Where Monsters Hide

by ColdLuigi

In such a diverse world, it might be hoped that discrimination would be a thing of the past. But people are not so good or kind. Mina Ashido is twenty-four and a thief, forced into the villain-infested labyrinth known as the Musutafu Underground, a vast subterranean city. And now she's gone and fallen in love with the Number One Hero, Izuku Midoriya. This can't end well. Or can it?

30. Long Live The King

It felt odd to Mina, walking in through the front door.

She was so used to sneaking into Aegis's building, through side doors or Izuku's window. Seeing the organized chaos of the front entrance, the steady streams of costumed heroes and police heading in and out, made her tense up out of habit.

Well, technically she was still sneaking right now, thanks to the disguise projector she was wearing, giving her the appearance of a middle-aged secretary. The fact that Izuku had them, and just didn't use them, was somehow more galling than the fact that he used a hat and sunglasses as a disguise in the first place.

Naturally, Izuku cut right past the lines and the chaos of the lobby, being the founder of the place. Men and women stepped aside as he passed, nodding respectfully and getting an absent-though still genuine-smile in return. Nobody questioned where Atlas was going or why he seemed preoccupied-neither of those things were exactly rare for him. Similarly, nobody paid any mind to Mina in her disguise as she walked at Izuku's side.

The fact that he was in full costume bothered her, on some level. Even as dense, dark green fabric rippled across his chest and the long cape flowed out behind him and his dark metal boots clanked on the floor, she found herself wincing as she imagined what might happen if they were seen in the Depths. At least when she'd brought him there before, he'd been able to hide a little bit. But everyone knew Atlas's costume. Everyone knew him.

Atlas was the costume, in a way. That was the symbol, the beacon that people recognized and rejoiced at-or, if they were the wrong sort of people, despaired at. Maybe that was why it bothered Mina. She'd gotten good at dividing who Izuku was on the job, what he did, the system he enforced on her people, from who he was with her, the soft-eyed, kind man she loved so much. But here, with Izuku wearing the costume he wore every day he terrorized her people, she couldn't do it anymore. She couldn't deny that, on some level, she had betrayed the Depths by loving him, and betrayed them more by helping him.

She found that she was okay with that-even if she wasn't so sure whether her inability to separate Izuku from Atlas anymore was a good thing or not.

Izuku led Mina deep into the bowels of the building, to a small but well-equipped briefing room. The others were already there, waiting for them.

Mina took a deep breath as the door closed behind her. Here it was. Undeniable proof of what she'd done. She was working with the heroes now. It was too late to turn back.

There were four heroes there, and Mina already knew three of them. Ejiro waved, already aware of who she was thanks to Izuku filling him in on the plan. Ochako and Momo exchanged a look, seemingly caught off guard by the secretary walking in next to Izuku.

Mina spared a moment to raise an eyebrow at Momo's hero costume. Well. She hadn't been expecting that. Idly, she recalled the prostitute she and Izuku had seen in the Depths, comparing their outfits in amusement. Then, she gave a mental shrug. Who gave a fuck? They had bigger issues to worry about.

The fourth hero, though, was an enigma. She must be Bloodhound, the one who had called Izuku the night before, but there was…basically nothing distinctive about her. She was wearing a sturdy, all-black tactical outfit, and pretty much the only distinctive feature about her was her mask, which had a slightly pointed snout reminiscent of a dog's below large green goggles. Mina doubted she even needed a disguise to go out in public.

Must be nice.

Bloodhound turned her head to regard Mina with a gaze made unreadable by her mask. "This the guide?" she asked dryly. "Some random pencil-pusher?"

Mina rolled her eyes. Izuku turned to her, but he didn't even have to open his mouth. Mina pressed the top of the projector on her wrist, which deactivated with its signature de-woop sound.

Ochako let out a brief chuckle of surprise, then raised her hand in greeting. "Oh, okay, that makes a lot of sense," she said. "Hi, Mina."

Mina grinned as Momo and Ejiro gave similar greetings. "Not exactly a pencil-pusher," she cracked, turning to Bloodhound.

Out of nowhere, the older hero stood from her seat, her body language tense. "You're working with a mutant," she said, her voice curt and just short of angry.

Mina stiffened. Shit. She knew that tone.

Izuku's expression darkened. "Yes," he said, his own voice equally low and heavy. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Bloodhound's face was hidden behind her mask, but Mina could imagine the hateful sneer spreading across her face. The woman stalked forwards, towards Mina. She stopped short of getting in her face, though, so there was that.

"Depends," Bloodhound replied darkly, turning to meet Mina's eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

Mina blinked, caught off guard. "Excuse me?" she said.

Bloodhound jabbed a finger at her. "You heard me," she snapped. "What did they promise you in exchange for helping them? Money? Freedom? Amnesty?"

Mina's eyes narrowed. Distantly, she was aware of Ejiro rising from his own chair, and of tiny flickers of lightning rising from Izuku's arms. But this? This insult was against her. "You think I'm a snitch?" she hissed. "How dare you?"

Bloodhound crossed her arms. "You just walked in with the Number One Hero to lead him into the Depths, girl," she said. "What else could you be?"

Mina spat, "Shut the fuck up, hero. You don't know anything. None of you abovegrounders do."

Bloodhound scoffed. "I've lived underground all my life, girl," she shot back. "Born and raised here."

Mina's blood was up, and she knew it. She nearly shouted, "I'm his girlfriend, you fucking asshole! He didn't promise me anything for this!"

Izuku winced a little behind her, and Mina promptly shut her mouth. Oops. She sure was good at keeping secrets.

Of course, everyone in the room already knew that, save Bloodhound herself. And, surprisingly, that seemed to catch her off guard. She froze like a deer in headlights for a moment, before finally saying, "Oh."

Mina snorted. "Yeah, "oh," she said. "I'm not betraying the Depths for money or some shit. I'm doing it because I want to help, and so that the man I love comes back alive. Am I clear?"

With that, Mina started to storm past Bloodhound. As she moved, though, Bloodhound replied, "As crystal."

Mina actually paused. Huh. That was nice, at least. "Okay, then," she said, less angry now. She hopped into a seat next to Ejiro, who patted her on the shoulder reassuringly.

Meanwhile, Bloodhound turned to Izuku. In a calmer voice that had an undercurrent of resigned amusement, she asked, "Who else knows that you're dating a mutant from the Depths of all places?"

Izuku gestured at the room. "This is, uh, everybody," he said, conveniently leaving out a certain mayor. That was a shitstorm to handle after their current one.

Bloodhound turned, surveying the trio of other heroes who were coming along on the mission. "I see," she said. "So I can assume my student has no clue?"

Izuku nodded. "Uh, yeah, Professor Aizawa doesn't know," he confirmed. "It's…not something I've really started sharing yet."

Bloodhound snorted. "Well, make sure to keep me informed when you do tell him," she replied. "I've got a nice bottle of wine to share with him so he can bitch about it. Anyway, we should get started."

Izuku nodded, seemingly grateful to move on, and took his seat. Soon, the six of them were planning the mission. Well, Izuku and Bloodhound were really planning the mission, with occasional input from the other heroes. Mina just explained how fucked they were if they were found, really. They'd be walking into more or less every mutant of any danger in the city, between the Outcasts and the Ten Kings. Even if they were tearing each other apart, seeing a hero in the Depths was sure to lead to a fight, or even another incursion war. Beyond that, though, Mina mostly sat there, lost in her own thoughts. Bloodhound's accusation whirled in her mind, mingling with her own slow realization at how deep her own betrayal ran. She'd crossed that bridge, a long time ago. There was no going back, now.

More than that, Mina found herself confused by how Bloodhound had taken her reveal. She'd seemed angry, on a level more deep than professional, about the possibility of Mina being a snitch. Why? She was a hero, she surely made use of snitches and the like herself. Was it just hypocrisy? Was it something else? Nothing was adding up with the Outcasts either. Nobody seemed to know who their leader was, and yet Chojuro Kon himself was about to fight him to the death. Gangs were being toppled, and whatever the Outcasts were, they seemed to have very different goals than simply dominating the illicit trades and smuggling routes of the Depths. What was their plan?

Mina didn't know, and as they got ready to leave, she wondered if she would ever find out.

---

On the day of the duel, the Outcasts left Homeland in a great solemn tide, with Fumikage at their head, Mezou and Tsu standing beside him.

Mezou's attempt to make Tsu stay behind had lasted all of five seconds, as she had simply given him a Look and informed him that, regardless of her mistrust of Fumikage and the Outcasts in general, she would still be coming. She owed it to Mezou, and to Fumikage, to be there.

It was almost like a parade-or a funeral procession. Thousands of people, moving through the tunnels like ants, splitting up and converging again, flowing like water to a single place-the Chasm.

Every organization in the Depths, gangs included, built their bases in the most defensible places possible. The Ten Kings were no exception-and, fitting with their status as the most feared gang of them all, they had chosen a truly unassailable position.

