Spinner Saves Saitama From Being Flattened(Who Gave Him The Braincell?)
Shuuichi Iguchi steps out of a swirling portal of mist with a credit card, a grocery list in his notes app, and a crick in his neck. Himiko had been tugging at his loose hair—which he'd been forced to leave alone for the past couple of weeks due to his Present Mic extra-hold hairspray still being in his room in the bar—and he'd ended up putting it up in a bun to avoid getting a headache. Still, by the time he managed to borrow a hair tie from Izuku(who'd asked him to buy a couple of wigs, for whatever reason), his neck was hurting from Himiko's not-so-gentle handling of his hair, and he'd had to threaten not to get her favorite snacks to get her to back off.
Thankfully, it worked long enough for him to escape through Kurogiri's portal and to a barren park near his first destination. He knows the drill by now, so he zips up his coat a little higher and starts down the abandoned path. It takes a couple of minutes of following the winding path to make it out of the park, but once he does, it's still fairly empty. To be fair, it's the middle of the day on a work day(for people with conventional jobs), and it's absolutely freezing outside.
If Shuuichi had his way, he'd be inside, right next to the fire in the common room and swaddled in a comforter he'd grabbed from one of the unoccupied bedrooms.
Unfortunately, the League needs something to eat other than air and snow, and since he's one of the only members that doesn't have a criminal record or any sort of scandal to his name and an average attention span, Kurogiri handed him the credit card and sent him out into the world.
Izuku was one of the other candidates, but the moment it had been brought up, they'd come to the collective agreement not to have him get groceries unless every single responsible member of the League were severely incapacitated or dead. Between his lawsuit with UA and his and his mother's complete disappearance from the public eye afterwards, reporters and civilians alike would swarm him the moment he was recognized. Mr. Compress is, well, putting it nicely, an airhead, and Kurogiri is far too recognizable to go anywhere in Japan.
That leaves Magne, but she can't shop anywhere in Shizuoka Prefecture since she has a reputation for getting into fistfights in back alleyways by the local heroes and police force. And since she's on her last warning with them, they keep a close eye on her while she's in the area, and her shopping for the equivalent of a black hole once a week would get a lot of suspicion(and probably end in arrest).
Of course, with Kurogiri, locating a grocery store outside of Shizuoka wasn't impossible, but Magne had a writer's workshop to attend in Chiba today, so grocery shopping fell on him.
A strong gust of wind makes him shudder, and he tucks his gloved hands into his pockets and walks a little faster. Thankfully, the pharmacy with Magne's prescription is right next to a nice little cafe.
Hot coffee sounds great right about now.
Inko lays on her white beach chair by the ocean, an iced drink in her hand and her sunglasses in danger of slipping off her well-sunscreened nose. Waves crash into the shore, riled up by the salty breeze. The weather is perfect today, nothing but clear blue skies and a bright sun, along with a faint breeze that cools her sun-warmed skin just the right amount.
A peppy, upbeat pop song plays in her headphones, matching her great mood. This is the most relaxed she's been in years . Why hadn't she done this earlier?
Well, to be fair, she'd been having some issues with managing the money Hisashi had been sending from America(rather, the lack of money since he'd found out about Izuku's diagnosis).
But that was all over now. He'd sent one of his colleagues over a couple of days ago with a bouquet of roses, a credit card, and apologies, telling her all about how he wanted to reconnect with her and Izuku.
The colleague was extremely charming and well-spoken too, telling her all about her husband's sincerity and how he wanted to give her the vacation of her dreams to make up for his decade-long absence. It sounded too good to be true, especially considering that every reporter in Japan was practically kicking down her door due to Hisashi's insistence on suing UA.
Inko has no idea why her husband wouldn't just transfer Izuku over to a safer, non-hero school and be done with it. She vaguely remembers the colleague saying something about accountability, but he'd looked so lovely in that suit that she hadn't really been paying attention. Then he'd handed her a heavy black credit card, with a beautiful white smile and she'd already started planning her vacation in her head. The details are hazy, overshadowed by a feeling that everything would be taken care of.
Yes, Hisashi will take care of everything.
She doesn't need to worry about Izuku getting hurt any more. All she needs to do is relax and enjoy her wonderful well-deserved vacation.
Shuuichi sets the last box of cereal into the already full cart, ignoring the sounds of a hero fight outside to take a sip of his now lukewarm coffee and check the list on his phone. Unfortunately for him, he's not even halfway through the grocery list, even though he's already been here for an hour.
I'm going to need a second grocery cart for all of this stuff.
He sighs, tucking his phone into a pocket and turning into the next aisle. As he pushes the basket in, he notices four people standing at the other end of the aisle, their backs pressed up against the leaning shelves as they argue in hushed whispers. One of them is crouched down, clearly trying to hide their bulky frame behind the shelf and failing due to their mane of spiky auburn hair as they argue with a comically short person who glares suspiciously at him before turning their attention back to his other companions.
Weird, but none of Shuuichi's business.
He's here for chips, not to listen to an argument between several very obviously suspicious people. Pointedly, he ignores them and their increasingly loud argument, hunting down the brands listed on the grocery list while keeping an eye on the tilting shelf.
"—Master told us —"
"—don't see how political science of all things will—"
"—already explained it, it will lead to the glory of the—"
"—gives a fuck! I just want a good fi—"
He sets the last bag of chips into the basket and leaves the aisle, hand brushing over one of the knives strapped to his thigh. Even though it's beneath his pants, it's reassuring.
