Entropy

by Imperium42

Midoriya Izuku didn't change overnight. The process was slow and gradual, the end result of a life filled with rejections and roadblocks- but everyone has a breaking point. Destruction brings renewal, and with the death of his old dream, Izuku has found a new one- one he intends to share. All orderly systems descend into chaos. No one is immune to entropy, heroes least of all.

28. The Nature of the Beast

Chapter 28: The Nature of the Beast

Three Years Ago

Two Months before the U.A. Entrance Exam

---

"Thirty-seven… thirty-eight…" Sweat dripping down his forehead as his breath escaped in increasingly ragged pants, Izuku briefly paused before his final two reps, his arms trembling as he held the handles of the shoulder press machine high above his head. Come on! Midoriya's brows furrowed in frustration and his mouth turned to a scowl as he struggled to keep the weight aloft. Come on, you worthless piece of shit! Don't you dare stop here! It's just two more!

"Thirty… nine…" He grit through clenched teeth, fighting through the pain. "Forty." Off to his right, the weights slammed back down into place with a resounding clang the moment he released the handles, and a few other gym-goers glanced over in confusion at the sudden noise.

Ignore them, Izuku told himself, still panting as he reached for his towel and wiped the perspiration from his face and neck. Just focus on yourself. He'd been working his way through the different exercise machines for nearly an hour now, aiming at each one to break his previous rep limit, along with increasing the weight by one increment. There were just over seven weeks left until the U.A. Hero Course entrance exam, and the strict workout regimen that Izuku had set for himself made no allowances for any delays or adjustments.

"Next, forty-five minutes on the treadmill," he murmured to himself as he toweled off the seat's sweat-stained cushions. Once that was done, he glanced down at his gym bag, and the notebook where his exercise logs were recorded. "No, no, I'd better make it sixty. If I start pushing above an hour at my current speeds, it should keep me on track to start running 10Ks by next week. Then, I'd be able to…"

Izuku continued his muttering as he grabbed his bag and water bottle and started over towards the treadmills, only to freeze in his tracks when the automatic glass doors at far end of the gym's wide central chamber slid open and Bakugo Mitsuki strode through, her son and two of his friends in tow.

"Alright," The woman declared, her loud, brash voice carrying across the room as she pulled a bright red exercise headband over her bangs and adjusted the fit of her sports bra. "I'm gonna head to my yoga class, then I'll be at the pool swimming some laps. Come get me when you're ready to go."

"Yeah, whatever." Katsuki shoved his hands into the pockets of his gym shorts and gave a mocking shrug. "Have fun gossiping with all the other old hags."

"Don't make me smack your sorry ass in front of your friends, you goddamn brat," Mitsuki retorted, pushing his head down in a bow before releasing her grip and striding over toward the activity rooms. "Talk to me like that again and you'll be walking home."

Katsuki's friends spent a few moments teasing him over the scolding as the trio drew closer, but his only reply was a scowl of silent frustration- until he caught sight of Izuku, standing half-concealed behind a cinderblock pillar with his gym bag clutched in hand and sweat dripping from his bangs.

"Well would you look who decided to show up again," Bakugo crowed, his confidence and swagger returning in an instant. "Looks like you had a real hard workout again today, Deku." He gestured to the massive dark stains on Izuku's grey t-shirt, his mouth twisted in a mocking grin. "What'd you do to work up that much of a sweat? Walk a lap around the locker room?"

Katsuki's two cronies snorted with laughter at that, and a brief surge of rage welled up in Izuku's chest; it took a concerted effort to force the anger back down and keep it from showing on his face.

"I've been trying… hah… trying to work all my major muscle groups," Izuku replied haltingly, still somewhat out of breath from his shoulder presses. "I was actually wondering if you could, um…" Midoriya's eyes dropped to the floor, his tone increasingly sheepish. "I was wondering if you could maybe tell me a bit about your routine, Kacchan. I was hoping I could see what your typical rotations are, so I can…"

"So you can what?" Bakugo cut in, his arms crossed. "Take notes on me like I'm some sort of goddamn lab rat?" He gestured to the notebook jutting out of Izuku's bag, and his scowl grew deeper. "Yeah, I think I'll pass. Just stay out of our way, Deku."

Katsuki nodded to his friends, and the three of them brushed past Izuku with a series of snide, leering glares. While the two cronies made their way over to the rowing machines at the far wall, Bakugo crouched down at one of the nearby benches, and began loading heavy round weights onto the bar. 100 kilos, Izuku counted, his eyes wide. Almost twice as much as I pressed earlier today.

Midoriya glanced over at the treadmills, then back at Bakugo, as Katsuki's earlier remark echoed in his head. Laps around the locker room? He doesn't think I'm serious about this. He doesn't think I'm capable of getting stronger. He hasn't seen the work I've been putting in. I have to show him. I have to prove myself to him. His mind resolved, Izuku strode purposefully over to the bench directly to Katuski's right, and with calm, methodical precision, began to load on the same amount of weight- 100 kilograms.

"The hell are you doing, Deku?" Bakugo grunted, watching Midoriya with a skeptical expression as he began his first rep. "You trying to break those puny arms? Don't pretend you can actually lift that much."

"I can and I will," Izuku declared coolly as he laid back on the bench and positioned his hands on the bar. "Like I told you, I've been working on all my major muscle groups, and I've made a lot of progress."

"The only thing you will do is fucking hurt yourself." Katsuki narrowed his eyes. "I don't care how much 'progress' you think you've made since you started following me to this place- we're not at the same level. Take half of that weight off, man. Better yet, take it all, and just press the bar."

Midoriya said nothing in reply, opting instead to begin his first rep. With a hundred kilograms loaded on, the barbell was breathtakingly heavy- it took several long seconds of straining every fiber of muscle in his arms and chest to make it so much as budge upward. Izuku's face contorted in a mix of determination and agony as he fought against the weight, his body shaking visibly with every centimeter he lifted it. The lancing pain in his chest and biceps was almost unbearable, but Izuku could still feel Katsuki's eyes on him. I can't give up, the voice in his head screamed. Not in front of him. I have to prove to him that I've changed!

After another few seconds of struggling, though, the barbell finally reached its highest point, Izuku's arms fully outstretched above him. His eyes widened in triumph, and a small laugh escaped his mouth. I did it. I actually did it.

"D-Do you see that, Kacchan? I told you I could do it." Izuku turned his head towards Katsuki and gave the other boy a jubilant grin.

Then, the last ounce of their endurance finally spent, Midoriya's arms gave in all at once, and the barbell hurtled down into his chest with a sickening crack.

The next few moments passed in a hazy blur. With the bar lying diagonally on top of him, it felt like Izuku was being simultaneously crushed and suffocated, his aching arms hanging limp at his sides; it was practically impossible to breathe, and any movement was out of the question. Before he could even choke out a call for help, though, Bakugo was standing over him, yelling something that Izuku couldn't hear over the ringing in his ears as he reached down and took hold of the barbell. After a brief instant of straining, Katsuki wrenched it off of him and up into the air; it slammed down into the floor and rolled to a stop near the wall, drawing looks of confusion and alarm from everyone nearby.

"Someone call a goddamn ambulance!" Katsuki shouted, his voice finally coming back into focus. "He's hurt, I think he broke something!"

A small crowd was slowly beginning to gather around them as Izuku gasped for breath amid the throbbing pain, murmuring in concern as several produced their phones to dial emergency services. A handful of gym staff were also running towards the scene of the commotion, but Midoriya's eyes remained fixed on Bakugo.

"You fucking idiot," Katsuki murmured, his expression twisted in an emotion that looked remarkably close to genuine shock and sorrow. "I told you. I fucking told you…"

Izuku opened his mouth to try and reply, but before he could say a word, another surge of pain shot through his body, and a sudden wave of darkness filled his vision.

---

Two Weeks Later

"So… how are the arms? Feeling better?"

Izuku didn't look up to meet Katsuki's eyes, keeping his gaze fixed on the low wooden table between them as he continued to dutifully pour out two cups of hot green tea from a steaming kettle. They were sitting just a few feet apart on the floor of Midoriya's room, a heavy film of awkward tension between them as their mothers chatted amiably in the kitchen, their voices muffled by the bedroom door.

"They're fine," Izuku answered quietly, after an uncomfortable pause. "Good as new." It was a lie- even after two weeks of treatment and physical therapy, his muscles were still tender and sore from the immense strain that he'd put them through, and it was frankly a miracle that none of his ligaments had suffered tears- but in this instance, a lie felt vastly preferable to admitting the truth. To admitting that he was right.

Midoriya grit his teeth at the very concept, then shifted slightly on his cushion, hiding a wince as a mild twinge of pain shot down his left arm from the point where the bar had fractured his collarbone. Thanks to modern quirk-enhanced medicine, the breaks in his clavicle and sternum had been healed within a matter of days, but the doctor insisted that the recovery process would still take some time; strenuous physical activity was apparently out of question for another few weeks at the very least.

