Content Warnings: Man has a quirk, gaslight, which allows him to tell people things and they believe them as if they were truth. Female is powerless to defend herself against two men. Nothing sexual, and she is not harmed in any way, but her actions would cause a comrade to die so she feels powerless to defend herself or her comrade. Light misogyny brought up in off-hand comments.

Previously On Kintsukuroi: Isane and Rikiya Katsukame had a relationship at some point while she was one of the Eight Bullets of the Shie Hassaikai. The Shie Hassaikai has been part of her life since she was a child, and she still feels a close connection to them, so much so that she still considers them to be her family. Isane has known Irinaka since she was a child, and refers to him as Ojichan privately. Isane also struggles with sleeping when there are new people around.

Chapter Eight

One of the Eight

Two and a half years previously

"You didn't happen to have a hand in this, did you?" She spoke softly, so as not to catch the attention of Overhaul, who was speaking to the newest member of the Eight Bullets, or worse, Mimic, who perched only a few feet away on the arm of the only couch in the room.

Isane glanced up at Katsukame, brow raised and dry amusement in her eyes. If not for the black face mask that covered her nose and mouth, he would have seen her lips twist into a wry smile. He hadn't noticed her enter, but her words caught his attention. He glanced down at her, briefly, before turning back to pretend to listen to whatever the hell Overhaul was saying.

The falcon-like mask that covered his face also obscured his expression, but the deep sigh and thin composure over warbling words told her he was trying very hard not to laugh. "Not a chance. I thought you knew I'm not that cruel."

"Rappa, then," she deduced, glancing across Katsukame's chest and folded arms to find that the man in question across the room already had his attention trained on them. He also wore a full-face mask, completely hiding his expression, but the way his shoulders silently shook in concealed mirth told her everything she needed to know.

As much as she tried to stay inconspicuous, Mimic still turned on his armrest to look behind him. Admonishment ready on his tongue, the words died as soon as he took her in. "What the fuck did you do?" He hissed instead. God, she was truly causing a ruckus. She was really going to get an earful later, even if Overhaul hadn't noticed yet. Or if he had, he hadn't paused the conversation. Not that he would. Nemoto was currently vetting the newest Bullet.

"Something stupid: I trusted Rappa."

Isane was truly a sight, she knew. It had been pouring outside the entire day, and hadn't let up once. The streets were beginning to flood, based on the news that had been cycling in the Bullet's lounge all day. She hadn't found a mirror in the time when she saw the text that moved up the meeting for the new member and booked it across the compound and back underground, but she had been outside without an umbrella for nearly ten minutes before she realized she'd been pranked. If it had been May, it wouldn't be that big of a deal. She'd get Rappa back somehow. But it was January, and she was soaked, head to foot, and was freezing to the bone because the dumbass who had built the tunnels forgot to add any sort of insulation. The face mask was the worst part, as it felt like she was breathing in Arctic water with every intake, but she couldn't rip it off. Not yet. As soon as Overhaul walked out, though, she was going to shove it up Rappa's-

"In the back," Isane's attention was caught by Nemoto, who had pointed her out to the new member, as well as every other head in the room. Hojo, who stood across the room over by Rappa was the only other person in the room to react to her appearance with a silent small shake of his head.

She was being judged. It was fine. She'd be fine.

Thank fuck for the face masks, though. They hid everything.

She was definitely going to get chewed out later. Maybe by Nemoto. Definitely by Mimic. But honestly, Rappa would get it worse.

Nemoto's voice cracked, and honestly it could be from humor or anger; it was a toss-up. "-Is Nakamoto Isane, who will get with you later to complete a quirk assessment. It'll help us determine where exactly to place you."

Isane bowed, all business, despite the obvious being-soaked situation. "Usually I like to hold a quirk assessment same-day as arrivals, but we'll need to do it tomorrow morning. It's a little wet outside, and I wouldn't suggest going out without an umbrella." She struggled to keep a straight face, and thanked whatever god was out there for the face mask, again, even though she was starting to really shiver. "Until tomorrow, I don't want to hear anything about your quirk. I like for both of us to go in relatively "blind" for lack of a better word. It gives me a more accurate basis for your skill."

The poor boy in front of the group couldn't have been more than twenty five. Short-cropped blonde hair and wide eyes, he looked like he wasn't sure if he should laugh or reconsider all of his life choices up to that point.

Overhaul made the choice for him, turning back to the new recruit without pause and finished his introduction. He rose from his seat and crossed the room to the door, having introduced the new guy to everyone else and laid out the basic expectations. Mimic and Nemoto would take it from there. He and Kurono disappeared behind a door, off to do whatever it was they did all day.

As soon as the door's latch clicked shut, the room exploded.

"You absolute fucking piece of-" Isane cursed in Rappa's general direction, voice raising as she whipped off the mask and gasped for breath. "You realize it's only a few degrees above freezing outside, don't you?"

Mimic had turned to her, but she ignored him as Rappa called out, "Hey Nakamoto, you're looking like a fish out of water-" She threw her mask at his face, which connected with his his chest and made a satisfying splat.

"I'm going to fucking murder you in your sleep and you'll never see it coming," she hissed at him as she pulled off her sweatshirt, leaving the long sleeve t-shirt on underneath. Absently, she realized she probably shouldn't be stripping in front of the new guy, but desperation clawed at her to get out of the wet, freezing layers.

"Oooh," Katsukame appraised her, a teasing note to his voice. "We get to see a show, huh?"

She flipped him off resolutely as Mimic hollered over everyone, thoroughly pissed. "You didn't think to fucking change before coming down here?"

Nemoto appeared at her side, a towel in hand. Where the hell he had gotten one so quickly, she had no idea, but she gratefully accepted it and began toweling off. Not that it felt like it did much good, but it felt like she was doing something to fix the problem.

"No!" She replied indignantly. "I got the text saying the meeting was moved up, and I guess I was on the shitty side of the compound because I got the text at the same time that it said the meeting was supposed to start?" She was vaguely aware of Katsukame losing his fucking shit next to her over the entire scene. Hojo, Takahashi, and Kono had crossed the room to the new guy. Possibly to give him an explanation about the feral animals that they were witnessing. Kono looked pissed as always, while Takahashi looked like he was genuinely enjoying himself. "So I fucking booked it over here so I wouldn't be late, but I was late anyway."

"You realize that you're part of the Bullets, right? You're supposed to be a representation of the Shie Hassaikai, and directly under Overhaul-" Mimic was barely containing his ire, but she let him rant. He needed to get it off his chest, now, before he bottled it and it came back up later.

When he finally paused to take a breath, after asking why the fuck she was outside to begin with, she replied, "Because he told me you needed me for something!" She gestured vaguely to Rappa, who was laughing so hard he was having trouble breathing and standing upright.

"Obviously not!"

"Yeah, you think?" Isane snapped back, finally giving up on trying to dry her body and just try to towel dry her hair. "I figured that out, thanks."

Mimic rounded on Rappa next as Katsukame finally composed himself enough to lean closer to her and say, "Nakamoto, you're looking a little wet."

She flipped her head, smacking him across the face with her wet hair. He was over a foot taller than her, and still wearing his mask, but the strands connected nicely.

