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.

35. Into the Forest I Go

Chapter 35: Into the Forest I Go

Syndicate Headquarters, Kyoto

14 April, 9:07AM

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"Apologies- am I interrupting?"

Todoroki Shoto blinked his eyes open, slowly returning to the present. For the past two hours- or at least, what felt like around two hours- he'd been seated on his cell's cool wooden floor, legs crossed and hands clasped loosely together, immersed in another prolonged period of Zen meditation. It was a skill he'd honed considerably over the seemingly endless blur of his captivity- a way to clear his mind and relax his body, to pass his days without being consumed by endless fear of what was happening in the world outside the confines of his cage. Emptying his head of thoughts had always been the most difficult part of the process; for the first few weeks, he could scarcely pass a minute in silence without hearing Toga Himiko's shrill, manic laugh, feeling the phantom lance of pain from her knife plunging into his back. Without picturing the faces of his friends and classmates, twisted in suffering- of his mother and sister and father. By now, though, he could make it through hours of emptiness on end, his body reduced to a state of complete and total tranquility. Still, though, he could never escape his thoughts completely- sooner or later, the same worries always returned.

How many are dead by now? Shoto often found himself wondering, bitter frustration swelling in his chest. How many has Midoriya murdered? How many today? How many yesterday? How many of them could I have saved if I weren't trapped in here? If I'd been strong enough to beat Dabi, quick enough to escape from Toga?

There was no use to asking those questions, though, aside from punishing himself. Shoto had long since accepted that he couldn't undo his capture, and that his cell was too closely monitored to engineer his own breakout. His sole mission now was winning over the Syndicate's trust, whittling away at their suspicions until they gave him a chance to escape- and seizing that moment when it came.

No matter how many lies I have to tell to get there, Shoto reminded himself, staring up into Yaoyorozu's eyes. Pandora was sporting her usual confident, self-assured smirk, her hands propped on her hips as she loomed above him. Her chin-length hair was dyed a pale, pearl-like shade of whitish pink today, aquamarine contacts in her eyes. He'd been too deep in his meditation to notice the soft hiss of hydraulic steam that announced her entry- or perhaps his mind had simply begun to filter the noise out after hearing it announce each meal and visitation for weeks on end. Regardless, Pandora's arrival marked his first high-ranking Syndicate visitor in over three days- in the interim, he'd only had the company of Dark Shadow, Mustard, and Twice, bearing food, water, and occasionally tea, if he was lucky. Of the three of them, only Bubaigawara was willing to strike up any conversation, though he was also quick to shut down and leave if Todoroki tried to probe him for anything beyond the most bland and innocuous topics.

"And here I was starting to wonder if you'd forgotten about me." Coldflame forced a faint grin onto his face as he rose steadily to his feet; despite all his instincts to the contrary, he had to keep up the illusion that he wanted to join, and that meant feigning interest in his captors whenever possible. "Apologies if I can't say exactly how long it's been, but…"

"Nonsense- I'm the one who owes you an apology, Shoto."

Without warning, Momo leaned forward and wrapped him in a tight hug. Shoto could feel the cold alloy plating of her molded silver-grey armor through the plain beige robe they'd given him, but the warmth of her body and breath swiftly followed, then the scent of her perfume, the shampoo in her hair. Rosemary, lavender, thyme- she smelled like a bouquet of all his favorite herbs, almost intoxicatingly strong. In spite of everything, though, the gesture felt strangely comforting after such a prolonged period without physical contact, and Shoto tentatively returned the embrace, resting his hands as lightly as possible on her back.

"We've just been so relentlessly busy lately," Yaoyorozu continued, breaking the embrace with a sigh. "You wouldn't imagine the things I've had to deal with these past few days- all the setbacks we've been dealt, in spite of our progress. Not to mention all the time I've devoted to advocating your cause to the others! When you first made your case, they refused to even consider your request, but over time, I've been able to make them see reason. It was a simple matter once they set aside their natural biases, of course."

The soles of Pandora's boots clicked rhythmically on the wood as she paced back and forth across the room, her brows furrowed and her mouth turned in a slight frown. For a few brief moments, Coldflame saw flashes of the girl he'd once known- of Creati, the brilliant, analytically minded bookworm, always putting her all into solving every problem set before her. A girl incapable of harming a fly, ceaselessly concerned for others- shockingly humble, despite her wealth of talent and skill. And again, Shoto asked himself the same question- one that had remained fixed at the front of his mind from the moment Pandora revealed herself to him.

