Not much had changed since I'd last seen this building.
For a culture so deeply entrenched in spiritualism and faith, I'd been expecting every single piece of it to have been torn physically in the months after I'd already torn it down figuratively. Too much evil had resided in those halls and rooms to be allowed to keep standing. No sane person would want to spend time here.
Pushing the front door of the old Shie Hassaikai compound only strengthened that resolve. Despite it being the middle of the day, no light penetrated the building before me. The windows allowed none of the sun's rays through, boarded up as they were. For being such an expensive and impressive piece of architecture, the whole place seemed only a single step away from being completely condemned.
Giran might not have been here. This was simply my best guess. What would throw me off my game the most, while still being at least tangentially related to both of us? Probably the burned out lot where my house used to be, but that was far too public a meeting spot for the both of us.
Thus, that left the annals of my first major crime. The place of my descent into infamy. The pit in which I'd thrown away my humanity to embrace the darkness that held my goals.
I could imagine him laughing at me as I walked through the corridors, reliant more so on my memory of the layout than any light source. It was a far less appealing laugh than the one Eri had let out as she played on the swingset after I fixed it.
If Giran expected an advantage out of whatever regret I would have for this building, then he was in for a rude awakening. The only regret was that when I opened that last door, it wouldn't be Chisaki's face I would be looking at. At least then I could put it through another set of floorboards.
Because that was exactly where I was heading. The last corner was left behind me, granting me the first glimpse of light I'd seen since entering. It peeked out from below the last door in my path, spreading across the floor much like Chisaki's blood had in those final moments.
It was probably a bad thing that I was walking into this with the near overwhelming urge to kill. Overhaul, perhaps activated on that instinct, reacted before I could once I'd reached the door. The hand that had been reaching out to open it instead pulled it right off its hinges, morphing it in my grip until it was little more than a marble to be crushed underneath my fingers.
Giran's eyes were wide as he watched me step through the threshold, metallic shards and splinters raining down from my fist. The cigarette he had in his mouth, unlit, rolled between his teeth, before it wobbled along with the breathless laugh he let out.
"Heh, I was kinda hoping you wouldn't figure it out."
The snort I let out was less a laugh and more the noise a bull would make before it charged at a waving flag. The office had changed since I'd last been in there, not least of which was the absence of any evidence that someone had died in there. The floor was new, bare concrete instead of anything more elaborate or attractive. A few chairs and a long couch stood on one side of the desk, and the chair that Giran was sitting on looked like it had been taken from an office, the leather back and armrests tattered in several places.
Funnily enough, the only thing on the desk was a gun.
The man himself didn't look much better. His hair was too messy for it to be a style choice, and the suit he was wearing was creased. Behind his tinted glasses I could see his eyes were squinted and bloodshot. His shoulders were held high, but I could see the minute trembles running along them the longer he kept the posture up.
"I take pride in disappointing people." The man had been through hell. If he was lucky, I wouldn't end up putting him through more. "Cut the shit, I want answers."
"One teenager grows out of the tantrum phase and the next one I deal with is just entering it, what a life." Giran leaned back in his chair with a sigh. That sigh morphed into an unmanly yelp as my hair lashed out, and sent one of the chairs in the room flying at his head. He dove to the side just in time to avoid catching it with his nose, rolling out from behind the desk as it clipped his own chair, spinning up into the wall behind him and smashing into it hard enough to break apart.
His cigarette was gone by the time he jumped back to his feet, his hair having given up the ghost of style and flopped gracelessly against his forehead. "Damn it, brat! You're a real fuckin' headache, you know that? Do you not understand the hell you're bringing on us or do you just not care?"
A lash of hair rose from the ground at his feet, catching his throat on the way up. His eyes were wide as I dragged him up to my level, letting him see the full displeasure on my face as he grappled fruitlessly with the purple ropes keeping him aloft.
"If the next words out of your mouth aren't what I want to hear, I'll start with your bones." My hair tightened even further, just for a moment, before loosening enough for him to slip through. Giran landed on his feet, one hand against the desk for leverage while the other massaged at his rapidly bruising throat. He coughed a few times, the harsh noise barking out through the office, but there was a noticeable absence of fear in his eyes as he glared back up at me.