"Oh, I'm very wet," she replied, rolling her eyes at the lewd joke as he chuckled. "But you're looking very dry. Maybe I need to fix that."

He caught on to what she was doing before she moved, but didn't flee fast enough before she embraced him tightly. He could have easily broken away. He could have also used his quirk to get her off of him, but he did neither. He let her hang onto him for a long moment, until she was sure that enough of the wetness had transferred from her clothing to his. "There. Now we match. Like true partners," Isane said, stepping away and appraising her work. Katsukame was laughing, though, arms spread wide on either side of his body as he took in the mess she had made of his clothes.

Somewhere behind her, Hojo spoke. "Contrary to what you're seeing, she's actually a formidable opponent." Isane looked behind her to find Hojo talking to the new guy, who still looked rather shocked.

Rappa spoke up from his corner of the room, "It's just really fun to mess with her. And she enjoys it, too." This earned him a punch to the gut as Mimic phased out of his puppet form and forcibly pulled Rappa's attention back to him.

Down in the Bullets' lounge a few hours later, Isane was working in her sketchbook. Rappa was sitting across from her on one of the couches, eyes trained on the television above their heads watching the MMA matches he loved so much. He'd been the only one in the lounge when she'd entered and she'd set up her sketchbook and pencils on the coffee table as she usually did in the evening. The guys had long ago given her permission to sketch them when she needed practice. Isane made food quietly, interrupted only every so often by Rappa's exclamations as stuff happened in the matches, and then ate at the coffee table, watching the matches half-heartedly.

The Eight Bullets' section of the Hassaikai was apart from everything else. Down in the tunnels, it was far from where Overhaul usually worked. They had their own lounge area, which really was a living room, dining room, and kitchen all shoved together. The kitchen and island with bar seats bled into the "living room" portion with couches and a coffee table, and tv. A long dining table sat next to the far wall behind the couches. Isane and Nemoto had commandeered that table for two months as they had re-tasked the entire Hassaikai once she was brought on. She knew quirks and fighting abilities, and Nemoto knew intentions.

Down in the Bullets' corridors were their own separate bedrooms and bathrooms, too. And through a door they could enter the other corridors and the rest of the compound. The ones that led to the surface or the reception room where Overhaul liked to greet new members. On the other side of that door they had to wear the masks. On this side of the door, where Overhaul never came, they were free to breathe without them. The gym, though, was on the other side of the door. Because Overhaul had to maintain some form of control, they had to wear their masks in the gym.

Slowly, as Isane finished her food and started in her sketchbook, others meandered in. Takahashi and his uncle, Kono, meandered in next. As they walked in, Takahashi couldn't help but jab, "Hey, Nakamoto, you know fish need water to breathe, right?"

She barely glanced up. "Hey, thanks Haru-chan. I'll be sure to keep that in mind." He rolled his eyes, continuing back to the table where he and Kono pulled out chairs. Between them, Kono pulled out a deck of cards. At nineteen years old, Takahashi couldn't reasonably object to the nickname Rappa had dubbed him with, but he still shut up as soon as she used it.

Before she left the reception room earlier, Mimic had called for Nemoto and Katsukame to stay behind. He had something for the two of them to do. Mimic and Overhaul often utilized Katsukame for his sheer size and intimidation ability, not to mention his strength. And Hojo took up with Setsuno to formally show him around. Isane had slipped away quietly to find her shower and get warm again.

That had been hours ago, and as soon as she ate, Isane settled into her sketchbook, glancing up at Rappa every few minutes to make sure she was drawing him accurately. When his sketch was done, she started sketching Takahashi and Kono playing cards at the table across the room.

Rappa's phone buzzed, and he grabbed it off the coffee table. At the same time, her own phone chimed with a vibration to announce a new text on her own device. Probably one of the guys sharing something to their group chat.

Vaguely, she could see Rappa out of the corner of her eye stock-still and looking at something on his phone. As soon as she unlocked her phone he started gafawing. Taking in the obviously-edited photo that someone had sent, it took all of zero-point-zero-three seconds to slam her phone back on the table, head snapping up as she shouted. "Whoever sent that, fuck you!"

Takahashi was hyperventilating with laughter at the table along the back wall of the room, dissolving in his own laughter as he watched them check their phones and react in varying degrees of laughter, disgust, or contempt.

Isane was the loudest protester, which only made Takahashi, Kono, and Rappa laugh harder. "Fuck who?" Katsukame asked, walking into the room.

Rappa leaned back against the couch, fingers pressing into his eyes. "Check your fucking phone. Jesus; I can't un-see that."

Isane seethed. "Takahashi, lock your door tonight," she whispered with deadly precision.

Katsukame paused behind the couch Rappa was sitting on, pulling out his own phone and unlocking it.

His face betrayed nothing for a long time, but slowly his expression began to crack as he tried to contain it and failed miserably.

"You realize I've known him since I was a child, right?" Isane was being serious, but she still struggled to hide her own laughter; it slowly bubbled up as her mind went back again and again to the meme Takahashi had sent to everyone.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't respond, could only laugh as he fell onto the table.

The image that had graced all of their phones was an edited picture of Mimic in his puppet form, with long feminine and elegant legs of a woman and wearing heels posing like a stripper around a pole.

The image… it burned.

She pointedly turned away from Takahashi and toward Katsukame, all thoughts of terrible images pushed aside. "You're wearing your shirt!"

He pocketed his phone. "I am," he replied casually, bracing his hands on the back of the couch.

"And do you like it? Does it work okay?"

He nodded. "I do. It works great." He had the worst luck trying to find clothing that grew with him when he used his quirk, and affordable ones at that. Most clothes ripped as he got bigger, leaving Katsukame usually without a shirt, and Overhaul liked for them to be properly clothed at all times.

Isane had found it online and ordered it without a second thought. Christmas had passed, but that didn't mean she couldn't give her teammate a gift.

"I thought the power button was a good fit for you." She said. "They had other graphics, but that seemed to be the best."

As she said it, hinting at the reason, Katsukame struggled to keep a straight face. "Is that so?"

She nodded. "Well yeah, 'Cause it takes you awhile to power up."

His eyebrows quirked high as she caught him by surprise. "I thought you were going to say something else!"

Now it was Isane's turn try to hide her laughter. She had the perfect reply, and it couldn't have lined up better even if she'd planned it. "What, that it takes you awhile to turn on? Nah, we both know that's not true." Katsukame snorted, shaking his head and pushing off the couch.

Isane was aware of Rappa watching her expectedly, and as Katsukame moved around the couch and headed toward the kitchen area, he glanced between them. She ignored him completely, focus only on Katsukame. "I made extra if you haven't eaten yet. Also, if you want your sweatshirt back just tell me." She plucked at the fabric she wore. It was one of his black sweatshirts that he had lent to her when she got cold a few nights ago. She'd been able to take a shower once the meeting with Setsuno was over, but with wet hair and thirty degrees outside, she'd pulled it on as soon as she was out of the shower. He always had the softest sweatshirts.

He shook his head, indicating she could keep it and addressed Rappa. "You're looking entirely too happy."