The Chasm ran down the western side of one of the largest and most heavily populated caverns in the Depths, splitting off a tiny fragment of it at the very end from the rest. The Chasm itself was gargantuan-perhaps a mile across at its narrowest point, so large it made the vaunted Rift in the Underground proper look like a crack in the sidewalk. It was much, much deeper than it was wide-so deep, in fact, that it had never been explored properly; nobody knew what lay at the bottom, or how far down it even went. It was an immense gash in the earth, an open wound that tore at the stone flesh of the city. Depths legend had it that nobody had ever returned from falling in-a legend the Kings were happy to encourage, as they had built their stronghold into the cliffs on the far side.

It was a fitting fortress for a man like Chojuro Kon. The honeycomb of lights spreading across the distant cliffside was as imposing as it was beautiful, a reminder of just what Fumikage had put himself up against.

When the Outcasts reached the flat, empty stretch of ground in front of the Chasm, they fanned out to either side, a sea of mutant faces arrayed in front of the immense canyon. The Ten Kings, however, were nowhere to be seen.

A murmur went through the crowd, followed by a cry, as they spotted movement from the fortress on the other side of the Chasm. As if appearing from nowhere, dozens of figures leaped into the air, hovering there with wings or jets or whatever means of propulsion their quirks gave them.

Mezou narrowed his eyes. Flying quirks were rare, even among mutants. To have so many in one place, appearing so obviously…it smacked of a display of power. An intimidation tactic.

As the Outcasts watched, most of the flyers dove down instead of crossing the Chasm, falling out of sight. A few moments later, they reappeared…with a bridge.

It was made of a dozen wooden sections, each one immense and sturdy, that the Kings must have stored on a ledge somewhere within the Chasm. Four Kings carried each one, holding it up with thick cables attached to the four corners of the rectangular pieces. As if they were ants spilling from a nest, the non-flight-capable members of the gang, having gathered on the other side of the Chasm, began to cross the flying bridge, the pieces having snapped together as their comrades lifted them to the appropriate height.

It was an ingenious solution to the difficulty of placing your fortress on the far side of an impassable ravine-one that ensured that the Kings alone controlled who could reach their stronghold. It must have been hellishly hard to carry those things, plus the weight of the whole army, while hovering a hundred feet in the air over an infinite drop, though. Mezou found himself impressed as much by the Kings' strength as their ingenuity.

A few of the flyers, though, didn't stop to retrieve and hold the bridge. A trio of them, flying in a wedge, crossed the Chasm well ahead of their army, landing in front of the Outcasts with practiced ease.

The one on the left flank was the dragon-man who had delivered his boss's message to Fumikage three days earlier. He was wearing the same tight-fitting dark suit, along with what seemed to be his trademark lazy, ominous grin. His counterpart on the right was a man Mezou didn't recognize; he had what looked like miniature jet engines growing from his back, and his face was a mess of scars and exposed circuitry, with one eye glowing red and the other one covered by an eyepatch.

Neither of them drew much attention for long, though, because the man who landed in front of them was Chojuro Kon himself.

Mezou forced down the nerves that rumbled in his stomach at the sight of him. Kon was the most monstrous mutant Mezou had ever seen. The boss of the Ten Kings was a hulking beast, larger even then Kugo. Nearly seven feet tall, with the head of a wolf, thick black dreadlocks, scaly hands with long talons, a dragon's tail, and feathery wings that folded back into place as he landed. He was covered head to toe in thick blue fur, creating an impossible quality to him, like you were looking at something that was an aberration, something that never should have existed.

Kon was alone, save for two bodyguards, and facing an army that would have outnumbered all his forces even if they'd been present. If Fumikage had ordered the Outcasts to attack then, with the Ten Kings still crossing the bridge, they would have destroyed Kon on the spot. And yet, he didn't. Kon sneered at them, never looking away from Fumikage, never even acknowledging that he'd marched right into what could very well have been a trap.

That was the power of Chojuro Kon, of the legend he'd cultivated, of the stories of his strength and brutality that everyone in the Depths knew. He stared down an army, and it trembled a little in fear of him.

Fumikage stepped forwards, and Kon raised an eyebrow. The contrast between them was almost comical. In comparison with the power that Kon seemed to radiate effortlessly, Fumikage looked like a child. And yet, he met the crime lord's eyes evenly, showing no hint of fear. Behind Kon, the steady tramp of feet on wood continued as the Ten Kings neared the end of their crossing.

"So, you actually came," Kon said at last. "I had to admit, I didn't think you would."

Fumikage's expression didn't change, beyond a slight narrowing of his eyes. "Of course I came," he said evenly. "One doesn't turn down an invitation from a legend."

Kon snorted; his frame and wolf's nose gave the sound a force to it that seemed to follow everything he did, every motion he made. "Still," he said. "It takes a special sort of bravery to willingly come to your death. Or a special sort of stupidity."

Fumikage scoffed. "I don't intend to die here," he replied.

Kon bared his teeth. "Well, someone is going to," he said, matter-of-factly. "Let's be clear on that. There's no backing out now, boy. I won't accept a surrender, and I won't give one either. This ends, here and now."

Fumikage closed his eyes, and let out a deep, tired sigh. Mezou and Kamakiri, standing in the front row of the Outcasts around the impromptu arena forming around the two leaders, exchanged a look. They said nothing, made no agreement; there was just simple acknowledgement that both of them had so much to lose here.

Fumikage looked up, and met the eyes of the worst monster in the Depths, a man who had slaughtered his way to power in a place with no law, no higher power, to stop him, to protect his victims. The biggest murderer, kidnapper, and ganster of them all. The kind of vulture who thrived when men and women were forgotten by the systems that should have protected them.

"On that," the former street rat responded, "we agree."

Kon nodded, then stepped forwards, just a step. There were still nearly ten feet between them, and more than three times that between the Outcasts and Fumikage. As the Ten Kings began to reach the end of the bridge, stretching out on either side, the crowds spread and pulled back to a theoretically safe distance, leaving the two men alone in the center of a sea of watching eyes.

For a moment, they just stood there, sizing each other up, alone in the crowd of onlookers, kings with hard eyes and inhuman statures. Something about the moment, about the way Kon stood head and shoulders above every single person present, and yet Fumikage stood before him as an equal, brought to mind half-remembered stories from Mezou's childhood-stories of men in ornate armor, with swords gleaming in the sunlight. A different age. Different men. The same story.

Kon strode towards Fumikage, not yet attacking, not saying a word. With hard, unreadable eyes, Kon made a slow, lazy circle around Fumikage, who stood perfectly still, not reacting in the slightest. Mezou tensed as he got right up close to Fumikage, leaning down to shove his nose into Fumikage's face. Fumikage didn't flinch, even as Kon sniffed disdainfully at him with that wolfish nose, his slavering jaws slightly open. Finally, Kon met his eyes, and chuckled softly, dark and full of deadly promise.

Then, he growled, deep and low. "You may be braver than I thought, but you're still a worm," he spat.

"Then why do you feel the need to come out personally to squish me?" Fumi taunted, a ghost of a grin on his face.

Kon huffed. "Because I fight my own battles," he snapped. "I don't ask others to do what I won't. And besides, you may be a worm…but you've crushed the Claws and the Tunnel Rats as easily as I would squish a grape. You've earned this."

Mezou was pretty sure that that was a dubious honor. For a moment, he wondered why they were bothering with this oddly formal conversation. Then, he realized. They were speaking loud enough to be heard by the assembled armies. This conversation, this strange lull before they tried to tear each other apart…it served a purpose. Both of them were putting on a show, for their own followers, and for their enemy's. This grandstanding was as important to the legends that would be written as the battle itself.

That, too, was practically a tradition in the Depths. In a place with no law, no one to enforce right and wrong, men made their own, as useless as it often felt. This, though-this moment had a weight behind it that nobody was foolish enough to obstruct. Traditions like this, the duel to the death to decide a conflict between groups, were as close as the Depths got to a sacred act, something that could not be touched. If anyone interfered with the fight, they were likely to be torn apart on the spot.

Fumikage smiled mockingly. "I would have thought you'd be glad," he said. "All I've done is clear out your competition."

Kon chuckled darkly. "Oh, make no mistake," he replied, something evil glinting in his eyes. "You've done me a favor there. Once you die, the Ten Kings will be the undisputed masters of the Depths. But you-you're an obstacle. Worse, actually. I know men like you. I've seen them before."

Kon extended one clawed hand outwards, as if gesturing at everything around him.
"Stain," he growled. "Shigaraki. Madmen, both of them. They claimed to have a cause, spread their influence far and wide, but in the end, they were just looking to destroy something. That's easy shit. It's the simplest thing in the world to destroy stuff-I should know. I do it all the time. But the hard shit-that's what's worth doing. And building something? That's the hardest job of all."

Mezou glanced at Fumikage, surprised by Kon's words. He found his long-lost brother staring at Kon with hard eyes, though his expression was considering. If only Kon knew how deeply Fumikage agreed with him.

Kon stared down at Fumikage with death in his eyes. Not hate, not bloodlust-those were too passionate to describe Kon's expression. His words were simple, matter-of-fact; there wasn't rage behind them, or cruelty, or bravado. It was the bare truth, as obvious as death itself.

