Within a few minutes, Izuku landed on a rooftop just across the street from his agency, and was instantly thankful he'd decided not to land on the street.
The whole area around the building Aegis occupied was completely surrounded by reporters and news vans, clustering just outside the fence that had been erected for pretty much exactly this reason. They seemed to be more or less subdued at the moment, waiting for something to happen, but the reason for their presence was obvious. Even close to a decade after Shigaraki's death, the capture of the final member of his League to be at large was a huge deal. The fact that Atlas had supposedly done it made it ten times bigger.

Izuku wasn't looking forward to this in the slightest. Well aside from how twitchy the idea that there was somebody out there with the ability to take down Toga and leave her at his front door without being detected made him, he knew that he'd have to stand up in front of the whole country and lie to their faces. He would have to say that he had captured Toga, or else he risked letting the fickle narratives of the whole mess get away from him. News agencies dealt with the facts as they knew them, and they would be just as happy to raise concerns about how well heroes could protect civilians as praise them for doing it.

Izuku didn't like lying. He especially didn't like feeling like a fraud, or a glory hound. There was enough of that among heroes without him adding to it. But he didn't see what other choice he had at this point. Admitting that somebody had used Toga as a message of some kind (a peace offering? A warning? A declaration of war?) would send destabilizing shockwaves through heroics, and through the Underground. Villains would get bolder in their attacks, trying to one-up each other. People would get hurt.

It was times like this that Izuku best understood why All Might had chosen to hide his crippling injury from the world. When everyone was depending on you to be invincible, to be the protector of the innocent, you wanted so badly to live up to that, to be the ideal they thought you were. And once you went down that road, it was so easy to justify lying, to justify hiding the fact that you were human, all in service of stability and safety. What was one lie compared to all the damage the truth might cause?

Izuku sighed, shoving his thoughts aside. Now wasn't the time to start moralizing. He had to speak to Ejiro, recover from the whiplash of emerging from the Depths to find himself at the center of a media frenzy…and arrange a meeting with Toga. If she was a message of some kind, Izuku intended to speak to the messenger himself.

Izuku stood, and leaped across the gap between the rooftop he stood on and the roof of his agency with ease. Thank God for rooftop entrances-he dreaded the thought of having to shove his way through the crowd of reporters below. They would demand his time sooner or later-but not yet.

The moment Izuku slipped down into the building, he found Ejiro waiting for him. Typical-his best friend had already figured out which route Izuku would take to avoid the media.

"About time you showed up," Ejiro told him, looking a little worse for wear. He'd clearly been dealing with a lot of shit since Izuku had left for the Depths. Yay, more guilt for Izuku.

Izuku shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, man," he replied sheepishly. "Things got…messy."

Ejiro raised an eyebrow. "I noticed," he agreed. "So, you really didn't capture Toga?"

Izuku shook his head. "It was really close," he admitted. "We were…I came face-to-face with her, Ejiro. Looked her in the eye. She's still as insane as ever."

Ejiro cursed under his breath. "I'd imagine," he agreed, before pausing and meeting Izuku's eyes again. "I'm sorry, "we?" I thought you said you were doing this alone."

Izuku froze. Shit. Ejiro's eyes bored into him, reminding him of all the things he was still keeping hidden from his best friend. He tried to think quickly, come up with some explanation that let him keep how messy his feelings about Mina still were from Ejiro, but all he could come up with was, "It's a long story. I'll explain later."

It was bullshit, and Izuku knew it. Ejiro knew it too, judging by the look on his face, which practically screamed the fact that Ejiro wanted to lock him in a sparring room and force him to spill everything on pain of…well, a whole lot of pain. But now wasn't the time for that, and they both knew that even better. At last, Ejiro sighed, and told him, "Fine. But it better be a damn good explanation. Also, here, you'll probably want to put this on."

He tossed Izuku's hero costume at him, and Izuku nodded. If he was gonna face the media, doing it in a ripped, dirty t-shirt probably wasn't a good idea. He quickly changed-the costume was designed to be easy to put on-and quickly rejoined Ejiro as they headed through Aegis towards his office.