Rappa looked like he was going to burst, and not with his usual teasing. "Don't-" She tried to beg to Katsukame, but Rappa overstepped.

"Tell him what you did."

If looks could kill, Rappa would fall over dead, unable to put her through this embarrassment. "…What did you do?" Katsukame asked before Isane could respond. Or rather, as Isane tried to figure how exactly how she could explain this and still retain her dignity.

She laid down her pencil slowly. Both men's attention remained on her. And she could feel her partner's eyes drift down to her left hand in her lap that she had yet to show.

She had yet to show it because it was wrapped in ice and that would definitely cause unwanted attention.

"Nakamoto?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. "… I was trying to open a jar and I gripped it wrong, and-"

"-And she pulled a muscle in her hand!" Rappa cut over her, already howling. Isane didn't dare meet Katsukame's gaze. She could only imagine the sheer disbelief on his face.

"Nakamoto." His tone held all of it.

"Only slightly!" She finally defended herself. "You know what? Just… fuck you, Rappa. Not all of us can bench tanks for our morning workout." Vaguely, she gestured to him, but it was a wide enough gesture that Katsukame was included in it as well, and he couldn't keep his laughter in check any longer, anyway.

Well, it was true.

Katsukame didn't make his way toward the kitchen for dinner, but he eventually gave up trying to stand and fell onto the couch next to her, tears of mirth gathering in his eyes.

Isane tried very hard to ignore him next to her and refocus on her sketchbook, but every time their laughter died, they took another look at her and both dissolved into laughter again.

She wasn't going to get back to her sketchbook anytime soon.

Eventually, Katsukame was able to compose himself enough to say, shakily, "I feel bad, then."

At first, his casual phrase was nothing to catch her attention, but the longer that time stretched, she realized that it wasn't just a teammate expressing his sympathy.

Isane sat straighter, glancing over to him who watched her. "What did you do?"

Slowly, he turned his head, eyes glancing over to the cabinets.

She followed where he looked. The kitchen was just the same as she left it; she'd cleaned up after she'd finished cooking and put her leftovers in the fridge. The food that Katsukame could have later. No one had been in the kitchen since, and she'd been drawing in the lounge for hours.

But Katsukame struggled to keep an innocent expression, and Isane was immediately on her feet, sketchbook forgotten, and racing to the cabinet she was given to keep her dry food in.

Yanking open the cabinet door, she scanned her shelves. Her pocky was gone from its normal place. Again.

Isane sighed heavily, calling out, "Katsukame!"

Behind her, he didn't move from the couch. Rappa was glancing between them and the tv.

Isane backed up until her back hit the kitchen's island. Even on her tip-toes she couldn't see the pocky anywhere in the cabinet.

But he'd moved it somewhere as he so often did. So it was somewhere in the kitchen, but even with opening the other cabinets, she couldn't find it.

"Where did you stick it?" She still grasped the handles of the cabinet doors as she turned, hoping he'd give her a hint.

He'd made himself comfortable on the couch, turning so he could watch her with one hand cupping his chin. Without a word, his eyes slid from her, to somewhere above her head. Somewhere far above her head.

Where he was looking, she couldn't see from her current vantage point, so she crossed the lounge, back to where he and Rappa stayed on the couches. As she put distance between herself and the cabinets, slowly the tops of the cabinets came into view. She was almost to the far wall before she could just barely make out the top of her pocky box peeking out above the top of the cabinets.

The absolute disbelief shook a stunned, nervous laugh from her. "You know, I'm not even mad. That's just funny." Now, how to get it down? Isane absentmindedly touched her fore, middle, and ring fingers to her lips in thought. "You would, wouldn't you?" He didn't reply, simply watching her work it out.

It was then that Hojo and Setsuno slipped into the lounge, and glanced at Isane. She saw Hojo put it together immediately, especially after glancing at Katsukame and seeing his expression. But he crossed the room to the table without a word, Setsuno on his heels.

Isane ignored them, crossing back to the kitchen counters as she ran through scenarios.

"You want a hand?" Katsukame called out behind her, barely concealed humor in his tone.

"Nope!"

That caught the attention of the others, and behind her, she heard Setsuno stammer out an unsure, "I could just -"

She cut him off before he could finish that sentence. "Nope!"

"Don't mind her," she heard Katsukame explain. "We do this every so often." Setsuno asked something else, and Kasukame continued, "She only has one stick of pocky each night. So Rappa thought it'd be funny to put it on a shelf higher and higher every so often."

Isane cut in, then, glancing back to the guys over her shoulder with a roll of her eyes. "Because for some reason, my height is funny to these two." Rappa snickered. There were few girls who were taller than her, but next to the two giants of the Hassaikai, she was just as short as everyone else.

Gingerly, Isane tested her hand against the counter - how it would do to hold her weight. Carefully, she pulled herself up onto the counter. The best way to get the box down would be to climb onto the refrigerator and use the cat to push it off the top of the cabinet.

Behind her, Rappa picked up the story. "And then Katsukame - who's quirk is partly gigantrification - took it to the next level. Last month he stuck it up on top of a ledge outside that you can only get to by ladder." He struggled to explain without laughter slipping in. Isane pulled herself onto the top of the refrigerator. "And Isane has always been too stubborn to ask for help, so that's a rule now."

"You taped it?" She screeched indignantly, mouth agape at her partner's sass. Katsukame, finally having played his trump card, died via laughter from the couch as the others howled.

"Why is Nakamoto on top of the refrigerator?" She'd recognize Mimic's voice anywhere. He and Nemoto must have heard the ruckus and came to investigate. Mimic was in his puppet form, and Nemoto still wore his face mask, but their body language said it all. Mimic's hands were braced on his hips, and Nemoto took in the scene in front of him before lifting a hand to his temple to rub it. Mimic left Nemoto next to the door to cross the room on his short legs.

"Why?" Setsuno asked over everyone's laughter.

"Because she's fun to mess with!" Rappa managed to get out at the same time that Isane shot from on top of the refrigerator:

"Because it's how these two assholes show they care!" She called above everyone else.

Mimic had made his way to the kitchen and stood on the ground below her. "Just use the cat to push it off!" He snapped, although concern and incredulity still rang in his voice. He kept his voice lower, letting the others continue their conversation so that only Isane could hear him.

As he spoke, Isane stretched out a hand and let the ink of the cat and rat flow off her skin to the top of the cabinets. Both scurried to where the pocky was taped - the fucking audacity of Katsukame - as Isane explained, "He taped it. It's going to be awhile."

Mimic rubbed his forehead in frustration. After Setsuno's reception, he was going to physically murder someone. "Just please don't damage anything," the treasurer in him slipped out. Katsukame and Rappa had never stuck the pocky anywhere that Isane might accidentally damage anything, but it had become such a running gag that Mimic couldn't help but ask it anyway.

Isane could imagine his expression under the puppet mask. He'd been around quite a bit growing up, and she could just imagine the vein pulsing in his temple as he tried to contain his ire. Toward everyone else, his temper usually flared easily - especially around Rappa who liked to push everyone's buttons for the hell of it. But around her, Mimic always tried to cap it. Even at work.

Mimic took a breath like he was going to say something else, but then thought better of it, turning on his heel, instead, with a wordless shake of his head. He caught Nemoto's attention across the room and they left without another word.