The suspicious people carried themselves well, especially the bulky one. They held themselves like they were gearing up for a fight, and it set his nerves on edge even more than the pieces of the hushed argument he'd picked up. Taking them down and getting away would be a pain, especially since he didn't know whether or not their friends would help them out if someone fought back. Plus, the heroes from the fight outside would probably rush in the moment they heard a commotion, and he'd end up with heroes on his ass and no groceries.
Kurogiri would be pissed if I don't come back with the groceries.
Shuuichi shudders and quickly resolves not to get into any sort of fight unless absolutely necessary. As he pushes the full cart into the next aisle, he notices a tall, pale person with gloves and a surgical mask staring intently at a package of cup noodles. Normally, he wouldn't give them more than a passing glance, but they're directly underneath the tilting shelf, and they look familiar. Really familiar.
They scrunch their eyebrows, and suddenly, it hits him—it's Overhaul.
The pompous asshole that he almost didn't recognize without his admittedly nice bird mask and ugly-ass jacket(no, Magne, just because a jacket has a feathered collar does not make it a good jacket) is standing in the middle of a grocery store and reading a fucking nutrition label.
Then the suspicious people from before…
They must be what's left of the Yakuza-cult group he was leading.
Shuuichi wavers for a moment.
On one hand, there's Eri. Izuku told them that he'd gotten her from Overhaul and that he'd commanded her to take care of the former hero student. It doesn't take a genius to tell she's been abused in the past, and Overhaul is at the top of the list of suspects for said abuse. On the other hand, there's the heroes outside. Even if he did manage to get his knives through Overhaul a couple of times without getting disassembled like Izuku described, they'd come down on his head the moment witnesses started screaming.
Of course, he could always tail Overhaul, but his followers would definitely notice and raise the alarm. Fighting against five different people would put him at a huge disadvantage, especially considering Overhaul's ridiculously overpowered Quirk.
Fuck.
He growls to himself in frustration, the metal bar of the grocery cart groaning beneath his grip as he turns the cart around and walks right out of the aisle. Stain would be disappointed, but he couldn't face Overhaul and four of his followers right now, even with his well-honed skills.
Stain also picked his battles.
Shuuichi reminds himself.
It's fine, I can tell the League later and we can figure out some sort of plan.
Abruptly, the footage that they'd shown on TV of Deika City flashes through his mind. Well, the remains of it. The charred, smoking remains of buidings, the rubble spilling out onto cracked concrete, and the massive crater in the middle that they'd fished Izuku and Shigaraki out of. He can almost smell the smoke and ozone burning his nostrils and making his eyes water.
...I'll tell Kurogiri first.
They don't need to add another another terrorist attack to their long list of crimes any time soon.
All For One(Do You Hear Voices? Cool, Me Too)
"—coming along nicely, and there's a new addition I'd like the opportunity to test out on the field. It learns and adapts to every situation it's thrown into, so it wouldn't need specific commands like the last batch. I'm currently working on replicating him, but that specific combination of Quirks has been duplicated too many times, and it hasn't produced anything nearly as advanced as Hood. It's a wonderful coincidence you decided to pay me a visit today—" The Doctor blathers on and on, bald head gleaming in the neon green light of the tubes around them.
All For One would be interested on a better day, but the combination of his throbbing head, the steady rumble of annoyingly familiar voices, and the good Doctor's never-ending speech about his most recent creation grates his already thin veneer of civility to shreds.
"Doctor Garaki." He grits out, pleasant smile more of a grimace.
The small man startles, finally looking away from his newest Nomu and up at him.
"While your newest breakthrough is fascinating," Not that the supervillain was listening. "I came here to speak with you about Tomura."
He stiffens, regret flashing across his features for a moment(or, as close as someone like him could get to it), before he bows deeply, forehead practically touching the ground.
"I—"
"I take care of you, don't I?" All For One cuts his underling off.
The man in question nods vigorously.
"I provide you with everything you need to fulfill your dream; medical equipment, test subjects, money, Quirks. Yours included." The ancient man watches the Doctor barely hide a shudder with another nod, head bowed in a picture of subservience. "I don't limit you because of foolish things like morals and ethics, unlike your former sponsors. I'd say I'm quite generous, wouldn't you?"
Garaki nods, not daring to open his mouth.
Good.
"Do you know why I guided Tomura and his group to you?" He asks, resting his aching head on his hand. The voices are muffled, sidelined by his intense focus on his servant bowing in front of him. "Go on."
"...No, Sir."
"I guided them to you in hopes that you would collaborate some time in the future." All For One explains, tone deceptively patient. "After all, you two are coworkers, and you both provide valuable services to me. And losing either of those services would be...upsetting."
Doctor Garaki flinches at the last word, cowering into himself at the implied threat. While he has a great skillset, his body was decrepit; nothing more than a vessel for his brain. All For One might've lost the upper half of his face and the use of his legs, but he didn't need either of those things to eradicate his subordinate into dust within a fraction of a millisecond. They both knew the outcome of All For One's displeasure.
A sharp pang of pain lances through the supervillain's head, and he sighs in defeat. He needs to rest, preferably somewhere with softer lighting. The neon green glow of the tanks holding the Nomu is only worsening his ever persistent headache.
He notifies Kurogiri of his coordinates with one of his Quirks, giving in to the headache. This conversation can be continued on another day, one where he didn't feel the strong urge to completely erase anything that caused him the most minor inconvenience. A doctor willing to break the Hippocratic Oath was already rare, but finding one with a skillset like Garaki's was a once in a century opportunity. Killing the Doctor now would be the equivalent of throwing four decades worth of investment down the drain.
Still, if Tomura had been injured beyond what his extensive healing Quirks could deal with...