What did they do to her?

"But that's enough complaining from me." Yaoyorozu paused and turned back to face him, shaking her head apologetically. "You've been waiting all this time for an answer, yes?"

"Y-Yes," Shoto stammered, rapidly shifting back into his faux enthusiasm. "I know it must sound crazy, but the more I think about it, the more certain I am, especially after my last conversation with Midoriya earlier this week- the Syndicate is where I belong. After everything…" Shoto paused for a beat, and some of the feigned eagerness faded from his voice. "After everything I watched my father get away with, after a lifetime watching him be rewarded and praised without any consequences for what he's done, I… I know something has to change. So if the system won't punish someone like him, then Seraph is right- we need to change the system."

It was a mixture of truth and lies, though Shoto himself wasn't exactly certain as to the proportions; his chest still turned to a whirling torrent of conflicting emotions whenever thoughts of Todoroki Enji came to mind. Despite the years of hatred and resentment he'd borne for the man, there had been moments amid the numbing monotony of his cell when Shoto would have given anything to watch Endeavor burst through the walls in all his flaming glory.

"I couldn't agree with you more, Shoto."

A soft, sad expression had come over Momo's face; she reached out and laid a gentle hand on his cheek, slender fingers tracing the skin just beneath his burn scar. Shoto could feel the light prickle of his stubble brushing against her palm; the Syndicate were hardly inclined to give him a razor to shave with, so over the course of his captivity, a modest, bi-colored shadow of a beard and accompanying moustache had crept slowly across his face, another inescapable reminder that he shared his father's genes. His hair had grown noticeably longer as well, nearly reaching down to his shoulders when he didn't keep it tied up in a bun- given the nature of his confinement and the lack of a mirror in his cell, he generally didn't bother.

Mercifully, his locks of red and white were no longer coated with grease, nor his skin with dried sweat; in their infinite generosity, the Syndicate had finally fitted the cell with a shower after the Black Day, a gesture apparently meant as some sort of twisted reward for 'playing his part in the spectacle', as Monoma had put it. The water came from a flat, rectangular panel built into the ceiling and drained through a grate on the floor, although the latter disappeared beneath a retracting panel when he was done washing, depriving Shoto of even the most comically unlikely potential avenue of escape. Both the drain and showerhead had simply appeared one morning when he woke, along with a towel and bar of soap perched atop an entirely new shelf- given that he hadn't been woken by the fixtures' installation, Shoto could only assume that he'd been sedated during the night. What the hell else do they get up to while I'm out? He still wondered from time to time, always with a quiet rush of dread.

"I assume you didn't come here to talk about my father." Reaching up slowly and cautiously, Coldflame took hold of Pandora's wrist and eased her hand away from his face. "Please, just… enough of these games, Yaoyorozu. I need to know." Shoto steeled himself, allowing a small fraction of the anger and frustration that had built up over his long days of captivity seep into his expression. "Does Seraph have an answer for me or not? I can't wait forever."

Momo remained silent for several long moments, her brows furrowed and her mouth pinched in a half-grin that betrayed both sympathy and amusement.

"He does…" She finally replied, her voice halting and hesitant, "…in a manner of speaking. The answer is that he remains uncertain of your devotion to the cause."

Shoto's mouth fell open in feigned shock and anger, ready to issue a stream of protests, but Momo halted him with a wave of her hand.

"In his view, you need a test- a chance to prove your loyalty. And I…" She gestured towards herself and took a step towards him, laying one gloved hand atop her silver-grey breastplate. "I will be the one to oversee it."

Todoroki's eyes widened for a brief moment, then narrowed again.

"I… I see. Just tell me where to start- I'll do anything you ask."

Pandora's eyes narrowed again, and her grin widened in scarcely concealed delight; pulling away from his grasp, she reached out and laid a gloved hand on his forearm.

"Oh, I know you would. There's no need to rush into things, though- patience is a virtue, and you've demonstrated quite clearly that you possess a great deal of it. As our first exercise together, I want you to join us for a cup of tea- we'd like to hear your perspective on these past few weeks, if you're inclined to share."

"My… perspective?"

Shoto felt one of his brows rise in skepticism, and he had to choke down the string of sarcastic retorts that came to mind. My perspective has been limited to the inside of this cage, thanks to you psychopaths. It's a wonder I'm still sane enough to have this conversation.