"All for One." He rasped out, causing me to still. My eyes tracked him silently as he moved back around the desk, taking harsh breaths as he picked his office chair back up and collapsed into it. "So you do know about him. That just makes what you're doing all the more confusing for the rest of us."
From his front pocket came a packet of cigarettes, crumpled up like the jacket they'd been pulled from. Shaking one out, Giran snapped his teeth around it harshly, reaching for the gun on the desk. I tensed, ready to move as he turned it around to face himself, and almost launched forward when he pulled the trigger. Instead of a bullet and his brains decorating the wall behind him, all that came out was a small flame, igniting the end of the cigarette and casting his face in eerie shadows.
Working my jaw for a moment, I stepped toward the desk, snagging one of the remaining chairs and dragging it forward. Sending some hair out to the couch, I sparked Overhaul along the surface of it, stealing away the cushions and pushing them upon the chair I'd chosen. Another strand of hair dipped into Giran's pocket, and he watched apprehensively as it pulled out a cigarette and curled around to place it in my mouth.
"If this is another lecture about me following in his tracks, save it." A small spark of electricity was all it took to light the cigarette. I took a drag, ignoring the flinch Giran gave at the brand new Quirk. "I want to know why your daughter is suddenly trying to be a part of my life."
"So La Brava picked up on the breadcrumbs left for her, huh?" I cocked an eyebrow slowly, and he scowled. "Come on kid, who else would know enough to have files to hack into? I got no clue what she told ya, but the stories about the boogieman aren't a widespread thing."
He chewed the end of his cigarette for a moment, his eyes darting about the room.
"No, if you were trying to be him, this would be so much easier. He doesn't take kindly to impersonators."
"If I'm not an impersonator, then what am I?" The smoke tickled my throat as it came back up from my lungs. It was a decent reminder of why I'd quit in the first place. "An enemy? A rival?"
"Ha!" A fleck of spit escaped Giran's mouth as he threw his head back. Grabbing his cigarette between two fingers, he stabbed it maliciously down at the desk, catching the emission and watching it burn. "That monster doesn't have rivals. No, it's much worse than that; you're interesting. You're a shiny new toy for him to play with. You're a shiny new toy for him to break."
With one final jab, the light on the end of Giran's cigarette died out. Uncaring, he flicked it to the side, letting it roll off the desk and land somewhere off to the side. Hunching forward, he steepled his fingers, resting his forehead against his index fingers and letting his thumbs support his chin.
"Quirks ruined the world, son. It's not a popular opinion, but it's the one shared by anybody with enough brain cells to rub together." One hand disengaged, leaving the other to support his head while he rubbed his fingers together. With a scoff, he then swiped that hand through the air, banishing whatever he'd been thinking about to the wind. "The Dawn of Quirks is ironic; that was the darkest time in human history. And those people that are still around who got to see it have the darkest souls. All for One isn't a demon. He's just a twisted man who has been alive for so long that everything around him is too boring to interfere with..."
Slowly, I took a drag of my cigarette, letting the burning smoke settle deep in my body. It was a disgusting feeling, barely alleviated as I exhaled it all through my nose.
"And I'm supposed to believe that I'm somehow special enough to interest him?"
"My job is gathering information. My life is hearing everything that exists to be heard." Giran swiped his glasses off his face, massaging the bridge of his nose. "There's something about you that's waking him up, and we both know what it is."
"What does that have to do with throwing your hero-wannabe daughter at me?"
That earned me a dirty look, his squinted eyes narrowing even further with implied danger.
"I've never met him, but I've worked with his doctor before. I've seen the lengths he'll go to and I've sold him the information to make it possible." He didn't sound the least bit repentant as he said that. Not that I was really one to judge. "He will hunt you. He will harass you. He will unearth every single connection you've ever made and he will destroy them one after the other."
The desk creaked ominously as Giran slammed a fist into it, right over the burn he'd left on its surface.
"The closer they are, the longer they'll last. He will make sure that the very last thing that breaks will be you, and only after you've been forced to live with the knowledge that everyone you've ever cared for has been tortured for the crime of being part of your life." There was a growl in Giran's throat, a snarl transfixed upon his lips. Inhaling the last of my cigarette, I tipped my head back, letting out a lazy circle of smoke towards the ceiling. "And the more slighted he feels, the more everyone will suffer. Including- no, especially the person that gave you the info in the first place."