"Could you fill me in?" Izuku asked.

Ejiro nodded. "Akari found her not too long ago," he began. "Toga was tied up and unconscious just outside the fence-whoever did it left her where she would be impossible to miss. She didn't regain consciousness until a few minutes ago, and she hasn't said a word since."

Izuku frowned. "Anything on the security cameras?" he asked. Ejiro shook his head.

"All they show is an unmarked van driving up and Toga getting dumped out of the back," he replied. "Not a face, not a recognizable quirk, nothing. We didn't even bother checking the cameras until after you called, actually."

"Why?" Izuku asked. "Honestly, why did you guys assume it was my doing, anyway?"

Ejiro shrugged. "That was mostly me," he admitted. "You'd told me to expect you back soon, and I…guess I just believed in what you said. I figured you'd just stopped off at a safehouse because you were injured or something and wanted to hide it like you usually do. When I called the police chief to tell him we had Toga in custody, he asked who did it, and I…well, I told him what I assumed. Word got out, and…here we are."

Ejiro sounded awfully guilty, but Izuku knew it was an honest mistake. All he'd done was believe what Izuku had told him, and…well, Izuku had hidden from Ejiro after villain captures before, usually because he'd gotten injured and wanted to avoid Ejiro taking him to task for it. Besides, there was no point getting annoyed about it now.

"Let me guess," Izuku said. "The moment the police chief knew, he told-"

Ejiro nodded, interrupting, "The scumbag, yeah. And once he knows something, every media outlet in the city knows it."

Izuku sighed. "Can you not call the mayor a scumbag, please?" he asked.

Ejiro rolled his eyes. "You and I both know it's the most accurate name for him," he shot back.

"Still," Izuku hissed, "You know we aren't supposed to get involved in politics. The Hero Commission-"

"I know what the Hero Commission thinks," Ejiro told him. "And I don't hate him because of politics. I hate him because he's a scumbag. And don't you lecture me, I know you hate him just as much as I do."

Izuku couldn't argue with that, so instead, he just hung his head and sighed again. He asked, "Is he here yet?"

"Of course he is," Ejiro scoffed. "There's news cameras outside, you think he'd be anywhere else? He's been sitting in the lobby for the past half hour, demanding to talk to you."

Izuku groaned. "Good job, he's probably pissed off by now," he grumbled.

Ejiro grinned smugly. "Oh, absolutely," he agreed. "That's why I made him wait there. He should be in your office now, though."

Izuku and Ejiro made their way down the agency's stairs, soon approaching Izuku's office. Just outside it, Izuku turned to Ejiro and asked, "Where is Toga?"

Ejiro replied, "She's still in the holding cells here. The police are coordinating with Tartarus to set up a secure transport to get her there. They don't want any mistakes."

Izuku nodded. "I'd like to speak with her before she gets transported," he said. "Maybe she's got more information about this. I don't like being in the dark."

Ejiro looked skeptical, but said, "I'll make sure you get that chance, once you're done dealing with our esteemed mayor."

Izuku snorted. "Wish me luck," he told his best friend. Ejiro just rolled his eyes.

"Luck won't save you," he informed Izuku.

With that, he left, and Izuku turned towards the door. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside.

When Izuku laid eyes on Takao Akihiko, mayor of Musutafu, the first though he had was the same one he always had: "He looks more like a crime boss than fucking Overhaul did."

Perhaps that was slight hyperbole, but only slight. Takao was a slightly overweight man in his fifties, with faded gray hair that still clung to the sides and back of his head and thick-framed glasses. Wearing suspenders under a gray suit jacket, thick-fingered hands lacing over his broad belly as he reclined in a chair in Izuku's office, the only things that kept him from looking like a mafioso was the lack of a heavy cigar or rings on his fingers. The eyes, though-they were the same. Cold and calculating under a thin veneer of smirking mirth, they spoke of a man who could be utterly ruthless and smile his way through it, who could chuckle and joke with you just enough to make you almost not notice the dagger aimed at your back.

