Mina really shouldn't have been caught so off guard when that heady day ended. She'd gotten so lost in the rush of being in a relationship, she'd completely lost track of time.

After Ejiro left, saying he would cover for Izuku's absence to "give them some time to themselves," they'd done barely anything but trade tender kisses and soft words, luxuriating in simply being together. It was Mina's new favorite way to pass the time. Eventually, though, a ding from the clock on the wall of Izuku's office alerted them to their mistake.

When he saw how late it was, Izuku hopped up, much to Mina's disappointment. From her place on the newly-empty chair, she watched him stride over to the door, reaching for the hat that hung on a hook there.

Turning back to face Mina, Izuku said, "Let's go home. We've got a lot of things to set up, if you're going to be staying there."

Mina swallowed heavily, wondering why there was suddenly a lump in her throat. Agreeing to it was one thing, but now that it was time…she found herself anxious. Softly, she said, "I…okay."

She began to rise from her chair, but the look on her face made Izuku concerned. He asked, "Are you alright, Mina?"

She nodded. "Yeah," she replied, "just…nervous. For a lot of reasons. You're sure I won't be…noticed, somehow? Will everything be okay?"

As soon as the words left Mina's mouth, she wanted to snort in disgust at herself. She sounded like a child. Nothing was okay. Nothing would ever be okay. And yet…Izuku's face told her otherwise.

"Everything will be fine, Mina," he told her, his voice soft and strong as he took her hand. "I've got you. I promise."

At some point, you have to trust. Mina took a deep breath, then nodded.

"Okay," she said. "Let's go."

Izuku smiled, but instead of leaving through the door, or even the window like Mina preferred, he crossed the room one last time, opening a drawer in his desk and rummaging through it. Mina watched him curiously for a moment, before Izuku finally stood up again, revealing something in his hand. He tossed it to her, and she caught…a pair of sunglasses?

"Put those on," he advised her. "You'll probably need them."

They didn't ride the Elevators like most people leaving the Underground would. Instead, Izuku led Mina through a well-hidden shaft to the surface maintained by the Hero Commission, as a way for heroes with mobility quirks and the like to reach the Underground quickly, without disrupting traffic. It was a bit slower than the Elevators, maybe, but it had a single undeniable advantage-complete privacy.

Mina knew that wearing a long black cloak and a mask aboveground would make her stand out almost as much as her actual face would. She could only hope that Izuku would be able to avoid being seen with her-or that she could find a way to be as anonymous here as she could be in the Underground. If she was discovered…

Suddenly, Mina's worries were shoved to the back of her mind. They emerged from the tunnel, and Mina was abruptly overwhelmed by light.

Even with the sunglasses, Mina could barely keep her eyes open. The brilliant, orange-tinted light hammered into her skull, making her squint desperately as her eyes, unused to such abundant brightness, struggled to function. Mina covered her eyes, cringing away from the light as best she could.

Through it all, though, Izuku's arm stayed tight around Mina's waist, grounding her, giving her something to cling to. It didn't make the pain go away, but it gave her something else to focus on. If it all became too much, Mina knew she could hide away from it in Izuku's arms, knew he would protect her from it.

But she didn't need to be protected. After a few moments, hissing with effort, Mina forced her eyes open, nearly sighing as the pain slowly dimmed and she became able to see. A moment later, she forgot how to breathe.

The first sight she got when she came aboveground was a sunset. Oranges and purples and fiery reds streaking across the sky as the sun-the sun-dipped down towards the distant horizon. Clouds, low lines of dark across the golden sky, broke up the light, gave her things to focus on that didn't sear her sensitive eyes. On the opposite end of the world from the burning sun, Mina could see blue fading to purple fading to black as night crept in-a real night, not the fake approximation she was used to. Wind rippled across her skin, making her cloak flap as the cool air moved across her face. It felt…free. Mina was free.