For the second time, I stilled, my eyes drifting back down to Giran's face. The first time had been a precursory check of his motivations, nothing more. This time, I allowed him the full extent of my focus.
He was weathered, but he didn't appear in pain. There were no bruises other than the ones I'd given him, and the way he'd moved earlier gave no indication of other serious injuries. He wouldn't be walking or swinging his arms like that with any broken bones.
No, he wasn't injured.
He was scared.
"So naturally, he would go after your daughter first."
It was almost as though me voicing it was the last barrier before it would become real. Giran slumped forward in his seat, before he pushed himself off the desk and up to his feet. Where before he'd held his head high, now he barely lifted his head enough to see where he was going through the disheveled hair drifting down his face.
He walked over to the window, the only one I'd seen during my journey through the building that hadn't been completely closed off with planks of wood. This one instead was blocking away the rest of the world with a simple roll of shutters, which he peeled to the side slightly. His face curled up in discomfort when the sunlight hit his eyeball.
Whatever he was looking for, I doubt he found it. With a small shake of his head, he released the shutters, letting them drift back to the initial positions. He didn't bother returning to the desk, merely shuffling along the wall until he could lean against it and face me from across the room.
"Y'know, I first met Set when she was only four years old. Her parents had been killed in a rampage and I was two steps away from being arrested for… I can't even remember what it was." He chuckled, the mirth barely present enough to warrant a thought. "We cut a deal that day, I'd take her in and help her become a hero, and she'd lie to some 'friends' of mine and tell them that I'd been at home with her the last few nights."
Giran shook his head, his eyes turned towards me. His gaze, however, was far away, on something not in the room that only he could see.
"Sharp as a razor, that one. Not even half a decade being alive and she saw exactly what I was trying to pull, but she did it anyway. Told me that so long as I helped her catch the guy that killed her parents, she didn't care that I was doing 'weird' things. She'd just catch me later, when she was a hero."
The chuckle he let out was suspiciously wet. Part of me wanted to turn away to at least give him the semblance of privacy. I couldn't, though. Keeping my eyes on him was far too important right now.
"Her aunt couldn't take her in, neither of her uncles wanted her. No grandparents or extended family to turn to either. I never even officially adopted her. One day she just called me "dad" and…"
His words drifted off. Absently, probably without him even thinking about it, his hand drifted back up to his pocket. His packet of cigarettes came back out, and he tipped it over into his hand, only snapping his attention back to it when nothing came out.
As discreetly as I could, I flicked my spent stick of nicotine into the corner of the room.
"What was stopping you from just holding out a few more months? She's on the recommendation list to U.A, isn't she? Why am I your first choice for her protection instead of Nezu, or the other heroes?"
Immediately, my mouth clamped shut. That wasn't information I should have had. The kneejerk reaction to figure out some damage control was lost to me, however, as Giran suddenly lurched over.
Laughing his lungs out.
I sat there, thrown perhaps not for the first loop of this meeting, but definitely in the most violent one so far. Giran laughed long enough for me to start getting concerned, and I was halfway out of my seat before he straightened himself back up, one hand clutching at his chest and the other wiping his eyes.
"Ahh, sorry kid, you just reminded me of the old days. Back when Nezu was actually a threat we needed to look out for."
What.
I jumped out of my seat entirely, letting it fall back and hit the ground. Unlike the beginning of the meeting, Giran didn't so much as bat an eyelash as I rose to my full height and glared down at him.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Out of everything, that question earned me a chuckle. The earlier trepidation gone, Giran ambled back around the desk, stopping only long enough to swipe his gun lighter and pack it away into a pocket inside his suit jacket.
"Nezu is smart. Of course he is, he's probably the smartest damn thing in the world. But I told you earlier, didn't I? Quirks ruined the world." His hands came together, before blossoming out into a pantomimed explosion. "Being smart doesn't mean anything if you're not allowed to use that intelligence. Being the principal of U.A is a gilded cage. As an active hero? He was scary. You'd be finished before you ever knew he was playing the game against you. When the Hero Commission threw him in that seat to 'lead the next generations of heroes', as they put it?"