"Yeah, sure," he finally managed, forcing a small half-smile. "I can do that."

"Delightful!" Momo clapped her hands together, positively beaming. "Be a dear and follow me, then."

Pandora turned on a dime, gazed up at the security camera fixed in one of the upper corners of Todoroki's cell, and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. After a dull, reverberating thunk and a small hiss of steam, the sealed metal door creaked open, and Todoroki at last had a clear view of the room that laid beyond it. He'd caught brief glimpses before when they brought his food- sunlit windows, a few couches and chairs- but they always had him stand well back from the door. Now, as Momo stepped out into the morning sunlight, he was walking alongside her, unrestrained aside from his quirk-suppressing shackles and practically unguarded.

All things considered, Shoto couldn't help but admit that the Syndicate had a good taste for interior decoration. It was a lavish, well-styled living room, with a wall of massive, floor-to-ceiling windows to his left and a luxuriously furnished area directly ahead. Twice and a silver-haired man Coldflame recognized from the wanted list as the personnel broker Giran were currently lounging on a cushy-looking sofa, their feet kicked up on the coffee table as they puffed at cigarettes and chatted amicably over the sounds of an action movie playing on a wall-mounted flatscreen television. Synapse occupied the armchair chair just to their right, sipping idly at the thermos of coffee clutched in his hands; sluggish and groggy in his movements, he seemed to be struggling to stay awake, in spite of the barrage of noise that surrounded him.

Directly to Shoto's right, Dabi was standing next to a control panel and flatscreen monitor built into the wall, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed in silent amusement. He was the one who'd been watching the cell, by the look of it; the monitor showed a live feed from the interior security camera. A slight shiver raced up Shoto's spine when the two made eye contact- he could feel an unmistakable aura of malice and contempt radiating from beneath the villain's wordless smile, a silent longing to inflict pain and suffering unmatched even by Seraph.

What the hell did I do to piss him off so badly?

"Oh-ho, there he is! Mr. Teenage Heartthrob himself, in the flesh!"

Giran was the first of the trio seated in the living room to note Coldflame's presence, gesturing towards Shoto with his cigarette clutched deftly between two fingers. A thoroughly entertained grin had spread across his face, and he reached up with his free hand to stroke at his own stubble.

"Nice beard you got comin' in there, kid. Suits you pretty well."

"No way!" Twice interjected, shaking his head in exasperation; Coldflame might not have recognized the villain without his mask if he hadn't been wearing his black and white jumpsuit from the neck down. "Are you blind, Giran?! Clean-shaven fits his look way better!" Bubaigawara glanced back up at Todoroki and gesticulated towards the broker. "I mean, back me up here, kid- handsome guys like you and me gotta show off our jawlines, right?"

"Y-Yeah," Shoto replied, doing his best to respond naturally amid the overload of information currently being thrown at him. In line with his hero training, Coldflame's first instinct was to scan the room for actionable intel and possible escape routes, but he forced his eyes to focus solely on Twice for the moment, and let a smile break out across his face. "Exactly- that's why I always keep it in check. I haven't seen a mirror in a while, but I know I definitely need a good shave by now."

"Ah, hear that?" Grinning triumphantly, Bubaigawara elbowed Giran in the side. "He knows I'm right!" Twice glanced back towards Coldflame and shot him a double thumbs-up, his cigarette perched awkwardly at the corner of his mouth. "Just hang in there, buddy- maybe I can give you one! Since I still don't think they'll let you hold the razor yourself…"

"That's enough for now, you two." Momo continued forward through the room after giving the pair an admonishing shake of her head, and Shoto found himself trailing along behind her. "Shoto and I have an appointment to keep- we mustn't let the tea get cold."

"Hit me up later about that shave!" Twice called after them, and Coldflame turned to give him a parting thumbs-up in reply. Shinso remained silent as they passed by his chair, trailing Todoroki with two bloodshot eyes; after a brief moment of eye contact, Coldflame diverted his gaze towards the windows, taking in the scenic skyline of a sprawling city surrounded by forested mountains.

"Wow, hell of a view." He remarked as nonchalantly as he could manage, his eyes flitting back and forth in a frantic search for recognizable landmarks. If I can figure out where this base is- even just a that's one more piece of intel to bring back to the heroes when I escape. Finally, though, his eyes seized on an instantly familiar tower in the distance, along with several tall, multi-tiered pagodas. "…this is Kyoto, right? I think I've visited a few of those temples before."