"That's why I'm going to kill you," Kon said. "You-you're a destroyer. You'll drag every one of your followers to their own annihilation, the way you destroyed the Claws and the Tunnel Rats. The way you're trying to destroy the empire I've built. Well, I'd rather die than let that happen."

Kon turned and nodded to his bodyguard, the one with dragon wings. The man stepped forward into the now-immense clear space between the armies, raising his arm to begin the battle.

Fumikage's eyes were dark. "Your empire," he repeated. "An empire built on kidnapping and stealing and the worst crimes humans can commit. A little corner of a dirty, clawed-out hole that you bought with other people's blood. An empire of corpses."

Kon laughed. "That's what empires are built on, boy," he told Fumikage. "Every single one of them."

Fumikage didn't respond. Darkness oozed over his skin, shadow enveloping him, swallowing him whole as his hands sprouted shadowy claws and his figure became enormous and smoky with power.

The dragon-man let his hand fall, and said, "Begin."

The armies began to stamp their feet in a steady, inevitable beat as Kon charged, a roar erupting from his throat. He seemed to grow as he closed in, his shirt shredding apart as his whole body bulked up. His clawed fist descended, heading straight for Fumikage's fight.

Fumikage blocked it with his forearm, augmented by Dark Shadow's power. Kon recovered instantly, not bothering to try and force his way past Fumikage's guard. He jumped back half a pace to dodge Fumikage's counterattack, then swung again. He moved so fast, even Mezou struggled to follow him.

Fumikage's arms, even bigger around than Kon's thanks to Dark Shadow, stayed up, letting him tank the machine-gun blows that Kon rained down. He could keep up with Kon's speed, but only barely; Mezou could see how Fumikage grit his teeth each time a hammerblow landed, and felt his heart sink.
Fumikage had overwhelming power, especially in such a dark environment. But Kon was powerful in his own right, and had decades more experience than Fumikage. He was a wily, canny fighter, a practiced killer, and a brutal, relentless powerhouse.

Eventually, Fumikage didn't quite block a punch in time, and Kon's fist slammed into his gut, sending him staggering back, gasping for air. Kon grinned, and his next punch was a roundhouse straight to Fumikage's face. Fumikage went flying, landing heavily on the ground. He rose to his feet quickly, but Kon was already on him, fist descending once more to smash him into the ground.

Fumikage, though, was ready. He swayed to one side-and Dark Shadow swayed the other.

Kon's eyes went wide as there were suddenly two bird-headed figures, one made of flesh and the other of shadow, on either side of his fist. He staggered, off balance, and Fumikage re-merged with Dark Shadow in a flash, ramming his fist up and into Kon's gut in return. Before Kon could recover, Fumikage hit him again, and then again. His blows were every bit as overpowering as Kon's, but the crime lord's greater bulk meant he didn't fly quite as far. That was fine, though; it meant Fumikage could rain down blows in rapid succession. Kon gave ground, grunting as he took hit after hit, Fumikage driving him back across the

Fumikage's claws swiped down Kon's face, opening a line of parallel cuts on the side of his muzzle. Finally, Kon managed to regain his footing, and caught Fumikage's next punch by the wrist. Instantly, he hurled Fumikage over his head, slamming him into the ground. Kon swung a massive leg, kicking Fumikage right in the side and sending him skittering across the stone.

For a second, the two men took a breath, feeling the effects of their wounds. Kon's long, snakelike tongue slipped from his mouth to lap at the blood flowing down the side of his face, while Fumikage rose to his feet, clenching his bruised gut.

Kon growled. "Impressive," he said. "But I'm done playing around."

Out of nowhere, he began to bulk up again, his clothes shredding even further, his body contorting as he grew to an impossible nine feet tall, horns curling atop his head as he became an inhuman beast with a hundred different animals mashed together into his monstrous frame.

Fumikage charged, hoping to get to him before he did whatever he was planning, but couldn't make it in time. He soon found himself face-to-face with a fist the size of a battering ram. He tried to block, but Kon moved too fast, and sent Fumikage flying with a punch to the face once again.

Fumikage fought desperately to rise, expecting Kon to be on top of him any moment. Instead, as Fumikage stood up, he found himself staring at Kon from about ten feet away, the man's monstrous jaws wide open as a ball of red energy collected in his mouth.

Fumikage's eyes went wide just as Kon breathed a wave of scorching fire over him, bathing a huge cone in front of him with searing, burning light.

Mezou's eyes went wide as he heard Fumikage scream. He started forward without even realizing it, only to find Kamakiri's elbow-blade barring his path. He looked down in shock, fists clenched. He found Kamakiri's eyes, and was shocked to see his own agony and terror mirrored there. Wordlessly, his teeth gritted, Kamakiri shook his head.

Right. Mezou couldn't interfere. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm. He nodded in thanks to Kamakiri for the save.

"Come on, Fumi," he thought desperately, in agony at watching him get hurt without being able to help. "Get up."

At last, Kon's fire breath ended. Incredibly, Fumikage was still standing. HIs clothes were a little charred and his feathers looked singed, but Dark Shadow still clung to his body. That was a surprise; Mezou knew that the creature was-or had been-weak to light. And yet, the shadows were still thick, despite clearly having taken the brunt of the damage from Kon's fire breath.

Fumikage raised his head. Trembling a little, he spat, "It's…gonna take more than that, Kon."

Kon snorted, and moved again. He charged Fumikage faster than any human could have reacted, claws raking across Fumikage's body as he struck home. Fumikage took the hit, then swung back, but Kon was too fast, when he was pushing his quirk this hard. He knocked Fumikage's punch aside, then tripped him with his tail, sending Fumikage to the ground with a grunt.

Kon stood over Fumikage, kicking away his arms as he tried to plant them to rise. Fumikage was panting, eyes blazing as Kon rolled him onto his back.

"More?" Kon asked, chuckling. "Aye, I can give you more. Let's make your death one for the ages, eh?"

With that, he reared his head back, and the red glow again began to erupt from his mouth. Mezou's eyes went wide as the orb of fire in Kon's jaws grew and grew, burning hotter and brighter with every passing second. Kon roared loudly as it grew, seemingly to the point where it was becoming too much even for him.

Fumikage closed his eyes as Kon lowered his head, and fired straight down at him. The attack that erupted from his jaws was barely even fire anymore, it was so hot and bright and strong. It burned like a laser as it struck Fumikage, making him suddenly disappear. Rock hissed and began to melt along the edges of the beam, stone giving way as the sheer force of Kon's attack carved a rapidly-expanding hole into the ground, right on top of where Fumikage had been.

Finally, Kon's breath ran out, and Mezou saw just how enormous that crater really was. He couldn't even see Fumikage anymore; there was only a hole, surrounded and lined with hissing, still-half-molten rock.

Kon laughed, and fired at whatever was left inside the hole again, filling it with yet more unbelievably powerful fire.

Mezou looked away, heart pounding in his chest. He felt Tsu's hand slip into his. He met her eyes, and she squeezed his hand.

God.

---

As usual, it had taken several hours for Mina to lead the others through the winding maze of tunnels that connected the Depths to the Underground proper, and longer to make their way, unseen, to the Chasm, where Bloodhound's sources had said the fight was supposedly taking place. At last, though, they reached the edge of the cavern unscathed.

Unfortunately, the ledge they emerged onto was still a ways away from the action itself, which was obvious even from this distance. A vast number of people were arrayed on the plain in front of the Chasm, a dark mass of seething humanity so numerous it gave even Mina pause. She'd never seen so many people in one place before. It felt like the whole Depths had come to see the battle between Chojuro Kon and the mysterious leader of the Outcasts.

For all she knew, they had.

With no other option, the heroes had decided to try and stay hidden on the ceiling of the cavern while they observed. Which was how Mina found herself climbing upside down across the jagged, stalactite-studded ceiling of the cavern, melting handholds for herself as she went.

Climbing like this always made her nervous. One mistake, one moment of inattention, and she would fall to her death. That was nothing new, though. She'd spent her whole life on the edge of death, risking everything just for her next meal.

You'd think she'd be used to it by now, really. But nope, dangling over a thousand-foot drop with nothing but your own hands holding you to the rock apparently wasn't something you learned to ignore.

As she crawled across the rough stone, Mina turned her head to find Izuku floating there, a worried look in his eyes. Part of her couldn't help recalling another time when she'd seen his face while dangling upside down over such an enormous drop, in the Rift, all those months ago. How far they'd come since then.

"Fuck off," she told her boyfriend. "I don't need your help."

It was so unfair that he could fly. (Or, apparently, just sorta float, even though he hadn't explained how either of those made sense with his quirk.) Izuku didn't even have the decency to be hurt by Mina's dismissal. He just asked, "Are you sure? It wouldn't be any trouble to give you a ride."

Mina shot him a look. "Look, Izuku, I can do this by myself, alright?" she said. "The only place I ride you is in bed, thank you very much."

Sure enough, that shut him up, making Izuku's cheeks flush bright red. The laughter in her ear probably had something to do with that.

"Now that's a hell of a thing to hear on comms!" Ejiro howled, clearly roaring with amusement.

"I bet Izuku looks like a tomato right now!" Ochako agreed.

"Is this the best use of our earpieces?" Momo demanded with a sigh.

