Welcome to the sequel of A Floral Fantasy: Beyond. This fic can pretty much be a stand-alone, but if you want the full context, I highly recommend reading the other story first. Without further ado, please enjoy!

"We interrupt our weather forecast for breaking news— Japan's number one pro hero Deku just announced his engagement to Nakano Asagao, owner of Nakano's Flowers! According to Deku, they have been engaged for a month, but wanted to keep it private while they began looking at wedding venues to keep away the crowds of fans!

For anyone who doesn't know— and honestly, is there anyone out there like that?— Deku and Nakano-san have been dating for almost two years. From the beginning, the pair was thrown into turmoil when Nakano-san was kidnapped by members of the group formerly known as the League of Villains.

After she was rescued, Nakano-san began receiving training from UA graduate Shinsou Hitoshi, better known as pro hero Echo. With Deku and Nakano-san's last trial of love barely over, they faced a new one in the form of Toga Himiko— now behind bars— attempting to sabotage their relationship!

There are rumors that Deku and Nakano-san split up briefly after the incident, but no confirmations. Slowly but surely, Nakano-san became more invested in the hero circle, and just last September, she became an officially licensed pro hero. Though she claims her true passion will always be her flower shop, it's wonderful to see the new hero teaming up with Deku whenever the need arises!

From Hero Update Tonight, we wish Deku and Nakano-san all the best!"

Shinsou hadn't wanted to fall in love. There are just some types of people you don't want to fall in love with: those who are already taken, those who don't match with your sexuality, and (most importantly in the line of hero work) villains.

And yet over the edge he'd gone, falling, falling, falling endlessly until he finally hit the ground and was forced to face the facts. She was with someone else. And he had to move on.

Of course, that was hard to do with her face seemingly everywhere on social media and talk shows and newspaper stands, but he managed. And by managed, I mean he took up as many night shifts as possible, if only because avoiding anything and everything related to her just seemed easier under the veil of darkness.

It was pathetic, really, to have fallen so hard so quickly. But then no, it wasn't, because how could anyone not fall for someone as kind and smart and funny and beautiful as—

Shinsou didn't let himself finish the thought.

He refocused his eyes on the midnight cityscape before him. He had a job to do. And he was sure they were going to make things difficult again.

Three months earlier…

Deep purple eyes scanned the warehouse rooftop. It was his typical lookout place (well, one of them), but something was off. Seemed that tip he got earlier was correct.

Shinsou hoisted himself up to the highest vantage point, relaxing his shoulders as soon as he landed. Stay calm, casual. If whoever it was suspected he knew of their presence, then they might run away. Leave an opening— that was where he'd get them.

The underground hero put his hands in his pockets. Waiting. Listening. Acting like he was doing neither of those things. He would do it as long as he needed to, but the faint sound of footsteps told him the wait wouldn't be endless.

He had to admire whoever it was, though. They were being smart— avoiding the gravel, not crunching on any of the broken glass. Clearly not a novice. And that's how he knows that when there's the sound of a foot crushing a can on the ground, it's not an accident.

Turning around, Shinsou mastered his expression into one of faux-curiosity. "Oh, hey, what are you doin' up he—"

"Fun?" the florist echoed. Shinsou didn't give an explanation with words. Instead, he tossed his capture weapon up toward the rafters with practiced ease, commanding it to tighten onto the pipes.

After a moment, a light of recognition went off in Asagao's eyes (the ones that were so similar to his it was almost like looking in a mirror). "I-I don't think I can throw it that high," she stammered. "And the knots! How did you—"

"Don't worry, I'm just making it easier for you," Shinsou said patiently. Eri had been the same way when he'd started training her. "You're going to attach yours to mine. You'll be low enough to the ground that I can catch you if you fall."

The florist swallowed hard, then nodded. "So…how do I…?"

Shinsou stepped forward. That was a mistake. Those eyes were sucking him in, asking for his help, his wisdom, his assistance, and he couldn't resist. When he took a section of her loaned capture weapon into his hands, he tried to not think of how the fabric served as a connection between them.

"Mental quirks like ours make it easier, but again, it'll take practice. Think of it like one of your plants— it will respond to you, do what you want it to. For now, your goal is to hook your scarf onto mine."

Asagao tilted her head. "And then what?"

The hero shrugged. "And then you swing. Helps you get over the fear of heights, too, if you have that."

Only a couple minutes later, he stared up at her, wondering why he couldn't look away.

She looked like a fairy from a children's book, perched up on their makeshift swing. Her smile was bright and wide, giggles that she couldn't help slipping out, and Shinsou suddenly wished for Ochako's quirk so he could float up to be in that perfect little world with her.