"You have a good eye," Pandora remarked in a teasing voice, shooting him a playful wink as they stepped into a large, open-air kitchen, dominated by a central island. Several mostly eaten plates of pancakes, eggs, potatoes, and sausage were lined along one of the counters, filling the air with the familiar scents of breakfast; Shoto's stomach let out a loud growl, and he felt his eyes widen with longing. Just as he opened his mouth to ask whether there was any left over for him, though, Momo came to a sudden halt- midway through the kitchen, their path was blocked by one of the stainless-steel fridge's double doors, currently hanging wide open with the sounds of clinking jars audible behind it.

"Is there something I can help you find, Dark Shadow?"

Shoto's eyes widened in sudden realization, just as a clawed, purple-black hand wrapped around the door's handle and pulled it shut. His former classmate's quirk had a jug of iced coffee clutched in one hand, and a mocking grin spread across his beaked face as he gazed down at Todoroki through narrowed yellow eyes. Dark Shadow was much larger now than during his time at U.A., stretching over two meters in height and enveloping the entirety of Tokoyami's body; when he spoke, even his voice sounded harsher and deeper.

"No, I've got it- two years on, and I still can't kick this thing's caffeine cravings." Dark Shadow parted its umbral form to reveal Fumikage, submerged within his quirk, and held the jug up to his beaked mouth. Clad in metal plate armor with a grey-black helmet masking most of his head, Tokoyami resembled a zombified corpse more than a living human; as he opened his mouth and chugged down the coffee, even his movements seemed forced and robotic.

"You meatbags need so much constant maintenance, or you just fall apart! How pathetic is that?!" The quirk let out a cawing cackle as he set the jug down on the counter and concealed its dormant host once more. "Food, water, sleep, medicine, the goddamn toilet! Ah, it's enough to drive me insane some days! I even have to remember to wash it, or it'll start to stink!"

As Dark Shadow ranted, the shock and horror that initially surged up in Shoto's chest had gradually given way to boiling anger, until finally, he could bite his tongue no longer.

"How could you possibly-"

…talk about Tokoyami like that?! Shoto nearly asked, but he forced himself to halt midsentence. To his left, Pandora's eyes had already narrowed ever so slightly in scrutiny, and as much as it enraged Coldflame to watch his peer and friend so ruthlessly abused- to see him puppeteered and enslaved- he couldn't risk compromising his objective with a single, impulsive outburst of emotion. If I can hang on and play my cards right, I'll be able to free him. Just keep it together a little while longer.

"…put up with that?" Shoto finally finished, his faux smile twitching despite his best efforts to make it look genuine. "Sounds pretty exhausting, huh?"

"Oh, Shoto, you don't know the half of it." Dark Shadow let out another bitter cackle as he moved to the side to allow Pandora and Coldflame to pass; his sadistic expression had only intensified in response to Shoto's brief lapse of control. "Say, if you do end up joining, I'll talk to Master Shinso about us doing some assignments together. I'm normally not a big fan of fire, but I'm really looking forward to watching you roast some heroes alive with those flames!"

"Ah, what a delightful idea!" Momo reached out and squeezed at Shoto's arm, matching Dark Shadow's enthusiasm with a wide grin of her own. "I think you two would form a splendid duo, with the proper adjustments- but all things in due time, of course."

Pandora started forward again, and Coldflame found himself pulled along in her wake as they emerged from the other side of the kitchen into an elegantly furnished dining room, Dark Shadow's glowing eyes following him all the while. Seated around a long, lacquered mahogany table, Mr. Compress, Chaudron, and a short, red-haired woman he recognized as La Brava were already waiting for them, lounging in ornate chairs topped with velvet cushions. An elegant porcelain tea set adorned the table's center, cups and saucers and plates all painted with floral Victorian patterns and rimmed with gold, and steam was still rising from beneath the lids of two hefty teapots, filling the air with a rich, familiar aroma. More enticing than the tea, though, a plate of eggs, sausage, and pancakes was waiting in a spot at the head of the table; Shoto's mouth began to water as she pulled out the chair and gestured for him to approach.