Mina really didn't know why they'd given her one; she certainly hadn't asked for it. But hey, might as well use it to embarrass her boyfriend if she got the chance.

Sadly, her opportunity to do so ended a moment later, when Bloodhound cut in with a no-nonsense voice. "No flirting or innuendo on comms during a mission, people," she snapped, sounding more like her student than ever. "I swear, I'll never understand how you idiots are some of the top heroes in this country."

Mina snorted at that, and again at the chorus of sheepish apologies from Ejiro and the others. To be fair, she didn't blame them for looking for some sort of amusement. It was a slow, painstaking process to make their way across the ceiling, especially for those of them who couldn't float. Even though Ochako had used her quirk on Bloodhound, Momo, and Ejiro, only she and Momo had any propulsion, thanks to ion drives that Ochako had in her boots and that Momo had made on the spot. The other two had to more or less let the women tow them along, bobbing like the world's stupidest balloons. Izuku, of course, could also use his quirk to float, though it still wasn't as fast as Mina could move when she had a clear shot and favorable terrain, hence why she didn't want to ride on his back or something.

Also, she hated the idea of having to make somebody else help her, so. There was that.

Eventually, despite the distractions and the tricky terrain, they drew close enough to the assembled armies to make out details. Mina took up a spot clinging to a particularly nice stalactite, staring down at the figures below. She was most used to the gloomy light than any of them, especially with her apparently-mutant eyesight. The six of them settled in, studying the scene below.

"Looks like we're late to the party," Bloodhound said eventually

Mina nodded. The fight had clearly started already; in fact, it might have ended already, too, judging by the smoldering pit so deep none of them could see who was in it, and Chojuro Kon laughing as he strode away from the wreckage.

"Look at that fucker," Ejiro muttered. "God, what I wouldn't give to hop down there and throw him in Tartarus."

Mina hated the part of herself that agreed wholeheartedly. On the one hand, she hated Chojuro Kon. The man was a monster, a real monster. He had his hands in every single one of the most evil, heinous rackets in the Depths, from human trafficking to Trigger rings. The Ten Kings preyed on the most vulnerable people in the Depths-people like her. And yet…something about Ejiro's voice left her deeply uncomfortable. As far as Mina was concerned, Tartarus was hell on earth. A place like that…it was worse than a good, clean death, if you asked her. And if anyone deserved it, Kon did, but…still.

Izuku made a sympathetic noise, but it seemed aimed at both Mina and Ejiro, and that, too, confused her. It seemed like Izuku himself wasn't quite sure, either.

"So, is the leader of the Outcasts already dead?" Momo asked.

"Looks that way," Bloodhound agreed, her voice cold and businesslike.

Izuku sighed. Turning off his earpiece, he floated over to Mina, apparently sensing her growing disquiet. He asked, "Everything okay?"

Mina stared down at the scene below, at the people crying at the loss of their leader, at the cruel laughter of the victorious gangsters, at the newest proof that the world could never, would never change.

"I…miss my family," she said after a moment. "I haven't heard from Tsu or Mezou in weeks, and I left them in…a bad spot. I hope they're okay."

Especially since they'd been fighting the Outcasts…and now the Outcasts were here.
Izuku nodded. "After this mission, I'll help you find them," he said quietly.

Mina smiled a bit at that, though a new worry promptly cropped up. "They won't like us dating," she warned him. "Or…well, Mezou won't. Tsu approves."

Izuku looked thoughtful. "What's the worst that could happen?" he asked.

Mina raised an eyebrow. "Mezou punches you," she replied. "Repeatedly."

Izuku shrugged. "I can take a punch or two," he said. "Especially for you."

Mina beamed at that. Before she could lean over and kiss him-which she was definitely about to do-Bloodhound's voice came through their earpieces again.

"I said no flirting on the mission, you two," she said dryly.

Izuku flushed, while Mina rolled her eyes. "Deal with it, Grandma," she shot back.

If Bloodhound had a retort, she never got to say it, because a moment later, Ochako's voice came over the comms.

"Uh…guys?" she said. "You…might want to see this."

At the same moment, a great scream erupted from below them, so loud that the heroes all heard it loud and clear. Everyone looked down, including Mina.

"My God," Momo gasped.

Mina's smile died on her face when she realized what she was seeing. In a fraction of a fraction of a second, she was wide-eyed and trembling, her breath coming in frantic, broken spurts as she reeled.

It wasn't possible. It wasn't possible!

Mina came apart. She was twelve years old again, looking up at the face of the first person who'd ever shown her kindness.

She was fifteen, the happiest she'd ever been or ever would be, with a family, people who cared, people to watch her back. Four of them, broken but putting each other back together.

She was eighteen, and losing everything. Waking up screaming, feeling like someone had ripped her heart out, because the boy who had saved her was gone.

She was twenty, and alone again, cutting off the wounded limb to save the rest, burning every bridge she could find so it wouldn't be cut from under her, a wild thing half-feral with the pain of loss.

She was twenty-four, and just when she'd found her smile again, just when she remembered how to love, just when she had hope…

It all came crashing down.

Her fingers slipped from the handholds, and she plummeted from the sky.

Distantly, Mina heard Izuku yell her name. She was falling. Why was she falling? A streak of green lightning was tearing its way across the sky above her, hand stretched out to catch her, trying to reach her before she struck the ground.

She closed her eyes, and whispered, "F-Fumi?"

And then she felt arms around her, and the jarring, cold impact of the stone.

---

At long last, Kon seemed done with whatever sick game he'd played. He stepped away from the hole, his immense physique slowly returning to his slightly less ridiculous normal form. There was no motion from the steaming crater he'd melted into the flat stone.

"Well, then," Kon announced, spreading his arms as he looked at the Outcasts, many of whom were terrified and sobbing at the abrupt death of their leader. "Time to fulfill my promise."

Mezou didn't like the sound of that. He looked at Kamakiri, who had the kind of agony in his eyes that led men to burn down the world. He met Mezou's eyes…and nodded.

"I'll deal with Kon," Kamakiri spat. "You get everyone out of here."

Mezou thought about arguing…but that rage Kamakiri wore so well was familiar. He knew what would happen, knew that Kamakiri would only be buying them time. He said, "Give him hell."

He turned back to get one last look at where his brother had died for the second time, feeling hollow and broken all over again, for good this time.

That meant he was the only one who saw the monster rise from the crater, body boiling with darkness.

Kon must have heard something, because he turned back, still laughing, flush with victory that suddenly turned to ash on his lips. He goggled as two taloned hands larger than Kon's entire body gripped the lip of the crater.

"Impossible," he gasped.

The monster that hauled itself back onto level ground, making cries of joyous disbelief erupt from the Outcasts, was so large it boggled the mind. It was a whirlwind of living shadow, a bird-headed abomination of pure inky darkness with arms the size of cars and a head larger than a building. It was wrapped around what looked like a core of pure shadow, a molten cocoon large enough for a man.

Then, the cocoon split, revealing a very, very pissed off Fumikage Tokoyami gasping for air.

It was impossible, and yet, there he was. His jacket was somehow still intact, though the end of it was visibly smoldering. His whole body was writhing with shadows that clung to him like a second skin, flowing seamlessly up into the body of the monster that, even now, was slowly sinking back into him-though it stayed out, fitting around him like a suit of armor that made him a gargantuan beast.

His eyes were enormous, blank, and yellow-Dark Shadow's eyes. He sneered at Kon, who gaped at him like he'd just seen a ghost.

"My turn," Fumikage said, his voice rumbling with a metallic, guttural undertone that Mezou recognized as the voice of his quirk. He lunged forwards, shadows seeming to erupt into life as he charged. Kon tried to react, but it was useless. A fist the size of an eighteen-wheeler slammed into him before he could do a thing about it. Kon went flying, and Fumikage was on top of him almost before he landed, slamming Kon to the ground and ripping into him with razor-sharp claws.

Kon yelled in pain as Fumikage raked his claws across his chest, opening up deep wounds that quickly stained his fur red with blood. He managed to get an arm free, and swung at Fumikage, only for Fumikage to grab that arm and bend it backwards until the bones shattered. Kon screamed, then, as Fumikage hit him again and again, fists and claws striking home. He thrashed and breathed fire and snapped at Fumikage with his jaws, but it was useless. Finally, he collapsed, unconscious.

Mezou remembered, then, the truth of Fumikage's quirk. The risk with it wasn't not having enough power-indeed, it was by far the strongest quirk Mezou had ever seen-but that using that power came with a corresponding loosening of Dark Shadow's leash. The more Fumikage drew on his quirk, the more he demanded from Dark Shadow, the more freedom Dark Shadow got in return. That was why Fumikage preferred to fight with Dark Shadow as an augmentation rather than letting his quirk do all the fighting alone. It was safer that way. But now, Fumikage had just drawn on more of Dark Shadow's power in one moment than he'd ever done before.
Mezou wondered how much freedom that had just given Dark Shadow…and what he'd do with it. Judging by the way Fumikage raised his hand over the prone Kon, blood-tipped claws glinting with obvious intent, he could predict at least part of it.