Too bad I don't have a few weeks. Izuku's eyes darted over to the U.A. brochure lying open on his desk, then back to the table. The school's entrance exam was drawing steadily nearer, and with every day that passed without a return to his meticulously crafted training regimen, he found himself growing more spiteful and indignant. Three times now over as many family dinners, Midoriya had made a series of increasingly impassioned pleas to his mother to let him return to the gym- she'd confiscated his membership card- and by implication, to lie to their physician if he asked about the matter. Three times she'd refused him, no matter how fervently he vowed that he'd limit himself to the treadmills and bikes- promises that he admittedly had no intention of keeping. I'll keep the weight loads low at first, Izuku assured himself, gradually build back up to where I was. I'll be more careful this time.

His third request, made the night before last, had grown ugly. The sound of his own furious shouting intermingled with his mother's still echoed intermittently through his mind, tones of voice he'd never heard from himself before. Then there was the smash of porcelain- his bowl of food, hurled to the floor- and the snap of wood beneath his fist. It was a good thing that his bedroom door was thin and flimsy, or he might have injured the muscles in his right arm even further when he punched it at the height of their argument, making a sizeable dent that was currently concealed by a brightly colored U.A. pennant. That night's incident in particular had prompted Inko to contact Bakugo's family and ask for Katsuki's 'assistance' in the matter, resulting in the painfully forced visit currently unfolding; as far as either of their mothers was aware, their two sons were still every bit as close as they'd been back in preschool.

"So that's all this is gonna be, huh?" Katsuki's voice dragged Izuku back to the present. He took a sip of tea before continuing, his expression and tone deadpan. "We just pretend to talk long enough for our moms to think everything's fixed? Sounds easy enough to me. Used to be, I could never get you to shut the hell up." Katsuki chuckled, amused at his own wit, and ran a hand through his hair before gazing up at Izuku's poster-adorned walls.

"What's wrong, Deku? You don't wanna blab about the stats for All Might's latest rescue? Or the limited-edition figurine you bought with last month's allowance?" Bakugo's neutral expression suddenly twisted into a smirk, and Midoriya felt an urge to shrink away, to hide himself in a corner until the mocking was over. It was a familiar feeling, one he'd grown accustomed to over the past few years of their 'friendship'. "Or better yet," Katsuki continued, "why don't you tell me how you plan on getting into the U.A. Hero Course when you can't even lift a goddamn barbell without breaking half a dozen bones?"

Izuku's eyes snapped up from the table to meet Katsuki's, and for a brief, fleeting moment, genuine anger swelled up in his chest. His eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed; the urge to cower was suddenly supplanted by the urge to lunge forward and sink his fist squarely into Bakugo's jaw, a firsthand demonstration of his increased strength.

Ah, there it is again.

Instinct compelled Midoriya to suppress the surge of emotion before he could act on it, and it receded just as quickly as it had come. He glanced down in mild surprise at his hands, which had curled up into taut fists at his sides, now steadily relaxing. Not too long ago, moments of anger such as this one had been a genuine rarity for Izuku- about as common as a piece of All Might trivia he didn't know by heart. Even when Katsuki was at his worst- when his classmates' and teachers' mockery of his aspirations grew unbearable- the first emotion he felt had always been shame. Shame for the outlandish nature of his dream, shame for his own impotence, shame for being born quirkless. If any anger or resentment was ever present, it was buried deep in the recesses of his mind, so far down that it was difficult to tell whether it existed in the first place.

That had all begun to change the day All Might rejected him, one brief outburst at a time. It was as if a switch had been flipped in that moment, somewhere in his subconscious. The change had been subtle at first- nothing more than a weak, steady trickle of negative emotions- but after the accident at the gym, the flow was beginning to accelerate; the dam was close to bursting.

I cannot simply say 'you can become a hero without power'. The words echoed once more through Izuku's head, as they already had hundreds of times in the months since that chance encounter.

"You're wrong", Izuku murmured, so softly that he could scarcely hear his own words. "You're both wrong."

"Eh? The hell are you mumbling over there?" Bakugo snapped, his arms crossed in impatience. "You can sit there and make all the pissy faces you want, but speak up if you've got something to say."

"You of all people should show him more respect," Izuku declared in a calm, even tone, looking pointedly up at the display of All Might posters and figurines that Katsuki had been deriding a few moments before. "Or does all the time we spent admiring him as kids mean nothing to you now?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Bakugo shot back, indignant. If his expression and tone were any indication, the question seemed to have genuinely struck a nerve. "You think that because I don't use all my savings to build a goddamn shrine to him in my room, I don't respect him? Newsflash, Deku, you don't have to worship someone like a fucking god to admire them."

Though Katsuki's demeanor had grown significantly more spiteful, he was notably keeping his voice at a much lower volume than usual, and the reason was clear; he spared another glance to the door as he waited for Izuku to reply, to ensure that Inko and Mitsuki were still chatting obliviously in the other room.

That's right, Midoriya mused, grinning softly despite his anger at Bakugo's reply. You can't let them see how you usually behave around me, or you'd face actual consequences. Izuku blinked in sudden wonderment, the smile fading from his face as an expression of disbelief took hold.

How was it that I ever looked up to you? You were never worthy of the attention I gave you. Not once have you ever properly lived up to the image I created, the one I idolized for years. Was I really that deluded until now?

A few moments later, a brief knock sounded at the door in question, and for a moment Katsuki's eyes widened in something resembling panic. Before either of them could process the development any further, though, Inko's voice cut through the tense silence.

"Izuku, sweetie, Kacchan's mother and I are going to step out for a few and get a little something to drink. We'll be back in a few, alright? There's some cake left in the fridge if you boys want anything to eat!"

"Okay!" Izuku answered, switching back to a cheerful tone out of reflex. "Be safe, see you soon."

"Play nice, alright?!" Mitsuki called, notably harsher in tenor as she addressed her son. "I mean it. Don't make me come in there and smack you."

"Yeah, whatever," he called back in response, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"What was that?!" Came the immediate, furious reply; there were audible footsteps as Mitsuki advanced closer to the door, and Izuku watched as a wave of embarrassment washed over Katsuki's face. His expression twisted in discomfort, and his cheeks flushed bright red as he diverted his gaze down to the table in an effort to conceal the change.

"I mean… yes, ma'am," he finally managed reluctantly, his eyes still fixed on his cup of tea as the scarlet spread to his ears. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

"That's what I thought I heard," Mitsuki declared, satisfied- more footsteps sounded as she retreated toward the living room. "Alright, Inko, you ready to go? I promise you'll love this spot. They have…"

The two women's voices steadily receded into the background, until a few moments later they finally vanished entirely with a thud and click from the front door. A renewed wave of silence crashed over the small, vibrantly decorated bedroom, and Izuku took a long, steady sip from his teacup before lifting his gaze back up towards Kacchan.

"The hell are you grinning for?" Katsuki barked, his demeanor already notably louder and brasher than before. "Something funny?"

Midoriya blinked in mild surprise; he hadn't realized until now that he was smiling. The concept of taking pleasure in someone else's discomfort was still a relatively new sensation, after all.

"Oh, it's nothing. I just didn't know you were capable of being that polite."

"Yeah, well it seems like there are a lot of things you don't know," Bakugo retorted, then rose to his feet. Shoving his hands into his jeans' front pockets, he began to pace about the room; each of Midoriya's posters, action figures, and manga volumes was subjected to a series of intense, judgmental glares as Katsuki continued.

"For starters, let's talk about the reason that old hag dragged me here in the first place. Sounds to me like you're under the impression that you can just head right back to the gym and start lifting again, broken bones and all. That right, Deku?"

Stop calling me that, Izuku nearly snapped, but the words caught in his throat.

"The fractures are healed," he countered instead. "They have been for a few days now, and my muscles are healing too. The risk is minimal if I-"

"If you what? Follow your little routine?" Making his way past Izuku's desk now, Katsuki plucked up the notebook lying next to his laptop, and opened it to the first page. "Fitness Analysis and Schedule for Maximum Muscle Gain," He read out in a bitter, mocking tone of voice, even as Midoriya shot up in protest.

"Give that back!" Izuku stepped forward and tried to grab the notebook, but Katuski latched onto his wrist and held his arm in place, still perusing lines of Midoriya's messy handwriting with a bemused smirk.

"Mondays, a 5K run followed by 40 reps of chest presses, 40 reps of shoulder presses, and 50 pushups. Tuesdays, start with 40 leg presses, then 12 laps in the pool… Goddamn, this shit is just as pathetic as those hero notebooks! Where are you keeping them, by the way? I wanna read your analysis on what shampoo Mount Lady used this week."

"I said give it back!" Another burst of rage flaring up in his chest, Izuku yanked his arm out of Katsuki's grip and snatched away the notebook in one clean motion. It would have been easy to turn around and leave things at that, but before he could fully process what he was doing, Midoriya tossed the notebook down onto his bed, surged forward, and shoved Bakugo with both hands, sending him stumbling backwards. Thrown off-balance, Katsuki lost his footing and began to plummet towards the floor; he caught himself on the edge of the desk a moment later, a few centimeters away from cracking his head on the corner of another shelf. An expression of pure shock was painted across his face, though as he stood again, it quickly shifted to quiet fury.

