'The third and final duty of the Royal Guard is more mysterious than their burial rites. It is given no mention nor is it acknowledged officially. But there are rumours, substantiated only through the after-effect of their actions, including Taiwan sinking and the Purge of Shikoku. It is believed that the Royal Guard is a major player in a conflict unseen to the common man. It may be against villains of the Japanese government, but their indifference to corruption and villainy grant credence that it is of far greater importance. The only true substantial clue to this war is a phrase uttered by a member of the Guard: 'Cleanse the dark and halt the conduit'. It is unknown what either the 'dark' or the 'conduit' refers to, but it is the only indication of this secret war of theirs.'
—Excerpt from 'Examining the Japanese Imperial Family: An American's Perspective' by David Hayter.
Inko Midoriya is exhausted.
The toll of her son missing for three days still weighs heavily on her, the nightmares of his corpse—his true corpse, not the creature of crystal madness and anathema logic that she knows instinctively in her soul, tortured and mutilated by exposure to the abyss—in a cremation chamber still haunts her. Every day she wakes up and checks his room, forgetting that he isn't home. And every day, her heartbeat speeds up, sweat trickling down her neck until she checks her phone and sees a message from him.
She brushes her fingers against the All Might poster, knowing that in another world, it is ripped and torn. Seeing it isn't possible with her eyes, but the same part of her that lets her know the names and letters of the gods, lets her see that truth.
She raises one of the many figures of the man her son respects with all his soul, no matter how foolish that idea may be.
"Stay safe," she whispers, knowing he won't hear, and knowing it is a futile hope. No matter how much she wishes it, Izuku will always find himself in trouble.
If he must fight at the forefront, if his burning need to be a hero means he will pit himself against villains, if his desire to make a better world forces him to fight the world, the very least Inko can do is fight the threats he isn't ready to acknowledge.
Once, during the Sports Festival, she had made a promise to herself, and perhaps to the parasitic gods hitching a ride in her body, to bring down UA for their failings against her son when he is ready to stand on his own. He isn't there yet, but on the day, he left he was confident and strong.
That, more than anything, means he is ready to step forward. She hates how young he is and how foolhardy his actions will be, but she refuses to abandon him. Izuku will move past her influence and protection, but for now, she is still his mother.
Today she will begin that plan. There will be justice, no matter the cost.
Izuku may hate her for what she will set in motion, but she will not allow him to be Nezu's puppet. She can hardly imagine a tenth of his possible schemes, but she has done enough research into the Heroics Industry and UA alumni, found the tiniest discrepancies only through their influence in unrelated events.
The biggest, and perhaps most well-hidden, is that most of the top forty heroes are UA alumni, and yet, there aren't anywhere near as many UA alumni as sidekicks. It is a tiny thing, easy to overlook under the assumption that they immigrated to other countries, an image well-constructed by UA's brilliant media machine. It isn't a total lie, but the numbers are just different enough. One person here in one photo and missing in another. A social media account incredibly active before a single post about retirement due to injury, before almost total silence.
With a deep sigh, she gets up and leaves. On her way out, she passes Hisashi who sits on the couch, Hawkmoon's memoir in his hand. Their eyes meet, and a for a pregnant moment the air is charged with a decade of anger and longing. Anger wins out.
"Unless we ask for you, stay out of the house."
He closes his eyes, taking a long breath. Her husband sets the book down and stands.
"Okay."
She waits and observes him leave, silent and head bowed. He looks defeated, and she feels nowhere near enough sympathy to surmount the resentment. At the doorway, he hesitates.
"Can I at least—"
"No," she snaps, not caring what he might have meant. "You don't have any rights in this family anymore."
"That's fair," he says, and for a moment, she remembers every kind word they shared when they were younger.
That moment isn't enough to cut through a decade of loneliness and resentment. It is close, but not close enough.
She forces her jaw to move and says, "Goodbye, Hisashi."
Exactly ten minutes after he's gone, she regains control of her feelings. Ever since he came back, opening old wounds and making new ones, neither she nor Izuku has found any measure of balance.
Still, those ten minutes almost makes her late for her meeting.
She enters the office and takes in the wood desk and the man sitting behind it. He wears a simple suit, and his office is just as simple. The only items of note are the many pictures of his family, and a framed shirt for some quirkless sports team or other. The words are in Japanese, but a small part of the power that lets her son understands all languages is lodged in her soul, and it reads as 'Armoury'.
"Thank you for seeing me," she says immediately, with little interest for the false pleasantries. "I know your schedule is very busy."
The man twitches slightly, off-balance. Almost startled. It isn't the politest thing to do.
"The pleasure is all mine. Please have a seat." His voice is high and reedy.
She takes the offered seat, crossing one leg over the other. Back straight, hair in a tight bun, and gaze steady, she makes for an intimidating figure.
"I was recently informed I should speak to a specialist for burn injuries and treatment options for my son."
The doctor nods and launches into a detailed explanation, the fifth she's heard this week. The details and options may be slightly different, but they all paint a damning picture. She lets him continue, nodding where needed, and asking for clarification on certain procedures.
"And how long exactly do skin grafts take? And how difficult are they to perform."
"Skin grafts for burn wounds? Oh, we do them all the time. They don't take up much time." The doctor looks up. "Unless you meant reconstruction surgery. That can take a few weeks to fully recover. But usually, patients can get back to their jobs after the first week once a lot of the pain has subsided."
Her smile is wide and completely frigid. She removes a picture of Izuku, specifically his wound in the immediate aftermath so many weeks ago. She is glad, for once, that everything must be recorded for legal purposes these days.
She shows him the pictures of Izuku.
He takes a long minute to observe the picture, mumbling to himself. Then he looks up, a question in his features.
"Hm, I assume this happened when he was out in the field?"
She startles. "I'm sorry?"
"The wounds are severe, don't get me wrong. But the only reason they wouldn't fully heal is if he was treated in the field without an equipped operating room. What unit did your son serve in, if you don't mind me asking?"
Her smile is thin. "None."