And like a bullet train traveling at full speed, the realization of what he was thinking hit him.

Mentally slapping himself, Shinsou called out, "Enjoying yourself?"

"Yup!" she replied, still pumping her legs, completely oblivious to the sudden war that had broken out in his mind and heart. "I feel bad that I'm having all the fun, though."

The hero shook his head, a chuckle coming out unbidden. "I'll join another time. You did well for a first lesson. What did you see inside your mind space?"

Asa hummed thoughtfully. "I saw a vine…I don't know why, I've never really worked with—"

Shinsou gasped as he was thrown abruptly back into the present. He was lying on the dirty surface of the warehouse roof, breathless, and he looked up to see silver eyes staring down at him with disgust.

"W-Wait—" he croaked thoughtlessly. "What did you do to me?"

Silver eyes simply rolled. And then, the figure that owned them stalked off into the night, leaving a hero who, for the first time in several years, felt out of his depth.

After he'd finally gotten his wits about him, it hadn't taken long to figure out what had happened. His acquaintance had a voice activated quirk, just like his. How ironic.

Even more ironic was how fate continued to push the two together, like some sort of terribly planned version of chess where neither could possibly win.

The two of them were at a stalemate, neither able to move their pieces without the other immediately claiming the victory. It was their routine, their cat and mouse chase. Their futile game. And Shinsou was starting to get tired of it.

If you were wondering, he'd tried many things over the past three months.

Learning JSL had been his first idea. He hadn't heard them speak, after all, and oftentimes he had discovered a fascinating link between types of quirks and certain disabilities. Having a lack of a voice and having a voice activated quirk wouldn't be surprising (though it would seem like a case of the universe mocking the poor victim of said circumstance).

And so, Shinsou had started his quest to learn sign language. People at his agency at first asked questions about the new print outs taped up hastily around his office, but that stopped pretty quickly. He'd done stranger things in his career as a hero. They would assume whatever they wanted to assume, and Shinsou wasn't typically one for giving (what he deemed) unnecessary explanations.

It was a month after their first encounter when he saw them again. It was on a different rooftop, though in the same district. Perhaps they lived somewhere nearby?

As soon as they were spotted, silver eyes flashed daringly toward purple. Now that he wasn't in a post-memory haze, he could study their costume more closely. The eyes were the only distinguishable feature, really— the rest of their face was covered in a black mask.

The black continued downward into a bodysuit, not unlike many he'd seen on both heroes and villains. Perhaps the most frustrating part of their appearance, however, was the deep green cloak that shrouded the majority of their body. Shinsou tried to not let his irritation show. Who knew what kind of weapons they could be hiding under there— that is, assuming they're on the wrong side of the law.

-Hello, I am a pro hero- Shinsou signed, his fingers moving fluidly from near constant practice. -Are you in need of assistance?-

Silver eyes darted down to his hands. Shinsou's eyebrows lifted in hope. But then, their arms crossed. He heard a scoff before they walked away, clearly not impressed.

After that, Shinsou delved into the first tactic he should have tried— quirk database research.

Which, of course, turned out to be a complete waste of time.

The Japan Quirk Enrollment Archives listed several people with memory-based quirks. But, seeing as how having a photo on file is optional and all Shinsou had to go on was a pair of eyes that were beginning to haunt him in his sleep, it was essentially useless. There were plenty of people they could be, but he had next to nothing to help his search; no name, no address, no nothing.

Even stranger, searching villain databases also provided nothing.

Shinsou realized he could be assuming, though. Having been bullied as a child for having a "villainous" quirk himself, it would be hypocritical to impose that on another, especially one who had only done the harm of bringing up a memory he'd been trying to forget and rolling their eyes at him.

Thus, he decided to go for a different strategy.

Approximately two months after their first meeting, they run into each other again. And Shinsou knows it's a stupid idea, and he knows the consequences if they don't react well, but he can't help but think that this might have a shot of working. And so, he opens up his mouth—

And only gets out "Hey, are you—" before he's under their spell again.

When he awakes from a memory of being punched in the nose on the playground, they're gone.

So, yes, you could say that Shinsou is tired of their back and forth.

The two see each other more frequently now, though certainly not intentionally. It seemed both of them had staked out the warehouse district for their purposes, making interaction only inevitable.

Tonight will be different, though. No more being caught off guard. No more dancing around each other. He is waiting, just like he did the first time.