"K-Kacchan," Izuku squeaked, all his courage and anger abandoning him in an instant. His eyes wide with fear, he took a tentative step back, holding up his hands to demonstrate that he had no intent to fight any further. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Midoriya was interrupted midsentence by a swift, brutal blow to his stomach. He crumpled over and fell to his knees, letting out a ragged wheeze as all the air left his lungs at once. His lunch from a few hours earlier threatened to rise up to his mouth, but Izuku managed to force it back down, then slumped limply against the table, coughing.

When he glanced back up, Katsuki was looming over him, his hand still clenched in a fist. There was a brief flash of guilt on Bakugo's face when he saw the tears welling in Midoriya's eyes, but it was replaced by disgust in an instant. Mumbling more apologies under his breath, Izuku began to push himself back off the floor, but Katsuki shook his head.

"Stay down, Deku. And shut your mouth, I don't want your fucking apologies- just sit there and listen."

Once Izuku had nodded shakily, Katsuki let out a deep sigh, and squatted down until the two were at eye level.

"It looks like you're tired of playing around, and I'm starting to get tired of it too- so let's just cut to the chase. Do you know what your problem is, Deku?" Katsuki narrowed his eyes, daring him to respond. Rather than angry, his expression had grown cold, and his voice was laced with spite. It was different from his ordinary verbal abuse; it felt much keener and more personal.

"Your problem is that you don't know your place. And worse than that, even when the truth is clear as fucking day, you refuse to learn- for someone so goddamn smart, you have the thickest skull I've ever seen. So let me try and spell things out for you, once and for all."

Bakugo straightened back up, turned to the shelf he'd nearly smashed his head into just a minute prior, and pulled one of Midoriya's Hero Analysis notebooks from the shelf, thumbing idly through the pages until he landed on a drawing of Izuku in the hero costume he'd envisioned for himself, with its prominent All Might-inspired ears and smile.

"This bullshit fantasy of yours? Being a hero?" Katsuki held the open notebook down in Izuku's direction, and shook his head. "It's not going to happen. It's never going to happen. You know why? Because I can do this-" He held out his other hand, producing a flurry of miniature explosions in his palm- "and you can't. And you can't change that, no matter how many push-ups you do, or kilos you run, or weights you lift. Getting fit isn't going to get you into the U.A. Hero Course, because getting fit isn't going to give you a goddamn quirk!"

Katsuki spiked the notebook into the floor in a sudden flash of anger, then closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"You already know that, don't you, though? Deep down, I bet you do. But you just can't stop lying to yourself. Every day I have to watch you go around and around in circles, feeding yourself this bullshit, pretending you're gonna do it anyway. Pretending that you alone can do something no one else can, becuase you're so goddamn special." Bakugo's eyes shot open, and he held out his arms, feigning awe. "So special that you can go lift weights when your doctor specifically tells you not to. So special that you don't need an actual ability to be a student in the Hero Course. You're just that much better than the rest of us! The same rules don't apply!"

Katsuki's eyes locked onto Izuku's, his red-tinted pupils spilling over with contempt.

"Well guess what? I'm sick of listening to your little act! We all are!" He was practically yelling now, but with no one else in the apartment, that hardly mattered anymore. "Your mom, your teachers, your school counselors?! Everyone's just waiting for you to get over your little fantasy and move on with your goddamn life, like everyone else does! So for your own sake, just stop pretending!"

Once his outburst had finally ended, Bakugo muttered a few choice profanities under his breath, then turned and stormed out into the living room, stepping on the hero notebook on his way out. He slammed the door shut, and in his wake, Izuku was left alone in the deafening silence, lying against the table with a dull, aching pain centered on his stomach. The tears from before had already dried up; now there was only a cold pit of emptiness inside him, growing wider with each passing moment.

"You're wrong," Izuku whispered, though he could no longer bring himself to believe the words were true.

---

Syndicate Headquarters, Nagoya

Seraph awoke with a start, his bare chest and forehead slick with cold sweat. His breath was escaping in ragged pants, and Bakugo's words were still ringing in his ears, as fresh in his memory as if he'd heard them yesterday. The room was pitch-dark, and utterly quiet, save for the occasional ambient urban sounds filtering in from outside the shuttered window, quieter now than usual thanks to the extended municipal curfew.

Running a few fingers through his damp, unruly bangs to clear the hair from his eyes, Izuku blinked in discomfort as they adjusted to the darkness. He reached out to his right out of instinct, and a frown spread across his face when his hand found only empty air. Twice's quirk was currently needed for more pressing matters than keeping Izuku's bed warm at night, and as a result, there was no Himiko fast asleep at his side, facsimile or otherwise. With a soft sigh of disappointment, he swung his legs out over the side of the bed and reached over to the lamp on his nightstand, wincing against the sudden glare when it lit up with a tap to the base.

That old dream again? Izuku's frown grew deeper as he made his way to the closet and grabbed a baggy t-shirt from the shelf, his knuckles taut around the fabric as he pulled it over his head. Though it had been three years now since that day, and enough had changed in that time to make it feel like a lifetime away, his confrontation with Katsuki never failed to resurface in his mind every so often, no matter how diligently he tried to suppress the very thought of it.

Despite the tangible proof of his strength and ability that Midoriya had spent the past two years accruing, the complete and total antithesis of everything Bakugo had told him, Seraph tried to think of Ground Zero as little as possible, when it could be avoided. There had certainly been a few isolated moments when a crack appeared in his mental wall- Red Riot's defeat, for instance- but for the most part, the fortifications had held fast.

"Because you are not worth my time, and you do not deserve my attention," Izuku murmured beneath his breath, gazing intently into the mirror on his closet door as he ran a comb through his hair. "You are beneath me. An insect. And when I crush you, I will feel nothing more than I do for a cockroach on the heel of my shoe."

That's more than enough thought wasted on him already, Izuku reminded himself, then glanced down at his phone. 2:57AM. Far too early in the night to stay up without affecting my concentration during the day. We have a full schedule this afternoon, so I'll need to get back to sleep. But before that... Izuku touched a finger to his chapped lips, only now realizing how dry his mouth was. I suppose a glass of water wouldn't hurt.

Once he'd slid on a pair of silken grey slippers, Midoriya eased open his bedroom door, taking care to make as little noise as possible. The last thing I need is Dabi or Compress complaining about how I rudely interrupted their beauty sleep again. The hallway wasn't as dark or silent as he'd anticipated, though- a light was on in the kitchen, spreading its faint glow around the corner and down the corridor, and quiet voices were audible over the faint, background hum of an AC unit. As he took another tentative step out into the hall, something warm rubbed against Izuku's ankle, and he glanced down to find Tsukuyomi, one of Hitoshi's cats, gazing up at him with wide yellow eyes. The coal-black Bombay gave a soft meow of greeting, and Midoriya couldn't help but break into a grin.

"Well hello there," he whispered, scooping the cat up into his arms as he continued toward the kitchen. "Hitoshi didn't forget your dinner again, did he?"

Another meow, and Izuku chuckled softly.

"He did? What a cruel master. Don't worry, I won't let you starve."

As they neared the end of the hall, Midoriya fell silent and drew close to the wall out of instinct, listening intently; the living room directly ahead looked empty aside from the flickering light of the muted television, but kitchen was around the corner to the left, so the night owls awake at this hour were still out of view.

"...but the most infuriating thing about her is the way she thinks she always knows best for you," a haughty voice Midoriya recognized as Monoma's was saying, tinged with bitter resentment. "There's no regard for your personal circumstances, no thought as to whether you want or need her interference. She's simply a monarch ruling over her subjects, and what she says must go."

"If you think she was insufferable while you were there, you got off easy," Kamakiri's voice replied with a rasping chuckle. "She tries her best to play humble, pretend she's just the same as the rest of us, but it's easy to see that being All Might's successor went to her head fast. No one at that whole goddamn school dared to challenge her aside from that prick Bakugo, and if you did, her fucking fanclub would jump down your throat in a heartbeat. I mean, you remember Jiro, right?"

"Ah yes, the one trying oh-so-hard to cultivate her 'punk rock' aesthetic? I found her quite irritating, personally- especially the way she always clung to Yaoyorozu."

"Yep, that's the one. Seems like she just swapped out her victim, because ever since you guys left, she's been clinging to Kendo so hard you'd think she was a goddamn stalker. She'd come into the Class B homeroom every morning like clockwork, sitting there like a sad little puppy waiting for her master to show up. Shit was pathetic." Togaru gave an exasperated sigh, then sipped audibly from a drink of some sort. "And speaking of pathetic, don't even get me started on Tetsutetsu."

"Oh, do tell. You and Temperance mentioned his infatuation every so often in your reports, but now that you're here, I simply must hear the details."

Izuku raised an eyebrow, and opted to stay concealed for a few moments longer, lest he disrupt his subordinates' conversation. Well, this could be useful. I haven't had time to delve into this subject yet in my debriefs with Scimitar, but it seems that Neito is doing my job for me. The more information we can collect from her personal life to convert into ammunition against her, the better.