Glancing back across the lounge to where the guys talked, Isane watched them for a moment from her vantage point. She had a theory, actually, about their pranks. That day had been particularly heavy prank-wise. First with Rappa's rain-soaked text, now with Katsukame hiding the pocky. And she was sure that it wasn't a coincidence that both happened on the same day that a new member joined their ranks. She'd never been the best at opening up with new people, and they knew that better than anyone.

She'd never ask directly, but it was still a nice thought, even if it wasn't their intention.

Katsukame must have felt her watching him because across the lounge, he met her gaze, a small smile lighting his face. "Yo! Katsukame!" she called out to him, hiding the reason why she'd been watching him. "Help me down; I'm injured." Isane pushed her consciousness into the cat and rat as they started trying to chew through the tape, and was vaguely aware of their actions as Katsukame rose from his seat on the couch and crossed the lounge to where she still crouched on top of the refrigerator. She could have likely gotten down on her own, injured hand or no, but he needed to put in a little work, too.

He grew in size as he approached and offered a hand for her to take, barely able to hide the grin he wore. She took his hand, using him as something sturdy to brace against as she hopped down. "I can't even with you," she slapped his stomach playfully once she was on the ground again.

Katsukame let out an, oof, as she did so. "That hurt!" He teased.

"Like hell it did!" she retorted as they crossed back to the couches. Katsukame returned to his usual height and took up his place on the couch again. She flipped her sketchbook closed; no more work would be done for the time being, especially since she would have to get back up again soon. She fell onto the couch next to him, one leg folded beneath her and the other dangling off the couch as she grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest.

Vaguely, she was aware of how Katsukame's arm was braced against the back of the couch where she leaned against it. She was also aware of Rappa watching her, head nodding toward Katsukame infinitesimally when she finally met his gaze.

If the others hadn't been in the room, she would have thrown the pillow at him and told him to fuck off.

They'd gotten drunk about a month or so back, and he'd gotten her to admit aloud the feelings she harbored toward Katsukame, though Rappa hadn't seemed surprised in the slightest. The next day she'd sworn him to secrecy by using a few threats Mimic had taught her over the years. The only objection he had had to her threats was a mumbled, "You two are ridiculous," but Isane had caught it just the same. It was the only indication that Katsukame might feel the same way, but for the sake of professionalism, she refused to bring it up first. Whether Rappa had said that as a hint to his true feelings or not, it didn't matter. And thankfully, Rappa hadn't said a word about it since, but ever since she realized just how much he insinuated they should fuck, even before her secret slipped out.

It wasn't like she would ever act on her feelings. They were teammates, and they needed to remain professional, so she had yet to tell Katsukame anything, of course, and pushed those feelings down until she couldn't see them anymore.

Rappa, however, wasn't going to stay quiet. "You two should get a room," he jabbed.

Katsukame was quick. "Fuck off, Rappa."

No one paid him any mind.

"So how do the pairings work?" Setsuno asked. He was still sitting in one of the chairs, but he leaned forward, forearms braced against his knees. Hojo was also at the table, but he had been dealt into the game by Kono.

"We try to pair up the Bullets who would work well together, or whose quirks and personality are complimentary," Isane supplied. She motioned to Kono and Rappa. "So those two work together because Rappa usually jumps straight in without thinking about anything else, and Kono provides back up for him when he gets too far over his head. They and Mimic usually act as vanguard. And then we have Nemoto, Hojo, and Takahashi as final defense for Overhaul and Kurono."

"And what about your quirks?" He asked, indicating Isane and Katsukame. Katsukame glanced over at Isane to supply the answer.

"Well, both of our quirks require space, so we're outside on defense," Isane replied.

Setsuno was obviously curious, and Katsukame picked up, explaining, "Mine allows me to weaken others while compounding on my strength and size."

"Without full quirk activation, you can easily grow to fifteen feet," Isane added, which explained, more than anything else, exactly how much space he needed. "What's the tallest you think you've grown with full activation?"

"I know what it is with Trigger," he replied, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as he focused on her. "I tried to figure it out once, but didn't get very far." That was all he said on the subject, and Isane could see how uncomfortable he was, even though he wasn't obvious about it. He could very easily drain someone down to nothing, effectively killing them, but she knew that he was always very conscious of how much he took, even against enemies.

She changed the subject for him. "And you'll have to wait on mine. Aside from what you've seen tonight, you'll need to figure it out tomorrow."

Rappa opened his mouth, but Isane cut him off with a glare. "And don't you tell him, either."

"Why are you just telling me that!" Rappa cried as Isane rose and crossed to the kitchen. From what she could see through the rat and cat, both were done with chewing through the tape and had pushed the pocky box to the edge of the cabinet. As they pushed it off the ledge, she caught it, deftly.

"Because you're the only one who would!"

The box was large, as it contained several boxes of pocky. After putting the large box away, she grabbed a smaller box and crossed back to the others, settling back on the couch and dismissing the ink animals. "Who wants one?"

"What flavor is it?" Setsuno asked as Rappa leaned forward to take one from her.

"Matcha," she replied and Setsuno nodded. She handed him one, and then Katsukame moved to take one from the open box she held.

Isane, catching what he was doing, pulled the box behind her, hiding it from him and giving him a Look that said more than words could: "You really have the audacity?" He froze in a quiet standoff with her, but it didn't last long. Isane caved and offered him the box.

"Nakamoto."

Her name caught her attention as soon as she stepped out into the hall. Katsukame was already there, pulling on his mask. Isane broke into a smile, seeing him there.

"Morning!" She locked her door, then fell into step next to him. "You going to come watch?"

He nodded. "Figured I would. It's not nearly so early as Takahashi's was."

The jab was deliberate and she ignored it.

It was early enough in the morning for him that it would be nearly impossibly to try to talk to him. Isane was always awake by five, and that morning was no different, but she'd had to run back to her room to deposit her phone and earbuds. She wouldn't need them from here on out.

She had left Rappa in the gym; no one else was ever up so early, although Kono was usually in the gym by six. As she and Katsukame passed the gym, however, it was empty, and the open-air battle court was dotted with not only Kono, Rappa, and Takahashi, but Mimic and Nemoto stood together, and Hojo was talking to Setsuno. Everyone was there minus Overhaul and Chrono, but they never came to watch these things. Nemoto and Mimic would take them the full report later.

Katsukame stepped toward Mimic and Nemoto as she headed toward the court. It was a flat slab of concrete, about half the length of a football field, with a high wall on all sides. The walls were actually the buildings of the compound, which was why near the top windows looked down into the arena. It kept the Bullets from completely letting loose; the threat of an angered Overhaul kept them all at bay, and Overhaul would be extremely angry if the walls were damaged too much.

Setsuno met her in the center of the arena. In his left hand he carried a sheathed katana. His gaze shifted about, darting to the onlookers, to the windows high above them, to Isane across from him. She removed her mask, pocketing the thing. "You can take off yours here. This is the only place we're allowed to take them off besides in our corridors. Someone's probably told you, though, that if you're around Mimic, Nemoto, or Chrono you need to put it back on though, right?"