The air around All For One becomes heavier, almost suffocating. His subordinate trembles at his feet, not daring to voice his discomfort. The pressure was a tangible reminder of who his benefactor is, what he's capable of despite his injuries. No Nomu that Garaki has or will create would ever match up to the ancient supervillain's strength. And regular humans? They stood absolutely no chance against someone that could only be described as force of nature. Nobody did. Japan was subject to All For One's whims, just as it would be to a tsunami or a hurricane.
Garaki visibly relaxes when the room's pressure fluctuates, indicating the arrival of Kurogiri's warp.
"We'll continue this discussion at a later date." All For One warns, pressing a button on the side of his wheelchair to steer it towards where he knows the warp is.
Before he leaves, he stops his wheelchair and turns his head towards the Doctor's still-bowed figure, bathed in the neon green light of the tubes.
"Don't forget what you owe me, Kyudai."
"I'm sorry, All Might." Sir Nighteye apologizes to his lifelong idol.
His desk is even more of a mess than usual, mugs of coffee and the paperwork he'd been neglecting in favor of hunting down All Might's disappearing successor with absolutely no success. He'd disapproved of the child before, but he was outright appalled by All Might's choice now. What kind of future Symbol of Peace dropped out of the most prolific hero school in Japan and then filed a lawsuit against said school?
"There's nothing more I can do at this point." And there really wasn't. As fixated as All Might had become on finding the disobedient child and retrieving One For All, there hasn't been hide or hair of the boy since he'd driven away from UA in that armored limo with Eri. At this point, the boy could be anywhere from Korea to the States, and he wouldn't be any wiser.
"Are you sure?"
The pro-hero sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his dry eyes. It's been far too long since he's slept in his own apartment.
"I've exhausted all my resources, and I still can't find a single sign of him or his mother anywhere in Japan. My working theory is that they managed to get out of the country before the media got wind of him suing UA."
"But he has to be in Japan to get to the court hearings, right? They need his testimony—"
"We live in a world of impossibilities, All Might. For all we know, his father has some sort of teleportation Quirk that allows him to take his wife and child in and out of the country at any time he pleases. And you don't have to be in Japan to testify for a hearing, technology allows that from anywhere in the world."
There's a long silence, and Sir Nighteye sighs, silently berating himself for his bluntness. He'd usually consider it his best trait, but considering the circumstances, that bluntness will only hurt his idol.
"I think it's time to focus on something else, All Might. I will keep an eye out for him, but right now there's nothing we can do but wait for him to show up." The pro hero says as gently as he can. "I promise, I'll notify you the moment he's spotted in public, but you need to get back into hero work. Japan is uneasy without you."
Another long silence, but finally, there's a crackling sigh of defeat on the other end.
"...Thank you for your time, Mirai."
Matsuda Law Firm
matsudalawfirm
Subject: Izuku Midoriya's Case Against UA
2:45 PM (4 hours ago)
Sir,
The documents were approved and the first hearing has been scheduled a few months from now. Attached below is all of the official paperwork, all of the court dates/deadlines, and an offer from an unknown HPSC official to settle the suit outside of court. Please inform us of your decision before the court dates arrive.
Matsuda
It doesn't take All For One too long to find One For All's Ninth Holder.
He's in the kitchen, helping Kurogiri prepare dinner while the child he'd brought from UA sits at the island, coloring what looks suspiciously like his warper with a bright purple marker from who knows where.
As if sensing his presence, the white haired Holder turns around. The supervillain beckons the child, paying no mind to the way the child's eyes glow with the faintest traces of One For All as he turns and heads deeper into the mansion. It was a warning, one that he didn't plan on testing tonight.
Under other circumstances, he might've tested the Ninth Holder's warning, if only to satisfy his own curiosity. But there wasn't any need for it, at least not tonight. He'd gotten a taste of what the child would do to potential threats, both firsthand and secondhand when it came to Destro's hapless descendant and his pathetic followers.
The Ninth Holder knows how to back people into a corner, and in combination with Tomura's newfound confidence(something that had miraculously sprouted up sometime in the past year), and decent pressuring tactics from the rest of Tomura's group, they'd made a good deal for themselves. Of course, they only managed it because of how idiotic 'Re-Destro' and his followers were, but it was nice to see his ward gain some of his own power.
How odd it was, to watch his successor grow and change in front of his eyes. It seems like only yesterday when he was barely tall enough to reach up and tug at his sleeves.
Feather light footsteps interrupt his thoughts, and he doesn't need to turn to know that the Ninth Holder is behind him.
"What do you want?"
"You're as blunt as ever." He responds, a smile stretching across his face as he practically hears the child rolling his eyes. "I merely wanted to invite you for a stroll. It's rather nice outside tonight."
"I'll pass."
All For One lifts a shoulder in an elegant shrug, unbothered by the rejection.
"Suit yourself. I simply wanted to inform you that the Hero Commission has offered you roughly three million USD in cash and two plane tickets to America in exchange for dropping the lawsuit."
Izuku freezes, the number bouncing around in his head as moonlight filters in through the dusty room's many windows. For some reason, this room has no blinds or curtains, which gives him a pretty view of the snow-dusted front garden that he hasn't had time to appreciate. The number rings through his head for another moment before he focuses on different part of the sentence.
"The Hero Commission?"
"Of course. UA is one of the top hero schools in Asia, and any negative press is detrimental to Japan's hero society as a whole. Seeing as the Commission oversees said society, it's in their best interest to make sure it runs smoothly." All For One explains, smile never leaving his face. "And seeing as they reap the benefits of hero society, they have all the money in the world to throw at their problems; for example, you."
