, Deputy Commissioner Takami?"
Most people would have missed it. But Katsuki saw Hawks' mask slip, just for a moment. He didn't recognize this guy, but it was also very clear that Hawks didn't like him one bit. The name thing was telling too; everyone knew Hawks preferred his codename to his birth name. This was going to be interesting.
"Representative Wakamoto," Hawks said casually, mask slipping back into place. "How good of you to visit. We don't see you here nearly enough. Quite a long walk from the Diet, I'd imagine." He shrugged. "I was just explaining to Ground Zero here that he's getting worked up over nothing. These aren't the dark old days of corruption and child soldiers and all that. Partnerships, scouting, good prospects. All above board."
Katsuki kept his face carefully neutral. "And you're who, exactly?"
There was a very small smirk. "Oh hardly so far that I can't see you, Deputy Commissioner." There was only a small hint of mirth, but masked with an enjoyment of Hawks' discomfort. He turns to Katsuki, his expression turning into something similar to how one looks at a dirty shoe. "I am Special Representative to the Diet, Ryusei Wakamoto. I am the direct liaison between our government and the Pro-Hero administration."
If Wakamoto thought Katsuki cared about his opinion of him, well, he was in for a rude awakening. He did, vaguely, recall learning in school that such a position existed, though it rarely came up. The Hero Public Safety Commission was typically left to its own devices except in rare cases and special requests. "Got it," he said. "Which means you're probably the one who signed off on this whole child recruitment thing."
"Who watches the watchmen, eh?" Hawks said. "Keeps everybody honest. Nobody wants the bad old days anymore, especially not me. So see? All good."
Wakamoto's hands remained clasped. He ignored Hawks and looked at Katsuki nonplussed. "My superiors, the ones Japan's people elected to safeguard this country, made the call. I made certain it wasn't ignored. Today's "Pros'' are entirely too eager to dismiss their government's orders."
Ah. One of those types. When exactly had this guy been appointed? He was definitely out of step. "'Orders' might be a bit generous of a way of putting it," he said. "We're not soldiers and we're not cops. And sure, ultimately, we answer to the Commission. They set rules, boundaries, licensures, all that. And they sometimes ask us to take on certain assignments, as needed. 'Ask' being the key word here. Works out well enough, especially with the reforms of the last ten plus years."
He fought down a wave of anger. As much as he wanted to hit this guy on general principle, no benefit would come from violence here. "I have to admit I find it a bit worrying that you're taking my expression of concern for what looks like a messy situation as 'disobedience'. Nobody wants Heroes who blindly follow orders anymore. That's what got us into a lot of messes in the first place."
A smile actually formed on Wakamoto's face. "Expressing concern? Come now, you and I both know you came to do more than that." His smile then turns to a thin line. "Blind obedience? No. Heroes who do not ignore direct orders? Yes. The government serves at the behest of the people, and heroes are given the ability to do their duties by the government. Do you know what people really want, Mister Bakugou? They want the comfort that is gained from the illusion that they can go outside on their daily routines without the possibility that some random Villain could appear and end them, because they know Heroes are out there to protect them. Of course that's a falsehood, but society functions on that falsehood. Without it, it crumbles. Young people like Ms. Park are needed to stem what is coming."
Smug bastard. Katsuki would have liked nothing more than to wipe that smile off his face. Hell, twenty years ago, maybe even ten years ago, he probably would have. Time and experience had taught him when to pick his battles, no matter how much he would have liked to pick all of them.
The man's repeated use of the word "orders" grated on him. Definitely had to be ex-military. He'd known plenty of people who served. Fine people. But some of that thinking stuck with people and didn't translate well to life outside it. And Heroes weren't soldiers.
Not to mention the whole thing was still shady as fuck. Especially the way Wakamoto talked about it like he'd created some junior new branch of the JSDF and not a new generation of Heroes. But also not technically illegal. And not unethical on the scale that Lady Nagant and Hawks' recruitment and training had been. He could, unfortunately, admit that much. No matter how much he didn't like it. It still seemed damn predatory to him. Especially in Park's case.
"I don't like what you're up to," he said finally, his expression never changing. "But I guess it's all nice and legal. And it sounds like you're prepared to PR the hell out of it. I don't back down easily, Wakamoto. But I've learned how to take a loss. So I'll keep my trap shut, for now. But I take exploiting kids, especially ones with a shitton of trauma like Park, very seriously. So I'll give you a chance to prove you're on the up and up, like you say you are. But I'll be paying attention."
He shot Hawks a look. "Nagant snapped. You got pressured into a hell of a lot of shady shit. And you two were just the biggest ones. You, more than anyone, know what's at stake here. Don't let it happen to anyone else."
Katsuki left, not particularly caring what else was said.
Well, that had certainly been the tensest situation Hawks had been involved in in a good long while. Fortunately, he'd been too well trained to show it. Though certainly part of him had been hoping that Ground Zero would just slug Wakamoto. There were times when he wanted to. The Special Representative just rubbed him the wrong way. Guy definitely had a major stick up his ass.
Hawks didn't think the man was evil or some secret Villain plant or anything, or even especially unethical. Just operating on a vastly different logistical framework.