The strangeness of the aboveground was all around her. The Hero Commission tunnel emerged without fanfare, little more than a recessed door set into the ground beneath a white office building. All around it, though, was green, open space-more open space than Mina had seen in her life. In the distance, shining glass towers gleamed in the dying sunlight, spread apart with more parkland between them. Compared to the Underground-even compared to other cities in Japan-aboveground Musutafu was a shining beacon of beauty, delicate towers and picturesque landscapes, dotted with homes that would be mansions belowground, but belonged to ordinary people here. A low density, open, sustainable, beautiful city, shining among trees and sculpted parks.

It was amazing what one could achieve when designing a city that shoved most of its poor, unworthy citizens below the ground to fight for scraps.

"I'd…forgotten all about this," Mina murmured, tears beading at the corners of her eyes-half because of the beauty of the open, shining city, half because of the light still searing her eyes.

"All about what?" Izuku asked.

Mina took a deep breath, feeling half a dozen warring emotions in her chest. She pulled down her hood to feel the wind whip through her short hair. "How…how bright it is, aboveground," she said quietly. "How blue the sky is. How sweet the air is."

Izuku nodded softly. He reached out, taking Mina's hand in his own. She clung to it, drawing on his strength in a way that felt so natural, it scared her. "I…I can't imagine what it must be like, coming here after so long in the Underground," he said.

Mina scoffed to herself, but nothing but a ghostly smile appeared on her face. "I don't have words for it," she said, shaking her head as a new feeling appeared-anger. "It's like…it's like there was a piece of myself I left up here, a long time ago, and now I've found it again. Only…it doesn't fit anymore."

Izuku frowned at the sudden venom in Mina's voice. It wasn't directed at him, or the aboveground, or at anything, really-except herself. "What do you mean?" he asked.
Mina didn't respond for a long, drawn-out moment as she fought back memories she would never share, things nobody would ever know but her. She hoped.

"The last time I felt the sun on my face, I was…a very different person," she answered. "Now that I'm back, I don't feel like I belong here. My place is in the Depths."

Sensing the pain in his girlfriend's voice as she spoke, Izuku wisely didn't push for answers to the questions that suddenly cropped up in his head. Instead, he took Mina's other hand, drawing her close to him, and asked, "Is that what you believe, or what you've been told?"

Mina froze. "What?" she blurted out, caught off guard.

Izuku met her eyes. "You decide where you belong," he said, voice firm and heartfelt. "The world doesn't get a say. It doesn't. Not after how it treated you."

Mina's heart caught in her throat. She could hear the belief in Izuku's voice, see it in his eyes. She recalled a balcony, a revelation that had shaken her perception of the man she'd come to love to the core. She realized that Izuku was giving her a lesson he'd learned himself a long time ago. Once, he'd been the lowest of the low-now he stood on top of the world.

It was so easy to forget that a thief without a home and the greatest man in Japan had more in common than they thought. Maybe that was why she loved him-he understood her, and she him.

The words flowed from her lips before she even knew they existed. "If that's the case…then my place is with you," she decided. "Wherever that is."

Then she kissed him. He had no words to respond to it, but he did kiss her back. That was all the answer she could ever need.

When that heady kiss-the first time Mina let herself relax in this new, strange world she'd found-finally came to an end, Izuku pulled back, red-faced, and stared lovingly at the woman who'd shaken him to his core and made him love her for it.

"Let's go home," he said.

Home. The concept was still so ludicrous to Mina. Home wasn't a thing, not for her. She'd lived twenty-four years without a place like that. She didn't need it.

And yet, with Izuku's arms around her waist, with the warmth she felt pressed against him…maybe she wanted it. And maybe that was enough.

"Okay," she murmured. "Let's go home."

Fumikage led Mezou and Tsu into a small but cozy room, carved right from the rock. The whole space was maybe the size of an apartment, and it certainly didn't seem particularly ornate or well-appointed. In fact, "spartan" was about the right description. There were a few chairs, a bed in the corner, and some other odds and ends, but that was it. It certainly didn't feel like the home of the leader of the Outcasts.