One For All writhes like a live wire beneath his skin at the supervillain's voice, the Holder's emotions simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to overwhelm him the moment he activates his Quirk. He slips his hands into his pockets, digging his fingers into his thigh and forcing his attention away from his ticking time bomb of a Quirk and back to All For One.
"Why are you even bringing this up? We both know what my answer is going to be." He asks, narrowing his eyes at the man in the wheelchair.
"I suppose I just wanted to test your resolve." All For One replies, that endlessly amused smile unhindered by the respirator over his face. "After all, it's not often the average Japanese citizen gets their hands on that much money."
"The money won't matter in the long run, especially considering it's not even half of what we're suing UA for." Izuku shrugs. "And even if it was more than what we're going for, I'm not leaving the country quietly and pretending that UA didn't put me through hell."
All For One's teeth gleam in the moonlight at his response, and Izuku decides that this is more than enough interaction with the man for tonight. One For All is practically begging to be activated, and the longer he's in the man's presence, the more wildly it thrashes.
He breezes past the man without another word. As he slips through the door, All For One's voice follows him into the hallway.
"I'm glad you and I are on the same page, Izuku."
Here he is again.
He'd made the mistake of dozing off while Himiko was playing with his hair, and now he's here. With Sixth in Nana's face, their suffocating hatred washes over him as venomous words spill from their lips.
"—DON'T DESERVE ONE FOR ALL, YOU FUCKING DISGRACE—"
A crisp slap echoes through the throne room, and suddenly, First is there. Sixth is holding their cheek, staring at the thin, pale man with shock.
"That's enough, Akane."
The Sixth Holder of One For All opens their mouth, but quickly shuts it when First glares at them.
"Whether you like it or not, Nine is a Holder. He's faced more than a lot of us did at his age, and he gained complete control over One For All and accessed All For One within a year of having it. You have no right to call him a disgrace, much less tell him that he doesn't deserve One For All." First says, arms crossed as he glares down at his successor.
"The only disgraceful thing here is your behavior. You've been horrible to everyone here for weeks just because Nine made his own decision about how to deal with All For One." Third adds, frowning at Sixth.
"As Yoichi said," Second stands up and walks over to stand beside First, resting a hand on his shoulder. "The purpose of One For All was never to fight All For One. It was to make Yoichi happy. While that backfired spectacularly, that was the original intention. You have no right to change that intention to suit your own wants."
"But—I—"
"Listen, kid." Fifth stands up from his throne, usual grin replaced with a serious expression. "We know you have issues. We have them too, and it's kind of hard to hide those kinds of things from people you've been stuck in one little room with for over a decade. But you need to work through those things on your own, not take them out on Nine. He's a teenager, and he needs to get some sleep if he ever wants to get over five feet."
Several Holders snort, and Nine huffs indignantly.
"As hard as it is to believe, I chose you because I believed in your ability to completely fuck with that bastard by making him lose track of the one thing he was obessed with." He rests a hand on their shoulder, giving them his signature grin. "I mean, do you know how frustrating it is to lose your phone? Think of that, but, like, even worse. That was the best revenge I could think of, but I can see why that might make you feel like shit. I'm sorry that I didn't explain myself better to you, and I'm sorry that I hurt you so badly."
Nine relaxes as the last dregs of Sixth's hatred and shock completely dissipate, and Fifth pulls them into a tight hug. The other Holders relax too, relief permiating the air when they realize that they'd finally managed to get through to them. Nana throws him a subtle thumbs up, and he gives her a small smile, relaxing into his chair.
Maybe he could stay here just a little bit longer. He needed to catch up on some sleep, anyway.
Mr. Compress(Unearned Confidence Is A Good Look On You)
Atsuhiro Sako leans back in his chair, resisting the urge to rub his strained eyes as his head throbs, a sure sign of an oncoming headache. The screen was far too bright, and looking at it wasn't doing him any favors.
"You saw it, right?" Tomura asks insistently.
"I did." The performer agrees.
"I told you!" Tomura crows, whirling to Spinner, who just rolls his eyes.
"Just because the steam is there doesn't mean it's always been there. Look, if I were to bring up an older video of All Might, it would be there too—" Spinner moves towards the computer, but is blocked by Tomura.
"But there's more now! That has to mean something!" Tomura insists, waving his hand at the screen frantically.
"That's a stretch. It's obviously just a part of the Quirk—"
"Then why doesn't Izuku steam when he deactivates his Quirk?" Tomura demands.
"I don't know! Maybe it evolved!" Spinner throws his hands up in exasperation.
"How the fuck would a transferrable Quirk evolve?!"
"Oh my god, we've been over this! He has multiple Quirks from the past Holders, so it has to have evolved because it copied those Quirks! That is literally what evolution is! I know you didn't go to school, but come on!" Spinner shouts exasperatedly, running his hands through his mohawk.
Their conversation quickly devolves into a shouting match, and the rest of the League watches—aside from Dabi, who's watching something on his phone with one hand and scribbling furiously in a notebook with the other. His corkboard quickly became the only semblance of order in the chaos of their disjointed, half-baked plans; along with Atsuhiro's beacon of hope that a solid plan could eventually be formed.
So far, it was mostly observations about All Might over the years and his Quirk(mostly gleaned from fan pages and blogs on the internet, along with a few other more reputable sources), as well as a couple photos of heroes he'd been seen working with more than once that could potentially be used as leverage against him.
Atsuhiro had firmly shut down the hostage plan by pointing out two things: one, All Might worked with heroes, who were well-trained people with powerful Quirks and a very strong aversion to being held hostage, and two, any civilian that was picked off the street would make for better leverage, if only because they wouldn't be as inclined to use their Quirks to get out. Additionally, while All Might is friendly with many heroes, he has absolutely zero connections with anyone beyond surface level interactions between colleagues. That observation had quieted any further protests, and the idea was scrapped.