Her words brought his focus back, and Setsuno was nodding before she even finished, and removing his own mask.

"So how do we do this?"

Isane was relaxed, hands on her hips. She focused on not crossing them over her chest as she always wanted to do when she wasn't holding her own blade.

"We'll fight, no rules, until one of us yields," she said and shrugged.

Setsuno didn't look convinced and watched her like she was afraid she had a trick up her sleeve.

"You going to be alright?" He was nervous, and it was endearing, but at the same time the assessment had already started. Isane already noticed his posture, and how often he glanced back over to Hojo, and the way his right hand had twitched toward the hilt of the katana as she said no rules. As he spoke, he looked her up and down. Obviously worried about fighting with a blade when she had no obvious way to defend herself.

The tattoos were visible, but he hadn't put it together yet. "Worry about yourself," she said, her eyes lighting. "Whenever you're ready you can start."

He didn't look convinced, but wasted no more time in chit-chat. Instead, he unsheathed his blade in the same motion that he leapt to her. He swung his blade down, and Isane called on one of her throwing knives, the ink flowing from her skin to the corporeal and tangible blade in her hand.

The clang of metal on metal rang clear and true, and her injured hand twinged painfully.

Setsuno leapt back, allowing distance between them as Isane watched the wheels behind his eyes turning. Trying to figure out where the blade came from. Before he could get too comfortable, Isane was on him, calling on another blade to her left hand. She used the two dually, attacking Setsuno and forcing him back on the defensive.

He dodged the first two attacks, and met her left blade. Before she could parry and lunge, the blade in her right hand was ripped away - and Setsuno caught it with a grin.

She called another to her hand and let the one in his hand disappear. So he couldn't control her quirk, just manipulate it.

The two fought, like a deadly dance of knives. With every blade Isane called to her hand, Setsuno called it to his, catching it. Before he could use it, Isane called it off. Soon they were attacking and parrying surrounded by ink that drifted around them like smoke, Isane never letting any of the blades stay tangible for too long.

She forced him on the defensive, again trying to get distance from her, but she threw the knives for his shoulder, both consecutive - if he dodged, the other would land.

Instead he used his blade to hit one to the side and used his quirk to call the other blade to his hand.

She crouched, letting him catch his breath as she released her quirk from his hand. The ink drifted away.

He was obviously winded, but he didn't concede.

So far, he couldn't - or wouldn't - use his quirk on more than one object at a time. Did size have to do with it, or was it the number? And what variables had to be in place for him to activate it?

There was something else she wanted to see. Isane didn't call her katana to her hand, but called on the Chinese lions from her thigh. The ink flowed from her skin into the shapes of the two creatures. As they appeared between herself and Setsuno, the poor kid blanched.

Someone laughed in amusement from behind her, which seemed to wake him up. He gripped his blade harder, and held it at the ready, determination lighting his gaze as he took the two creatures in.

"You really don't mess around, do you?" He muttered the words, but Isane heard just fine. She smirked.

"I'm curious to see what you'll do with these."

They lunged, and Setsuno held his own against them for a long time. They sustained damage, and when she needed to call them back to her, she called them one at a time, keeping him busy long enough to flow it back into corporeal form before calling the other back. She observed him fighting, but against the two lions, he didn't use his quirk.

Minutes passed as she watched and attacked through the ink creatures, until it was time to end it. She'd seen enough, and Setsuno was drenched in sweat and struggling to stay upright on his feet. If he wasn't going to realize he was beat, no matter how long he dragged the fight out, she would force his hand.

Isane called her katana to her hand and unsheathed it. Standing, she fully activated her quirk and approached the area where Setsuno was fighting the beasts. She called the one that was more wounded back to her skin and let the other beast fight on with Setsuno. Directing the lion's actions, Isane guided Setsuno to turn his back on where she stood.

Isane released her hold on the final lion just as she lunged for Setsuno. He saw her last minute - eyes going wide, and tried to raise his blade to defend himself. Isane knocked it away easily and ended the match with her blade pointing directly at his stomach.

He didn't move. Possibly in shock, his mouth gaped, eyes wide, hands open on either side. Her blade twitched in her hands, but didn't move.

Finally, "I concede," he said, slowly raising his eyes to meet hers. As if he couldn't believe it. The shock was evident as he stammered the words.

Isane backed up, allowing him breathing room and released her katana, allowing it to flow back onto her skin as she crossed to where his blade had landed. Bending, she picked it up.

"Your quirk," he began, watching her as she handed his blade back to hi. "It's something with your tattoos. They disappear and reappear. And I didn't even see you just now!"

Isane smirked, her suspicions confirmed. "That's a good start."

"Oh come on," he deadpanned, sheathing his blade. "We just fought. Surely you can tell me?"

She wasn't going to, but didn't bother to answer him. Instead, she said, "Your quirk allows you to move anything you see into your hands. But you've got a size limit, and you can only move one object at a time." She paused. "Not bad. Now to figure out where to place you."

She stepped away as Hojo approached, clapping Setsuno on the back as he grunted in pain.

Isane approached where Katsukame leaned against the wall surrounding the arena. Mimic sat on the wall with him and Nemoto brooded quietly behind them both. Isane pulled out her mask and pulled the elastic straps over her ears as she approached the others.

"What did you think?" Nemoto asked first, unmoving from where he stood.

Isane stood on the other side of the wall, unwilling to walk around to an entry point and join them on the opposite side. "He's not bad. Rough around the edges. I think he's self-taught." Isane glanced back over her shoulder at the kid. He was quiet, unassuming, but in a fight a different side of him came out. "He's easily train-able, at least. We can work with him."

Glancing back at the others, Mimic said, "So where you do want to put him?"

"Okay," she began with a sigh as she thought aloud. "So, we've got me, Katsukame, Nemoto," she nodded to both men as she listed them off the top of her head. "Kono, Rappa, Hojo, Setsuno, Takahashi… Who am I missing?"

"You're not missing anyone," Nemoto said, and edge of patronization in his tone.

But it didn't feel right, and she said so. No one offered a name, so she started over, listing names as she counted off her fingers. "There's eight of us. Me and Katsukame," she tried to ignore how he watched her. Even with his mask on, his attention was obvious - his shoulders turned toward her, as was his head. "Nemoto, Hojo, and Takahashi, Rappa and Kono…" there was someone else.

"And Setsuno," Katsukame supplied, lifting a hand to tick off his index finger. "Eight. Your math was right."

"Now that we know you can fucking count," Mimic wasted no time. If she hadn't known him her entire life, she might not be able to sense his sarcasm. "Where do we need to put him?"

"He's strong with his blade - he's got some strength to him - and he can use his quirk. He doesn't seem to be able to pull anything too big, and he needs to be able to see it, but he's skilled with it. Toward the end I could feel my katana moving, like he was trying to call it to him - and that was during a surprise attack - so he's got trainable potential," Isane spilled all of her observations. Since she was a teenager she had worked with her grandfather in the quirk training and diagnostic center he ran. They often had to perform analysis on people who came in to train or receive diagnoses. After doing it for nearly ten years it came easily to her, which was why Overhaul originally had her work with Nemoto to re-task the entire Shie Hassaikai. "He can keep a level head, but he's not the kind of guy to hold back, either. He needs some confidence, but once we got going it was like I saw an entirely new side of him." She ran over the fight again, picturing it as she could remember. "Once we really got going, his hesitation ended and he really got serious. He can make observations, even in the middle of battle. He correctly guessed my quirk, or half of it."