Fumikage sank into one of the chairs, his weight making the patched, worn fabric sag and squeak. Without having to exchange so much as a look, Mezou and Tsu also sat down-across from Fumikage, not next to him.

Fumikage looked at them with a weary, determined expression. He didn't seem to be looking forward to the conversation-but neither did he run from it.

"What do you want to know?" he asked. "I'll do my best to answer, I promise."
Mezou hesitated, not knowing where to begin. Questions wanted to explode out of him, demanding to know why Fumikage had left, why he'd hurt them so much. But he couldn't get them to come out.

Instead, Tsu spoke first. In a voice that was neither angry nor entirely friendly, she asked, "Where have you been for the past six years?"

Fumikage sighed. He'd clearly expected the question-though not first. He said, "It's…hard to explain."

"Try me," Tsu said, her voice like ice. "You don't get to show up after six years with an army and not explain how you got it."

Fumikage met her eyes, then Mezou's. "Ah," he murmured. "You want to know how this came to be."

Tsu nodded. A moment later, Mezou did too.

Fumikage gathered his thoughts, then began to speak. "At first, after I…left," he said, voice catching as he danced over the topic Mezou so desperately wanted to understand, "I just…wandered aimlessly. For nearly two years, I barely saw another living soul. And then…and then I found this place. It was empty, then-nothing but a hole at the bottom of the world. But it was safe."

Mezou and Tsu stayed quiet. Fumikage's voice grew more heated, his expression more animated, as he continued speaking; he looked more and more like the boy they'd known, full of fire, standing up to the world and demanding that it be better. But still, he seemed…off. He was holding something back.

Fumikage continued, "Down here, there are lots of people who just want to be safe. Refugees fleeing one warlord conflict or another, those being hunted by the gangs…people who just want to protect their families. I tried to give them that, here in this place. It took…years. That's what the Outcasts started as. Just a group of desperate mutants hiding where nobody could find them. I did my best to protect them…and I failed. So many times, I failed. But slowly, bit by bit, we grew, got stronger. People joined us, building up this place until it was a home for those who had nowhere else to go."

"And then it was an army," Tsu said flatly. In response, Fumikage met her eyes.

"Tell me," he said, low and hard, "When the people you fought to save start asking you to save others, when people who have been treated like animals their whole lives start taking pride in being who they are, would you refuse to go along? When you see the entire city crying out for somebody to do something about the way we're forced to live, and you have the power to do something about it…would you turn your back?"

Tsu didn't respond. Fumikage's words seemed to fill the space, choking, suffocating. His expression wasn't angry, really, but it wasn't exactly the penitent look he'd worn just a few minutes earlier, either.

At last, Fumikage sighed, and added, "I don't like calling it an army. That was never my intention. I don't want to hurt anybody. But I will end the gang wars, the violence, the people who hurt and exploit innocents who just want to live in peace. Period."

Mezou found himself nodding along. He knew the predations of the gangs better than most-and what it took to stop them. If that meant stopping them violently…he was all for it. Hell, that was what he did.

Tsu looked less convinced, but said nothing. Instead, it was Mezou who spoke up. In a voice like broken gravel, he demanded, "But why did you leave in the first place?"

Fumikage fell quiet. Completely, utterly silent. His hesitation stretched on and on, as though he had no clue how to begin to answer.

At last, he raised his head, and whispered, "I had to."

"But why?" Mezou said, equally softly, his heart cracking.

Fumikage's fists clenched and unclenched in his lap. His whole body crackled with tightly restrained desperation. He raised his head to meet Mezou's eyes, and Mezou saw the moment Fumikage cracked.

As if all the energy had drained from him, Fumikage slumped back, head resting against the back of his chair. Darkness crept up his left arm, wreathing it in shadowy, inky black.

Fumikage raised his arm, and said with deep, deep self-loathing, "You want to know why? It was because of this. Because of him."