A shame, but that plan dying had led to a new sticky note, pinned to the board right over a tattered picture of All Might that Himiko had tried to stab multiple times(much to Dabi's annoyance)—ISOLATED? written in bold black marker. It wasn't much, but the realization was certainly one that gave him pause.
How could a hero that shines so brightly be so alone?
Throbbing pain flared up, making his head feel like it was being squeezed by a particularly enthusiastic person with a strength Quirk. He winces, eyes flicking to the loudest people in the room. Tomura and Spinner's argument is getting louder, and it's aggravating his incoming headache. Normally, he'd just ignore it. Arguments were a regular occurrence at these meetings. If it wasn't Tomura and Spinner, it was Tomura and Dabi, or Spinner and Dabi, or all three at once. No one bothered interfering anymore unless it devolved into a brawl, in which case Kurogiri would usually teleport the offenders to their respective rooms to cool down.
Magne is already dozing off, her magnet resting across her thighs as her sunglasses balance precariously on the tip of her nose. Meanwhile, Himiko and Twice follow the argument eagerly, heads swinging back and forth as their hands disappear into a bag of caramel popcorn Twice smuggled in. The moment Tomura and Spinner started arguing, it had practically appeared out of thin air, and Kurogiri was too preoccupied with reading through the stack of paperwork they had to read because they'd missed the last meeting.
Atsuhiro wasn't too concerned with the papers—he's sure that if he talks to Spinner later, he'll be given a brief summary of what he'd missed and an hour long rant about how uneducated Tomura and Dabi were—but Kurogiri had insisted on going through them. Perhaps he wanted something to occupy his time other than listening to people argue.
The performer's eyes linger on Kurogiri, noting the slow swirl of his midnight purple mist and his narrowed yellow eyes. He would blend into the dim room if it wasn't for those eyes of his, bright and glowing with life. His dark teal suit is immaculate; not a wrinkle to be seen despite how stressed he's been recently.
Between Tomura almost dying, Izuku's confession, and Re-Destro's unplanned visit, the man's nerves are frayed. Kurogiri had told him such after nearly warping him over the open ocean when he'd tried to surprise the man with a cup of excellent tea.
And on top of everything else, Gigantomachia was suddenly whisked away by Kurogiri's Sensei a couple days ago. It was equal parts relieving and worrying. Though the man had tried to kill them, bawling that Tomura was 'too weak to succeed his Master', he was also a good early warning system—as they'd learned when Re-Destro and his Lieutenants had decided to drop by and beg for Re-Destro's Quirk back.
Of course, there was still Kurogiri's Sensei, but he was practically a ghost around the mansion, and apparently felt rather badly nowadays. Additionally, he and Izuku have an...odd relationship, one that consists of the younger ignoring the older as much as possible, and the ghosts within Izuku's Quirk occasionally jumping out and trying to murder Kurogiri's Sensei. Their murderous rage is understandable, but the constant guessing game of whether or not the ghosts are going to escape Izuku's control is akin to a very disconcerting game of jack-in-the-box.
Needless to say, there's some tension in the mansion.
These meetings, despite being largely fruitless as far as plannning goes, served to ease that tension, if only because planning All Might's murder is equal parts cathartic and distracting to the League. It was easier for them to fuss over future plans than to think about the impending doom of the massive stage they're all about to step onto.
Even a seasoned performer like himself is nervous, but overpowering his nerves is a sense of excitement that grows stronger by the day. Atsuhiro craves change, craves the thrill that it brings him to take a leap onto a brand new stage.
Stagnation is a performer's worst enemy, after all.
"Are you feeling alright?" Kurogiri asks, pulling him out of his thoughts with a hand on his arm.
"I'm fine, just thinking." He responds, smiling at the contact.
The misty man's eyes narrow, and the hand disappears as quickly as it came, leaving lingering warmth on Atsuhiro's arm and an even bigger smile on his face. It's pointedly ignored by Kurogiri, who promptly dumps half of the files from the stack he's been working on into Atsuhiro's lap via portal. They land on his thighs with a firm smacking sound, and only serve to widen the performer's smile.
Before he can tease Kurogiri, a knife flies past his face and lands in the wall behind him with a solid THUD. His smile freezes, and his eyes slide to the culprit, a very guilty looking Spinner and Tomura. Neither man meets Atsuhiro's gaze, unsubtly edging away from him and putting the coffee table between them and him.
"Why don't we wrap up the meeting for tonight?" He asks, marbling the knife that nearly took out his eye and slipping it into his pocket.
"My favorite knife..." Spinner starts, then trails off.
"That's a good idea. It's getting late, anyways." Kurogiri agrees with him, and a portal swallows the stack of papers he'd been going through, no doubt taking them to his room.
"I'm glad you agree." Atsuhiro smiles at the misty man, marbling his own stack of papers and getting to his feet gracefully. "Pack everything up properly, and make sure to wake Magne up nicely."
He shoots Himiko a pointed look. She gives him a toothy grin, letting him know that Magne will definitely not be woken up very nicely at all.
Oh well.
"Walk with me? I have a request for breakfast tomorrow." Atsuhiro asks, already halfway out the door as the younger League members start clearing the room of all evidence.
No one pays any further attention to either man as Atsuhiro slips out into the hallway with Kurogiri close behind. The door clicks shut, and Atsuhiro smiles as the misty man turns to face him. Moonlight streams down on him, and his brown eyes gleam as he waits.