The doctor leans back. "I'm sorry, but the only people in Japan who have scarring like that either couldn't access a hospital or are army veterans.
"I see." She stands quickly, startling the doctor once more. "Thank you, doctor."
"Wait. Midoriya," he says slowly. "That's your name. Your son goes to UA. He was in the tournament."
"Goodbye, doctor."
"Before you leave, I have one piece of advice," he says, his voice deep unlike his earlier tenor. "I can guess what you want to do."
The politeness vanishes from his features, and only a deep-seated bitterness remains. She recognises that brand of bitterness very well.
"Really now," she says with a touch of bitter humour.
"Do you know how many people were injured in their Sports Festival? And it's not their fault. Somehow, my son can nearly die and I'm expected to blame villains, or heroes, for their incompetence. You're not the only person with a grudge. And you won't be able to do it alone."
She looks over her shoulder and offers him a vicious smile.
"I don't plan to."
"I don't know if you really understand what you're fighting against," the doctor says quietly. "Do you understand how powerful UA really is. They're not just a school. They practically own the city it's in. They might as well be a city-state. Trust me, I've tried. It isn't worth it."
"Maybe. But I have to try anyway."
And I don't think you had anyone like Hisashi on your side.
An hour later she sits in a café enjoying a cup of strong coffee. A cat rubs insistently at her leg, seeking attention. And Inko just isn't in the mood to entertain the creature much, not when she already has one in her lap and another around her neck.
"Fuck, you look ridiculous."
She looks up to see Mitsuki, her phone out and undoubtedly there will be a dozen pictures on social media in a few minutes.
Inko rolls her eyes. "Sit. We have things to talk about."
"You finally ready to talk about what's going on with your quirk?"
Inko leans away from the cat licking her chin. It's hard to have a serious conversation with a single cat involved, let alone two of them. The only reason she likes this place so much is that they serve the strongest cup of coffee in Mustafu.
"What treatment options were you given for Katsuki?"
Mitsuki's frowns. "What does that have to do with us meeting?"
Her smile is bitter. "Do you remember Jin?"
"Weird shirtless dude with bullshit anime eyes?"
"He asked me if I'd consulted with anyone other than UA for Izuku's burn treatments."
Mitsuki looks away. "I'm sorry but—"
"I'm not here to fight with you," she says quickly before Mitsuki retreats. "But did they ever off you any other treatment options? I can assure you they didn't for Izuku after USJ. Everything was done in house to protect him from villains. And I swallowed that up."
Her smile is bitter. It isn't the entire truth, but close enough. She has no intention of telling Mitsuki the full extent of her son's quirk. They may be friends again, or close enough, but that level of trust doesn't exist between them.
It may never exist again. There will always be a battle trial and a sealed red order hanging over each interaction they share.
Mitsuki's features soften a tad. "He's got permanent nerve damage in his right arm. He can still use it mostly. But I don't think he has feeling in most of it. It's hard getting him to talk about anything."
"I talked to a few doctors about burn treatments and facial restorations. They said they do them all the time and they take less than a month if you're using advanced nano-grafts which were introduced five years ago. UA told me Izuku would be out of school for months."
Mitsuki narrows her eyes. Her friend is smart despite how she acts.
"Then she either didn't know… Or she chose not to tell you? Oh, fuck."
"My thoughts exactly." Her smile is flat. "Will you help me?"
-TDB-
For Fumikage Tokoyami, the days since the raid have been peaceful. He has yet to be called again by Agonist and spends his days in the forest training his powers. After the creature they fought, he now needs to be fast enough at summoning Dark Shadow or Watatsumi in a fight. Anything less, and he may not survive the next encounter.
Why should death bother you? Dark Shadow asks through their bond.
He's on his way to the train station, having received an encrypted message earlier that morning. It had taken him a few minutes to figure out which cypher to use
"Because I don't want to die young."
He can feel Dark Shadow's annoyance. Your kingdom is life under disparity. Do you truly believe yourself so weak that death is a worry?
He doesn't answer that question, not sure if he wants to consider it. They made a promise, the three of them that day on the beach, and he supposes a part of him never really internalised what eternity meant.
The train ride leaves him with time to contemplate his thoughts. Death is something he hasn't really worried about, not since the Sports Festival and nearly being crushed beneath the rubble. Nothing since then has felt so visceral.
Maybe it is the reason he sleeps with a single sheet instead of thicker blankets now. The last time he did, he woke up panicking and sweating and almost woke his parents up. Perhaps he did, given that neither of them bothered him the next morning in any way, and his mother kept shooting concerned looks.
His father, as always, was silent.
Either way, he'd rather not think about it. He disembarks at a train station near the pier. The twenty-minute walk is good and lets him clear his mind. Yes, he could take a bus, but that would leave him crowded by people.
The building is right on the water, looking over the water. It smells like salt and something cloying that he can't place.
There's an advanced looking biometric sensor next to the door. He enters his details along with the passcode he has for a low-level meeting like this. The floors are modern tile and there is much more glass than he expects. It looks like something ripped straight out of a modern work magazine with the bright walls and lack of actual offices.
There are people milling around or at their desks doing work. Hardly any of them look over thirty-five and absolutely none of them look like they've been in a fight before. He feels like a piece of meat beneath their attention as he enters.
Someone carrying two trays of coffee piled high almost steps over Fumikage. He manages to avoid dropping the coffee as he stumbles.
"Who the hell…" The young man dressed in shorts with suspenders and a dew dozen piercings gets a good look at Fumikage. "You're the one everyone's talking about. Inquisitor, right? The special asset? Royal Guard in training."
Fumikage blinks. "I beg your pardon."
And then he's surrounded by a group of people trying o get their coffee. They don't look like people working for the imperial family. They barely look like people formally employed what with their tattoos and piercings and odd hair colours.
"Give me my coffee, already," one woman says, jostling Fumikage aside. "I don't care if he's the Emperor's secret heir. I need caffeine now."
Fumikage wisely steps aside before he's trampled by the group.