Takao had been the mayor of Musutafu for nearly fifteen years, weathering countless challengers, the ever-shifting winds of politics, and the odd whisper of corruption and backroom dealing-though those not-quite-accusations never really seemed to stick to him. At this point, he was almost as much of a fixture in the city as the Underground itself-though he was a rare sight in the district that gave his city its claim to fame. No, the city government remained firmly entrenched aboveground, well away from the vast majority of their citizens.

As soon as Takao noticed Izuku, he rose to his feet, smiling warmly. "There he is! The man of the hour!" he boomed, striding across the room, hand outstretched.

Izuku forced a smile onto his face as he shook Takao's hand, trying not to wince at the sound of his voice. Takao had the too-loud, too-bright voice of a consummate politician-all empty smiles and false words, keeping you buoyed by his friendly tone alone. But where some politicians could employ that voice at will and only when they needed it, Takao had no such off switch-that too-happy voice was his usual tone. If anything, that should have been a warning sign all by itself; there were few things scarier than a natural politician.

"Mr. Takao," Izuku said, still wearing that frozen smile. "It's good to see you."

Takao laughed, clapping his hand on Izuku's shoulder. Izuku did his best to not go tense at the touch. "Atlas, Atlas," the mayor said, "Please, call me Akihiko."

Izuku fought back a grimace as he managed to wriggle out of Takao's grasp. "I think I'm fine, thank you," he said formally. Takao made the same statement every time he and Izuku spoke; he wasn't sure if it was just the mayor being patronizing, or if it was an attempt to make it easier to get Izuku to agree to photo ops and joint appearances and the like. Takao was as big a media hound as you could be-and there was nobody the cameras followed more than Izuku.

Takao frowned, but agreed, "Very well, then. Have it your way."

With that, the man sank back into his chair, still wearing that big grin that was too bright to be real. Izuku quickly sat across from him, taking a deep breath as he tried to gather his thoughts.

The two locked gazes for a moment, as if sizing each other up. Then, Takao began, "Well, my boy, let me be the first to congratulate you! The last member of the League of Villains, captured at last!"

Izuku held back the part of him that wanted to scream at the lie. He knew he had to be diplomatic-there was no need to pick a fight with the mayor. He replied, "Thank you, Mr. Takao. It's been a long time coming, that's for sure."

"I can imagine," Takao agreed. "It's a nice feather in your cap, for sure. Although…I have to admit, I'm surprised by the fact that you haven't even said a word to the press yet!"

Izuku raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I just got back."

Takao leaned in, grinning in a way that made Izuku nervous. "Ah, forgive me," he said. "I sometimes forget that you're still young. The press are simple folk, my boy. They thrive on the smell of secrets-and every single one of them wants to be the one to dig it up. If you'd said even two words to one of them on your way in, they'd be eating out of your hand. They're literally camped outside right now, all you have to do is give them a breadcrumb, and they'll sing your praises on the nightly news for weeks!"

"And why would I want them to be bothering me for weeks?" Izuku asked dryly.

"And don't call me "my boy," he added to himself. "All Might can call me that. Not you."

Takao stretched out an arm, gesturing at something Izuku couldn't guess at. "It isn't enough to be good, you know," he said. "Even if you're the best, none of it matters if people don't know you're the best. That's true for heroes, and it's true for me. If you can't control the narrative, it'll end up controlling you. Or am I wrong in saying that being a pillar means you need to be trusted by the people you protect?"

Izuku's hand twitched under his desk. Something about the smirk on Takao's face made him uneasy. The affable old man was falling away, revealing the cold, smooth operator beneath, and it made Izuku's skin crawl.

"I assume you didn't just come here to give me media relations advice," he told Takao. "Why are you really here?"

Takao shrugged, that grin still on his face. Once again, Izuku was struck by the comparison to a crime boss, holding court. "No particular reason," the mayor answered. "I just think that it's always a good idea to maintain a strong relationship with the heroes who protect us. Especially the most powerful and respected hero in Japan. You and I, we're the power centers of this city. This is our city, when you get down to it. And being able to work together prevents…complications."