Mezou and Tsu glanced at each other. They suddenly remembered that they hadn't even seen Dark Shadow-his true form, at least-since they'd encountered Fumikage. Where was his quirk?

Seeing their confusion, Fumikage told them, "By the time…by the time I left, Dark Shadow was thrashing at the chains I had him in. Every day, he grew stronger. Every day, I had less control over him. He was growing angrier, more hateful…more violent. I knew…I knew it was only a matter of time before he attacked one of you. And I couldn't let that happen."

Mezou's eyes widened. Fumikage had told him, all those years ago, that he feared how strong Dark Shadow was becoming, but he'd never said that he was that scared, that desperate. He felt his heart break all over again.

Tsu, though, was cool as ever. She said, "We could have helped you, Fumi. You didn't have to run away because you convinced yourself you were protecting us."

"I was protecting you," Fumikage shot back. "And don't act like I don't know it was stupid and self-sacrificing. It was. But it was the only way."

"It wasn't," Tsu snapped. "You were never forced to break our hearts. We were your family, Fumi! We would never have turned our backs on you when you needed our help!"

Fumikage's eyes were glowing like burning coals. "You don't understand," he hissed. "It wouldn't have mattered if you'd tried to help. Nobody could have helped me. You know how I know?"

"How?" Tsu demanded, arms crossed over her chest.

Fumikage hung his head for a long, frozen moment. When he raised it again, there were tears in his eyes. "Two weeks after I slipped away in the middle of the night, Dark Shadow broke free," he whispered. "I completely lost control of him, and he went on a rampage, attacking everything and everyone he came across. Eighteen years of fighting him, eighteen years of struggling to keep him calm enough so that I could live any sort of life, eighteen years of trying so fucking hard to keep my family safe…and I lost. If I'd stayed…you'd be dead. All of you."

Fumikage's words rang in the empty space, bearing down on Mezou's mind. He…he hadn't realized how close Fumikage had been to snapping. He'd grown more and more irritable in his last weeks with them, his temper growing shorter and shorter…but now Mezou could go back to those memories and see the fear hidden in Fumikage's face.

"When I woke up, I was so deep down the rocks were hot under my feet," Fumikage continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "In a part of the Depths no one has ever seen, before or since. To this day, I don't know how I got there, or how long I spent destroying everything I came across. The fact that Dark Shadow basically hijacked me scared-scares-me to the fucking bone. I don't know how he did it, I don't know how I got free…and I don't know how many people Dark Shadow killed while he was in control."

Once more, Tsu was silent. Mezou, though, couldn't be. He asked, "Then…how do you still use him? How are you still in control?"

Fumikage chuckled, deeply and painfully. He answered, "I'm…not. Not in the way I used to be, at least."

Mezou shifted nervously. Tsu shot him a worried glance, but Mezou stayed where he was.

"After a while, Dark Shadow and I…came to an agreement, of sorts," Fumikage explained. "He and I…our anger can be very similar. As long as I channel that constructively, give him something to be mad at for us to fight against together, he's content to let me lead, and lend his strength when I ask for it. He and I…work together, mostly. But I don't dare let him free to fight the way I used to, or even to talk to you guys."

Mezou nodded slowly. Tsu seemed unwilling to push him on it.

Fumikage met their eyes once more, and sighed, "So…there it is. I left because I didn't have a choice. I didn't want to leave…but if I hadn't, you would have died. I understand if you hate me. I understand if you want nothing to do with me. But…just know that for the past six years, I have wanted nothing more than to come back. But by the time it was safe for me to be around you guys…I had people here who were relying on me. I couldn't let them down. I'm sorry."

Mezou was silent, his head a jumble of emotions he couldn't make sense of. He didn't know what to say, didn't even know what to think.

Tsu, it seemed, didn't have that problem. She stood from her chair, eyes locked on Fumikage. Her expression was unreadable.

"Do you think that that's enough, kero?" she asked, her tone deceptively mild. "Do you think you can just apologize and we'll welcome you back?"