He finds Agonist, Maya, watching this fondly. He approaches her, uncertain if this is a serious meeting or not.
"I'm confused," he says, voice barely audible over the loud noises the group is making. "They do not seem like…"
"Not everyone is a fighter or has a quirk. We need accountants and engineers and all the rest just as much as any other group. We just don't care about bullshit like work clothes."
"Right. And why did he call me a Royal Guard in training?"
She snorts. "Who? Nakajima? He's an idiot."
"I heard that," the man in question shouts.
"Doesn't change a thing," Maya—it feels wrong to call her Agonist or Izanami when she is so relaxed—calls back. "We'll use the backroom. Don't destroy anything while I'm gone."
There is a chorus of 'yes, ma'am' from the group before they go right back to whatever it is that is causing them so much humour. Fumikage follows Agonist to an office on the second floor. It has glass panes separating it just like the rest of the office and is hardly what he calls private.
She sits on her table. Fumikage chooses to remain standing. She's taller than him as it is. No need to make himself needlessly shorter.
He must force himself to look her in the eyes and not the deep plunge of her neckline. And he's almost certain Dark Shadow is pushing and prodding, forcing desires that aren't his.
Oh, they are. You just try to hide them.
"We don't have many special assets," she says before he demands an answer. "You're one of two I oversee, and until recently I had none. We have maybe ten all told. You're working directly with me, a Royal Guardswoman, and it gives the impression that I'm grooming you to take a seat at the table."
"I'm never going to protect your Emperor."
She shrugs. "That's what a special asset is. A person with special skills that won't take the oaths of the Guard but is amenable to working with us. Just ignore Nakajima. He's probably running a betting pool that he wants to rig."
"I see. You called me here to debrief."
"What were your impressions of the raid?"
He frowns. "It was unnecessarily violent. Too many lives were lost out of what seemed like a reckless attack. And they were ill-equipped to deal with the threat."
"All true. Given the circumstances, six lives is an acceptable price for a successful operation."
"By what measure do you call the successful?"
"We stopped it. It multiplied eight times in under a minute. If it got to a population centre, we'd have to burn down the entire city." She stares hard at him. "They knew the score. The risk of death is a constant in our field of work."
"Wait… You could have eliminated it before it became a threat."
"I was assessing the nature of the creature." She rolls her eyes. "I told you, moving faster than light is time travel. I was fighting that thing from the very beginning. It took you a while to catch up with my relative present."
"That's…" He trails off, unsure of how to process that.
"Please, continue basking in my magnificence."
"Why do they call you Agonist?" he asks just to be belligerent.
Her eye twitches. "I swear, you kids are the worst." She sighs. "It's an insult that's never gone away, alright."
"And Inquisitor, why did he call me that?"
She shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe read some of the documents we send you."
Thankfully, he can't flush. There's a stack of them he's ostensibly supposed to have read, and he's touched none of them.
"What is our next objective."
Agonist claps. "Our next mission is simple. We have reason to believe a pirate group is smuggling in abyssal weapons. We'll be working with the Oki Mariner."
The name means nothing to him. "Why don't we do this ourselves?"
"Because I've lost my boat pilots and I'm pretty shit at tracking."
"You told me I was not ready—"
"And you still aren't," she interrupts, not harshly. "That's not why I'm calling you here. You'll be seeing a friend and I thought it might be good for you."
"Whom?"
"Your classmate, Asui Tsuyu."
-TDB-
Shouto Todoroki knocks on his sister's door.
It is open just a sliver, an invitation for anyone to enter. He, especially, has no reason to wait. Never has and never will. Still, he waits for her quiet, "Come in," before entering.
Her room is shades of grey and blue, with the odd hint of green. It's as wintry and chilly as the ice quirk they share between them. She's seated at her desk marking schoolwork as she always does after dinner.
"Hey," she says without looking up. "What's wrong?"
He doesn't question how she knows something is wrong. Of everyone, perhaps she knows him better than Izuku ever will.
"Can I ask you a question?"
She puts her red pen down and closes the book on her desk. "Sure." She gestures to her bed with her free hand.
"What happened?" he asks, staring at the bandages around her wrist.
She looks back to him, startled, and it makes him realise how threatening his stance has become. He's coiled tightly, ready to hurt anyone who dared raise a hand to his sister.
"Calm down. I tripped on a tree root. Landed on my wrist."
She wouldn't lie if it was a person who hurt her. Living in Endeavour's home meant they all had more than enough experience hiding injuries and lying about them to teachers and friends in the case of his siblings. But amongst themselves, those lies don't exist.
"It's just a sprain, nothing more," she adds.
He takes a breath and forces his body to relax. He doesn't feel that emotion, but he doesn't want to scare his sister.
"Let me see," he says more insistently.
She sighs. "You worry too much."
He takes her hand gently, careful not to apply any excess pressure. Slowly, he unwraps the bandages and reveals her inflamed hand, a patchwork of motley purples and yellows and shades of blue.
"Do you trust me?" he asks, placing his free hand just above the swollen wrist.
She pushes her glasses up. "You won't hurt me."
He takes a deep breath and activates his other quirk. Tendrils of frost spread from his hands and over her wrist. His fire quirk isn't the only thing that changed. The ice he can generate is just as alien. If he chooses it can accelerate entropy and be corrosive to anything it touches. But just as it can destroy, it can also be used for good.
What he does isn't healing. It is simply changing the direction of time for her wrist. Slowly, the swelling dies down and her wrist reverts to its original state.
She flexes her wrist cautiously, eyes widening when she feels no pain. "It doesn't hurt."
"No."
"Have you ever thought about being a medic?"
For a moment, he considers that. It would be easy to heal people, to mend their ailments and fix them. With enough time and experience, there won't be anything he can't heal. And yet, if he leaves UA, he'll have to abandon everyone he knows. It will mean leaving Izuku and Fumikage and Iida.
"No. Never. Can I ask my question now?"
She laughs delicately. "Yes."