The smarmy fucker straight up snickered, like he'd just told the greatest joke he'd ever thought of, that he wouldn't be able to repeat to anyone else, because they would get offended.
"Heh, anyone watching would have been able to smell a rat, and it wasn't the one wearing a suit and being a teacher." He tilted his head towards me. I got the feeling that he would have used a hat, had he been wearing one. "I've been rolling the dice for a long time; I know the best bet even when it seems unlikely."
He smiled at me, exerting approximately no effort to make it look in any way genuine. It was wide, it was tired, and it was a challenge that I got the feeling I wouldn't be allowed to decline outright.
Mainly because if I did, I was signing my death warrant over to a man that I'd never met.
"When I walked into this room, I wasn't expecting you to tell me that I could beat All for One."
"Maybe you can, maybe you can't. I still like your chances better than the clowns I've built a whole career out of undermining." Giran rotated the chair around, easing himself out of it. My eyes followed his movements as he walked around the desk and stopped at my shoulder, just out of arm's reach. "You've already made one hell of a splash in the pond. There's a lot of people and groups taking notice, and he's not the only one riding out the waves and making moves. Maybe I'll even be alive long enough to watch it all play out."
A lot of people, huh?
My jaw clenched at the thought.
"That's what's happening to the Yaoyorozu family, isn't it?"
Giran, having been walking towards the empty doorway, stopped in his tracks. I shifted around, leaning my weight against the desk and crossing my arms while watching the thoughts play out across his face.
"Whoever's orchestrating that one is being careful about it." His words were slow, careful. Thinking about them even beyond the point where they'd been said. "There's no names being circulated and none of the usual bidders have made moves on those hitlists. It's either a long series of coincidental attacks, or an internal effort that doesn't need to be advertised."
Coincidences didn't happen when there was a target in play. One or two, maybe. A string of them? Not a chance. Which only left me with an internal effort. Either within their own corporation, or another one that wanted to watch them burn.
How so very like me to stumble accidentally into something far greater than myself.
If I did this, then I'd be putting an even larger target on my back. But really, at this point, what were a few more enemies on the pile?
For the first time since I entered the room, I cracked a smile. I could tell from the way Giran paled that it wasn't a very nice smile.
"Well, this has been enlightening." My hand drifted down to my pocket. The gun that I pulled out of it was loaded with something a little more dangerous than whatever had been in Giran's. The information broker's eyes followed its movements, his body tensing further and further as it rose through the air.
By the time the barrel was resting against my own ear, I doubt he was even breathing.
"You should come around for tea sometime." I winked at him, wondering if he would take the invitation for what it was. "We need help drinking all of it."
Before he could respond, I pulled the trigger.
My brain exploded into a shower of gray goo.
"Fucking ow."
Hissing through my teeth, I pulled out the earpiece I'd been listening to the conversation through, rubbing fruitlessly at the throbbing pain spreading across my head.
"Note to self, gunshots are loud."
From the driver's seat, Gentle scoffed, making sure I was looking at him in the rear view mirror before he rolled his eyes. Seeing black hair where I was used to white was jarring, but even with that and the coloured contacts changing his eyes to a deep red, the attitude was still completely the same. "You don't say?"
"Shut up, Matsumoto." In the seat beside me, Twice ran his eyes down a page of calculations that I was almost certain were fake, doing his utmost to commit them to memory. He didn't give any indication that he'd just felt one of his clones blow their own brains out. "Make sure you get into character, we're nearly there."
Gentle shook his head, before bringing his eyes back to the road. The houses around us were beginning to drop in number, inconsequential as they were for our goal. Our destination loomed over the rest at the top of the hill, grandiose in stature and extravagant in decor. It made ours look like a shack built out of dirt in comparison.
"Naturally." There was barely any difference in his voice as he switched gears, both in the car and in personality. "Perhaps you should put the phone away. We are almost there, Young Master."
The recording file of the clone's meeting with Giran completed its journey to La Brava. With a nod, I deposited the phone into my pocket, using the mirror to shift my expression into one of bored indifference. Twice looked up from his work for a split second, his grin going beyond what anybody would comfortably call sane, before diving back down into the numerous pages strewn across his lap.
It would be his fifth review, but that was fine.
Nothing less would be acceptable for an appointment with an heiress.
…And her parents too I guess.
But mostly the heiress.