Before those claws fell, though, there was a shriek from the Outcasts and Ten Kings alike. Mezou looked up in shock as a meteor wreathed in green lighting suddenly slammed into the cleared space in the middle of the mingled armies. The light faded, revealing a tall, magnificent figure in a green, white, and red costume, with a familiar mop of green hair. Worse, Mezou realized that he was carrying another person-one with even more familiar pink hair and pinker skin.

Fumikage whirled, abandoning Kon's prone body as he recognized the man-or, more accurately, the costume the man wore.

Atlas had arrived.

---

Having landed in a crouch, Izuku set Mina down, hoping desperately that she was okay. He rose to his feet, a little unsteady; he'd pushed himself hard to reach her in time. Thank God for Black Whip, letting him grab her before she hit the ground.

He looked down, and felt his heart shatter. Mina wasn't moving. She was on her knees, seemingly unhurt, thank God, but she was frozen. Tears filled her eyes. Her whole body was shaking, her chest rising and falling as she stared at-

Izuku turned, and saw a dead man standing tall, wreathed in shadow, a stunned look on his face.

Fumikage Tokoyami. The bird head, the shadows-it was him. It had to be. Mina had told Izuku exactly what he looked like…though he'd never expected to see him.

Let alone at the head of an army.

Somewhere beneath the shock and disbelief and terror, Izuku became aware of just where he was standing. All around him, there were mutants, staring at him, at the costume he wore. Men and women with shocked, terrified eyes, scarcely breathing, barely moving. All of them, Kings and Outcasts alike, united in sheer, heart-stopping fear of the titan who had landed in their midst, like a monster from a nightmare.

Izuku's breathing got shallower. This was bad. Very bad. He and Mina had fallen into the middle of an army, prepared to attack at a moment's notice. They were separated from backup, exposed, and completely vulnerable. Mina was out of it, unresponsive and barely moving, just staring at the man who had returned from death, the man she owed her life to.

And Fumikage was stepping forward, the confusion in his eyes slowly giving way to a grim hardness, tempered with a rage that Izuku knew all too well.

"Atlas," Fumikage said in a deep, sonorous voice. "What are you doing here?"

Izuku looked around, recalling what Mina had said. These people wanted her dead. Because of him. They hated him, and because of it, she was in danger. She loved him, and her once-savior, the first person she'd ever trusted, wanted to kill her for it.

Izuku felt anger, deep anger, slip over him like an all-too-familiar coat, icy and cold and utterly irresistible. If he'd had the brainpower to waste on fear, he would have felt it at that coldness-because the last time he'd felt it had been when Tomura Shigaraki had died at his hands.

They wanted to hurt Mina. Fumikage, the man who had made her cry when she thought he was dead, wanted to hurt her.

He already had. By coming back, he'd broken her heart. That thought, that knowledge, was what made him make his choice.

Izuku smiled, like he always did in a fight. But this smile would never see the light of the aboveground sun. It was bloody and hateful and half-feral, a rictus grin that promised destruction.

Fumikage growled, monstrous features overwhelming his own face, exaggerating angles and weapons tenfold as his frame swelled with shadow. Distantly, the huge blue-furred lump of Kon's body stirred, ever so slightly.

"He wants a show, does he?" Izuku thought. "Well, I'll give him one. Keep him-keep all of them-focused on me. Only me. Don't let them look away. Give Mina time to escape."

"For you," Izuku answered, his voice loud and undeniable, his eyes locked on Fumikage. Then, he reached deep, and called on the well of power that hummed just beneath his skin. One For All answered like an old friend.

Lightning. An unimaginable fountain of green, crackling electricity, erupting from Izuku's body, screeching with power as his grin turned deadly. He glowed with light as he pushed higher and higher, the ground beneath his feet seeming to shudder as he summoned more strength, flaring outwards as his human form was eclipsed by thunder. The dim cavern was lit bright as day in a flash, cast in an unearthly glow by a man-made green sun. It whirled around him like a hurricane, the sheer force of his presence making the ground shake and the air crackle.

The sudden explosion of light broke whatever spell had been cast over the assembled armies. A chorus of terrified shrieks erupted from thousands of throats as people scrambled backwards, stampeding in a desperate attempt to flee that terrible light, to flee Atlas himself. Others started forward, deadly purpose plain in their eyes. The whole scene threatened to devolve into chaos.

Until Fumikage raised a hand, shadowy claws immense and smoky as they hung in the still air. As if by magic, things calmed again; even the Ten Kings obeyed, awestruck by the sight unfolding in front of them.

Who could blame them? It was something out of a storybook. A man challenging evil personally, a declaration of war in the most personal, brutal, truthful way imaginable. A man looking a demigod in the face, and refusing to back down.

People backed up more at Fumikage's gesture, retreating further to get out of the way. The ring of cleared space that had been an arena became a battlefield in an instant, an order of magnitude larger than it had been.

This was no longer a battle between kings. This was something more, something greater and more terrible.

Soon, there was nobody left close to Izuku. Nobody, that is, save two people.

Mina still didn't move, kneeling helplessly behind Izuku, frozen and crying in disbelief at what her eyes told her. If she understood what Izuku was about to do, how far he was willing to go to keep her safe, she didn't show it. She just lay there, broken by the weight of everything she'd suffered.

Fumikage, too, didn't flee. He barely even flinched. His-or perhaps Dark Shadow's-eyes, enormous and yellow, only narrowed as the lightning storm surrounding Izuku grew stronger. He stepped forward into the light, and Izuku's half-baked theory about a potential weakness fizzled as he barely seemed to react. Then again, perhaps even the sun meant nothing down here, in such pure, total black. Only a tiny portion of the cavern was lit up by Izuku's lightning, after all-it was far outweighed by the sheer darkness of the Depths.

"Well, then," Fumikage said, his voice cold and stern and unafraid, his body contorted and armored in monstrous shadow, "come and get me, Atlas."

Izuku turned one last time, and met Mina's blank, hopeless stare. She was sobbing now, barely even seeming to care. He thought he saw her mouth the word "Fumi?"

He set his jaw. "I'm…sorry," he whispered, not knowing whether she could even hear him or not.

Then, he turned back, and became a bolt of lightning surging through the deep, straight towards Fumikage, his face a mask of rage and bitter vengeance.

Fumikage met his blow, and the battle for the Depths began.

Izuku started off with a flurry of punches, testing Fumikage's defenses. The man had just been in another fight; surely, he'd be weakened and tired, at a heavy disadvantage. But to his shock, Fumikage seemed to move gracefully, responding quickly and powerfully to every punch Izuku threw.

And he was fast. Very fast. With such a bulky mass of dark, shadowy energy flowing around him, Izuku had expected him to be clumsier, but Fumikage moved as if all that shadow weighed nothing at all. It certainly didn't feel that way when Fumikage swiped out with his claws and caught Izuku off guard, though.

Izuku slowly drove Fumikage back, forcing him to backpedal to avoid thunderous kicks and punches. Nobody interfered. None of the Outcasts tried to protect their leader. Why was that? Were they that terrified of Izuku?

Or did they think Fumikage didn't need their help?

After the initial exchange, Fumikage and Izuku each took a few steps back, studying each other cautiously. Blood trickled from a cut above Izuku's eye; Fumikage's plumage was ruffled and buckled oddly along one cheek, his version of a severe bruise.

The light in Fumikage's eyes was undimmed; if anything, it was gleaming brighter than it ever had before, eager and bloody-minded. All around them, the slow, steady beat of the Outcasts could be heard. They did nothing but watch; the few glimpses Izuku caught of their expressions seemed awestruck, as if they were witnesses to a duel between gods.

Izuku studied Fumikage carefully, maintaining a tight grip on One For All. Fifty percent had proved ineffective; Fumikage's shadows were too strong, too quick, too dense to do any real damage. Sixty percent might not do it, either. This man was no fake, and no coward, either; he was a force, even if he seemed to have no formal combat training.

Still…the higher he went, the greater the risk of collateral damage. And Mina was still kneeling, defenseless, on the ground behind him.

"Tell me," Fumikage demanded, face partially obscured by shadowy features that were not his own. "Are the stories they tell about you true?"

Izuku's eyes narrowed, the hum of lightning all around his body getting louder. "What stories?" he asked, voice flat and professional. Even as he spoke, he used his opponent's desire to talk mid-battle against him, leaping mid-sentence to deliver a devastating roundhouse kick faster than the eye could see-

Fumikage just took the blow, grunting as layers of shadow covered his side just before Izuku's kick connected. He swayed effortlessly, avoiding the follow-up punch aimed at his head, then counterattacked, forcing Izuku to leap backwards to avoid deadly swipes from dark claws. Fumikage kept on the pressure, not letting Izuku think, forcing him to only react. He closed in, shadowy limbs blurring as they moved faster and faster.

"He's good," Izuku thought, impressed. He had wondered whether Fumikage would be too reliant on long-distance fighting, relying on his overwhelming power to crush opponents before there was any risk to his person. But it seemed he had figured out how to use that strength in hand-to-hand fighting, too.

At last, Izuku changed tactics. As skilled as Fumikage was, he couldn't possibly match up against the unstoppable power of One For All. So the next time one of Fumikage's hands descended, claws outstretched, Izuku caught it.