"No one can guess the second half," she heard Katsukame mutter, but no one acknowledged him.

Beneath her mask, she smiled, but Mimic caught her attention. "Well, we're not moving you or Katsukame. You work too well together."

"And I don't want to move Rappa or Kono, either," she added. "Rappa needs someone to watch his back and provide defense when he gets too deep. So who do we have left?"

"Takahashi, Nemoto, Hojo, and Setsuno," Katsukame supplied. He wasn't one of the key decision makers, but he hung around Mimic enough that he was always included in the big decisions.

Isane finally allowed herself to cross her arms over her chest, her shoe digging into a weed that had sprouted up through the cracks of the pavement.

Takahashi was young but dependable in a fight. He easily switched gears as things happened, and he watched out for his partner. He was still too new to put with another new guy, though. Hojo was a quieter guy, but loyal, and hard-hitting. He had no long-range attacks, but could easily hold his own. Nemoto had zero fighting ability and zero capacity for teamwork, but could easily and quickly weaken even the strongest opponents. Even on the Bullets, no one ever wanted to train with him.

She glanced over at him. He remained unmoving beneath his cloak and mask. He didn't utter a word. "I want to see how Hojo does with Setsuno." She didn't give Nemoto a chance to reply. "Takahashi can still provide striking power for you."

He didn't move or say a word, and that was somehow worse. "Why even bother putting me with anyone? I don't need a soul."

"You're the only one with no fucking ability to defend yourself," Mimic piped up from his place on the wall, standing and turning to fully face Nemoto. Every time someone new joined ranks they went through the same scene. Nemoto proudly declaring he was fine working alone. Mimic reminding him he could literally be gutted if he went up against someone with a magnetic quirk. Without Nemoto's gun, he was physically defenseless and training was beneath him. Turning back to Isane, Mimic gave the go-ahead. "Let's try it."

Isane nodded and stepped away, back toward the arena and where the others were lounging about. "Hojo! Setsuno!" She called out over their chatter. Their heads snapped up. "I need you two to fight against…" she glanced over her shoulder, back towards Mimic. He'd make the final call.

"Takahashi and Kono!"

"What about me?!" Rappa hollered as the other guys moved back toward the arena. He stomped over toward Isane, who was returning back to the other three.

"We're not going to throw him into the deep end before getting his feet wet," she replied nonchalantly. It was the truth. If Setsuno went up against Rappa he'd leave and they'd never hear from the guy again. At least if Rappa didn't kill him first, which was entirely possible.

He didn't look pleased, at least, as pleased as could be observed with his entire face covered. At least he finally remembered on his own to put his mask on around Mimic and Nemoto. Only took six months to force that into his head.

"Well we've still got our match later, right?" He was persistent, and Isane grimaced beneath her own mask. She'd forgotten about that. "As long as I get to fight someone. Don't keep me on the side lines."

Katsukame's attention turned to them. "Fine," Isane agreed to Rappa under her breath. "Let's finish with Setsuno, and then we'll have our fight." She really didn't want to. Her hand was throbbing, but not like she'd show even an ounce of weakness around the others. She'd never hear the end of it. Especially from Kono. It'd taken him months to warm up to her and he still didn't fully approve of having a girl on the team, no matter where her skill level was.

Rappa was over the moon, though, and disappeared back through the gym and on to the corridors to grab his gauntlets, even though it would be awhile before they properly finished with Setsuno.

Isane returned to where Katsukame was still leaning against the wall and hoisted herself up on the edge, and tucked one under her with the other dangling over the ledge. Mimic had un-fused himself from his puppet costume and had fused into the wall for a better vantage point over the fighters. He and Nemoto would make the final call for where Setsuno should be placed.

The fight began without anyone announcing it.

"Rappa wants to fight?" Katsukame asked from next to her, and she ignored the way her stomach flipped as he spoke.

"When does he not?" She replied, sparing a glance in his direction. He was pulling off his own mask.

Isane checked over her shoulder. Nemoto had also moved downwind for a better vantage point. With none from Overhaul's upper wheelhouse around, Isane slipped a finger into the elastic around her ear and pulled the face covering off.

Without his mask, Katsukame wasn't nearly as intimidating, which was probably why Mimic had given him a full-face mask to begin with. Or, maybe she was just used to him. They'd known each other for five years, after all, even if she'd only really gotten to know him over the past six months. He'd joined the Hassaikai five years ago as a hire to pay off his debt, but he and Mimic had immediately become friends. Because of how close she was to Ojichan, she naturally ran into Katsukame a couple of times over the years.

His head was shaved, and he had a strong jawline. His nose was slightly crooked, like he'd broken it once and it had never quite healed correctly. "I might have also beaten him yesterday," Katsukame admitted, a smirk in his voice as he glanced over to where she sat. Out in the sun as they were, his brown eyes were transformed into cognac-colored gemstones.

"You might have thought to mention that?" she asked, a teasing edge in her voice.

He was thoroughly amused, but his gaze was on the fighters beyond where she sat. "You know, I was, but then we got distracted last night with the pocky…" She slapped his arm playfully next to her. Even though she hadn't meant for it to hurt, he could at least flinch and pretend she had any effect on him. He didn't, though he did chuckle dryly at her effort.

"So us against Kono and Rappa? How many times do we need to beat them before they give up?"

"As many as it takes for us to also lose."

They glanced at each other, both smirking. Rappa and Kono would never give up; they were much too pig-headed and stubborn. It was just like Mimic had said, though. She and Katsukame were naturally good together, and they'd won many fights side by side.

"You got sleep last night, right?" he asked, changing the subject. He knew her entirely too well. He'd caught her up in the wee hours of the morning a few times when she'd first joined the Bullets; she'd never been able to sleep around strangers.

Isane smiled, a soft thing, but didn't meet his eyes. She kept her attention on the fights beyond. "I did, thanks." Being able to joke and laugh and get to know Setsuno the night prior had helped tremendously, and she still had a hunch that that had been Katsukame's plan all along.

For a long time they sat in silence, watching the fight beyond. Setsuno was a good fighter on his own, but he would definitely need training to be able to fight with a partner. That much was obvious. He didn't know how to watch Hojo's back or keep an eye on what he was doing while also paying attention to his opponent. Still, it wasn't like he was completely without potential -

"Is your hand bothering you?"

His words caught her attention, snapping her out of her observations, and Isane snapped her attention back to him only to see him nod toward her hand. She'd been unconsciously rubbing out the throbbing, she realized.

Shrugging, she didn't lie. Their entire teamwork was based in trust, and it was one of the reasons they worked so well together to begin with. "It didn't bother me until we started. It doesn't hurt as badly as it did yesterday, though."

Katsukame didn't look convinced. "Have you gotten your next meeting with Implant set?" He changed subjects, but Isane could see where he was going with it.