"Well, it was already pretty clear even before you left that he was into her," Kamakiri was saying, "and that's more or less understandable. But there's been a rumor floating around for a while that he popped her cherry last summer break, and after that? Dude went full head over heels, talks about her every goddamn chance he gets. You can't have a straight conversation with him without him mentioning how amazing the rescue she made the other day was, or how powerful her latest combat move is." Another chuckle, and another sip from his drink.

"Add Jiro into the mix, and the three of 'em were insufferable to be around. Every time I ran into their little trio, walking around attached at the hip, I'd just be itching to slice off their heads. One quick swipe, that's all it would've taken. But I guess that would have gone against the 'big plan', right?"

"Yes," Seraph declared, stepping calmly around the corner and into the light, "I'm afraid it would have."

Scimitar was currently seated at the breakfast bar, a bottle of beer in one hand, while Chaudron stood opposite him on the far side of the island in the center of the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea- chamomile and lavender, if its pleasant aroma was any indication. Both glanced up in unison as Midoriya came into view, though aside from that, their reactions sharply differed.

For his part, Kamakiri practically jumped to his feet, knocking over the barstool he'd been seated on and nearly spilling his beer in the process; an expression of shock and panic briefly flashed across his face, but Togaru quickly reined in his emotions. Drawing up to his impressive full height of 194 centimeters, mohawk not included, Kamakiri snapped to attention, his hands clasped behind his back and his face a stoic mask. His rigid pose was rendered slightly comical by the fact that he was wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, both shades of black, and the latter emblazoned with the bright crimson logo of a heavy metal band. Despite the urge to laugh, Izuku managed to keep himself from showing any outward signs of amusement at the disconnect.

"Boss, I, uh... sorry about that. I didn't mean to question any of your decisions. It won't happen again."

Monoma, meanwhile, simply grinned, holding his mug of tea to his lips with a look of pure schadenfreude in his greyish-blue eyes. As usual at this time of night, he was dressed in a luxurious grey silken nightgown, patterned with ornate baroque designs.

"My, my, what a dedicated little soldier he can turn himself into, just like that." Neito snapped his fingers for effect, and gave Izuku a playful wink.

Electing not to indulge Chaudron's antics for the time being, Seraph shifted his gaze back towards Scimitar, his expression devoid of any hint as to his reaction to the apology. Tsukuyomi let out another soft meow from his perch in Izuku's arms, and he began to stroke the cat's head with one hand as he replied.

"Please, Kamakiri- at ease. While we abide by certain professional standards and rules of decorum during our operations, the Syndicate is not some sort of paramilitary organization, and I am no general." Izuku allowed himself to break into a smile at that, and chuckled warmly. "While I may be our leader, I want you to feel comfortable speaking your mind to me, without any needless formalities or obfuscations. That's not a problem for you, is it?"

"Not at all, Bo- uh, no, Midoriya." Catching himself midsentence, Scimitar switched hesitantly to a more casual tone of voice, and his posture relaxed somewhat. Izuku continued to watch his face intently, silently bemused by Togaru's thinly veiled discomfort. "Trust me, I don't have a problem speaking my mind- there was a teacher at U.A. who used to say I do it too often. Now, he's headless." Kamakiri gave them a confident smirk as he flipped his barstool back upright, and took another sip from his beer.

"And what a truly elegant assassination it was," Monoma chimed in from across the kitchen, his expression beaming with enthusiasm. "Just a single, savage stroke of the blade to silence one of the U.A. institution's most impotent and incompetent figureheads! The only pity is that he never fully savored the depth of his failure before the end, as Aizawa did. I often wonder if Vlad-"

"The U.A. operation aside," Izuku interjected, holding up one hand to silence Neito, "while we're speaking freely, Kamakiri, I wanted to take the opportunity to clear up the misconception you seem to have about our dear mutual friend, Kendo, and her role in my 'big plan'."

Seraph still wore a friendly smile on his face, but Scimitar seemed to grasp the message behind his words rather quickly, and gave a tentative nod as he took a seat back at the bar.

"Yeah, of course- happy to clear it up."

"Good! Well, let's start with the basics, shall we?" Once he'd gently lowered Tsukuyomi to the floor and shaken some food into his bowl, Izuku walked to the other side of the kitchen and plucked a tall glass from one of the cabinets, glancing back towards the others as he filled it with water from the dispenser set into the door of their sleek, stainless steel refrigerator. "In your opinion, Kamakiri, is it better to do something quickly, or to do it properly?" Izuku sipped calmly from the glass as he waited for a reply.

"…Properly, of course," Togaru answered, after only a brief moment of hesitation.

"That's correct, of course." Izuku made his way over to Neito's side, then set the glass down and clasped his hands together. "But I want to demonstrate to you as clearly as possible why it's correct, to prevent any similar misconceptions in the future. Remind me, if you would- when did you first begin to grow disillusioned with your life at U.A., and why?"

Togaru raised an eyebrow in confusion at the sudden shift in topics, but answered dutifully all the same, running a hand through his pale green mohawk as he spoke.

"I guess it was about… a year and a half ago, now? A few things went down, all the same week. First, there was the accident at our 2-B class combat practice…" Togaru sighed and shook his head, his brows furrowed in frustration. "Look, I didn't mean to hurt him, I thought he could take it!"

"Details, Kamakiri," Izuku chided, waving a finger disapprovingly. "Don't dance around the subject, or this lesson won't have the intended impact. Refresh my memory."

"It was me paired off against Awase," Scimitar continued, his mouth drawn into a frown. "We'd fought a few times before, and it was a good matchup- he can weld metal shields to himself for defense and I'm all offense. He'd been training with stronger and heavier pieces of armor, and I'd been training my sharpness, so I decided to go all-out on him. I mean, that's what we're supposed to do, right? Plus Ultra." Togaru gave a bitter chuckle, and took another swig of beer.

"Well, turns out I was the one who'd made more progress. He had his full body armor on, covered up with plates of metal, and I really did think it was tough enough to take the hit, but…" Scimitar shrugged. "It wasn't. I was trying to knock away one of his hands before he could weld me to the wall, and I sliced right through the armor. Cut his arm off at the elbow."

Silence reigned for a several long moments; Izuku sipped again at his water as he waited patiently for Togaru to continue.

"It wasn't Awase's reaction that bothered me. He was a damn good sport- tried to joke about it while me and Snipe were carrying him and his arm to the infirmary, even promised to talk to the rest of the class for me and tell 'em it was an accident. And because we were so quick getting him there, Recovery Girl was able to reattach it the same day- it was all healed up in in a week or two." A hint of a wistful smile flashed briefly across Togaru's face, but it quickly reverted to a scowl, deeper than before.

"No, it was the way everyone else reacted that got under my skin. When it came to my classmates, a few of them were like Awase. A few of them understood. But most of them…" Togaru shook his head again in frustration, and ran a hand along one of his blade-like mandibles. "They never saw me the same way again. They didn't make it obvious, didn't say out loud that they were afraid of me, but I could tell just by their body language, by the way they started looking at me, acting around me- like I was some kind of feral fucking animal. That was bad enough. But the administration, the adults? They were way worse."

When Togaru lifted his beer to take another sip, he came up empty, and rose to his feet with an irritated groan. Making his way around the island, he tossed the bottle into the nearby recycling bin, then pulled open the fridge doors and began to peruse its contents as he continued to speak.

"Awase was fine with it, but his parents weren't. As soon as they found out from U.A., they went straight to the cops, reported it as a 'deadly assault with a quirk'. Next day, two suits from the Public Safety Commission showed up at the school, talking about an investigation- to determine whether I was still 'suitable' to be enrolled in the hero course, and to have a provisional license. The principal, all the teachers? They rolled right over, just let it happen. They were willing to expel me if that was what the Commission recommended- if it meant staying in their good graces. I won't bore you with every last question they asked, but they were pretty clearly against me from the start." Scimitar paused, then closed the fridge, reached into his pocket, and pulled a cigarette from a half-empty pack. "And that wasn't even the worst shit that happened that week, as I'm sure you remember. I mean, Toga told you all this before, right? It shouldn't exactly be new info."

"She did," Izuku replied with a nod, "but one can only glean so much from a secondhand account- your tale takes on another meaning entirely when I hear it directly from you. Wouldn't you agree, Neito?"

"Oh, certainly. I'm afraid none of it is all too surprising, either. The U.A. administration was always full of fools, far too focused on preserving the old order to-"

A hand placed calmly on Monoma's shoulder sufficed to stop the rant in its tracks, and Kamakiri spoke up again once he'd lit the cigarette and taken a puff.

"Yeah, so, three days later. I was out on patrol for my internship with Gunhead, and my partner, one of his sidekicks, steps into a fast-food joint to grab us some lunch. I'm just waiting out on the sidewalk, texting some friends, when I see this guy walk past me. He looks suspicious right away- big, tall dude- taller than me- with long, greasy hair and a shaggy-ass beard. He's wearing this old, patchy-looking trench coat, which is weird, because it's pretty warm day out, and he's sort of lurching and staggering all over the sidewalk, muttering to himself the whole time. I figure he's just some drunk homeless dude, but I start to tail him anyway, just in case he starts any trouble." Kamakiri took another long draw on his cigarette, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper in resentment.