Fumikage, somehow, met her eyes. "No," he replied. "No, it's not enough. But nothing I could do could ever be enough. What am I supposed to do, not apologize for the single most agonizing choice I've ever had to make? Not feel regret?"

Tsu held Fumikage's gaze for an impossibly long moment, her eyes full of ice and steel. At last, her shoulders slumped, and she admitted, "I…guess not."

Fumikage didn't react. That proved to be a wise decision.

"That being said," Tsu continued, her voice still venomous, "I still don't forgive you. You broke our hearts, Fumi. You caused us so much pain. I saw it. I still see it. I don't know if I can ever forgive you for what you did. I can't speak for Mezou-he's free to forgive you if he wants-but know that I'll hold you accountable if no one else will."

Fumikage still didn't respond, beyond a soft nod. The look in his eyes might have been gratitude, as bizarre as that seemed.

Tsu turned to Mezou, her body language softening considerably. She told him, "I'm…going to go find Kugo, see how he's doing. I think you two need to have your own conversation, and me being here would just get in the way."

Mezou nodded. "Thank you," he whispered, drawing Tsu close for a moment, letting her kiss him before she vanished out the door. And then, at last, Mezou and Fumikage were alone.

They stared at each other, neither sure how to start, neither able to find the words to bridge six years of pain and grief. Then, finally, Mezou found them.

"After you disappeared, Mina cried for weeks," Mezou said, his voice steady and harsh, pain and anger finally exploding through the haze of shock that had covered him ever since Fumikage had emerged from the smoke of a burning city. "You know she had nobody, nobody, before she ended up with us. You were the first person who ever actually treated her like a human being. And then you left her."

Fumikage flinched, guilt flashing in his deep, pained eyes, and Mezou took a deep breath. He forced himself to stay calm, pushing through the painful memories of those dark days after Fumikage's disappearance. Even so, his voice hitched as he continued, "She…something broke in her when you disappeared. She stopped smiling, stopped laughing. I don't think she ever remembered how to do either."

Fumikage stayed quiet, hands locked together in his lap. "I know what I did to her," he admitted eventually. "I know how much I hurt her-hurt all of you."

"Do you?" Mezou snapped. "Because, even though I didn't realize it at the time, I think that that was when she and Tsu and I started to drift apart. I always assumed that she just felt like a third wheel…but now, I think I know better."

Fumikage hung his head, accepting Mezou's words like hammerblows. Mezou was more than happy to deliver. "She didn't trust us anymore. She couldn't let herself trust us anymore. Deep down, I think she expected us to leave her, sooner or later, like everyone else she'd ever tried to love. Like you. So she left first." Mezou said bluntly, recalling days spent searching in the lowest, most hellish caverns, the desperation that comes with losing a brother, watching Mina curl up and turn inwards like a turtle drawing into its shell. Most of all, though, Mezou thought of the festering rage that had ruled his thoughts for years whenever his thoughts had drifted back to Fumikage. He wondered why he didn't feel that rage now. Something like it, yes-but like it in the way that a match is like a wildfire. One will go out long before the other.

As Mezou's words bore home, Fumikage flinched a little, staring at his hands. Under the flickering but golden light of the room, the shadows that clung to him seemed to be nearly gone. He looked normal again-or as normal as any of them could look.

"What's done is done," Fumikage murmured. "I can't take back the damage. I would if I could."

"But you can't," Mezou agreed, his voice a low rumble in his chest. Two pairs of arms crossed over his chest, the third pair on the armrests of the chair. He leaned back in his chair, eyes locked on Fumikage. Waiting.

Fumikage took a deep breath. He continued, "I bet you're wondering why I revealed myself to you now."

Mezou nodded cautiously. "Honestly, I was half hoping you came back just so I could let off some steam by beating you black and blue," he admitted.

"Already halfway there, I'm afraid," Fumikage snorted, cracking half a smile as he gestured at his plumage. Mezou's eyes remained stormy and serious, at least until he let the tiniest grin slip through.