Izuku really didn't like the sound of that. Thankfully, he was saved from having to respond by a knock on the door. A moment later, Ejiro stepped in, meeting Izuku's eyes.

"They're coming to collect Toga in less than two hours," he told Izuku. "If we want to talk to her, we'll need to do it soon."

Izuku nodded, but Takao was the first to respond. "Talk to her?" he repeated curiously. "Might I ask why?"

Ejiro looked towards Izuku, who found himself scrambling for an explanation that wouldn't show weakness or conflict. He finally settled for replying, "Toga was with a group of criminals when she was arrested. We're hoping to ask her if she was working with some organization or not. Just to put our minds at rest, you know."

Takao raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, his face flashed with an expression Izuku couldn't read. "Criminals organizing again?" he wondered. "Troubling. Ah, but I have faith in you to deal with them. Now, don't let me keep you here. In fact, I should best be leaving."

Izuku nearly sighed with relief, but stopped himself. Takao stood to leave, followed by his bodyguards-two men in suits that Izuku had barely even noticed standing by the walls. Ejiro stood aside as they filed out.

Just before he left, though, Takao paused in the doorway, turning back to meet Izuku's eyes. "Congratulations again on capturing Toga," he said, eyes twinkling. "Maybe you'll be able to deal with some of these damn mutants next. They're like rats, I tell you. You get rid of one, ten more spring up in their place."

Izuku grit his teeth as images of Mina flashed through his mind. He didn't even notice Takao leaving, or the door swinging shut. When he'd regained control of himself, he stood from his desk, nodding towards Ejiro.

"Thanks for the interruption," he said. "God, I hate talking to him. He's a goddamn parasite."

Ejiro snorted. "Better you than me, buddy," he replied. "Now, are we gonna interrogate Toga or not?"

"I am," Izuku corrected.

Ejiro paused, turning to give Izuku a thoroughly unimpressed look. "I'm sorry," he replied. "I was under the impression that you were capable of learning from your stupid decisions. Going it alone doesn't work, Izuku."

Izuku shook his head. He couldn't risk Toga talking about Mina or Mezou or any other secrets he wasn't ready to tell yet. "Trust me on this," he pleaded. "I need to talk to her alone."

Ejiro hesitated, then sighed. "I'm going to complain and then agree to this, aren't I?" he asked rhetorically. "Alright, fine. I'll even make sure you won't be overheard or anything. But goddamnit, you owe me an explanation for why you've been skulking around like you're hiding something lately."

Izuku nodded. "Big time," he agreed. "And thank you."

With that, he turned to head downstairs, to the holding cells where Toga was.

It was time to get some answers.

Within fifteen minutes, Toga had been brought to the small interrogation cell in the Aegis basement. They didn't use it often, but Izuku sure was grateful to have it right about now. Ejiro had cleared out all the sidekicks, turned off the cameras, and then left the room, giving Izuku one last meaningful glance that promised a whole lot of trouble for later.

Taking a deep breath, Izuku stepped through the heavy, reinforced door to the cell, hearing it slam behind him. The first thing he noticed when he stepped into the tiny interrogation room was how small Toga looked.

The last time he'd seen her, she'd been taunting Mina, her body warping and bubbling as she took on the face of Mina's dead friend. She'd been cast half in shadow then, and the sheer menace rolling off her had been enough to make her presence vaster than her physical body could ever be. The look in her eyes had been nothing compared to Shigaraki, the feeling she radiated paltry next to the bone-chilling terror of standing before All For One…but somehow, Izuku had been more scared of Toga than either of them. It was the hunger in those sickly yellow eyes, he thought. No human being should look at another person the way Toga did, like they were prey.

And now, those eyes were dull and nearly lifeless. All the menace was gone. Toga slumped in her chair, hands chained to the table in front of her. Her legs dangled uselessly beneath her-apparently, her tendons had been slashed to hell and back. She seemed shrunken, shellshocked by the rapid shift from taunting Izuku as she escaped to being arrested at last. She barely acknowledged Izuku as he closed the door and sank into the chair opposite her.

Izuku took a few long, deep breaths to gather himself before speaking. At last, he began, "I told you you would end up here one day, Himiko Toga."