He shrugged. "The program's on the up and up," he said. "Maybe a little questionable, but no different than a lot of other programs that paid for degrees in exchange for service. Ground Zero's just protective."
He looked over at Wakamoto. "So, did you actually want something, or were you just spying on my appointments?"
"Some of the former, some of the latter," Wakamoto said in a tone that gave no indication if that was a joke or not. "I had heard the Pros had come into possession of some information regarding foreign movements into the country? Can you confirm that?"
"You do remember the part where I'm mostly a figurehead?" Hawks asked, keeping his tone light. "'Kicked upstairs', you know? Not like they run things by me." A supposed "check" on the powers that be, but with little actual authority.
"There's been a little bit of intelligence chatter," he added. "Including from the international community. Can't say if anyone on our side's planning on acting on it."
"Yes, but I assume you still have contacts among the Pros." Wakamoto narrowed his eyes. "They act on their own initiatives far too much." He paused as if stopping himself from going on a familiar tangent. Hawks had heard it all before. The fact that Heroes didn't need to run every move they made by someone for some stamp of approval seemed personally offensive to Wakamoto.
"All-for-One's defeat. Shigaraki's failure to take his place. Deku's admittedly exemplary work of preventing the rise of a new Demon Lord in this country. If rumors are to be believed, the consequences are starting to catch up to us."
Hawks did let his careful mask slip ever so slightly at the man's other words. "That bad, huh? I know they say nature abhors a vacuum…"
"I won't speculate as to the scale, but it's a different time. In his day All-for-One was supreme, not just in Japan, but in the world of Villains. Now? Our spies in the immigrant communities speak of names from their homelands and beyond, whose powers are growing by the day. Japan may experience another Admiral Perry very soon, looking at our prosperity as an opportunity."
Great. Wakamoto was quoting ancient history. Now he was annoying and boring.
Wakamoto looked at Hawks. "Except it won't be a fleet of ships forcing us to bend to the whims of the world, but something worse."
"Wow," Hawks said, not bothering to hide his surprise much "That's some good old timey racism right there. 'Spies in the immigrant communities.' What year is this again?"
"You know as well as I do that our country, as much progress has been made, is still not entirely kind to our non-Japanese residents. Our government's well-meaning, but ill-conceived acceptance of the Korean immigrants after the Humanists won the presidency on the peninsula, more than showed Japan is not used to living among people who are not them."
Wakamoto removed a mint from his pocket, opened it, and took a sniff. "As such with little means of "dignified" work and opportunity, they tend to be forced to become outliers. The Ignition Debacle forced us to ignore the Chinese for so long that The Rising Sons' tendrils have spread all over the country. Now the Koreans grow in strength, whether it's the resurgence of the Zainichi Yakuza or the new groups with ties to the Villain powers in Korea, they grow all the same."
He took another sniff of the mint before throwing it away. He looked at Hawks. "You were a spy. You should know if you want to keep your ear to the ground on criminal doings, you go to the disadvantaged. It's logical. Label it racism if you wish, it matters not to me."
Hawks didn't press the issue. It simply wasn't the time. "Okay," he said, "setting that aside, sounds like we're primed for trouble. Fine. That's plannable. No matter how many boring meetings we have to hold. No need to get all worked up about it."
Just what they needed. And with the National Sports Festival on the horizon too…
He was hurting. That was one of the few things he was sure of. For months, his life had been a never ending series of pains. Sometimes, he was lucky. Sometimes they left him alone for days at a time, other than to check his vitals, draw blood, and check the nutrient feed they had him hooked up to.
He missed food. Prison food hardly anything that could be called good, but it beat his current situation.
Even prison was preferable to this. He'd been a model prisoner, after all, well aware of the harm that he'd done. He'd accepted the sacrifice of his freedoms for the achievements of Endeavor's disgrace and forced retirement and the societal transformation that had followed, along with the destruction of the Iga Group. It had not been anything he could call a good life. But it had been a life.
Until the so-called League of Villains had sprung him from his cell. Taken by surprise, he'd been unable to fight them in any meaningful way. And now they kept him pumped so full of drugs he couldn't begin to call upon his Quirk.
They were doing something with the diseases spawned within him, that much was sure. But he did not know what. What he had done was chilling enough. What others, more sinisterly inclined, might do with them was a frightening thought indeed.
He only knew that it hurt so damn much all the time. The dull beep of the machines monitoring his vitals was his only other companionship. Just irregular enough to keep it from being relaxing. He knew more than enough about medicine and biology, not to mention torture, to know it all was intentional.
The door to his cell opened and that damned bear entered, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
"Aw, dear Plague," the bear-man said. "Time for more samples. Perhaps this will finally be the truly effective batch of virus. Your original really was a work of art, you know. Even with all the experimentation I did on you, I never could quite replicate it. You still won't consider cooperation?"
Doctor Ursa had worked for the Iga Group. He had, in fact, been one of the ones experimenting upon him for so many years. It had been too much to hope that all the cockroaches in that nest had been captured.
Words were difficult to form, but he managed. "Go to hell."