Surprised, Fumikage tried to pull back, but Izuku's grip was unbreakable. Having pinned his opponent down, Izuku grinned, pulling back his other arm for a mighty blow-

Only for Fumikage to do the same thing, grabbing his fist, turning the battle into a straight-up contest of strength. And to Izuku's shock, it was even. Shadows burned around Fumikage's fist, as if the darkness of the cavern itself was coming to his aid. It coalesced and swirled, fighting back the lightning that tore it apart, withstanding the force of Izuku's blows with shocking ease.

He poured on more of One For All, passing seventy percent, but Fumikage just chuckled through gritted teeth as Izuku's grip tightened, lighting flashing all around. Their feet dug into stony ground, their whole bodies straining as they searched for any advantage.

"The stories we whisper about you, like you're some sort of demon," Fumikage said, answering Izuku's question. "You're like a myth to us. A legend. The man who killed Tomura Shigaraki could be nothing else."

Izuku flinched, eyes going wide, and Fumikage struck at the moment of weakness. Izuku could only grunt as he was suddenly slammed down into the stone, Fumikage's body boiling as shadows warped and bubbled off his form, bearing down on Izuku with more and more weight.

"H-how do you know about that?" Izuku demanded, gasping for breath.

Fumikage smiled. "How could we not?" he replied. "Shigaraki tried to recruit us, tried to make us into his weapons to tear you down. We refused-you should die on our terms, not his. But still, that man was the most powerful fighter anyone had ever seen-and you destroyed him. Or so they say, anyway. So, tell me, Atlas…"

Fumikage leaned in close, until his gleaming eyes were inches from Izuku's face. His voice was brutal and guttural as he demanded, "Are you as good as they say?"

Izuku groaned, feeling his ribs creaking. Seemingly frustrated by a lack of response, Fumikage drove a massive fist into his gut, then another.

That left Izuku's arms less pinned than they had been, though, and that made him grin. He brought them up to smash into the sides of Fumikage's head, sending him reeling and letting Izuku leap up and drive a knee into the underside of his chin. Fumikage shot backwards, shouting in pain as Izuku regained his feet.

As always, Izuku was smiling, but it was a tempered grin now, made more vivid, more brutal than usual, thanks to how much fun he was having. It was an unpleasant truth, maybe, but he couldn't deny it; fighting like this, being able to truly go all-out, was just plain exhilarating. Judging by the way Fumikage's grin was equally bloody as he shook his head to clear it, he thought the same.

"So you want to know what kind of strength it took to beat Shigaraki? Why don't you come find out?" Izuku taunted through gritted teeth, the lightning around him getting brother and stronger until his body was on the verge of disappearing into it, a shining sun turning all the world green. Eighty percent. Ninety percent. He didn't dare think of Mina, huddled on the ground behind him, staring at them both with unseeing eyes full of tears. Her soft, broken sobs were sinking into his mind; if he looked back at her, he would falter. And Fumikage would not hesitate.

Fumikage grinned even wider. "Gladly," he answered. "I'll prove to them once and for all that that's all you've ever been: a story. A fiction for the abovegrounders to cling to. A way to make them less afraid of the justice that's coming for them."

This time, when they clashed, Fumikage's quirk armored him so thickly that he was as big as Muscular had been, all those years ago. But in the end, Izuku had beaten Muscular easily, eclipsing him entirely. This…this was harder. Much harder. Fumikage was just too fast, too strong, too tough. He moved as if he were a shadow, as if every iota of darkness was his ally. He was in his element here, with no light at all to drive him back. Izuku, by contrast, was unprepared, off-kilter, hampered by Mina's presence, and literally out of his depth.

But still, the force of their next collision was so powerful it nearly blew several Outcasts over the edge of the Chasm. Only Ibara's quick reactions with her vines caught them. She hunkered down like all the rest of them, watching in awe as Fumikage went toe-to-toe with the most powerful man Japan had ever seen.

Once again, Izuku changed tack. Trying to distract Fumikage, he asked, "What's the point of all this, anyway? Destroying the gangs, accumulating power?"

Fumikage snorted. "It's not about power," he replied as he swayed and ducked, easily avoiding or blocking every attack Izuku threw at him. "It's about getting rid of the predators that hunt and harm the people, so they can have a better chance at life."

Izuku snorted. "Sure it is," he shot back. "And they'd have this better life under you, I assume? You're making yourself king?"

Fumikage shook his head as he took another punch, staggering for a moment before throwing himself back into the fight. "God, no," he laughed. "I want a real government down here, since the one that holds your leash doesn't give a flying fuck about us. I want the Depths to be run by mutants, not fought over by warlords or invaded by heroes like you. I want everything you've denied us."

Izuku blinked, caught off guard. That was…not what he'd thought Fumikage would say, at all. Fuck, the man sounded almost reasonable. Or at least, he would have, had he not been trying to kill Izuku at the moment.

Fumikage's eyes glinted in amusement as he saw confusion flit across Izuku's face. "Oh, you weren't expecting that, were you?" Fumikage asked, sneering as he shoved Izuku back. "You thought I'd be a monster, a one-note song with darkness on my lips and nothing but death in my eyes."

Caught off guard, stumbling, Izuku blurted out, "I didn't-"

Fumikage cut him off with a fist to the jaw, sending him reeling. "You did. You do," he said, voice dark and gravelly as Izuku rose to his feet, spitting blood onto the ground. "I know what you must have thought. You're so used to being the unquestioned good in the story, you forgot what it's like to compromise. You forgot that the real world isn't always so cut and dry. You forget how complex people are."

Izuku spat out blood, and narrowed his eyes. "I've seen men like you before," he responded, thinking of Overhaul, of Shigaraki, of Re-Destro, of All For One. "I know what you are. I know what you do. Murder and mayhem aren't the tools of someone who wants to build a better future. You aren't a good person."

Fumikage didn't argue. By contrast, he smiled, wry and bitter. "And you are?" he shot back. "They say that good men can do bad things. So the opposite must be true, too, right? Bad men can do good things. Does that make us good men? Does it make the things we do bad?"

Izuku scowled. "Do not compare us," he spat, surging forwards again, only to have his blow absorbed harmlessly by Fumikage's shadowy armor. "You and I are nothing alike."

Fumikage counterattacked, but Izuku grabbed his wrist, once again turning the battle into a grappling contest. "Of course we aren't," Fumikage scoffed as they strained against each other. "I've lived my whole life down in the dark and the damp, and you've spent all that time under the open sky, basking in the sunlight my people have been denied. I've killed countless people to get where I am; you only had to kill one man for the whole world to love you, because you let them ignore the problems they caused."

Izuku felt ice run through his veins. Caught off guard, it was easy for Fumikage to slam him to the ground, then hurl him twenty feet. He landed with a grunt, barely avoiding the followup attack as he rolled out of the way. Scrambling to regain his footing, he gasped, "That's not how it went!"

Fumikage smiled lazily. "I'm sure you tell yourself that. But I don't hide from the dark like you do," he said, stalking towards him, long coat seething with darkness, the barest twitches of his limbs and eyelids revealing the sheer strain he was under. Izuku got the sense that Fumikage was now waging two battles-one against him, and one against whatever monster lived in his head. He didn't look quite sane as he spat, "You want so badly to be pure, to be certain that whoever you need to hurt today is the real evil. So you look desperately for the "truth," as if there's a single fact, some awful revelation about me that will settle your conscience and reassure you that you really are the good guy, after all. Well, there is no secret. I wear every compromise on my skin; I am not ashamed of the choices I've had to make, the mistakes that I carry with me. I am here, I am flawed, and I will destroy every lie you've ever clung to. I'll start with the lie that you were ever in the right."

Izuku reeled from that, but he still had lightning in his blood. He was still a hero. He was still the wielder of One For All.

"Fine," he thought. "No more holding back."

One hundred percent. The world went green, the thunder of Izuku's heartbeat pounding in his ears as sheer force bore down on him. Going all out with One For All was like holding a lightning bolt in your hand-you knew you weren't controlling anything, you were just the momentary diverter of a stream of power so unimaginably beyond you it was laughable to think you could contain it.

Izuku surged forwards, barely conscious of moving as power howled in his bloodstream. He broke through Fumikage's guard, feet planted, hips twisting, right arm curling up and inward for an unimaginably powerful uppercut.

He let himself grin with satisfaction. Plus. Ultra.
Just before it connected, he saw Fumikage's face. There was fear there, fear and shock and genuine surprise. He hadn't been expecting it.

Izuku had him.

The punch connected, sending Fumikage flying into the sky. Izuku felt bones shatter beneath his fist. Before he had time to process, he leaped into the sky, soaring up even as Fumikage reached the absolute apex of his impromptu flight.

This time, Izuku got an even better look at the sheer terror on Fumikage's face as lightning filled the world, swirling around Izuku's fist as he brought it down. He saw himself reflected in Fumikage's eyes; a demon with pupiless, electric green eyes, writ in lightning, wearing a costume that had promised him nothing but pain and suffering and cruelty his whole life. A monster.

His punch connected, and Fumikage was launched back down to the ground with enough force to blast a huge crater into the ground. Izuku smiled in grim satisfaction.