The steel in his voice came easier than Izuku was really comfortable admitting. Maybe it was who he was facing, maybe it was his exhaustion and frustration at the whirlwind few days he'd had…or maybe it was some fragment of the man who had killed Tomura Shigaraki bubbling up to the surface. Whatever the reason, Izuku was all business at that moment, every inch the Number One Hero.

For a moment, Toga didn't respond, and Izuku wondered again just what had happened to her in the scant few hours between her escape and being dumped on his front doorstep. Then, her pale yellow eyes finally shifted upwards to meet his gaze, and a thin, weak smile crept onto Toga's face.

"I suppose you did, Izuku," she replied in a pale imitation of her usual singsong voice. "Although I doubt either of us thought it would go this way."

Izuku refused to let his expression shift. He sat patiently as Toga chuckled dully to herself, seemingly amused by her own words. When she spoke again, she asked, "How long has it been? Eight years? Nine?"

Izuku shrugged. "Too many," he told her. "Far, far too many. You got away for much longer than you should have."

Toga's eyes widened fractionally. "Why, Izuku," she gasped mockingly, "Did you just admit that you missed me?"

Izuku refused to dignify that with a response. Instead, he simply asked, "How many?"

Toga faltered. "Excuse me?" she replied, raising an eyebrow.

Izuku forced himself to suppress flickers of green lightning as he demanded, "How many people have you killed in the last eight years you've been down here?"

"How many people did I fail?" he added in his head.

Toga tilted her head, eyes glittering with a tiny fraction of the deadly light she'd once had. "Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Izuku," she cooed. "And I don't know. I have to admit, I lost track after a while."

Izuku hissed to himself, fingers tightening their grip on his arm. As if he needed another reminder of how much of a monster Toga really was, here she was, practically taunting him about her serial killing.

"I can't help it, you know," Toga added a moment later, eyes boring into Izuku. "Some people are just born killers. Me…you…that cute little pink girl who tried to rip my throat out…"

She was baiting him. Izuku knew she was baiting him. But the thought of Mina made him slam his hands down on the table anyway, sending the thin metal into a violent shudder as static sparked around him. "Do not talk about her," he said in a low, tense voice.

Toga grinned for the first time, lips parting to reveal sharp teeth. "Oh?" she asked tauntingly. "Afraid I'll spill your secrets? Do you not want the truth to get out, my dear Izuku?"

Izuku shook his head. "There's nobody listening in," he told her, returning her dangerous grin with one of his own. "Being the Number One Hero has some perks, like everyone leaving when I tell them to. Right now, it's just you and me, and nobody will ever know what gets said in this room."

Toga studied him with a strange expression on her face. "Was that a threat, Izuku?" she asked, sounding oddly excited by the prospect.

Izuku's face was like stone as he replied, "Does it need to be?"

For a moment, Toga didn't respond, and the two dueled with silent gazes. At last, Toga slumped in her chair and sighed, "Fine. I won't talk about her."

Izuku didn't say anything, didn't even nod. He could already see Toga's eyes glittering with cruel light, and knew she wasn't done talking. Sure enough, she continued, "That just leaves the other piece of truth I bet you don't want anyone to know. The fact that you aren't the person who captured me."

Izuku nodded bluntly. "You're right," he agreed, leaning forwards in his chair. "Which is why you're going to tell me who did."

Toga smiled, ever so slightly. "And why would I do that?" she asked.

Izuku frowned. "You're being awfully uncooperative for someone in your position," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Dryly, Toga snorted, "Oh, please, why would I ever cooperate? I'm already dead either way. None of you will ever let me see the outside world again-I'll be in Tartarus for the rest of my life, and both of us know it. Honestly, I wish you'd let that girl melt my head from my neck down in the Depths-it'd be better than a lifetime in a straitjacket."

Izuku didn't know what to say to that. She was right, after all. There would be no plea deal, no reduction in her sentence, nothing-not for a member of the League. Those who had followed Shigaraki's mad crusade who hadn't been killed in the fighting nearly a decade ago were rotting in the deepest depths of Tartarus right now, a place as close to hell on earth as it was possible to be. Then, a thought struck him.