Implant was a guy that Kono had connections with. They knew each other through another guy. All of the Eight all had some sketchy connections, but Kono especially did. He never said how exactly he knew Implant, but it had something to do with a guy who owed a debt. She had learned not to ask questions about things she didn't want to know or get in the middle of. And that was something she definitely didn't care to know.

But Implant had connections, and many of them in key locations and with powerful friends. She and Katsukame had provided the backup with Overhaul, Chrono, Mimic, and Kono at the initial meeting as they made contact with Implant and established their own connection.

Implant would be the key to get their products and services out to more people. But ever since the connection had been established with Overhaul, Implant had insisted on meeting with her, going so far as when Nemoto and Chrono went to meet him instead after the initial meeting he walked out.

"In a week," Isane replied to Katsukame. It would be the last meeting with him before Trigger would start to be distributed.

"Well, if it's still hurting by then, get Overhaul to fix it for you. You shouldn't go into that meeting injured."

He tried to make the suggestion as low-key as possible, but his underlying message was clear. "You still don't like him do you?"

"Not particularly." Katsukame never said eight words when two would do.

It wasn't like she liked him, either, but she had to swallow her discomfort and conduct the business meetings in such a way that he couldn't know her displeasure with him. Implant's quirk, Gaslight, wasn't something to be trifled with. During their first meeting, things were going rough with Overhaul, and Implant had the balls to grab one of the ladies serving the meal by the wrist, whispering un-truths in her ear as a very obvious demonstration of the power of his quirk. He had been releasing a gas from his skin all night, which, once inhaled and he had physical contact, he could implant whatever "memories" he wanted into his victims.

After the meeting was over and they were moving to leave, Implant had commented on Isane being there. Like Kono, he had very clear ideas about where women belonged in the world of Yakuza. He'd tried to brush a strand of her hair out of her face. Usually, she would catch a man's hand and force it backwards for a clear warning, but after witnessing how his quirk worked, Isane had been quick to react by stepping back and forming her katana halfway in her hand, the blade perfectly poised over his stomach so that if she continued forming it he would be impaled. The blade's unfinished end pressing into his stomach was a clear-enough warning for him that he smirked, backing up with his hands raised in surrender.

"This one's feral, Overhaul. I'm surprised at you," he'd said, turning away and all but ignoring her.

However, the fact that he wouldn't meet with any of them except for her also raised warning flags. Others were welcome to come, but she always had to be present, at least. Thankfully, she had Katsukame to help prepare her with knowledge of how contact quirks worked and how combat them effectively before a fight ever started. She already had some knowledge, but he had more, of course, so she was able to attend the meetings in relative confidence.

"I'll be glad when the routes are established and we can end these meetings," she agreed. He was right. Isane shouldn't go into the meeting with Implant injured or showing signs of any weakness. As annoying as the face masks could be, they were helpful in hiding true emotion when it slipped past her walls.

Katsukame nodded, grunting in reply.

Her hand healed in four days, so by the day of Implant's meeting came around, Isane was ready to get it over with. The meeting was at night, at an old lounge twenty minutes away. The locaton was chosen by Implant, and since the Shie Hassaikai were reaching out to him, they would meet him wherever he wanted.

Isane met Mimic in the briefing room that afternoon, and Takahashi was already there. He was so close to finishing his training and onboarding, accompanying her on this meeting would be his last step before he would be considered "out of training." Mimic liked all the new guys to train and onboard for three months before considering them and trusting them as fully part of the Eight. Mimic went over with them what their goals were for the meeting: finalize the trade routes and procedures to get the product into the routes themselves.

By the time it was seven-thirty and they were nearly ready to leave, Isane joined Rappa and Katsukame in the Bullets' lounge to wait for Takahashi. Rappa had one of his fights on, and Katsukame barely looked interested. Hojo, Setsuno, and Kono were at the table again, though she couldn't see what they were doing. As soon as she walked into the room, a low appraising whistle greeted her as Kono glanced up from his spot at the table. "Nakamoto, you actually look like a girl."

Always one to bring up her womanhood, she wasn't nearly as surprised as the first hundred times he'd brought it to her attention. Glancing down at her outfit for dramatic effect, she swung her purse and the black face covering onto the couch next to where Katsukame sat as she replied, "Yeah, you know, it happens every once in a while."

She'd never been interested in fashion; throwing on a pair of leggings and long-sleeve shirt was so much easier to match, especially when she stuck to the most basic of colors and they'd likely get blood on them anyway. But after joining the Bullets, there were times when they used her womanhood to their advantage and others' disadvantage, so she had invested in a few nicer outfits because of it. She currently wore a nice pair of black slacks and belt, with a puffy-sleeved white blouse that was modeled after suit jackets. It was long-sleeved, of course, which was the number one tip that Katsukame always reminded her before meeting with Implant. "Less surface area for him to be able to touch you," he'd explained the first time she asked.

She'd even done her hair and make-up, too, so of course the guys would give her hell for it. She expected no less. Rappa was next as Isane braced her arms against the back of the couch. She'd sit, but Takahashi likely wouldn't be long. "You look like you've got a hot date!" She rolled her eyes.

"Not by choice," she replied. "I swear, I have one of these meetings every few weeks and you guys always give me hell for it, anyway."

Rappa barked a laugh. "You know we're just playing with you," he said when he was done.

"Yeah, yeah."

Katsukame, of course, watched her quietly, worry barely hidden behind his tight-lipped smile. They were teammates and they were both very aware of the other's discomfort with her doing these missions. Still, it was the last one and there was nothing to be done about it now. She had the knowledge that Katsukame had given her, and she had her skill with her quirk. There was little else she could do to prepare other than stay on her toes. "Do you have anything you want to add to this? I'm collecting comments tonight." She motioned to her outfit. Surely she could count on him to say something off-color about it.

That distracted him, at least. "You're nearly perfect, but if you just open one more button -" he motioned to his own chest, insinuating she should open her blouse a little more as he waggled his eyebrows.

She huffed. "Oh, Jesus." The blouse was low enough that she was confident, but one more open would have made her feel ridiculous and like she was flaunting herself. And Implant, of all people, definitely didn't deserve to see her wear the blouse with one more button undone.

Still, her reaction got a laugh out of Katsukame, and he seemed to visibly relax.

"What plans do you have for Tuesday?" Rappa asked from the other couch. He'd muted his MMA match on the tv, phone in hand. Isane glanced up, but he was looking at both of them. "There's a match in town and I can get tickets."

Isane straightened and glanced down at Katsukame next to her. "I don't think we're on guard duty that night, right?" she asked as he shook his head.

"No, we're both free."

"Great, I'll get them, then!" Rappa was visibly excited.

"When was the last time we went to one of those?" Katsukame asked.

Isane crossed her arms over her chest as Takahashi waltzed in behind her. He was also dressed in a nice suit, and his usual bird mask had been replaced by a plain black face covering. When conducting official Yakuza business, or meeting with other Yakuza contacts, it was best practice to be well dressed. Overhaul wouldn't have it any other way. Of course, it was always a treat to see the others dressed in nicer clothes than what they currently wore. And that was probably why they also gave her hell; because it was a treat for them, too.