Neither man says a word as they fall into step with each other, the opulent carpet muffling their footsteps as the moon shines down on them from the skylights. They move at a leisurely pace, simply enjoying each other's company before the night ends.
"I think they'll be alright." Atsuhiro's voice breaks the silence, calm and steady.
Kurogiri falters for a split second before he falls back into step with the performer. Silence falls over them again for a while before he speaks.
"How do you know?"
"I just do." Atsuhiro shrugs, a cocky smile on his face. "Trust me, I have a sense for these kinds of things."
Kurogiri huffs some combination of a laugh and a sigh.
"You're too confident for your own good. There are quite literally a million things that could go wrong, things that we might not be prepared for." The misty man frets, voice low.
"Even the greatest performer isn't truly prepared for a role until he performs for the first time. We've at least interacted with them before, and know that they're sincere about the deal."
"As long as Izuku is involved." Kurogiri voices the unspoken part of his sentence.
"As long as Izuku is present." Atsuhiro corrects the misty man. "He'll be as involved as he wants to be, but considering everything that's happened, he'll probably act like more of a figurehead to Re-Destro and his Lieutenants than anything else."
"I doubt they'll settle for that."
"They'll have to. I've heard Tomura and Spinner talking about how to manage everything before, and they seem to have a good grasp on how to maintain influence while not stirring the pot too much. At least among the lower ranks." Atsuhiro flashes Kurogiri a devilish smile.
"Even then, there's still a delicate balance..."
"One that Izuku will help maintain. And if worst comes to worst, your Sensei can step in." The performer responds confidently.
There's another, longer silence before Kurogiri sighs heavily.
"Is there anything you haven't figured out?"
"Indeed, there is. It's how to get Tomura out of those hoodies and into something that will get him a proper amount of respect from the masses." Atsuhiro says jokingly, an easy smile on his face as he watches some of the obvious tension in Kurogiri's shoulders disappear.
"...I think I can help with that."
Somewhere else within the mansion, a chill goes down Tomura's spine. He jumps, head whipping around to search the moonlit hallway for any threats. When he finds nothing, he sighs and chalks it up to someone cursing his name.
Twice(There Are Two Sides To The Same Coin)
Jin Bubaigawara is a simple man. All he needs is a roof over his head, the occasional meal, and a long smoke at the end of a hard day.
He couldn't say that today has been a particularly hard day, but he still found himself out on the patio of the mansion the League have been squatting in for the past couple weeks with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in hand.
It's fucking freezing, and he's glad he thought to wear a coat before coming out here, otherwise his balls might've dropped off by now. He shudders and knocks the extra ash off of his cigarette, greyish-blue eyes scanning his surroundings.
Moonlight filters through the leftover clouds of yesterday's blizzard, the snow gleaming brightly when it hits the ground. There's nothing around for miles, and it's as silent as a graveyard. It freaks him out because the silence feels heavy—expectant. Almost like the dark, twisted outlines of the bare trees are holding their breaths. Waiting...
You need to chill, dude.
Jin shakes his head and takes another drag of his cigarette, easing some of the tension in his shoulders. He sighs, watching grey smoke and white steam mingle in the air before dissolving.
Though he's never liked the smell of cigarettes, it grounds him and helps ease his anxiety. It's part of the reason he's never been able to quit, just cut down so much that most people forget he smokes until he pulls out a pack.
Scraaaapeee.
Jin's head swings towards the patio doors, the tension in his shoulders back as he makes eye contact with the intruder; a t-shirt clad Dabi. Not a jacket to be seen, not even his normal leather one. Seeing his arms and shoulders is weird. Seeing him without his platform boots(and lacking several inches in height) is weird. Seeing him without his full goth getup in general is really weird. Faded t-shirts and sweatpants make Dabi look like a college student, if college students have Quirks that turn them from raw steak-people into medium-rare steak-people that are held together by a ridiculous amount of staples and sheer spite.
"'Sup old man." He nods at Jin and casually leans against the doorway.
"I'm not even that old! Yeah! I technically could be your older brother, you know?" Jin points at the younger man, feeling somewhat indignant. Thirty-one wasn't even over the halfway point of the average lifespan of humans these days.
"People have children seven years apart?" Dabi asks, sounding mildly surprised.
"Yeah, that way you don't have to deal with two screaming toddlers at once. Unless you have twins. Or triplets." Jin grimaces at the thought. He's never been the biggest fan of babies, and the idea of a small, fragile human slobbering all over his things and pooping in its underwear instead of the toilet and screaming about it is stressful.
"Huh." Dabi considers it for a moment before shrugging and walking over to the railing.
He leans on it, forearms dangling off the edge as his turquoise eyes flick over the snow-covered backyard, and then further, to the woods beyond it.
Jin follows his gaze, eyeing up the ominous looking trees warily. He's never really liked nature, either. He can deal with cockroaches and rats, but the idea of snakes or wasps or some other weird, creepy animal being near him grosses him out.
I guess that's just the city kid in us talking, huh?
The only exception to that rule is deer. They're pretty cool, and seem relatively harmless. He still doesn't want to get too close to them though.
"Can I bum one?" Dabi asks, his voice cutting through the silence.
Jin nods, passing the pack and the lighter to the burned man. He didn't know Dabi smoked, but then again, nobody really knows anything about Dabi. Though a couple of people had tried to grill him early on, the only things they'd manage to get was a cold shoulder, and in some cases(Himiko), singed hair.
Despite being around Dabi longer than he's ever managed to hold a conventional job, all Jin knows about him is that he hates heroes and fish. The heroes thing he'd learned when he'd walked in on a sleep-deprived Dabi laughing manically while waving around a piece of burned toast in the middle of the night, ranting about his grand plan to murder Endeavor to a very drunk, equally sleep-deprived Tomura, who kept clutching his piece of burned toast like he was about to shank someone with it and laughed along with him.