"Whoever you were working for, they clearly betrayed you," he pointed out. "Wouldn't you want to get revenge?"

For a long moment, Toga remained silent, seemingly mulling it over. At last, she smiled and said, "Tempting. You do know the way to a girl's heart, Izuku."

Trying not to sound too hopeful, Izuku asked, "So, will you tell me or not?"

Toga chuckled. She told him, "I don't know. I haven't decided yet."

Izuku frowned, confused. "Why don't you know?" he asked. "Don't tell me you're scared of whoever did this to you."

Again, that dry, hopeless chuckle escaped Toga's throat. "Oh, stupid hero," she sighed. "Being afraid isn't the issue. I'm trying to decide what will hurt you the most."

Izuku froze, a lump forming in his throat. Forcing his tone to stay even, he replied, "And what makes you think that this will hurt me?"

Toga grinned, and it sent Izuku back a decade, to watching her slice through heroes like chaff, leaving bloody corpses in her wake.

"Not you," she said. "Your pink girlfriend."

Izuku choked. "She's not my-" he began, like that was the important thing here. He cut himself off, refusing to engage with that train of thought any further.

Clearly enjoying his struggles, Toga continued, "You know what? No, I don't think I'll tell you what happened. Not because I don't want you to know, but because you'll find out eventually, anyway."

Izuku cursed to himself, but refused to get distracted. "I will?" he asked skeptically.

Toga nodded eagerly, practically licking her lips. There was an insane light in her eyes again. "Oh, you will," she confirmed. "When your city is burning, when everything you've tried to protect comes crashing down…you'll understand, then. He's coming for you, you know. Your world, your people, but most of all you. It'll be fun to watch poor little Mina have to choose between you. I wish I could be there."

Izuku slammed a hand against the table, making it shake. "Enough," he growled, low and dangerous. "No more games, Toga. Tell me who you worked for."

Toga shook her head. She grinned wide, licking her lips, and Izuku could almost imagine blood dripping from her pointed canines.

"No can do, Izuku," she crooned in that sickly-sweet voice of hers. "It would spoil the surprise. This is my revenge, on both you and them. You'll tear each other to pieces. It'll be beautiful."

When Izuku looked into Toga's eyes, he saw no hesitation at all. There was spite, and hate, and pure, utter madness. She knew she was beyond help, and she didn't care. She was more than happy to burn it all in her wake.

"I'll stop it," Izuku told her. "Whatever you think this mysterious enemy will do, I'll make sure it never happens. I stopped Shigaraki, I'll stop this too."

Toga smiled. "Oh, Izuku," she murmured. "Keep thinking that. What's coming is nothing like Shigaraki. There's no killing this, no murder that can save you. One way or another, this city is doomed."

Far, far below in the Depths, Fumikage Tokoyami sat on a small ledge, overlooking a large cavern that stretched on and on beyond the limits of what he could see. He barely noticed the vastness of the cavern, though. His attention was focused almost entirely on a vast pillar that rose in the middle of a cleared patch of ground. It was festooned with rows upon rows of structures, all knit together and dripping off the immense stone monument, an entirely vertical city. There was only one area of the pillar that was clear-a smooth, flat expanse halfway up that had three deep, dark gouges through it, like claw marks. From his perch, he could see lights glimmering, the distant blurs of people moving about.

Fumikage's eyes were distant, one hand tapping against his knee. Dark bands of shadow wound around and around his arms, blurring his edges, smoothing his angles. For a moment, there was a second face, a monstrous face, overlapping his own avian features. Then, it was gone again.

"There's no going back," said a voice in his head-a voice that wasn't his. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Shut up," he growled. "I don't need you doubting me, too."

"Maybe someone should," the voice shot back snarkily. "Maybe you should stop holding me back."
"Idiot, I'm about to let you loose," Fumikage snapped. "You want to stretch your wings? Stop arguing."

The voice was silent after that. Fumikage didn't dare hope it would last, though.

A moment later, soft footsteps from behind him alerted him to another person's arrival.