"Heroes are supposed to save people. And saving people means arresting the villains, right?" She nods. "But you know that guy from America, the one with bat wings who throws villains in prison even though they escape each time."
"What about him?"
"Well, the villains go on to kill other people. Doesn't that make him responsible for all those deaths."
"If I'm remembering correctly, he has a code he doesn't compromise on. And killing is one of them. I don't think there's anything wrong with a code like that. It's noble if anything."
"But isn't he then responsible for every death after they escape prison. He has the power to stop those deaths but he doesn't. That sounds like he might as well not help."
"And if he stopped, then all the criminals hiding would come back. All the corrupt officials would worm their way back in power. It might not be perfect but it's better for the average person now then it was before."
"If he was willing to kill the really bad villains, then it would be even better."
"I don't think that makes him wrong. Taking a life is difficult and it changes people. Look at you, arguing that death is a good option for a hero to take."
He looks away, not willing to concede her point but conceding it all the same. He's told her of his time in the dark, powerless and trapped in a story he couldn't control. He's told her of that one battle against someone who looked and felt just like her.
They both know what he did. They both know taking a life is something he is more than capable of doing without remorse.
"Then explain why. He captures villains knowing they'll kill more. That just sounds like… I don't know, weakness, maybe."
"I think it's fear of his strength. If he justifies that taking one life is okay, then taking the second and third and hundredth becomes easier. And some people aren't willing to take that first step."
"Then he's a coward?"
"No, I think he's brave. It's hard standing by your ideals when the world is telling you otherwise. Now, why are you so interested?"
"I was having a conversation with a classmate about the new hero killer."
It is true in the strictest sense. Those are the best lies as he's come to learn. If you can get your way with a sincere truth, use that instead of any convincing lie.
Fuyumi nods. "Well, don't get too dragged down by it."
There is nothing more than needs to be said between them. She will always be there if he needs help. Later, Shouto tells his father that he'll meet up with him in Hosu later and that he wants to catch-up with Iida before their patrol starts.
He catches a glimpse of a vision in the corner of the room. He looks and sees himself leaning against a wall, surrounded by three corpses.
"Don't be late," the man grumbles, staring at a report.
His father's words make the vision vanish. Shouto nods and leaves, setting off to Hosu.
He meets Iida in a café. It's nothing special, just another place hidden in a forgotten corner of the city.
They greet each other warmly, putting on a show for the two patrons and the owners of the store. The tea he orders has little taste to it. Nothing's really tasted nice since he left the abyss so long ago. Nothing really compares to the heart of a godling burnt in his image.
Maybe nothing ever will.
"What did you bring?" Iida asks, looking over his shoulder.
Shouto almost rolls his eyes. Almost. Instead, he unlocks his tablet and pulls up a map of Hosu. There are coloured lines overlaying the map.
"The patrol routes for the heroes in the city." He taps another button and seventeen black crosses appear on the map, all marked with a name. "And his victims. Including Ingenium."
Iida glares darkly and, for a moment, Iida is ready to kill Shouto. Without mercy. Without hesitation. Without remorse.
I like him, Shouto thinks.
"Don't make light of this."
"Sorry," he says sincerely. "It's hard to remember what's appropriate." He points to his right eye, the darkest shade of black. "Getting this was painful. It's hard to… sympathise sometimes."
Iida takes a breath. The anger doesn't vanish, but it does lessen. Iida has no reason to believe the story of his kidnapping during the Sports Festival to be false.
"Patrol routes are just suggestions. They're areas a hero is reasonably expected to patrol in a given night with no interruption. All of Stain's first five murders in Hosu were outside patrol routes, picking off heroes returning from work. Ever since then, he's been bolder and targeting heroes during their patrols, like Nightcrawler yesterday."
"This is why we have to kill him first. He's a murderer of the worst sort."
"The thing is, I think he's been getting help. There aren't any solo patrols allowed in Hosu anymore. There's no way he'd be able to get in, kill someone, and escape without alerting their partners."
"A warp quirk," Iida concludes. "The League."
"That's the working theory. Probably why they don't want us operating after dark without a big group. These are his three most likely targets." He taps a button and glowing red dots appear on the map, all three just before patrol routes would intersect.
"How do you know all this?"
"Because Endeavour is surprisingly competent at this and he's part of the investigation team."
"If they know he'll attack there, it seems ill-advised to send out small teams."
"Each patrol team is made up of A and B-rank combat heroes." Shouto points at spots around the likely attack spots, marking them. "And there are patrol teams operating close enough to respond within two minutes. We'll meet up later tonight near the end of the patrols."
Iida nods. "If we find him, I won't let him walk away."
"I'll burn his legs off," Shouto adds helpfully.
Iida seems not to appreciate it by the way he grimaces. "Let's meet at the first location at seven."
Shouto parts ways with Iida and meets his father in town.
They go on patrols and even stop two minor crimes. But it all seems so unimportant now. People wave and ask for autographs from his father, somehow unafraid of the hero killer simply because Endeavour is in the city.
A tug on his sleeve pulls him away from his thoughts. He looks down to a little kid, gap-toothed and smiling brightly.
"Can I have your autograph, mister?"
Shouto blinks, confused. He takes the proffered pen and signs his name on the notebook.
"Thanks," the kid says before running off to join his friends.
It leaves him confused. There's no reason anyone should want his autograph.
"People flock to strength," his father says. "They remember the strength you showed at the stadium. The power you wield at such a young age gives hope to people for the next generation of heroes."
That makes little sense. He isn't a hero by any formal definition. To place their faith in him simply because they saw one fight seems foolish. But people are foolish as he's come to learn.
It is much later in the day that he says his goodbyes to his father. The man glares at Shouto, his blue eyes frigid.
"I won't protect you from your own foolishness," he warns.
Shouto's is indifferent.
He heads to the meeting spot and waits patiently for Iida. He appears soon enough, looking tired and sustained only by a deep well of hate that Shouto can't help but find impressive.
They say no words.