He'd learned about the fish thing when Spinner had brought a massive plate of sushi and sashimi into the bar and waved it right under Dabi's nose, causing him to lurch backwards and sprint for the toilets. Unfortunately for everyone involved, he didn't make it, and ended up violently puking in the middle of the hallway before disappearing into thin air for several days to avoid Kurogiri's wrath.
It worked. Sort of. When Dabi came back, he was forced to do dishes for a week instead of being stranded in an unknown, potentially dangerous location that he could only leave when Kurogiri's anger subsided, so Jin would count that as a partial win.
The pack and lighter is passed back into his hands, and the smell of cigarette smoke grows stronger.
"How long have you been smoking?" Jin asks casually, tucking the items into his pocket.
"On and off since middle school. I wanted to stick it to my father but couldn't stand the aftertaste." Dabi responds, smoke and steam billowing out of his mouth. "You?"
"Since highschool. I bummed one off a friend and the rest is history." He shrugs and taps the ash off of his cigarette again.
Dabi hums as Jin takes another drag, noting that he's about halfway through it already.
"Kurogiri sent me out here to bring you inside. Said something about checking your arm before the big day."
The older man sighs, watching the smoke and steam escape his mouth as anxiety and anger coil in his chest, making his uninjured hand tremble slightly.
"Yeah, he's been checking the progress of the healing Quirk his boss used on me. He said it'll probably be ready to come out of the sling tonight as long as I'm gentle with it. It won't be properly healed before we meet those insane bastards, though."
Silence settles over them, and Jin takes a steadying drag, pressing the arm in the sling a little closer to his torso.
"Are you sure you want to meet them again?"
The question hangs in the air as Jin looks up at Dabi, noting how the burned man's expression is pointedly blank, turquoise eyes scanning the horizon.
"I don't think anyone would blame you if you didn't want to see them ever again."
Always looking for potential threats or danger.
Dabi isn't wrong. Mr. Compress and Kurogiri had separately hinted that it would be fine if he stayed behind, and Magne outright told him that she thought it would be better if he stayed behind and acted as backup in case things went wrong. He doesn't think anyone in the League would blame him if he completely avoided Re-Destro and his Lieutenants altogether.
But I don't want to.
Jin is terrified of seeing the people that kidnapped and hurt him again, but overwhelming that fear is anger—and the overpowering urge to stand in front of Re-Destro and his Lieutenants and watch them bow and scrape to the people they hate so much. For once in his life, he wants to see someone that mistreated him receive some form of justice.
"I appreciate the support, but I'm going." He says, firmly pressing the last of his cigarette into a pile of snow by his foot. "I am an active member of the League Of Villains, and I will act like it."
The older man gets to his feet, shaking out his half-asleep foot and shooting Dabi a vindictive grin.
"Besides, I really want to see those fucking assholes grovel at my feet."
Dabi snorts at the last part and puts out his own cigarette, straightening to his full height—just below Jin's eyes.
"Whatever you say old man, just go in already. Kurogiri's going to be annoyed I took this long bringing you to him."
caffeineandcats: gOt permissioN from SenSei to leave cAmpus
caffeineandcats: You better be there.
Izuku sprawls out on the floor, legs parallel to the crackling fire as he leans against the plush armchair Eri's perched on. She's currently focused on drinking the tea he'd managed to make her before he got kicked out of the kitchen by Kurogiri, Mr. Compress, and Twice.
They're going to try taking Twice's arm out of the sling tonight, according to Dabi—who'd also been kicked out of the kitchen with Izuku, leaving them both in the living room with the rest of the League. The burned man had sighed and accepted defeat almost instantly, skirting around Himiko's vast collection of knives that were spread across the carpet for her inspection and flopping onto an unoccupied couch near Tomura.
Said man had only shot Dabi an annoyed look before returning to the PVP game on his phone and promptly lost that round, and every single round after it. At this point, it was just a guessing game of when Izuku would hear the telltale annoyed hiss and the furious tapping of someone taking out their annoyance on the restart button.
Magne looks busy—her hand is methodically swiping a rag across the surface of her magnet—but this is the fourth time today he's seen her clean it, and the rag she's currently using doesn't even have polish on it.
Spinner is in the middle of sharpening one of his sets of katanas, his back to the fire as he works methodically, checking eack blade by trying to slice a piece of paper on it. If it cuts the paper, he sheathes it and moves on. If it doesn't, he gets back to sharpening.
The room is silent aside from the crackling of the fire, the sound of a whetstone against steel, and Tomura occasionally hissing in frustration.
Izuku sighs quietly, looking up at Eri. She's already leaning against the arm of the chair she's sitting on, eyes drooping closed as she clutches the teacup he'd brought her tightly to her chest.
He smiles at the sight, reaching up and gently taking the cup from her grasp and setting it on the ground beside him. There's still tea in it, and he doesn't want any getting on her clothes and making her uncomfortable.
Despite everything, he's not worried. He'd already been over the plan with Tomura, and agreed to be as uninvolved as possible. He has absolutely no desire to be around a cult of Quirk supremacists that watch and worship his every move. Just the thought of Re-Destro looking at him like that made his skin crawl, and he couldn't even imagine what he'd feel if an entire city's worth of people looked at him like that.
"Jin!"
Izuku jumps slightly, head swinging to see Himiko launching herself at the blonde man, arms outstretched. She's immediately met with a portal and warped directly over the couch that Dabi's stretched out on. The burned man rolls off just in time for the girl to land face first in the pillows with an indignant squeal.