"About half a block later, he gets to a street corner looking out on this busy main avenue, tons of pedestrians. He shouts something about 'making the voices stop', then he reaches into his coat and pulls out a gun." Togaru paused for a moment to glance at Neito and Izuku in turn. "And not just one of those dinky little pistols- a goddamn assault rifle. At this point, I'm about half a dozen meters behind him- the distance between me and the TV, maybe." Scimitar turned and jerked a thumb in the direction of the television in the adjacent living room, still muted and playing game show reruns.

"I take off sprinting towards him, of course, as he's raising this gun towards the nearest crowd of people waiting to cross the street- most of them don't even realize what's going on, it happened so fast. So, as I come up towards his back, and he's about to pull the trigger, I've got to make a decision."

Togaru drummed his hands on the bar, then lifted them again and produced a set of sleek metallic blades from his palms and wrists, some straight and some curved.

"I have to take this guy down in less than a second. He's huge, built like a brick wall, so knocking him out or restraining him that quickly with just my fists isn't an option. There's no choice but to use my quirk. I could try and knock the gun out of his grip, cut off his hands, but he's facing away from me, and the time it would take to get around him and put myself in the right position for a move like that might be enough time for him to kill five, ten people if he's firing automatic. In that one second span, I thought through the options, and I made the call. There was only one certain way to stop him."

Scimitar retracted all the blades except for the one from his right palm- its slanted, swordlike edge extended nearly a meter in length, with a wickedly sharp tip.

"I stabbed him through the heart." Togaru shrugged, then retracted the blade, blowing a cloud of smoke from his mouth. "I don't regret it. I would've gone for the head, but since he was so tall, the angle was off."

"Quite the rational decision," Izuku declared, clapping his hands together in satisfaction. "By far the most effective out of the limited choices you had. But do tell, what came next?"

"What came next was screaming and running, lots of it. Whether it was because of the dead guy keeling over with a gun in his hands or the teenager soaked in blood with a giant blade coming from his palm, I'm not sure. Both, probably. But I do know this." Togaru's mouth shifted from a scowl to a twisted, spiteful grin, and he gripped the edge of the bar with both hands. "When some cops came running up a few seconds later, they thought I was the criminal! Pulled their guns on me and told me to get on the ground- I reached for my pocket to pull out my provisional license, and one of them fucking tased me! It took half a minute for my partner to come running over and stop them from cuffing me!"

Suddenly conscious of how loud his voice had grown, Kamakiri cast a cautious glance over at the hallway leading to the bedrooms, then continued at a lower volume, though his tone was no less vindictive.

"But you wanna know the worst part? The biggest fucking joke of all? A few hours later, while I'm down at the police station, telling these dipshit cops exactly what happened for the fifth fucking time, a guy walks into the room with a preliminary report on the perp." Togaru ran a hand through his hair again, wheezing with a sudden burst of manic laughter. "Turns out, it was a toy gun. A fucking airsoft rifle with the safety cap ripped off, and an empty mag. And the shooter? Guy was a 'recovering' schizophrenic, two months out of the nearest mental hospital. They figured out later that he'd been off his meds for weeks, not that it made much difference for me." Togaru gave the cigarette one final drag, then strode over to the far end of the bar and plunged the remainder down into an ashtray.

"Those two Safety Commission investigators were already treating me like I was guilty after the shit with Awase, but when they heard about this? From the way they acted, it was like I'd handed them a certificate declaring 'I am a dangerous psycho'. Two-week suspension from U.A., six-month suspension of my provisional license. They wanted me to have me expelled, strip my license permanently, and throw criminal charges at me- and that's probably what would've happened, if my family didn't have the money to hire a top-rate lawyer and threaten to countersue the shit outta them."

"Ah, yes- it's only natural!" Monoma chuckled and brushed the bangs from his eyes, his mouth upturned in a smug, knowing grin. "The gears and wheels of the current system are rusted and misaligned for the average citizen, but grease them with enough money, and they spin perfectly well. Yet another symptom of a decaying society."

Izuku tightened his grip on Neito's shoulder to ensure that Monoma didn't continue his interruption any further, then turned back to Kamakiri, still smiling warmly. He's not wrong, of course, but now is hardly the time for a lecture on the dangers of plutocracy- not when I'm trying to impart a valuable lesson.

"And how did your friends- most of whom now feared you already- react to this punishment?"

"They didn't, as far as I could help it. Aside from Shihai and Reiko, none of them knew why I was gone, or why I had to quit my internship for half a year- I just made up some bullshit excuse for everyone else. The only thing I can give the Commission credit for is that they kept the whole thing quiet, as far as the situation with the dead guy was concerned. But even then, it's not like it was for the right reasons- they just wanted to preserve their reputation. It's problematic for them whenever someone with a hero license kills a criminal or a villain, no matter how much the fucker deserved to die or how little choice the hero had, because no matter what, they can't risk the public turning against the hero industry. Can't risk hurting the revenue from all their merchandising, and their hero agency shares, and their corporate partnerships."

Togaru grinned again, his green eyes gleaming with bitter amusement.

"Yeah, that's when I knew. When it first started to sink in what goddamn joke this system is- all this performative bullshit about justice and righteousness, and in the end it all boils down to making sure some rich fuck's wallet gets lined with ad revenue from Uwabami's latest perfume commercial. People like me- people with 'dangerous' quirks, ones that don't allow us to take villains down without spilling some blood- we get in the way of that. All of the sudden it was so goddamn obvious!"

As if to prove his point, the muted living room television suddenly jumped into a flashy ad for the latest Best Jeanist action figure, and Kamakiri threw his arms in the air in a gesture of triumph.

"I mean, get a load of this shit- complete with retractable fiber launchers, only 4900 yen if you call this number today! Really? Jesus Christ…" Togaru sighed, and ran a hand down his forehead in exasperation. "I tried talking to a few of my classmates about it, but I realized pretty quickly that most of 'em are brainwashed little zombies- they've spent so long drinking the Kool-Aid that they're barely capable of critical thinking anymore, Kendo and her little crew in particular. But I'm sure I don't have to tell you two that. Toga definitely understood."

"Quite right," Izuku replied with a nod. "And after all that resentment began to build up inside you, and you first made contact with Himiko, you decided rather quickly that you wanted to leave U.A. and abandon hero society, according to her account of your conversations. Within a month, you were even telling her of your desire to 'deal with' some of your teachers and classmates, well before she revealed her identity to you. Isn't that the case, Kamakiri?"

"Yeah, that's right." Togaru slid back onto his barstool and crossed his arms. "I can't tell you how many times I thought of skewering Aizawa before I actually got to do it- how often I thought about gutting those Commission investigators like fish and making a break for it."

"But you didn't." Izuku countered, holding up his index finger. "It would have been so easy for you to kill them then and there, to instantly satisfy that anger of yours and leave that school of hypocrites behind. But you made the choice to wait, long before you joined this group and became a part of my 'big plan'. Because even then, you understood that doing something properly is better than doing it quickly. You understood that if you wanted to take revenge, to reject U.A., you had to wait for the right opportunity; otherwise, your rebellion would have been meaningless, a shout into the wind. That is what I gave you- an opportunity."

Removing his hand from Neito's shoulder after a friendly pat, Izuku began to circle over to Togaru's side of the counter, his pace slow and deliberate.

"I'm the same way. No matter how badly I want something, no matter how deep my convictions run, I always force myself to take the proper route rather than the quick one. In the time between the formation of this group and the Black Day, there were a thousand different ways I could have killed All Might- in a grand public display or in complete privacy, just the two of us. But despite what I wanted, what I needed to do, I chose to wait until the precise moment when everything aligned- when his death would cause the most damage possible to hero society, and go the furthest toward making my end goal a reality."

Finally standing next to Scimitar, Seraph placed a hand on his newest subordinate's back, and widened his smile. Togaru didn't flinch or waver, but Izuku continued to search his expression for any sign of doubt or anger as he spoke.

"It's the same with Battle Fist. I'm presented with an easy, expedient solution to the problem of Kendo Itsuka each and every day. At any point over the last year, I could have ordered you or Hagakure to slit her throat in the bathroom, or decapitate her in her sleep, or poison her dinner with an untraceable neurotoxin supplied by Pandora. More than that, I could have infiltrated the campus to carry out the deed myself, the same way I did on the Black Day. But just like All Might's death, Battle Fist's demise must be carried out properly, rather than quickly. I assure you, Kamakiri- I'm already in the process of orchestrating the proper circumstances for her downfall. And by the time the new Symbol is finally broken, I can promise you that far more damage will have been done to this obsolete system than if you or I had simply killed her at the first chance we had."

Once again, Togaru's face remained stoic, his eyes betraying no hint of any ill will or annoyance; satisfied, Izuku removed his hand and took a step back.