"At least since the fall; it's been a few months," she replied absentmindedly to his question. "But hey, my ride's here. We better get going."

Isane reached for her own black face covering and pulled it over her ears. As she grabbed her purse to swing it over her shoulder, Katsukame reached out to her, brushing her hand to get her attention. "What time are you meeting him?"

She heard the question under his question. What time are you supposed to be back? He always waited up when it came to Implant. She'd tease him for it, as always, and he would accept it good-naturedly, as always, but she would be grateful. She'd never admit it aloud, but Implant made her nervous, and she would bet money that Katsukame could read that from her. He could read her like a fucking book. "We're meeting him at 8:30, and it shouldn't take more than an hour or two at most." She glanced back at Takahashi, who shrugged. "We're just finalizing the trade routes, so I should be back by eleven. Yeah, eleven at most, I think."

Behind her, Takahashi nodded, affirming it.

"See you then," Katsukame said, sending them off.

The lounge they met Implant at was a short drive away. Takahashi didn't yet have his driver's license, so Isane drove the car: a plain black sedan. When they pulled up to the valet, she left the keys with the boy running the cars.

Takahashi, despite his youth, knew exactly what to expect, and he was easy to depend on. They knew their roles. He led the way into the bar, speaking directly to the host who led them to their usual private room. They weren't in there for ten minutes before Implant slinked in along with his usual assistant, Ikeda Aki.

"Ah, Nakamoto Isane. You look positively stunning," he purred, bowing to her, before turning to Takahashi. "And Takahashi Haru. Thank you for meeting me this evening." Isane and Takahashi stood and returned the greeting to both Implant and Ikeda, before they sat at the low table. Ikeda always hung back, letting his boss take the lead. And as much as she would rather have Takahashi lead the meeting, Isane stepped up to the plate. Implant wouldn't have it any other way.

Implant had a square face with a goatee and narrow eyes. He was easily in his fifties, but his hair hadn't started turning gray yet. He wore a white suit with a black dress shirt beneath. He rarely took off his jacket, but when he did, he always wore suspenders like the old school Yakuza. Ikeda was also dressed impeccably, but he wore a purple suit and shirt. Neither ever wore a tie. Ikeda had a long face and always wore rose-colored sunglasses even though the private room had low light.

Down to business, the meeting went quickly. No one ordered alcohol, and Implant never made a fuss about them not ordering alcohol. He'd dealt with the Yakuza so often he knew that that wasn't an appropriate business practice. Isane presented the information they had gathered with Implant over the months leading up to that meeting, and Implant affirmed what she presented to him. They had it all correct, and the deal that Implant made with Isane that night would be honored the same as if Overhaul was in the room with them. That had been the deal Implant had taken when he'd insisted for Isane to lead these meetings.

The deal was done, and although they remained in the room, gathering their things and standing, Isane felt the overwhelming relief finally seep into her veins. A quick glance at her phone as she put her paperwork into her purse said that it was barely ten. They'd easily make it back to the compound by ten-thirty, and she'd never have to see Implant again. Mimic and Overhaul would deal with him from here on out.

"Ah, before we leave," Implant began, standing and pulling his jacket back on. Her guard went up immediately. He never dawdled. Takahashi also stood, matching Ikeda. "I just have one more order of business."

She raised a brow, eager for him to get on with it so she could get home. Just a few more minutes of pleasantries. She could do this.

He paused however, and across from Takahashi Ikeda pulled out a gun. In a seamless movement, took a shot through Takahashi's leg. He dropped with a yell and Isane immediately called on her katana, forming it in her hand as she closed the gap to Implant.

"What are you playing at?" She was careful not to touch him, but he didn't seem at all threatened, even with her weapon so close to his face. Ikeda stepped closer to Takahashi, even though the kid immediately called on his quirk, a chain extending between his hands. He was bleeding out, but he still tried to attack Ikeda from the ground.

Another gunshot, and Takahashi was crying from the pain. A bullet had blasted its way through his left hand and he cradled it against his chest. Surely someone could hear the commotion and the owner of the lounge would come in.

Before Isane could call on her manticore to end this, Implant stepped closer, blade pressing against his chest. "You're going to give that to me, and you're going to do what we tell you or the kid dies."

Ikeda stepped over Takahashi, gun pointed straight at his head.

If she called on any of her ink creatures, Takahashi would get a bullet in the head. If she moved to try to defend him, Ikeda would be quicker. Ikeda had his finger on the trigger and was watching Implant for the signal. Isane ran through a million scenarios faster than the time it took for Implant to draw his next breath.

There was no scenario where, if Isane reacted to defend them it would save Takahashi's life. Ikeda would be too quick with the gun.

Takahashi, even though he could barely keep his eyes open from the pain, caught her eye and nodded.

She tried to step back and call off her katana, let it flow back onto her skin, but it didn't budge. She'd heard of people who's quirks allowed them to erase another's quirk, but she'd never had anyone freeze her quirk from being able to control it.

It felt wrong, and no matter what she tried, it wouldn't disappear; she had no control over it. Isane shot a glare at Ikeda, who she realized was watching her, not Implant.

The freeze - it was his quirk.

Panic rose even as she tried to clear her head. She had to keep a clear head.

Implant stepped forward. His hands were clasped behind his back, but as he approached her, one hand stretched out between them.

She had half a mind to cut off his hand. Was it worth it? She could escape. She could attack Implant. Ikeda would pull the trigger and kill Takahashi, which would give her enough time to release her manticore and have it attack Ikeda while she finished Implant.

But Takahashi would definitely lose his life. He was nineteen. And so close to becoming a full member of the Eight. And the Hassaikai would definitely lose their trade routes. They would have to start over, and it would be her fault.

Bile rising in her throat, Isane handed her katana to Implant. With one hand, he caught her hand at her wrist where her sleeve ended. With the other, he took the katana and handed it to Ikeda.

"There," he purred, tracing circles against the back of her hand with his thumb. She wanted to rip her hand away, but she was powerless. If she moved out of turn, Takahashi would lose his life. She knew that as well as she knew that the sun would rise the next day, no matter what happened in the room.

Of all the scenarios that Mimic went over with them in the briefing room that afternoon, this had not been one of them.

"Now then," Implant said, his grip tightening on her hand as his tone hardened. "You and I are going to have a conversation, you fucking bitch."

Notes: I swear this is not going to turn sexual, if any of you are worried about that.

This was both a really fun chapter for me to write, and a really hard chapter. The first scene reduced me to laughter and tears when I re-read it today. And then, of course, there's the last scene. But this is one of my favorite chapters with Isane and Rikiya, and I hope you all enjoyed it, too.

In my Big Fic, On Dating a Demon, I had a character named Ikeda and I had so many people tell me that they thought he was an antagonist of some kind by the way he acted around my main character. They didn't trust him and hated him from the get-go. I didn't go that route with him then, so I recycled his character for Kintsukuroi. I finally get a chance to write Bad Ikeda.

A huge thank you to roseeyes for your incredible reviews on chapters five, six, and seven! They absolutely made my day! Thank you so much!

I do not own, in any way, the characters, places, or ideas of the My Hero Academia universe created by Kohei Horikoshi. I only own my own characters and plot. No money is made off of this story.