"How's your arm?" Magne asks, walking up to Twice to inspect his arm—covered by a long-sleeve shirt, the sling nowhere to be seen.
"Better than ever! A weak, limp noodle!" As if for emphasis, he waves his injured arm around a bit. "Gotta train it up to be big and strong again!"
Dabi groans something unintelligible from the floor.
"You think you'd be good to fight?" Tomura asks, his phone in his lap as he sizes Twice up.
"If I can't, my clones can! Fuck yeah! Let's punch those fuckers lights out!" Twice pumps his uninjured arm enthusiastically, a feral glint in his eyes as he grins at Tomura.
Izuku jumps when he feels Eri wiggle behind him, all traces of sleep gone as she practically jumps off of the armchair, practically flying over Himiko's knives and running up to Twice.
"Uncle Jin! You're all better!"
Twice's face twitches, eyes widening with guilt as he looks over to Izuku. The white haired boy shrugs at him. He's pretty sure she's heard worse language from Satou when one of his desserts for Combat Training went up in smoke.
"Hey kiddo! Isn't it past your bedtime?" He kneels down, ruffling Eri's freshly trimmed hair with a teasing smile.
Izuku can practically feel Eri's pout from here, and his lips curl upwards.
"I think it is." He calls, repressing the urge to laugh as Eri whirls on him with an adorably betrayed look.
"But Dad! You said that I could stay up to make sure Uncle Jin was all better!" She cries, affronted that he even dare suggest her bedtime was near.
"And there he is, all better. Isn't that right, Jin?" Izuku asks, shooting the man an amused smile.
"Good as new! Noodle arm!" Twice exclaims, flexing his arm muscles and winking at Eri.
"No fair! Why didn't Eri get warped? This is blatant favoritism!" Himiko suddenly pops up from the couch she'd been warped over, head whipping around until she found Kurogiri.
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Kurogiri denies as he walks into the room with a tray of tea and cookies elegantly balanced on his arm. He sets the tray down on the coffee table that had been pushed to the side, then picks up Eri's favorite teacup and matching plate filled with her favorite cookies and hands it to the girl, ruffling her hair before straightening up.
"What?"
Izuku sighs and shakes his head.
I'm never going to get her to bed at this rate.
"Now, now, no need to be so down my friends! I've brought us premium entertainment!" Mr. Compress struts into the room, flashing a familiar red and black box at them.
"Well, it might be a good stress reliever..." Magne says, looking over at Twice.
"It was super fun last time! Being forced to draw thirty-six cards is the opposite of stress relieving!"
"Let's do it. I still need to get even with Crusty for that dare." Dabi says, sitting up from his position on the floor.
"You wish." Tomura scoffs, but sets his phone down, eyeing the cards in Mr. Compress' hand with interest.
"Come on, it'll be fun!" Himiko chirps, grinning and Twice, who loudly bemoans his betrayal.
"Kurogiri?" Mr. Compress asks, turning to the misty man, who diligently guards all of the snacks so Himiko can't swoop in and steal all of the sweet ones before anyone else gets any.
There's a pause, everyone's heads swinging to Kurogiri. The misty man hesitates for a moment, then nods.
"I think it would be enjoyable."
"He's only saying that because he won Izuku cuddles last time he played." Dabi stage whispers to Eri, who watches them interact with wide, curious eyes.
Izuku's face flushes bright red with embarrassment.
"Did you guys seriously play a game over something like that?!" He squeaks.
"Yup. It got pretty serious, too." Himiko says, looking thoughtful.
"How about you, Spinner?" Mr. Compress asks, diverting everyone's attention from Izuku.
The scaled man looks up, eyes flicking between the group. He clears his throat awkwardly, pointedly avoiding Himiko's pleading look.
"I'm not done sharpening my katanas yet..."
"So that's a yes from Spinner! Looks like we'll be playing UNO!" Mr. Compress says cheerily, ignoring Spinner's weak protests and Twice's groan of despair.
Himiko grins excitedly as she sweeps up her knife collection with surprising ease, clearing the carpet in minutes while everyone grabs drinks and food. Izuku grabs two cups of hot chocolate before sitting beside Twice and Eri, giving the older man a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he dramatically bemoans about being betrayed and being excited at the same time.
He's quickly placated by a cup of hot chocolate and Eri giving him an extra shoulder pat before turning to Izuku and gesturing for him to lean in. Izuku complies, leaning down so she can whisper into his ear.
"What's UNO?"
The white haired boy smiles, watching as the League slowly sit down in a loose circle, the heavy atmosphere erased in favor of sly smiles and glinting eyes.
"You'll see." He whispers back, a knowing look in his green eyes.
"Shall we start?" Mr. Compress asks, reaching into the box of cards—only for it to promptly be warped out of his hands and into Izuku's lap.
"Did you forget, Atsuhiro? You have a lifetime ban on shuffling card decks." Kurogiri chides, taking a sip from his own teacup as he sits crosselegged on the floor beside Mr. Compress.
The performer shoots him a confused look.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Izuku snorts at the man's words, already emptying the box into his hands and starting to shuffle them.
"Right. Well, when you recover your memory, make sure to hand over those two cards you marbled."
Mr. Compress pauses, then sighs and hands over two unmarbled cards into Izuku's waiting hands.
"How does he do that?"
"I still have no idea."
"You'd think the old man would've learned from last time."
Izuku shuffles and passes out the cards quickly, settling back into his original seat and patting the empty seat next to him. Eri moves to his side, red eyes sparkling with interest as he gives her a bright smile.
"Watch and learn, honey. I'm going to teach you how to destroy everyone at UNO."