Eventually Fumikage shook his head, setting down his glass on the low table between them. He said, "As much as I wish I could have come back just to fix my mistakes, that's not why I'm here. I'm responsible for too much, now. There are too many people relying on me. But…if you're interested, if you can find it in yourself to forgive me, somehow, I've got an offer for you."

Mezou raised an eyebrow. For a moment, he considered just punching Fumikage in the face, as revenge for every night Mina woke up sobbing with a broken, agonized look in her eyes, every day Mezou turned around expecting to find a long-lost brother by his side, and especially for setting off the chain of events that had brought Izuku-fucking-Midoriya into Mezou's life. Then, he stopped himself.

"What kind of offer?" he heard himself ask. His voice was cautious, but intrigued.

Fumikage answered, "A chance at revenge…and to make a better world than the one we were given. A chance for change, real change."

Fumikage's voice was soft and steady, the same voice Mezou remembered from years and years of standing beside him through thick and thin. It was the same voice he'd used all that time ago, on the day they'd first met Mina.

Taking a deep breath, Mezou tilted his head back towards the ceiling. He recognized the anger that burned openly in Fumikage's eyes. He knew it like he knew his own mind, like he knew his own wife's face. It was as much a part of him as it was a part of Fumikage-as much a part of both of them as their own quirks. The anger demanded an outlet, demanded to know more, demanded that he follow it to the ends of the earth.

Mezou knew how to hate. But he'd learned that from Fumikage.

"I'm listening," Mezou said curtly. "But you better talk fast."

Fumikage nodded. Taking a deep breath, he began, "You and Tsu, you can have a place here, if you want it. With us. With me. As whatever you want. You could join the Outcasts…or just live in the city, if you didn't want to."

Mezou raised an eyebrow. The thought…wasn't unattractive. A city like this, a place where he didn't have to be the sole arbiter of what passed for justice in the Depths, a place where he and Tsu could live among other mutants…it was sorely tempting. Besides, he had just found his brother again. How could he turn down the chance to rebuild that? But still, he hesitated, caution getting the best of him.
"Why are you offering this?" he asked.

"We could use a man like you," Fumikage told him. "You're one of the best of us. You're stronger than anyone else I've ever met down here."

"Not strong enough," Mezou thought. "Never strong enough. Not to keep you from vanishing like a ghost, not to keep Mina from drifting away, not to keep anyone down here safe like they deserve."

As he stared off into space, Mezou remembered a cavern lit by a green star, a living thunderbolt falling with unstoppable force, the earth-shaking hum of the power to change the world held by a single man. How was it that the only person strong enough to do what Mezou had always dreamed of doing was the symbol of everything Mezou hated? Was the universe really so backwards that a hero was the only man who could help the Depths?

Finding himself unsatisfied by Fumikage's answer, Mezou shot back, "There's plenty of strong people down here. Why do you want me to help you?"

Fumikage hesitated, for the barest fraction of a second. Then, he seemingly forced himself to tell Mezou, "It's because I need you."

Mezou raised an eyebrow. With a sigh, Fumikage explained, "You saw how Ibara looked at me. You walked through the town. They…fuck, some of them worship me, Mezou. And that…it scares the shit out of me. That sort of thing…nobody can keep their head when they're surrounded by that sort of thing. I don't want what I'm doing, what we're fighting for, to go off the rails because nobody dares to tell me "no." If nobody is around who sees me as a person, as someone who can fail…"

Fumikage trailed off, but he'd said enough. Mezou was surprised; most people who gained any amount of power in the Depths-fuck, people who gained power anywhere-were more than happy to bask in adulation and awe. Fumikage seemed deeply uncomfortable with it, even scared. Maybe that made him smarter than most of the fuckers who got power.

Fumikage met Mezou's eyes. "You know me," he said, nearly pleading. "You know how badly I've failed people. I know that you'll tell me if I'm wrong, if I've gone too far. I'm not sure anyone else here will. And if this is going to work, if we're going to change things, this can't be just another cult of personality. Please."