"Well, then. It was more roundabout than I intended, but does that make sense to you? Any lingering objections? I'm more than happy to discuss the subject further."

"No, no objections." Togaru finally broke the eye contact between them, glancing down at his hands with a thoughtful expression. "I've always been pretty shit at the whole 'patience' thing, but you guys have gotten me this far- you gave me a chance I never thought I'd have." He lifted his head, meeting Izuku's gaze again. "What I'm saying is, I trust you to know what you're doing, Midoriya."

Izuku nodded in gratitude, and clapped a hand on Togaru's shoulder.

"I am immensely happy to hear that, my friend. But stepping momentarily into my role as this group's leader, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to order you to bed- you have a debut video to film tomorrow afternoon, and I need a moment to speak privately with Neito."

"You got it, Boss."

Rising back to his feet with a grunt, Togaru stretched and said his good nights before making his way around the corner and down the hall. Once the faint, distant click of his bedroom door had sounded, Monoma shook his head in amusement, then cracked his knuckles and opened a nearby cabinet.

"As always, you're quite the orator. Forgive me if I grew a bit overzealous at points, but to make it up to you…" Neito turned back towards Izuku, a bottle of red wine in hand and an eager grin on his face. "I've been dying to try this Syrah for days now. Shall I fetch us some glasses?"

"Business first, I'm afraid," Midoryia declared with a sigh, setting their kettle to boil on the stovetop once he'd checked to make sure it had enough water left over. "Fetch me Yaoyorozu's box of teas, will you? I had intended to head back to bed once I'd gotten some water, but since you're here, and I'm wide awake by now, we might as well get a bit of work done- there are a few matters I'd like to see to."

A few minutes later, they were both holding steaming mugs of fragrant, herbal tea as they made their way to Seraph's office. Adjoined to his bedroom, it was a busy, crowded workspace; the desk in the center of the room was covered in various reports, charts, and news clippings, while the bank of widescreen computer monitors covering two of the four walls, though dimmed to save power overnight, were still displaying everything from the Nikkei index to news coverage of the graduation attack to live feeds from some of the bugs planted by the Recruits. All the screens brightened at once moments after Seraph and Chaudron entered, activated by a motion sensor, and the music he had last been listening to resumed as well; a Pink Floyd album began to play softly in the background. Once the door was shut behind them, the two took a brief moment to inspect the camera feed from Battle Fist's living room, so graciously provided by Emperor a few days prior.

"I don't know what we were expecting at this time of night," Monoma scoffed once they'd spent ten monotonous seconds watching her dark, empty living room, and they shared a brief chuckle. "Doesn't seem like she's much of a sleepwalker."

"All the same," Izuku replied, one hand on his chin, "I'll have Dark Shadow review the footage later to ensure that nothing of note happened during the night, as usual. He's quite attentive to detail."

"A most useful trait, indeed." Neito squinted, searching for more detail in the picture. "Speaking of attention to detail, the preparation for Scimitar's debut is coming along well, despite the scheduling delay. He's quite eager to go ahead with it, the sooner the better."

"And is our surprise for him already in place?"

"Synapse and Kurogiri retrieved them a few hours ago, yes." Neito's ever-present smirk widened. "After our discussion tonight, I'm certain that he'll be quite pleased."

"Excellent- I'm looking forward to attending."

As Monoma continued to scrutinize the rest of the monitors, Midoriya turned and took a seat at the desk; his laptop flickered to life moments later, the screen divided between a document he'd been drafting and a custom-designed, interactive map of Nagoya dotted with a set of markers that represented local hero agencies, patrol routes, police stations, government checkpoints, and more. Many of the designated hero and police units were continuing to move in real time, courtesy of the spikes La Brava had placed in dozens of traffic cameras around the city to monitor them.

"Seems like a few of the city's finest are getting a bit too close for comfort," Izuku noted, projecting the map onto one of the larger monitors. A police patrol was passing through the outlying, residential neighborhood their penthouse headquarters were located in- two squad cars and four bikes, according to the nearest camera.

"Shall we give them an enticing distraction, then?" Neito stepped up to Izuku's side, took hold of the mouse, and made a few clicks, activating another of La Brava's special creations: Loudmouth, an automated program that phoned in faulty police reports to any given area of a city, then employed an elaborate series of signal scramblers to prevent the authorities from tracing the call's source afterwards. It was the same system Aiba had used on the Black Day to draw much the Tokyo PD away from their own HQ, albeit slightly upgraded since then.

"Hello, Nagoya Police?" A young woman's voice asked, allowing Seraph and Chaudron to listen in as the program contacted the local emergency number in real time. The voice seemed entirely normal, but in reality, it was the product of eerily authentic-sounding speech simulator.

"Yes, this is the crisis hotline," came the reply, moments later. "What is your emergency?"

"I think I just witnessed a robbery- I'm sending you my location! The men are armed, I have to hide!"

"Ma'am? Hello, ma'am?"

The line clicked dead, and seconds later, Izuku and Neito watched with amusement as the police patrol diverted from their route and began rushing towards the coordinates that Loudmouth had provided, in the opposite direction from the penthouse.

"It never gets old," Chaudron declared with a sigh of satisfaction. "I think I'll let Scimitar do the honors next time. He certainly deserves it, after the way the police treated him."

"Very true, but we have to be careful about using it too often, or else they'll start to recognize it, and perhaps even start filtering out its calls. If they have any personnel remotely skilled at IT and programming, that is."

Seraph started to scroll to another section of the map via the laptop's touchscreen, but stopped short, and decided to check his emails instead. The Syndicate used a private, encrypted server that was only shared between its members and fully converted Recruits; the importance of communicating via email rather than text had doubled ever since the revelation that their new rival organization, the so-called 'Deika Group', controlled Feel Good Inc., one of Japan's largest cell companies. In fact, the office's walls were lined with lead and a few other custom, protective alloys to prevent any outside signals from penetrating it, not to mention the room's total soundproofing.

"One new message," Izuku retrieved the mouse from Neito, then hovered the cursor ever the red notification bubble. "Most likely another econometrics paper that Yaoyorozu found interesting. She's grown quite passionate about the subject recently."

"Not the only subject she's grown passionate about," Monoma murmured, sipping at his tea.

Seraph blinked in mild surprise, then continued entering his password without responding. The unread email that awaited him didn't seem to be from Pandora, though; the sender line was marked as ERROR- UNKNOWN, and the subject box was empty.

Seraph and Chaudron exchanged a confused glance, then Monoma turned and pulled up another chair, shaking his head in disbelief.

"That's… not right. There shouldn't be any unknown email addresses, this is a closed network. It must be some type of error…"

"La Brava and Longshot don't make errors," Seraph declared, his eyes narrowed. "Mei created this server years ago with top-of-the-line encryption protocols, and Aiba enhanced the security system even further when she joined. We've never had a breach or a hack. But, to be safe…" He sighed, and ran both hands through his hair. "Where are they? Both still here?"

"Mei is still securing the facility in Yokohama, but La Brava is across the hall. Shall I-"

"Wake her," Seraph cut in, before Chaudron could even finish the question. "Bring her here, now. And be quiet about it, don't start a panic."

"Of course, sir."

Around forty-five seconds later, a groggy Aiba Manami was staring at the screen through bleary eyes; there was still a streak of glistening drool on her cheek, and her long red hair was a mess of tangles. La Brava grew visibly more awake the moment she caught sight of the message in question, though, and wasted no time commandeering Monoma's chair to pull up next to Midoriya.

"Okay, yeah, I can see the problem." Suddenly businesslike, she set her own heavily modified laptop on the desk alongside Seraph's and began to tap away at the keyboard, alternating between each of two devices. "I'm going to isolate this computer from the network, then run a full security sweep of all of our systems. Don't open that email until I tell you it's safe- good job not clicking it already."

"He's nothing if not cautious," Neito replied, a hand on Izuku's shoulder as he watched Manami work.

"Alright, done," La Brava declared a minute later, stealing a sip of Chaudron's tea as she turned towards Seraph. "Your laptop is totally cut off from every other device and network we own now, and I've taken the liberty of throwing up a few extra failsafes in case the worst happens. If the email tries to release a virus or some other foreign program when you open it, the computer will automatically jump into a hard reset. Don't worry about your data- it backs up to our servers every few hours, and the last backup was well before this email came in."

"Understood. And the security sweep?"

"That'll take at least an hour to complete, depending on how thorough you want me to be." Manami glanced up at Izuku again, then nodded in understanding after a brief moment of eye contact. "As thorough as possible, understood. I'll get on it."

"Good. In the meantime, I suppose all that's left is to open our mystery message." Izuku took one final sip of his tea, then set the mug aside, moved the cursor over the email, and clicked.

All three of them instinctively braced for the worst, though what followed was exceedingly ordinary- no viral messages or sinister pop-ups appeared onscreen, only the blank, default thumbnail for a video, a grey arrow surrounded by a circle. Beneath it, the file name was visible: 'TimeToTalk .mp4'.

Seraph leaned steadily back in his chair, a look of understanding washing over his face. He gave Chaudron a swift nod, then turned to La Brava.