Their first location is a few blocks away and they keep to the shadows of the main streets as they move. No one can really accuse them of breaking regulation if they use the simple excuse that they're going to a café to get some group work done before heading to the train station. A lie is only as good as the context behind it and being a diligent UA student is perfectly good context.
The first possible point of attack is uneventful. They wait until the trio of heroes walks out onto the main street without issue before heading to the next site.
Shouto smells the blood long before they reach the alleyway. It fills his mouth and nose. He walks forward slowly, drawn inexorably to the scent. There are three corpses littered through the alley, and though they are dead, he can feel the fading embers of the strength they once held.
"We're late," Iida informs him, unhelpfully.
Shouto takes a calming breath before he says something rude. He stares at his hands, seeing blood and death and fire dancing between his fingers. It isn't real, nothing more than memories and his imagination, but for him, dreams and ideas are as real as the corpses.
More and more, he's coming to understand why his father was as harsh and cruel as he was. Shouto puts his hands in his pockets and forces the feeling down.
"Not by much," he says, voice breaking. "They're still bleeding."
He leans against the wall, crossing his arms. Then pauses, feeling an intense sense of repetition like he's already done this before.
Shouto swallows uncertainly. He's leaning against a wall and there are three corpses just like he saw before in his father's office.
"Let's go," Iida says. "We might still find him at the last site."
"I doubt it. He doesn't ever attack more than one location on any given day. There's more we can learn here." He sees past the bounds the reality and lets the scene of their death play out.
It isn't particularly clear, more like starlight outlines of intent and wisps of light than a clear image. But he can understand it well enough.
"He killed all three of them rapidly," Shouto says and then points to the one furthest back. "Died before he even knew what was happening."
He sees the second turn around, a spark that may signify his quirk coming to life before the immense shadow that represents the hero-killer snuffs it out.
"This one had enough time to turn before she was killed. A single stab through his eye."
The last of the three wisps throws a punch that the hero-killer dodges around easily and brings his blade across the hero's throat.
"He put up a fight for a few seconds. The cut is too jagged." Shouto shakes his head. "I'm calling the police. Let's go. We failed tonight."
"You really can see these things."
"Yeah. Let's get out of here."
Shouto yawns and rubs his right eye. Details are sometimes blurry, especially after he uses his power. As they walk to the station, he wonders if the blurriness is permanent or if he's becoming blind to the real world in that eye.
Because whilst things are crystal clear in his left eye, everything has a blurry tinge to it and the colours are washed out slightly in his right eye.
In his right eye, he can see the darkness hiding beneath the surface.
-TDB-
Fumikage prepares for another battle, meditating in a corner. He feels Dark Shadow in the depths of his soul, just as focused as Fumikage is. The two breathe in sync, their energies pulsing in time, distinct but intertwined. Soon enough, his dragon joins them, bringing forth rage and curiosity that is lessened by Fumikage's peace and Dark Shadow's determination.
When they are ready, he stands. They are so close to the surface that he sees the outline of scales running down his hands, his dragon forever protective of its master. Dark Shadow is so close he can almost hear the demon's thoughts.
He takes a breath and pushes them down just the slightest bit. He doesn't want them appearing if someone startles him.
Maya, sometimes Izanami and sometimes Agonist, waits for him. She nods.
The two of them head to the mariner, he in his dark costume and she in her white jacket. They draw odd looks from a few of the people working at the pier, but people are used to heroes enough that they largely ignore them.
"She's working with the pro hero, Selkie, on his ship, the Oki Mariner," Agonist says.
He glares at her out of the corner of his eye. "We should not involve her. She has nothing to do with this."
"Do you happen to have a competent pilot who you trust not to run at the first sight of trouble? Or someone who knows how to track pirates?"
"Why don't you have others?"
They walk down the ramp to the berth where the other ships are docked. Some are sleek and brand-new pleasure yachts. Others have signs of wear and tear. To Fumikage, outside of their different sizes, that is the only observation of importance about them.
"The area we're searching over is massive. We've got maybe twelve groups and each of them has someone who can stall for time if they encounter the threat."
"Then hire more people."
"I wish it was that easy. Now shush, little crow."
He accepts the insult as they approach a mutant who looks, unsurprisingly, like a selkie. He is tall and dressed in a blue bodysuit. And he does not look pleased to see them.
"Welcome to the Oki Mariner," the pro hero Selkie grumbles.
Agonist salutes. "Permission to come aboard, captain."
"Not like I have a choice. Get on." He jabs a finger to two of the sailors working on the lines. "Stay out of their way and we won't have problems."
Agonist smiles. "Thank you, captain."
They go up the short ramp. Maya taps him on the shoulder, points towards a corner that looks unimportant, and pulls away to talk to Selkie.
On the way, he sees the cause of his reticence for this mission. Asui Tsuyu. His classmate. And she doesn't look impressed.
"Asui," he says, waving at her.
She doesn't smile as he expects. "Fumikage."
He frowns. She almost never calls him by his family name. And the last time they met before the internship, she had smiled immediately.
"It's good to see you."
"I wish I could say the same. Excuse me, I have to secure the lines."
He blinks and watched her join the other sailors. He wonders if he did something to insult her without knowing.
Fumikage leans on the railing, away from where Asui and the sailors are working. He isn't sure what he has done to anger her so, but he is unwilling to needlessly antagonise her with his presence.
The sailors work quickly and soon enough they're heading off. He watches the calm waves, lulled almost to sleep by their serenity.
"I'm Sirius," a woman says, pulling him from his thoughts.
Her smile bright and earnest, and she is dressed in a sailor's uniform.
"Fumikage Tokoyami. Or Tsukuyomi, if you prefer my hero name."
"Hm, I like Tokoyami more."
"It makes little difference to me," he says and is startled to find that to be true. Neither of them truly encapsulates the nature of his power or the shape of his soul, more placeholders than true names.
"Aren't you a UA student?" He nods again. "Then why are you working with her?"
"A mix-up with my paperwork," he says, which is technically true. "I've had the opportunity to improve my skills in investigations and tracking."