He landed with ease, just above Fumikage, who was, somehow, still awake, still fighting. Izuku wrapped a hand around his throat, and hauled him up to his feet, choking and spitting.

"You lose, villain," he said.

Fumikage spat at him, fighting ferociously, but uselessly.

Izuku took a deep breath, then another, his grip ironclad around Fumikage's throat. He'd gotten cocky, and nearly lost that fight. He looked around…

And realized Mina was staring right at him, the barest spark of life back in her eyes. She looked horrified.

Instantly, Izuku felt sick to his stomach. God. He…he was exactly what she'd accused him of being.

This…this wasn't heroic. Not at all.

His grip loosened.

That one action, the slightest twitch of his fingers, was all it took. Fumikage tore himself free of Izuku's grip, gasping for air that came right back out as a hysteric, mad laugh.

Izuku turned, just in time for Fumikage's claws to rake across his chest, sending him stumbling back, blood welling up from beneath his costume.

Fumikage chuckled as he rubbed at his throat and Izuku regained his feet. "That," he hissed, a hateful grin on his face. "That right there is the difference between us. You have the luxury of hesitating, the freedom of second thoughts. I never have."

Izuku wasn't fast enough to dodge the next punch. It hit like an eighteen-wheeler, sending him flying. He felt ribs crack as he slammed into the stone.

Fuck. This was bad. How the hell was he losing? Why had he hesitated?

He knew. He didn't want to admit it, but he knew. This was Mina's brother. She was kneeling somewhere in this field, watching with eyes that barely saw. Fumikage's words…they could have come from her lips. They tore at him, got into his head, his heart. No matter how he fought them, how he tried to fortify his own will to fight, they nagged at him, a thousand cuts in the blindfold he'd worn for a decade.

It was slipping. He knew what he was doing. Was this why he'd become a hero?

Was winning this fight even heroic?

The little quirkless boy he'd been, that part of him would always be, was listening to Fumikage. That…that was what scared him, more than Fumikage's strength or the army that surrounded them with hushed voices and wide eyes.

Izuku staggered to his feet once more. "What you want is…is fair," he admitted, scraped raw of pretense by pain and fear and worry. "I know that. I know how broken this world is. But I can't condone what you're doing-"

Fumikage punched him in the gut again, driving the wind from his lungs. "HOW ELSE?" he shouted, his voice raw and bloody as something snapped in him, some tether, some veneer of calm. Beneath it, there was an ocean of seething rage, an endless fire that burned in his heart, erupting as he battled the living embodiment of his own oppression. "How else am I supposed to find justice? You won't let us have it any other way! How else am I supposed to lead my people to something better? This violence-your violence-is all they've known! All I've known!"

Izuku staggered back, raising his arms to defend himself. Fumikage struck him again, sending him to the ground.

"You," he snarled, standing over Izuku, "have no right to judge me. You don't get to decide what form our justice takes, abovegrounder. You don't get to soften it, to decide what is acceptable for us to do when we want things to change. You do not have the monopoly on righteous violence just because you say you do. I am not doing this for you. I don't give a fuck if you don't want me to destroy the whole rotten system you protect. I'm doing this for us."

"There has to be a peaceful way to solve this!" Izuku insisted, fighting his way to his feet, dodging another swipe of those deadly claws.

Fumikage slowed, just for a second. "Maybe there is," he admitted softly. "But I can't find it. I tried. I really did. For years, I wished there was a way for things to change without fighting. But I'm done waiting, done putting my faith in people who hate me. You're years too late to convince me that the Underground deserves anything but destruction, Atlas. Too many years, and too many dead friends."

With that, Fumikage's expression firmed up again, and he attacked. Izuku was rapidly exhausting himself, accumulating wounds, and losing the will to fight. Most of all…he still couldn't get the image of Mina's horrified eyes out of his mind.

The next time he managed to land a punch that staggered Fumikage for a second, Izuku stumbled back, breathing hard.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked softly. "Why are you willing to tell me so much?"

Fumikage smiled thinly, eyes burning with hate as he attacked once again. "Why?" he repeated, sounding amused. "Why, because it doesn't matter. Because my quirk and my identity and my life don't matter to you, and they never have. Because, if I let you, you would kill me and go back to your pretty, golden life aboveground, and never feel the slightest bit of guilt over it. Because nothing I could ever tell you could stop me from tearing down the whole world you've dedicated your life to preserving, all while you watch. Because I want you to feel the weight of every decision you've ever made that kept us down here, and understand that what I'm doing, what I want, is justice. Because I'm going to kill you, Atlas, and I want you to know why before I do."

The next swipe of Fumikage's claws dug even deeper into Izuku's flesh. He yelled in pain as he fell.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't win this fight. He looked behind him. Somehow, his back was to the Chasm. Fumikage had forced him all the way back to the very edge of the bottomless drop. There was nowhere to go.

Izuku closed his eyes. This wasn't how he'd wanted to go out…and the fact that Mina was there made it worse.

He fucking hated this world, sometimes.

Out of nowhere, there was a blur of motion from the corner of his eye, a blur of pink and gold.

---

Mezou barely even watched the battle between Atlas and Fumikage. His focus was entirely on Mina.

God, why was she here? What was she doing with Atlas? Had he taken her? Was that why they hadn't been able to find her?
She was staring at Fumikage as he battled Atlas. She…she hadn't known, had she? What must be going through her head right now?
Mezou moved before he was even aware of it, making a beeline straight for Mina. He had to get her out of here. He had to make sure she was safe.

A familiar elbow-blade shot out in front of him, barring his path.

It took every bit of strength and willpower Mezou had to stop him from murdering Kamakiri on the spot. He looked at the man, unsure if he should threaten him or plead with him.

Kamakiri looked up at him, and at Tsu, who was glaring at him, too. Softly, he said, "You have to stay here."

"You can't stop us," Tsu spat. "Mina is family. She needs someone to help her."

Kamakiri's jaw tensed. He looked away from them. "I have my orders," he said firmly.

"Fuck your orders," Tsu snapped. She pushed past Mezou, but Kamakiri stopped her, too. There was a deadly look in his eye.

Tsu opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Mezou stepped forward. He had seen something in Kamakiri's eyes, something he'd never seen there before.

Hesitation

"Kamakiri," Mezou said, his voice low and soft even as thunder shook the world and lightning cast an eerie green glow over everything. "Please. That's our sister over there. Fumikage's sister."

Kamakiri swallowed heavily. "Fumikage told me to make sure you stayed put," he replied. "Besides, she came with Atlas, or did you miss the part where he was carrying her?"
Of course Mezou hadn't missed it. But he spat, "I don't care what she was doing with him, she's family. Please, Kamakiri. Let us help her."

Kamakiri's elbow blade was shaking. He looked unsure. It was the most torn, the most human, Mezou had ever seen the man.

Softly, he said, "You can choose, Kamakiri. It'll be okay. Please, just let us pass. Fumikage will understand."

The shaking got worse. Kamakiri clenched his fist…and the blade retracted with a shink sound.

"Go," he whispered. "Save her."

Mezou felt more grateful to the man then than he ever thought he would. He and Tsu surged past him, running towards Mina.

But they were too late. To their horror, she was gone, moving in a blur-towards where Fumikage had cornered a bleeding, fallen Atlas against the sheer drop of the Chasm. Mezou watched her go with horror in his eyes.

No.

---

Mina felt like she wasn't in control of her own body as she came to a stop, standing tall, eyes fierce, between the man she loved and the boy who had saved her life. Her heart was an earthquake in her chest. Her lips were dry. She couldn't speak.

She didn't know how she'd moved, or what had caused her to do it. Some part of her had fought its way free of that broken, empty place where she could only watch, dead to the world. Some part of her, so deep she didn't know how to reach it again, had chosen. She'd watched Izuku hit the ground, and something in her had come unraveled. There had only been a wordless scream in her mind, only the overwhelming command to move.

And move she had, with a ferocity and speed fueled by agony and heartbreak. And now she was staring into the face of a dead man and feeling herself being torn to shreds.

Fumikage looked at her with shock in his eyes. Horror dawned on him as he realized who she was. What she'd done, by putting herself between him and Atlas in front of the Outcasts.

"M-Mina?" he whispered, nearly staggering. His eyes were wide and pained, six years of unspoken words clogging his throat.

Mina was in a place so far beyond pain that there was nothing left to break inside her, nothing left to burn. She was empty, hollow, cold. Ash, floating in the wind. In a voice with no emotion at all-for if there was, she would start sobbing-she said, "Fumi."

For a long moment, they stood there, frozen, surrounded by an army that did not speak. They were watching. Waiting.

"What are you doing here?" Fumikage asked at last. As if they had just run into each other by chance on the street.

Mina's eyes grew grim. She heard Izuku groan behind her, trying to rise. She didn't dare look back at him. Her gaze was locked on Fumikage.

"What I have to," she answered.

Fumikage's expression darkened, ever so slightly. "You're protecting him," he said. It wasn't a question. He knew Mina too well to ever need to ask. She nodded anyway.

Fumikage asked the only question that mattered. "Why?"