Mezou…hesitated. It was tempting, so tempting. What the Outcasts were doing, building a place where mutants were safe and free, bringing the gangs to heel, protecting the most vulnerable people in the Depths…it was like a dream come true. The fact that it was led by a man that he knew to be the best person he'd ever met, a man he'd called his brother for most of his life, only made it more attractive. And yet…

And yet he couldn't. Not yet. Not without knowing more. Not without knowing that Tsu was behind him.

"What about Mina?" he heard himself ask. "Will she be invited to…whatever this is, too?"

Fumikage blinked. "If I can find her…" he answered, "Absolutely."

Mezou's eyes narrowed. "Even though she let Atlas into the Depths?" he asked.

Fumikage let out a long, low breath, shaking his head. "So," he muttered, "that was her."

An ominous silence fell, and Mezou held his breath. Was Fumikage still the same man he remembered, the one who loved Mina like a sister, who was fiercely protective of her?

At last, Fumi said, "I don't care what she's done. She's family. It would be awkward, and it might cause issues with some of the others…but fuck it. I'll find Mina, and I'll explain myself. If she wants to, she's as welcome here as you are."

Mezou nodded. Some things were still the same, then. Some parts of Fumi hadn't changed.

But still…that didn't change his hesitation.

"I…need time to think," he told Fumikage. "I don't know about this."

Fumikage nodded, though he didn't bother to hide his disappointment. "Time. Aye, I can give you that," he replied. "Still…the Mezou I knew would have jumped at the chance to make the Underground howl."

"He would have," Mezou agreed, cautiously. He'd been angry as a teenager, full of fire and a desire to see the world burn for the crime of being an unjust, unfair place-he still was, really. But, well…time had a way of changing things. Tsu had tempered him in her gentle but irresistible way, giving him perspective, giving him more to risk, more to lose. He was more cautious now, more hesitant to rock the boat. Fumikage, though…it seemed like Fumikage had had nobody. Nothing but an army around him, treating him like something more than human, rather than someone who could bleed, someone who could break. Mezou could see it glimmering in his old friend's eyes-that black, seething rage that built up over a lifetime of injustice, until it felt like the rage was all you had, all you were, boiling up and up and up until it had no path but outwards, exploding into action like water exploding into steam. The years had done nothing to temper or cool Fumikage's righteous anger; instead, they seemed to have only stoked the fire hotter.

Mezou found himself wondering which one of them had taken the right path.

Fumikage waited expectantly, as if expecting Mezou to suddenly change his answer. After a few moments, Fumikage sighed, "I guess you really have changed."

Mezou didn't move, except to nod slowly and grimly. "I have," he agreed. "You have, too. Do you think either of us changed for the better?"

Fumikage smiled, hollow and bitter. He laughed curtly, and it exposed more insecurity, more uncertainty, than Mezou had ever seen from the boy who had once saved his life.

"I wish I knew the answer to that question, old friend," Fumikage whispered. "I wish I knew."

A long, hollow silence fell after that. Neither of them could find anything more to say. At last, Fumikage stood up, letting out a sigh. "Talk to some of my men," he suggested. "See what it is they think of what we're doing. I won't pressure you for your answer; take as much time as you need."

Mezou nodded. He knew, then, that he intended to give the Outcasts a chance. Just one, but a chance nonetheless. He wasn't ready to leave this yet, not when it might lead to the biggest actual change he'd ever seen.

Fumikage turned to leave. He reached the doorway, but before he could disappear through it, Mezou called out, "One last thing, Fumi."

Fumikage looked over his shoulder, clearly uncertain of what Mezou would say.

Mezou took a deep breath, feeling his anger draining away. At last, he could let himself be happy. Fumi was alive.

"It's…good to have you back," he said softly.

Fumikage smiled, papering over the deep, deep sorrow that they both knew would never go away, not fully.

"Thank you," he whispered, and then he disappeared through the doorway, back into the world he was building.