"You ready to go?" asked the soft, rasping voice of Kamakiri.

"Just about," Fumikage sighed, rising to his feet. His ragged cloak settled around his shoulders, and the murmurs grew louder as his body was shrouded in darkness. He quashed them with a practiced ease his younger self would have envied.

Just before Fumikage walked past Kamakiri, he hesitated. After a brief war with his own thoughts, he asked, "Do you think this is a good idea?"

Kamakiri, as expected, simply grunted. "Don't see any other way," he admitted gruffly. "Not that it matters. I'd follow your plan even if it was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard."

Fumikage sighed. "I really don't know why you've decided that I'm worth such loyalty," he admitted quietly. "I doubt I'll ever prove myself worthy of it."

Kamakiri gave him a look that somehow mixed scoffing disdain with the most earnest admiration Fumikage had ever seen from the laconic mutant. Kamakiri had been gutter trash, same as Fumikage, but unlike him, the first people to show him kindness hadn't been the sort to just care for a child. No, Kamakiri had been a weapon, a deadly tool to aim at a target and then forget about. Sometimes, Fumikage thought, Kamakiri seemed to be more comfortable in that role than any person should me.

"You are worthy of it," Kamakiri told him, conviction coloring his voice. "You've proven that to me-to us-more times than anyone should ever have to. There's not a man or woman here that wouldn't follow you to hell and back."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Fumikage thought bitterly.

Fumikage turned to see the small squad of mutants that had joined him on this first strike. Battered, angry men and women met his eyes-some couldn't even do that, as if they somehow didn't deserve to look at him-and nodded, respect in their gazes. Hardened killers, every one of them, each a match for any hero in Japan, save perhaps for the Top Fifty or so. They sported horns, talons, misshapen limbs, bodies out of nightmares and half-forgotten fairytales. They were demons and monsters, the villains from children's stories. They were people, and he knew every one of their names, and they believed in him. They looked at him with an admiration he almost remembered from the first time he'd seen it, in the golden eyes of a pink-skinned girl who thought she owed him her life, when all he'd done was show her how to live it.

"This is what I am," he reminded himself. "This is what I chose to be. I passed the point of no return a long time ago."

Fumikage took a deep breath, and made his choice. The shadows on his body lengthened, covering his arms, his hands. They crept down over his face, and the roar in his mind grew so loud, it drowned out the world. He could only cling on because of years and years of experience. Without it, he would have been wild, uncontrollable, unstoppable.

Fumikage stood in front of his troops, and said, "There's no need for a speech. All of you know what's at stake, what this means. Today, the work begins."

Nods. Nothing more. Nothing else was needed. Everything that needed to be said had already been said. Kamakiri hissed somewhere deep in his throat, a buzzing, metallic sound that sounded too eager by half, and let long, razor-sharp blades spring from his arms.

Fumikage turned, towards the pillar city, setting his jaw. "Remember," he said. "If they resist, they die. If they aren't combatants, or they surrender, leave them. These are the people we're fighting for."

Fumikage didn't need to check for nods this time. Instead, he let the immense arms of the shadow monster around him encircle his body, curving in to embrace him and gather him up, along with those of his troops who couldn't make the jump themselves. His feet left the ground, carried aloft by the floating shadows that stretched out and out on either side, extending into great, terrifying wings, feeding on the pitch-blackness of the cave until no light in the world could have stopped him. Crossing the cavern was the work of seconds.

Fumikage felt his quirk thrashing in its chains, somewhere in his mind, and smiled. The city below them had noticed their presence now-it was awfully hard not to see the colossal demon swooping in from above. But it was far, far too late.

Fumikage didn't notice his fellows leaping into the structures that lined the gigantic pillar. He didn't watch Kamakiri twirling as he dove a hundred feet through open air, twin curved blades glinting in the twinkling lights of the pillar city. He only saw the bugs in front of him, unaware of his power as the chains snapped.

Screams filled the air as wood snapped and stone splintered, but the noises were all drowned out, buried underneath the metallic, guttural shriek of a monster in the dark.

The war had begun.