Mina took a deep breath. Then another. "Because someone should," she said softly. "Because it's right."

"It's not right," Fumikage hissed. "He can't get away with what he's done. He can't be allowed to walk away from this! Finally, we have a chance for change, Mina! For revenge!"

"I don't care," Mina said. Her voice was cracked, breaking like glass, but firm. She did not move, even as the darkness coiled around Fumikage, armoring him.

"Why?" he repeated. "He's a hero, Mina! The hero! Everything they've done to us, everything they mean-"

"I know what they mean," Mina interrupted. "I know what they do. But dammit, YOU CAN'T HAVE THIS ONE!"

Fumikage paused, stunned by Mina's sudden shout. Mina stood tall, between Izuku's mangled body and the first person she'd ever trusted. Refusing to move.

"This one," she hissed, "is mine. I don't care what he is. I don't care what he's done. He. Is. Mine. I love him, dammit. And you can't have him."

Fumikage looked her in the eye, and Mina couldn't read his expression. For the first time she could remember, Fumikage really, truly scared her. She saw a thousand things in his eyes-hate and pride and horror and love. She doubted even he knew what he felt.

"Please, Mina," he begged. "Don't do this. Not here. Not now."

Mina's golden eyes were alive in the dark as she spat, "You can't stop me. You know you can't."

Mina had always been stubborn. From the day a dark-feathered boy lifted her from the garbage and gave her a home, she had been more immovable than the earth itself when she set her mind to it. There was an inevitability to her, like she could stand in front of an onrushing train and force it to get out of the way.

But Fumikage had that inevitability, too. With an army at his back, watching his every move, he had to have it. And when he opened his eyes again, it was the leader of the Outcasts who stood in front of Mina.

"You know how this will end," he said in a voice that was a plea, a desperate cry for things to change. But they could not. Sometimes, there's only one way for the story to end. "You know what I'll have to do."

Mina nodded. Her throat was dry. She was out of options. Izuku was horribly injured. The other heroes were too far away to help-and they didn't stand a chance against the Outcasts. She stood alone against an army. Alone against Fumi. She knew.

Fumikage opened his eyes, and Mina saw him teeter, saw him hesitate. For a moment, he was nothing more than a boy again, the one who'd been her home. One last time, he whispered, "Please."

And Mina, with all the spite and bitterness she had stored in her hateful soul, with every last drop of venom, every speck of rage, every boiling moment of her shitty, rotten, too-short life, answered, "No."

---

There is a fragment of a second of frozen time when the world ends. When all the lies and desperate fantasies shatter, when all that is left standing is the cold, bitter, hateful truth. There is a moment when a king can no longer deny his crown, any more than the monster can deny her heritage.

It isn't often that you can see the moment a person's heart breaks. It's there for a fraction of a fraction of a moment-like dew on spider silk, twinkling, dying, fading-and then it disappears. And once it's gone, what remains is something new.

And we all live with the consequences.

---

Fumikage struck without warning. An arm of pure, inky, seething blackness whirled out, wrapping around Mina's neck in an instant. Her eyes went wide as her airway was cut off; she kicked uselessly, frantically, at Fumikage's legs, hands grasping the shadowy claws closed on her throat.

Fumikage stepped to the edge of the Chasm, dangling Mina out over that infinite black. She kicked harder, legs frantically moving, all for naught.

Fumikage's eyes were shattered, betrayed, haunted. He looked horrified and hateful and so, so angry. But when he spoke, his voice was cold as ice.

"I did this for you," he said. "Because of you. So no more of us grow up the way you had to. I don't know if you've forgotten…but I haven't. I can't."

Mina shook her head, panic and fear and hurt overriding all thought. There was a pleading look in her eyes as her lips moved wordlessly, her air running out. There was something loose and howling in her heart.

Suddenly, there was movement. A surge of protective green lightning, a howl of bloodlust and rage and fury from below. Izuku, somehow, pushed beyond pain and exhaustion and his own broken body, erupting upwards with a glowing, sparking fist, forcing himself upwards for one last desperate shot. Mina felt her heart skip a beat.

Dismissively, Fumikage batted Izuku's attack away with his free hand, barely even acknowledging the effort. Green lightning bounced harmlessly off his shadow-armor, and the force of his counterattack sent Izuku staggering backwards, right to the edge of the Chasm.

With a look on his face that was half dismissive and half victorious, Fumikage raised a booted foot, and planted it right in Izuku's sternum.

He tipped backwards, over the edge, and fell without making a sound, like a falling star in fading green light, and was gone.

Mina felt something in her chest shatter, something irreparable, irreplaceable. A screaming whirlwind erupted inside her, replacing everything else in an instant. She had no air left to scream, but she did it anyway. Some awful noise escaped her, and she pummeled any part of Fumikage she could reach with her vanishing strength. Tears coursed freely down her cheeks. Her whole body shook, golden eyes cracking like mirrors.

Fumikage looked up at her, and for a moment, the inhuman, solid eyes of Dark Shadow pulled back, revealing the horror and the loathing on Fumikage's face. There was softness beneath them-so very far beneath them. The last crumbs of what they had been.

"Please," Mina mouthed. She didn't know what she was begging for. Death, maybe, or mercy, or for Izuku to rise from the Chasm like the hero he was. For Fumikage to be the boy who had once saved her, given her a home. Who made her feel safe.

The only answer was silence.

The moment ended. Darkness fell over Fumikage's features once again. Loud and merciless, he declared, "Go on, then. Join your hero."

A moment later, in a softer, quieter voice-for Mina and Mina alone-he added, "I'm…sorry."

And then he let go.

Mina didn't make a sound as she plummeted down, down, down into the endless dark of the Chasm. She fell silently, dropping away into the black, and Fumikage felt Mina's golden eyes tear him to pieces as they vanished into the void.

Then she closed them, and let the rasp of sand on stone drown out everything else.

---

Fumikage stood at the edge of the Chasm, staring down into the hateful deep, for a heart-breaking, frozen moment. Then, he turned, and strode back towards the assembled armies. They watched him in silence, half stunned and half worshipful. He reached the nearest Outcasts, and they slowly, hesitantly reached out to touch him, hands trembling as they grabbed at his clothes, as if trying to prove that he was real. A sea of humanity, hushed and crying-until the screams of joy began.

He refused to let himself cry. The grief, the hatred, the broken man he had become-he pushed it all away. None of it mattered. Here, now, the people who did were cheering. They were chanting his name. Grown men and women were weeping, screaming in excitement, staring at him in awe. The Ten Kings were cheering, too.

Chojuro Kon had hauled himself into a half-sitting position, and he swallowed heavily as Fumikage walked towards him. Even surrounded by the crowd, it was easy-they pulled back from him, like a living organism yielding to him.

Fumikage looked down at the brutalized wreck of one of the most feared men the Depths had ever seen, his face utterly impassive. Kon met his eyes, proud to the end, fire burning in those wolfish eyes.

But it was a different sort of fire, now. Kon had an unmistakable look in his eye; the look of a man who had seen God. Or, perhaps, had seen God die.

Fumikage was so far beyond agony now, he had found a place of cool, icy calm. There was no point to hurting. It would change nothing. He had done what he had done, and this had never been about him. It was about his people, the ones he had sworn to lead and heal.

Fumikage told Kon, "So. Shall we continue?"

Kon swallowed heavily, his enormous chest rising and falling, rising and falling. Then, he chuckled.

"Boy," he said. "You just killed Atlas."

Fumikage ignored the stab of pain that the words brought him. His only response was a nod.

Kon's chuckle died away; he still had that look in his eyes. The look of a man not sure if he should fall to his knees in worship or run away screaming. Fumikage knew that look, knew it far better than he'd ever wanted to.

Slowly, agonizingly, Kon rose to his feet, blood flowing freely from his wounds. His bodyguards went to help him, but he raised a massive paw, and they backed down. With a grunt of effort, Kon stood, towering over Fumikage. He was an immense behemoth, a demon in flesh and fur.

And, without saying a word, he sank to his knees, and knelt. He bowed his head, and said, "You win, Leader of the Outcasts. The Ten Kings will follow you."

There was dead silence once more. Then, Fumikage raised his head, and replied, "Very well."

Wordlessly, the Ten Kings followed Kon's lead. In a wave, rippling outwards from where he stood, every gangster who followed Chojuro Kon submitted, each and every one of them with that wonder in their eyes.

Perhaps another man would have been more suspicious, but Fumikage had seen the look in Kon's eye. It was total surrender, genuine and impossible to fake. It was that look that told Fumikage that Kon would follow him to the ends of the earth, now. They all would. The whole Depths would. He was, now and forever, the man who had defeated Atlas himself. He was a legend. A king. After years of pain and fighting, after a life of war and want and living as a worthless street rat, he finally stood as the undisputed master of the Depths, holding the power to change the world at last.

And all it had cost was his soul.

Fumikage closed his eyes, and let himself mourn, just for a second. When they opened again, they glowed yellow.

Somewhere distant, he heard Dark Shadow laughing, and he knew that that laughter would haunt him for the rest of his life.

This was real. He was real. He was real, he was broken, he was damned for all eternity, and he would make the world pay.

For Mina. For everything.