"Well, I hope it doesn't come back to bite you in the ass."
He shrugs. "I thought we were heading north, not south."
She cocks her head, genuinely confused.
"We are." She points at the sun. "It's setting west. You can use that to orientate yourself at sea."
"Thank you," he says, embarrassed. Thankfully, she doesn't pursue the matter.
The sun sets long before they get any hint of the pirates. He catches snatches of conversation amongst the sailors filled with technical jargon he doesn't understand.
Fumikage watches the dark water in a corner out of the way. He still knows nothing about boats, but he is starting to understand Agonist's contempt of vehicles. He has a dragon and that is infinitely cooler. And significantly faster.
The only downside towards doing so is that he has no idea how to track someone over the water. And even if he could, his sense of direction would not help him.
He hears someone approach and glances over his shoulder. Asui's expression is still blank and vaguely disappointed.
"Why are you angry with me?" he asks after a minute of cold silence.
"How much did they pay you?" Asui asks bluntly.
He gazes at her a moment longer before returning to his vigil. "You're implying that my loyalty was bought."
"Looks like it. New costume. New shoes. New phone. What was your price tag?"
She's calling you a sell-out. A traitor. A coward.
The disappointment in her gaze, the judgement without knowledge, lends credence to Dark Shadows words. He feels the anger rise and struggles to master it.
"I don't have a price tag," he says slowly. "I work with her because there is no other choice."
"That's what we all say when we make the easy choice."
His chuckle is bitter. "This was not an easy choice."
Even now, he can still hear that little boy screaming to be saved. He can't forget his failure and the cost to it. That child didn't deserve to suffer. If he can make it so that no more children ever suffer like that, consumed by the abyss, then isn't it all worth it?
They stop a ship an hour later. From the urgency and the words being exchanged by the sailors, these are the pirates they've been waiting for.
There are maybe a dozen people on the ship and all of them look suspicious.
They're pirates. I would be surprised if they didn't look suspicious.
Fumikage enters the bridge where Agonist and Selkie are in a conversation. Selkie stands beside her captain whilst Asui is in the corner, watching him.
"I don't trust this," Agonist says to Captain Selkie. "They wouldn't be stupid enough to keep the cargo on one ship."
The captain frowns. "Sirius. Froppy. And, what's your name?"
"Fumikage, sir."
"That's a mouthful. You three, keep on heading towards the second objective. We'll investigate here."
"Aye, captain," Sirius says.
With so many pirates on the other boat, the sailors must leave to secure the ship and the pirates. That only leaves the three of them to deal with whatever is to come.
"They're hiding in the Shadow of Double Rock," Sirius says in the captain's chair an hour later.
Fumikage can only barely see the outline of the rocks and that is with his enhanced sight. Sirius and Froppy talk rapidly, Fumikage confused and hesitant. It isn't fear for his life, but fear of what will come.
There's something out there between the rocks, waiting for them. This is a trap, one that they're blindly walking into. But how does he explain a formless fear to people who have never seen the abyss or the gods of desolation hiding within?
They anchor the ship outside of visual range.
Froppy and Sirius have the advantage of being able to swim. Fumikage doesn't have that luxury. But he does have Dark Shadow and holds onto the demon tightly as they rocket across the surface to the rocks. Dark Shadow pulls him up whilst the girls make scaling the rock look as easy as breathing.
"Stay here," Sirius orders. "Froppy, you take red, I'll take blue."
He watches Sirius and Froppy jump down from the rocks and dispatch the two pirates, one dressed in red and the other blue. Both have a single blade, a bright white in the dark night. Even from this far away, he can tell it's an abyssal weapon, one that promises to consume life.
"Simple enough," Sirius says over the radio channel.
She and Froppy head towards the hatch stealthily.
"Let's get this hatch open—"
Fumikage feels a pulse of dread and knows they've fucked up. It hits him right in his soul, and he feels both Dark Shadow and his dragon recoil in disgust.
"Run!" he roars, terrified suddenly.
Fumikage jumps down onto the ship just as another pulse smacks him, sending him stumbling to the ground. He summons Dark Shadow just as a third pulse hits him, locking his limbs with fear.
The ship's cabin bursts apart in a wave of force. It sends Sirius and Froppy flying back. Dark Shadow materialises and catches them before they hit the rocks.
Which is good because he doesn't want to deal with injured allies with this thing in front of him.
The cabin has burst open and the ship has a hole through it. That isn't important. The thing suddenly floating on the water is infinitely more important.
He can imagine what the creature looked like before. Perhaps a mutant like an octopus, maybe a few more appendages than expected but bipedal.
"What the hell is that thing?" Sirius shouts from behind him.
This thing is nothing like that. It towers over him, casting a gargantuan shadow that throws everything into further darkness, not caring that it walks on the water. Each tentacle is barbed with bone spurs and they are a luminescent blue, crackling with an electrical potential. The boneless arms split at the forearm and leave it with four hands, each holding one of the weapons they have been searching for, the most dangerous the long blade the emits a miasma of true darkness.
The weapon brightens, green sparks dancing along its length. They promise death and destruction and an end to life.
Fumikage has about half a second to regret all his life decisions before the creature swings the sword. A wave of green entropy rushes towards him, breaking apart spacetime and leaving cracks to the darkness.
He's ready to summon the dragon and have its bulk take most of the attack. He need not have worried.
A wave of solid light blocks the attack, an incongruous moment of hope in the face of this monstrous creature.
Izanami appears in a burst of light, each step like wind chimes in the air. Somehow, though she walks forward, time seems to have stopped. He can make out the droplets of water hanging in the air, the green spark existing between one moment and the next. Even Dark Shadow, protecting his two allies, is frozen in one spot.
A soft and gentle light pushes back the darkness and time resumes. She flings a beam of hardlight that pushes the creature back and then she's gone. She appears before him with Asui and Sirius under her arms, both looking ill, perhaps from the speed and perhaps from the monstrosity before them.
Agonist grins and it gives him hope that together, they can win this fight. So long as she's with him, there's no way in hell he's losing.