"Ah, and he graces us with his presence at last!" Chaudron was the first to rise from his sea to greet their new guest, his honeyed tone dripping with facetiousness. "Scion of hero royalty, stoic champion of justice, pride of the U.A. hero course, the great and mighty Coldflame!" Monoma dipped down in an elaborate, mocking bow, a gleeful grin plastered across his face all the while." Won't you be a dear and sit with us, Todoroki? If you think us worthy of your company, that is- I know you Class A alumni can be quite prideful, if nothing else!" At this, Neito shot a wink towards both Shoto and Momo, and Coldflame let out a heavy sigh of exasperation as he settled into his chair.

"I see you're as charming as ever, Monoma."

"Do play nice, Chaudron." Pandora chided as she made her way towards an antique record player on a side table at the far end of the room and began to leaf through an accompanying box of vinyl discs. "Shoto has earned the full breadth of our hospitality with his patience and dedication."

"I quite agree," Neito replied, feigning innocence. "I was only complimenting him, after all. Do you not think yourself deserving of such accolades, Lord Shoto? It's quite strange to me, though, that a young hero so skilled and brave hasn't found a way to escape our clutches after so long. I suppose that's proof enough that his intent to join must be sincere!"

Todoroki merely flashed a smile in reply, doing his best to match Monoma's faux enthusiasm as anger continued to simmer in his chest; thankfully, Mr. Compress came to his rescue a moment later.

"Allow me to join my companions in welcoming you, dear Todoroki!" Compress doffed his tall, feathered hat and leaned into a bow- unlike Chaudron's gesture, though, this one felt more or less genuine. And though the man's face was still hidden behind a patterned black and white mask, his tone was warm rather than mocking. "It's quite an honor to have you attend one of our group's little gatherings, though we are regrettably still short one member."

Compress glanced over towards the empty chair that occupied the spot between himself and La Brava, who perked up noticeably.

"Not for much longer!" Aiba declared, her expression defiant. "Just twelve more hours until we get my baby back for good!"

…Are they talking about Gentle Criminal? Shoto wondered, glancing between the two with one brow raised in confusion. Todoroki had nearly apprehended the internet's favorite celebrity villain during his widely publicized attack on U.A. two years prior, but Gentle broke free from a cage of Coldflame's ice with surprising strength while making his escape. I had no idea he and his partner joined up with the Syndicate, but then again, I've probably missed a lot this past month. Sounds like he finally got captured, though- and they're going to stage a prison break tonight?

"I could still make a double of him for today's festivities if you'd like," Monoma offered with a shrug, cracking his knuckles together as he leaned back nonchalantly in his chair. "Twice is just in the other room, after all."

"It's not the same!" Aiba shook her head in frustration and crossed her arms. "It was nice at first, but now it feels like… like I'm cheating on the real Gentle somehow! Seraph can use all the doubles of Carmilla he wants until we get her back, but it just doesn't work like that for me."

Doubles of… Carmilla? Shoto felt his brows knit instinctively in confusion. Is that a new name for Toga? Was she captured too?

"Regardless of that particular moral quandary," Compress cut in with a somber tone, "we can all agree that the true Gentle Criminal's presence is missed quite dearly. But enough solemn talk- let's get on to the main event. Pandora, dear, have you made your selection?"

"That I have," Pandora declared triumphantly, setting a disc down onto the record player and lowering the needle. Moments later, a pleasant melody of strings filled the air; Yaoyorozu closed her eyes and began to pantomime conducting the piece with slow, graceful hand motions as she made her way back to her chair, a serene expression on her face.

"Mascagni." Monoma declared with a snap of his fingers, a widening grin on his lips. "Cavalleria Rusticana. A wonderful selection, truly- the Intermezzo is my personal favorite. Wouldn't you agree, Lord Shoto? You are familiar with this piece, I trust?" Neito was no longer making even the most cursory effort to disguise his mockery; his Cheshire-cat smile stretched across the entirety of his face now, dripping with sadistic delight, and his tone wavered as he struggled to hold back laughter with every word. "It's so widely known, after all- it would be positively bewildering if a cultured, intelligent young man such as yourself were ignorant of one of the greatest Italian operas in history!"

"I… really enjoy this one, yeah." Todoroki paused, desperately wracking his brain for the proper words to describe classical music, a genre he admittedly knew close to nothing about. "It's so… melodic."

"I'm glad to hear that," Yaoyorozu replied with a smile, cutting off Monoma before he could launch even further into his tirade. "I'll have to hear some more of your thoughts later. For now, though…" Pandora eased herself into the chair at Coldflame's right- Chaudron was at Shoto's left- and turned to face Mr. Compress once more. "What do we have today?"