"Aiba, I have nothing but gratitude for your assistance in this matter. But I believe that Monoma and I can handle it from here- you can go back to bed now."

"But… don't you want me to check that video first?" La Brava's brows furrowed in confusion. And what's up with that creepy file name, anyway?"

Where's Shinso when you need him? Izuku mused, laying a hand on Manami's shoulder.

"It seems that this was a false alarm, of sorts- I know who this is from, and while it wasn't the way I was expecting to receive it, I've been anticipating this message for some time now. I'll explain it all to the entire group in the morning, but we need some privacy for the moment."

"You don't have to patronize me, y'know?" Manami's eyes narrowed, suddenly full of the same skepticism she'd displayed in their very first meeting. "This has something to do with those people who took Gentle, doesn't it? They're the only ones who've been able to get around our security before." A brief pause followed, filled by nothing but tense silence and the faint sound of a Pink Floyd guitar solo in the background. After a few moments spent searching his expression, Manami smirked. "Don't bother telling me I'm wrong, Midoriya. I know when you're lying."

Seraph continued to meet her gaze, unflinching; his left eye twitched, and his mouth curled into a slight grin, but otherwise, he was able to keep his outward reaction steady and calm. That last bit was obviously a bluff, but she's became far too valuable to our digital systems and operations for me to lift a hand against her, and she knows it. I suppose we should count ourselves lucky that she didn't refuse to work starting the moment Gentle was captured. He nodded his head ever so slightly, and removed his hand from Manami's shoulder.

"Very well. You're free to stay and watch, but only if you can promise not to overreact. After the video plays, I'll explain the full context."

"…I promise," She replied hesitantly, her arms crossed. "It better be a good explanation, if this is what I think it is."

Behind them, Neito's expression screamed an utter lack of trust in Manami's promise, but Izuku dismissed his subordinate's doubt with a brief shake of his head, then turned back to the screen. An overreaction is practically guaranteed, but it won't be anything that I can't handle.

"Without further ado, then." After a brief glance to ensure the door was still closed, Seraph clicked on the video; it began to play on the wall-mounted monitor directly in front of them after only a brief delay.

The scene on-screen appeared to be an ordinary corporate meeting for a moment. The camera was placed at one end of a rectangular mahogany table, surrounded by six chairs- two on each of the three sides that were visible. As their occupants came into focus, though, Seraph heard La Brava gasp in shock beside him.

On the left side of the table were Gentle and Spinner; both of their faces were covered in healing cuts and bruises, and both were wearing some sort of thin, grey mesh casts on their hands, but they were dressed in fresh, casual clothes, their hair was well-groomed, and they appeared to be unrestrained and fully conscious. Opposite them sat a man and a woman Seraph recognized as two of the Deika Group's top lieutenants: Chikazoku Tomoyasu, the gaunt, long-haired Feel Good Inc. executive, and Kizuki Chitose, a woman with pale blue skin and green eyes who led one of Japan's largest publishing companies. All four were looking to the two figures at the head of the table, though- both were dressed neatly in matching suits, looking directly at the camera. Yotsubashi Rikiya, the CEO of Detnerat- or Re-Destro, as he was referred to in the scant few internal communiques they had managed to intercept out of Deika- was the first to speak.

"Seraph, I presume? I certainly hope you're the one watching this, but tragically, this method of communication is quite lacking when it comes to interactivity." Smiling warmly, he clasped his hands together atop the table. "As both of our organizations are aware after the events of the past week, a lack of proper, interactive dialogue breeds suspicion and contempt- unchecked, it can lead to violence, as I saw when your forces invaded this building the other day, and as your friends in Yokohama will see shortly after you open this message."

Seraph's eyes widened slightly; beside him, Chaudron was already rushing into the hallway to dial Longshot on his cellphone.

"But let me make it clear that this is not a declaration of war," Yotsubashi continued. "In fact, I'd like tonight's instance of measured, proportionate retaliation to mark the last blood shed in this petty conflict. Which is why I'm so glad to tell you that together, we've been discussing a way to move forward- out of the darkness and on to the next stage of what could be a very productive relationship. Isn't that right?"

"Precisely," Midoriya Izuku replied, taking a moment to straighten his tie and smile at the camera. "To Seraph, and any others watching- I'm happy to report that our negotiations have made a great deal of progress over the past few days."

---

"…endo…"

"…Kendo!"

"Kendo, can you hear us?!"

At the distant edges of Itsuka's vision, swirling, shadowy shapes began to take form- human silhouettes, watching her from across a wide chasm.

I'm… here again? It's been a while…

"Kendo!" Another desperate cry, echoing through the void, ringing in her ears.

Straining her eyes in the semi-darkness, Kendo raised a hand towards the silhouettes- towards the Vestiges- but they were far out of her reach, with nothing but a vast, empty abyss lying between them. Her thoughts were still a jumbled blur, slowly taking shape, but after a moment of coughing, she found her voice, and cried out.

"Hello?! Banjo, is that you?!"

She'd last visited this place the night after the Black Day, just hours after she activated Blackwhip for the first time. Banjo Daigoro, its user, had spoken with her, explaining the nature of One For All- how it contained the quirks of its previous wielders, and how she would slowly master each of those quirks in turn. Since then, though, the inner sanctum of One For All had been closed to her- day after day passed with no contact from the Vestiges, no matter how desperately she tried to reach them through meditation, intensive training with Blackwhip, or sheer willpower. With All Might and Gran Torino both gone, there was no one left alive to consult about the matter- in the days since the graduation attack, Itsuka had nearly given up on trying to contact with them altogether, waiting instead for them to reach out to her. Looks like that strategy paid off in the end. I have a lot to ask them this time around.

A week ago, before U.A.'s destruction, Vlad King had given her some of All Might's personal belongings, as he requested in his will. Most of it was still sitting practically untouched in a cardboard box in her bedroom; the thought of looking through it all was still too painful to even consider. But a few items had caught her eye- in particular, a set of notebooks detailing All Might's research into the previous holders of One For All, still in progress at the time of his death. His notes weren't complete, but they'd at least given her some insight into several of the wielders' backgrounds and abilities.

Shielding her face from a raging gust of wind with one hand, Kendo forced her legs into motion and took a step forward, towards the abyss. Some of her body was still surrounded by amorphous black shadows, parts of her legs and chest in particular, but with enough effort, she could move at a slow, trudging pace. Across the chasm from her, the silhouettes were slowly taking a more recognizable form; Banjo stood at the cliff's edge, flanked on the left by the First user, frail and white-haired, and on the right by the Sixth, a shorter man dressed in a distinctive, dark blue coat, with a high collar that reminded her of Best Jeanist's outfits. According to All Might's notes, his name is En, she recalled, squinting.

"Kendo, can you hear me?"

It was new voice this time, coming from behind her rather than ahead- a woman's voice. Itsuka's eyes widened, and she twisted her head to the left, dragging her shadow-bound ankles to pivot as quickly as she could manage.

"S-Shimura? Is that you?"

Shimura Nana smiled softly, her black hair and white cape whipping in the ethereal wind. The Seventh wielder was looking down on Kendo from atop a shadowy ridge, perhaps only half a dozen meters above Itsuka. With her limited mobility, though, the slope might as well have been Mount Everest. At Shimura's side was an immensely tall man with two jagged scars running down his face, and white hair that reached past his chin. Shinomori Hikage, right? The Fourth.

"Our connection to your consciousness is weak and unstable," Shinomori declared, his arms crossed, "and that instability is manifesting as this impassable distance between you and the rest of us. There isn't much time before the link fades again."

"Then how can I help change that?!" Itsuka shouted up at him in reply. "I want to be able to speak with you, with all of you, as often as I can! There's so much I need to learn!"

"I wish we could tell you," Shimura answered, a frown crossing her face, "but we have as many unanswered questions as you do. There's no time for speculation, though. This matter is urgent."

"Indeed," a deep, familiar voice declared. "There is no higher priority."

Itsuka's heart nearly stopped at the sound, then began to beat like a hammer in her chest. Above her, the wind died down for a moment, and Shimura's cape ceased its fluttering, revealing a mane of bright golden hair with long, drooping tassels just behind Nana as it fell back down to her side. The Seventh and Fourth exchanged a glance, then each moved to the side as Toshinori Yagi stepped forward to the cliff's edge, a sad smile on his gaunt and sunken face. Majestic even in his weakened form, he was wearing his white and red costume, with bright gold gauntlets and a blue cape, the same color as Battle Fist's.

"Hello, Young Kendo."

Tears were welling in Itsuka's eyes and spilling out down her cheeks long before she realized she was crying; the strength suddenly gone from her legs, she fell down to her knees, and choked out a single word.

"H-Hello."

"I wish there was enough time for me to speak with you again as your mentor and friend," Toshinori continued, worry clear in his tone. "To give you the reassurance I know you need right now. But this could all end at any second, so please, forgive us for cutting to the heart of the matter." All Might let out a heavy sigh. "Young Kendo, we have come to believe that your life is in danger. Not only from the evil that surrounds you on all sides, but from One For All itself. And all because of me." Toshinori's brows furrowed in pain. "Because of the choices I made."