"I'll let you handle the kaiju. Never thought I'd say that."
And then she vanishes in a trail of light, leaving Fumikage to deal with the creature.
I hate you.
One tentacle flings out and slaps the two lackeys on the sinking boat. Blue lightning consumes them, their bodies twitching and spasming.
And then they rise, living corpses just as corrupted, and dripping sparks of lightning. They have spurs that drip a bright liquid that burns through the deck and their eyes are gone, replaced by crystals that seem to go on forever, folding in on themselves.
Fumikage does not hesitate. There is no time for that. Any chance they have to escape is a chance they have to propagate in the sea or perhaps head to the land and taint the nearest city. He doesn't know what the world will become, but he knows these creatures will spread a wave of undeath that will consume the population if given enough time.
Perhaps these creatures that fundamentally follow the laws of time and space won't be as much a thread as the creature the boy became, but he refuses to let the darkness infect his world. He remembers Izuku's advice.
Sometimes, the dark infects the real, and the only way to deal with it is to burn it away.
Watatsumi, he commands and the dragon materialises from his soul. A dark portal materialises over his chest and the dragon slithers out, its dark scales consuming the starlight.
It needs no prompting to open its jaw and roar a terrible sound that strikes fear into his bones. Its claws ignite in purple flame and it leaps towards the taller monstrosity, roaring in rage. The sound displaces the water and pushes the kaiju back.
The two crash into the rock outcropping, thrashing and tearing into each other violently.
Fumikage turns away from the battle and focuses on the two creatures leaving scorch marks with each step. He wishes he had some sort of ranged weapon because he doesn't want to engage them at close range. Not when they have those white blades.
I really need to get a sword.
The bond between him and Dark Shadow comes to life and the demon materialises. In the night, it is massive. It takes every ounce of concentration to control it, and it drains him of energy rapidly.
Dark Shadow darts forward, one massive claw slamming into the blue creature. There is no sense of mercy or compassion from Dark Shadow. No, all it wants right now is to end the existence of everything it can.
The red one raises three of its arms. Arcs of blue lightning shoot towards Dark Shadow. They slice through the demon's shadowy form. Dark Shadow roars in anger and pain, its size reducing due to light.
The blue creature darts forward and swings the short white blade. It slices through Dark Shadow's arm without resistance, an act of retribution.
He glances at Watatsumi and finds it engaged in a violent fight against the kaiju, trading purple fire with green entropy. It's winning, and in another minute or two, it'll probably be the victor.
Except Dark Shadow doesn't have that long. Fumikage draws energy from the dragon which reduces in size and shunts it towards Dark Shadow who grows larger. The dragon doesn't complain but it does back off and breathes purple fire instead of fighting at close range.
Dark Shadow is vindictive in its advance, one arm raised to ward off the lightning. It endures the swipes from the blue creature with the white blade.
The moment Dark gets close enough, it swings hard and fast.
Fumikage watches the arms of the blue creature fall to the ground. With another lightning fast swing, Dark Shadow tears it in half.
The demon doesn't wait for the body to hit the ground and rushes towards the red creature.
Dark Shadow grabs the creature in both hands, uncaring of the lightning battering its form. Then the demon pulls.
He looks away just before it is ripped in half. He looks back to see Dark Shadow tearing it apart, claws slicing and rending, blood and crystal and metal organs spewing onto the deck. The liquids eat through the ship and he doesn't want to imagine what will happen to the marine life in the area.
He feels sick but not so sick that he can't force Dark Shadow to return to his soul. The demon howls in rage as it is sucked back. He shoves it as deep as he can, unwilling to risk it influencing him with its rage.
The drain on his energy disappears just in time for Watatsumi to take advantage of it.
The dragon is held in the grip of a dozen tentacles. It roars in pain, thrashing wildly. And then, its claws light up in purple fire. It slices through the tentacles, a dark miasma spewing from those tentacles and simply floating there.
Freed, his dragon closes the distance to the kaiju. With its all too human hands, it grips the beak of the kaiju. He watches muscles strain beneath dark scales as Watatsumi forces the beak open.
Fumikage feels a tug on his energy like none before, so large and swift that it sends him to his knees.
And then, Watatsumi breathes a beam of purple flame so bright it blinds Fumikage. He can feel the immense heat of the flame even from this distance and it lights up the ocean and the night sky.
When the bright light disappears, the creature is gone and there is a thick haze of steam in the air. The rock formation they were fighting over is molten slag, bright reds and yellows against the dark sea. It is bright enough that he can see dozens of dead fish on the surface of the water.
The kaiju, however, is gone. Nothing of its influence remains, burnt away by that beam of fire.
Watatsumi swims towards Fumikage leisurely, apparently indifferent to steaming water.
He can see the holes in its wings and through its torso, all dripping a white ichor that likely constitutes its blood.
/It is dead, my king/ it says proudly.
"You did well. Return."
The dragon does so without complaint. The constant drain on his energy vanishes, and some of it remains.
He collects the dropped weapons, wrapping them up in his cloak and careful to not touch them with his flesh. Considering that they damaged Dark Shadow and a dragon, he doesn't intend on giving the blade the opportunity to harm him further.
He finds a spot not covered in acid and sits down tiredly, the toll of the battle hitting him all at once. It may not have been him fighting, but Dark Shadow and Watatsumi consumed his energy to sustain themselves.
It takes another thirty minutes before they pick him up. Agonist helps him up and sits him down on a chair, throwing a thermal blanket over him.
Sirius gets him a cup of hot chocolate, smiling gently. "Good job, kid."
He's too tired to say anything and simply nods, wrapping his fingers around the cup. It's odd that he feels so cold given that the air is warm and he's in dry clothes.
There aren't any dead amongst the crew of the Oki Mariner. The worst off is Selkie who has a long cut on his arm, but Sirius had stitched and bandaged the wound, though not after Agonist had checked it for infection.
Supposedly, they had been trapped in a room with a completely reflective material and Agonist's instinctive attack had rebounded until it struck Selkie.