His efforts are rewarded rather quickly. They pop up on the same rooftop as him, and to his annoyance, he can distinctly spot a glimmer of amusement in that silver gaze. They curtsy mockingly, dipping their head and swishing their green cape to the side to show the expanse of weapons that he knows aren't there. When he'd first realized they didn't have any support items, he'd been relieved. Now it just feels like they're being cocky.

As he routinely did, Shinsou nodded politely back. If any of his fellow heroes knew about this little act, they wouldn't know what to think. Hell, he barely knew what to think. So far as he could tell, they weren't a real threat. But then, if they weren't, that didn't explain their behavior toward him.

The pair stared each other down— this, too, they did each time. The silence was cut only by a warm spring breeze, ruffling their cloak and his hair simultaneously. The first sign of what was to come came in the mere twitch of their finger, and immediately, Shinsou was ducking down out of their reach.

They were quick, he'd realized long ago. Quick, agile, and light on their feet, seemingly weightless as they charged through the air, nothing but fists as their weapons.

And so the chase began. Kick, dodge, punch, grasp, twist, grunt— he felt compelled to let it end there, with him on the ground and their knee digging into his back, but this had to be believable. His plan was riding on it.

Growling, he rolls over, taking them tumbling onto the hard concrete surface with him. He hears them let out a gasp at the force, but they don't give up. They never do. All too soon, a leg is wrapped tight around his waist, and they're rolling him back around to their original position. Shinsou manages to catch a hand just before it hits a spot he know will knock him unconscious, then rotates their wrist, earning a pained yelp.

The sound made him let go in shock, and he scrambled to his feet. He'd never gotten that kind of noise out of them before. Their voice, it was—

Perhaps his plan was working a little too perfectly.

Caught up in his own thoughts, he didn't have time to avoid a devastating kick to his side. Shinsou gasped, and if all the air hadn't already evacuated his lungs, then he was sure the rest of it did when they finished the job with a punch to the stomach.

When he toppled back onto his ass, he didn't have to fake the pain. He was hissing through his teeth, a hand holding his side, eyes in slits as he watched them dance off.

Well, he'd hoped this would go a little differently, but he would take what he could get.

Standing up without letting out any other agonized noises was near impossible. Shinsou clenched his jaw to force himself to be quiet. He silently thanked his agency's support staff for his upgraded shoes as he trailed after them. It was something about a new shock absorption technology from a country in Africa, and they were quite effective. Shinsou was like a ghost, moving from shadow to shadow under the veil of night.

Following them wasn't as difficult as he thought it would be. 'Cocky,' he repeated in his head. They must have thought they did a number on him to be so careless.

The almost-skip they'd walked away with had died down into something more subdued. There was still a spring in their step, yes— but it was even and measured. There was no giddiness to it and…wait, could he hear humming? Yes, yes he could, and now that he noticed it, their footsteps matched the tempo of the song.

The green cloak swayed back and forth rhythmically as they moved, taunting him. If only he could rip it off. If only he could rip off the mask, too. If only he could get a good look, a name, figure out a way to stop this, something.

Shinsou was lucky for his instincts when his acquaintance stopped suddenly. He caught only the barest glimpse of silver eyes before he ducked back behind a brick wall. The humming had stopped. A stray cat meowed in the distance. He dared to peek out, seeing the green cape disappear into the next alley over.

The hero swallowed hard before he inched closer.

He could hear it again; their voice. The words were indistinguishable. He drew closer, closer, and—

"…yes, I know…no, it was fine…what?…okay, and what does that have to do with me?…yeah, I get it, fine just— no, I'll be there."

His breath hitched. So his observation from earlier was right. Their voice, it was—

They had to be barely younger than he was.

It was soft, though there was an annoyed tone to it. But it was higher than he might have expected, and somewhat monotone, as though they were trying to make up for their youth by keeping any ounce of emotion out of their words, but the main point was that it was young, far younger than it should be, and some part of his heart hurts.

"Yeah, I already said— look, if you didn't want me on the job, you wouldn't have called."

Shinsou's throat goes dry. He's a hero. He should use this to his advantage. He should use his support equipment, figure out a way to illicit a response and then take them down for good.

But he can't.

There's the sound of the phone call being ended, then a sigh. Shinsou hoists himself up onto a nearby firescape before they can see him.

To his disappointment, the mask is still on when they exist. The happiness in their step is gone, too. Whatever that phone call had been about, it wasn't a good thing.

Ten minutes later, after they'd long been gone, Shinsou is still lost in thought, that voice swirling around inside his head on repeat. He had to put an end to this game. He had to find a way.

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