"That can't be true!" Kendo countered, rubbing her tears away with both hands as she rose slowly back to her feet. "I know you would never-"

A sudden, violent tremor cut her off midsentence, and up on the ridge, Shinomori let out a shout of frustration.

"Dammit, it's collapsing already!"

Waves of shadow began to crash down from all sides, enveloping the landscape that had formed, all as another, entirely different voice began to echo through the air, coupled by a loud, incessant beeping.

"Kendo? Wake up, Kendo!"

"Listen to me!" All Might cried, reaching a hand down towards her in the last few moments before the shadows enveloped him, and the sanctum collapsed entirely. "Find a way to contact us again, I know you can! Your quirk is the reason for-"

Itsuka jolted awake before he could finish speaking, panting and covered in sweat. Jiro was standing above her, a hand on her shoulder and a worried expression on her face. She must've been trying to shake me awake, Kendo realized, glancing over at her blaring alarm clock. 7:02AM? It's already been ringing for two minutes now.

"Thank god, finally." Kyoka breathed a sigh of relief and reached over to turn off the alarm. "You had us worried there, you weren't waking up no matter what I did."

"She was about to use her jacks on you," Kodai added, watching the two as she leaned up against the frame of Kendo's bedroom door. While Kyoka was still dressed in an oversized t-shirt and athletic shorts, Yui was already in her hero costume. "You never sleep through your alarm, Itsuka."

"Yeah, I guess not…" Kendo finally managed, propping back up against the bedframe. She was still attempting to process everything that had just happened inside One For All; the prospect of reporting to work in a few minutes was seeming less and less appealing in comparison.

"Itsuka…" Jiro sat down next to her on the bed, brows furrowed in concern again. "Why are you crying?"

"Huh?" Kendo lifted a hand to her face; it was wet with tears when she withdrew it. "Oh, uh… sorry." Itsuka's cheeks flushed red with a combination of several emotions at once, and she lowered her gaze to the sheets as the ache in her throat returned. "It's nothing. Just a sad dream."

"I get them too." Kyoka wrapped her in a tight embrace, wiping away the tears with her jacks. "They've been really bad this week. But we have to keep moving forward, right? For everyone that we've lost."

"Y-Yeah," Itsuka stammered out, forcing a shaky smile on her face. Look at how pathetic I am. She chuckled in spite of the pain, and tightened her grip on Kyoka. Can't even get out of bed without a breakdown.

"I hate to interrupt," Yui cut in from across the cramped, narrow bedroom, "but we have to get moving, or we'll be late. Especially you, Itsuka- you said last night that you have an important assignment today."

"God dammit, I really do," Breaking away from the embrace, Itsuka hopped down from the bed and stretched her arms as the unpleasant reality set in. Guess who gets to spend their morning visiting a murdering psychopath? She nearly asked aloud, then caught herself- Kodai wasn't a part of Strike Team Fenrir, so there was still a good deal Kendo and Jiro couldn't tell her about their daily missions. "…Let's just say that it's going to be slightly less pleasant than walking on hot coals."

Five minutes later, all three of them were dressed and ready, chatting in the living room. It was still devoid of permanent furniture, but Jiro had brought home a few folding chairs and a collapsible table after her patrol last night, so they could actually share a normal meal of sorts as roommates while they waited for the real things to be delivered. For breakfast, they had a luxurious spread of store-brand cereal and toast with jam- meat, eggs, and rice were still out of the question until one of them found the time to make a proper grocery run.

"Wait, sorry if I'm hallucinating because I'm still half asleep," Kendo interjected, "but weren't you gonna move in on Saturday, Yui? I'm so used to being around you every morning that I didn't remember until just now, but you're a few days early."

"I was worried about you after you called me last night," Yui answered once she'd finished chewing a bite of toast. "So I decided to stop by before work and make sure you're okay."

Kendo smiled as she gulped down another spoonful of cereal, and laid a hand on Kodai's arm.

"Thank you, Yui. That really does mean a lot. We've had to deal with so much over the past few days, it just doesn't seem real… I feel like a lot of it still hasn't fully processed." She shook her head, then glanced over at Jiro. "But like Kyoka said, we've gotta keep moving forward, right? So when I think about it that way, I'm okay."

A pleasant beep sounded from the kitchen, and Itsuka's smile grew even wider.

"And there's the coffee! Now I can actually start to wake up."

While their pantry still wasn't stocked with any more than the bare essentials, one thing Kendo had made sure to bring from her U.A. dorm room was her top-of-the-line coffeemaker, an absolute necessity for her mental and physical health each morning. As she stepped into the kitchen, though, an eager expression on her face, multicolored sparks began to crackle around her body, and Itsuka stopped just short of the counter, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

Huh? But I didn't activate…

Before she could even turn her head back towards Jiro and Kodai, an overwhelming surge of pain struck Kendo like lightning, and she fell down to one knee with a cry of pure agony; it felt like every nerve ending in her body was on fire, coursing with a swell of white-hot energy.

"Itsuka?!" Kyoka's chair clattered to the floor as she jumped to her feet. Both she and Yui rushed toward her, but Itsuka waved an enlarged hand in their direction, sending them stumbling backwards with a small blast of air pressure.

"Don't… come near me…" Kendo muttered through grit teeth, then stumbled into the fridge in an attempt to stand. Larger and larger sparks of energy were still arcing out from her body, leaving jagged scorchmarks on the floor and the adjacent wall. "I don't know… what's happening."

"Should we call an ambulance?!" Yui asked, genuine concern apparent in her usually emotionless voice; she was holding up an arm to keep Kyoka from getting any closer.

"No… please, don't…"

"What about Sir?!" Jiro cut in. "Fuck it, I'm calling him."

"Kyoka, wait… Just…"

Kendo lost her footing again, and doubled both her hands in size to grab onto the counter for support. Not a moment later, a tongue of pulsing energy surged out from her arm and shattered her mug of steaming coffee where it was waiting for her beneath the maker's nozzle, splashing the scalding liquid across her right hand.

"God dammit!"

Crying out again as a new source of pain joined in with the first, Itsuka stumbled back into the dividing wall opposite the counter and slumped to the floor. The sparks were finally receding from the air around her, but they weren't disappearing entirely, instead concentrating on one point of her body- her left arm. Beads of sweat dripped down Kendo's brow anew as she struggled to keep herself from screaming in agony; she could feel the energy coursing just beneath the skin of her arm, even see it as the sparks illuminated her veins from the inside.

"Shit, shit, shit…"

Itsuka reached over and clutched at her lower arm with an iron grip, watching with welling tears of pain in her eyes as a jagged, smoking black scar carved itself into the skin just below her left wrist, around five centimeters long. Once it was complete, the energy inside her rapidly faded, and the sparks dissipated almost instantly, though the new mark on her arm still ached with an intermittent stabbing, burning sensation. With most of the pain washing away, Kendo let out a gasp of relief- her breath was escaping in ragged pants, and for the second time in the last few minutes, her cheeks were stained with tears and sweat. Kyoka and Yui were at Itsuka's side moments later, helping her to her feet; Jiro eased her back into a chair at the table while Kodai filled a glass of water for her at the sink.

"I… I don't know why that happened… I just…"

"You're okay," Kyoka murmured in reply, her voice close to breaking. "You're okay, Itsuka. Sir's gonna be here soon." Pulling up a chair for herself, she reached up and wiped away Kendo's tears with her thumb, then began to brush aside her sweat-soaked auburn bangs where they had fallen down in front of her eyes. "He'll know what to do. He… Holy shit." Kyoka's eyes widened, and she lifted a hand to her mouth.

"What… oh, this?" Itsuka glanced down at her new scar. "It's fine, it doesn't even hurt that bad anymore. I doubt it's anything Recovery Girl can't fix."

"No, Itsuka…" Jiro opened the mirror app on her phone and held it up. "Your hair."

Itsuka looked up at Kyoka in confusion, then took the phone in hand; the reason for her shock quickly became apparent. In between Kendo's tufts of reddish orange hair, there was now a thin yet noticeable streak of pure white, extending from the base of her scalp to the tip of her ponytail.

"Well… that's new."

---

Happy Season 5, everyone! Sorry again for the long wait- as I mentioned last chapter, the pandemic's definitely been hard on my writing, not to mention some personal circumstances that caused me to take a total hiatus during the winter. But with things slowly opening up again, I'm getting back into the swing of things, and I really hope that this chapter can mark the return of a somewhat normal release schedule.

As is often the case, some important new stuff has happened in the manga during the interim, and as you can probably tell, I'm already hard at work integrating those developments. Rest assured that the Toga-Kendo meeting is 150% happening next chapter- it was supposed to be in this one, and it's partially written already, but as is often the case, I ran out of room to fit it in this time around without making the chapter absolutely gigantic. Let me know what you think of the Deku/Kacchan and Kamakiri backstory, as well as Kendo's condition and the message from the MLA! I always love to hear your thoughts in the reviews!