The three of them have a conversation that he isn't bothered to eavesdrop on. Likely Agonist swearing them to secrecy or a warning about the weapons now in her possession or something just as unimportant. Right now, all he wants is to go to sleep and pass out for a few hours.
Fumikage sits on a crate once they return, hugging his blanket tightly.
He watches Asui approach warily.
"So that's your dragon."
He nods. That, at least, is something he can deal with.
"Watatsumi."
"You really do believe you're a god."
Do not believe in the reach of your godhood, he remembers his father saying that day weeks ago in his mother's hospital room. Asui says it in the exact same tone his father used. The voices may be different, and the phrasing changed, but the inflexion is the same.
"I do not."
"Tsukiyomi. Watatsumi. Both are kami."
He rolls his eyes. "It's a name. It means nothing."
"Like the lives you took?"
"They weren't human. Not anymore." He looks away to the ocean. "Do you understand now why I work with her? This is the real fight."
She shakes her head. "I wasn't unconscious when Midoriya died. There was no way anyone could sleep through that. I know the stakes. I saw them. I hear drowning gods calling to me every day of my life. It terrifies me, but it doesn't mean I can justify joining them. You're making the easy choice. Not the right one."
"You saw what we fought, and you consider this the easy choice. Do you have any idea what could happen?" He keeps his fists at his side, afraid of what will come if he fails to control his rage. "I saw a dozen people die because of something just as bad. And a hundred thousand more would have died if weren't there to stop it."
She looks unimpressed. "Sacrifice a dozen to save a thousand. You sound like Titan and every other warlord."
"They did that for power," he shouts. "I don't want power. I don't want credit. I just want people to stay safe."
"It starts out like that. Then it becomes a hundred. Maybe a thousand. Then you start supporting bad laws because it makes things easier. And when a dictator comes by promising to help, you'll support them. Am I wrong?"
"You are." He closes his eyes. "That boy didn't deserve what happened to him. To suffer and have no idea why he was suffering. I can't let that happen to anyone else."
"I know you better than anyone except Midoriya. Duty and honour matter to you more than anything. You think you're some knight doing good in the dark. You think this justifies any action you take."
"Sometimes the hardest choices require the strongest wills."
Asui shrugs. "If that's the choice you're making, then I can't be your friend."
That hits him like a punch to the gut. "What?"
"You made your choice." She shrugs and turns. "Live with the consequences."
"Wait," he calls but she does not look back.
He watches her walk away, unable to say another word. Most of all, he can see the frayed links of the chain binding them together, a dozen blackened and shattered links on the ground. They aren't physically real, but they exist.
Maybe she is right, he wonders.
She does not understand the costs. She has seen nothing. Preserve the boundaries between the real and the void or risk everything perishing. Morals do not matter in this fight. How you win is not important.
He rubs his eyes tiredly. "I worry of the person I will become if I continue down this path."
You'll be alive to worry about it, my prince of crows. Close your heart to the pain and move on.
His phone vibrates. He retrieves it and sees a flashing red light. An emergency signal. There are perhaps only ten people that would put him as an emergency contact. With ice in his heart, he clicks it.
The footage is from an odd angle. But he can make out Izuku in his hero costume standing opposed to a man with too many knives.
"I'm not standing aside," Izuku shouts, the audio picked up by his phone's microphone. "You'll have to get through me to get to him."
"Boy," the man says, hardly audible form the distance. "I've killed heroes twice your age. You won't win."
It doesn't take much for him to make the connection. Izuku is fighting someone Fumikage would loathe to meet, the horror of Hosu who has left a field of corpses in his wake.
Izuku battles the hero-killer.
-TDB-
In the hours before his fateful battle, Izuku Midoriya turns to Gran Torino. "Hosu? Why are we going there?"
Izuku dodges a surprise kick from the retired hero. He makes it look effortless. In reality, he's terrified of Gran Torino beating him down for the eighteenth day in a row. The man is relentless when it comes to training and has worked Izuku to the bone twelve hours a day since his internship started.
The training is very different from anything All Might or Jin Mo-Ri subjected him to. His hero taught him to be physically strong whereas Jin taught him foundational combat technique. Gran Torino is nothing like that. No, he teaches Izuku tactics and combat instinct, breaks the bad habits he's unintentionally formed by battling gods and nightmares, and shows him how to overcome a gap in speed or intelligence or experience.
Fighting like a human with human rules is different from fighting within the abyss where concepts are more important than pure strength. There, this wouldn't even be a contest. But on earth, in this topmost layer of the abyss where gravity works, he needs to follow the rules.
All that is to say Gran Torino beats him to a pulp for twelve hours a day.
"Because they're casting a net over the city to catch the hero killer. Their last plan failed, so they're bringing other heroes as well."
Izuku nods. "You think I'm ready?"
"After two weeks of beating your face in every day, you better be ready." The old man huffs. "Besides, I feel like you've been fighting for months. You gonna tell me?"
"Maybe when you and All Might decide to tell me about Nana Shimura."
Gran Torino clicks his teeth in annoyance. "That's not my story to tell. Go bother Toshi. I'm just here to break all the bad habits he taught you. Let's go."
Which is why he finds himself in Hosu as it burns.
The smoke fills his lungs and burns his eyes. He dodges a blow from the Nomu that attacks him and kicks it in the knee, breaking the joint. With a small hop, he slams his knee in its face and brings it down.
"Why am I always in these situations?"
Gran Torino glares at him, standing on another downed Nomu. "If you have the time to speak then you have the time to help. Go be useful."
Gran Torino throws something his way. A badge, one with his name and picture on it.
"Temporary combat authorisation for this operation."
The fact that he has one means Gran Torino trusts his abilities.
"Now get to work."
Work means fighting Nomu and villains, pitting himself against people willing to kill. It means maybe losing a limb or an eye or having his body broken by an enemy stronger than him. It means maybe, just maybe, he'll find an opponent capable of pushing him.
Izuku grins.
And jumps off the building in a shower of green sparks.