"A truly delightful discovery I recently made!" Compress declared, setting aside his mask; his face was still partially obscured by a balaclava, and he flashed a wink in Coldflame's direction before continuing, a cheeky reminder that Shoto still wasn't considered trustworthy enough to see the villain's full appearance. For a brief moment, Coldflame's body tensed instinctively, his mouth twitching down into a scowl; memories of the League's attack on their forest training camp flashed through his head, of Compress' mocking smile as he removed his mask to reveal that he still had Bakugo's marble concealed beneath his tongue.

I can't afford to get comfortable with any of them- at the end of the day, even the friendliest ones are still criminals and terrorists.

"Would anyone care to venture a guess as to the composition of today's symphony?"

"Well, it's certainly a black tea blend," Momo declared in a matter-of-fact tone, taking hold of one of the teapots with a confident smirk on her face. "Ceylon, judging by the aroma, with a hint of Assam. And I'm getting some other notes as well- light smoke, not heavy enough for a lapsang souchong… and a fruit of some kind. Fig, perhaps?"

The tea poured a rich golden-brown color when Pandora tilted the pot towards her cup, and she began to fill each participant's in turn, saving Coldflame for last; when she finally reached him, her smile widened even further, and her eyes took on a playful gleam.

"As today's special guest, would you care to do the honors?"

"…Honors?" Shoto's brows furrowed briefly in confusion, then raised again as his eyes drifted down to the steaming cup of tea directly in front of him. "Oh- yes, of course."

Coldflame's gut instincts resisted as he lifted the cup to his mouth, screaming that this was a setup, that the tea was poisoned or spiked with some horrific cocktail of drugs. His eyes flit about between the menagerie of villains arrayed around the table, searching their faces for any tells as they watched and waited with expressions ranging from ambivalence to malicious delight. But after a brief, back-and-forth struggle in his mind, the reflex subsided. If they wanted to poison me or sedate me or dose me with some cocktail of drugs, they'd have done it while I was asleep, without all these… theatrics. Besides, I know Yaoyorozu would hate to waste a perfectly good pot of tea.

And so, Shoto pressed the cup to his lips and took a tentative sip. As far as he could tell, it was just as Momo had described, a black tea with notes of fruit and smoke- the taste was a good deal richer and more flavorful than the store-brand teabags he'd grown accustomed to at the U.A. dorms, and without any strange or harsh notes to denote some insidious chemical. The others all followed his lead moments later, sipping from their cups in unison, and in spite of his previous conclusion that poison was unlikely, Shoto couldn't help but let out a quiet sigh of relief as he set his cup back down on its matching saucer.

"This is… great, honestly."

Coldflame turned back towards Compress, a begrudging hint of a genuine smile on his lips as memories of childhood mornings spent sipping tea with his family rushed to mind. Always the contrarian, Natsuo was more of a coffee drinker, but Enji and Fuyumi took their morning tea dark and strong, with no milk or sugar, and Shoto had inherited the habit from his father and sister. It had been some years since the last time the four of them sat around the kitchen table as a family on a quiet weekday morning- before his siblings left for college- but Shoto could still picture the scene in perfect clarity: Enji's face buried in a newspaper, Natsuo scribbling last-minute answers to the homework assignments he'd left undone the night before, Fuyumi rushing around the kitchen making breakfast and brewing their strong black tea. The maids always offered to help, he recalled, a pang of guilt in his chest, but she insisted on doing it herself whenever she could- all while I sat around watching cartoons. I didn't realize how good I had it.

Then the pleasant sensations of nostalgia began to fade, as Shoto realized with a sinking feeling that he might never taste his sister's tea again.

"It's… really great." Shoto managed, quieter this time. The aftertaste had turned bitter in his mouth.

"I'm glad you think so, my dear boy." Compress' voice forced Coldflame back to the present; the villain clapped his gloved hands together in delight, his tone and expression striking a fine balance between genuine and mocking. "But dear me, you haven't touched your food! You mustn't hold back on our account, Shoto. Go ahead and tuck in- I cooked it all myself."

"If it's alright," Coldflame replied, forcing himself to smile graciously at the villain who'd maimed Hawks while Shoto lied on the ground meters away, a helpless hostage. In truth, though, he was starving, and he'd been itching to tear into the plate of food from the moment he sat down.

"Please, by all means." Pandora added, patting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I was terribly remiss in not inviting you to begin already."

Taking his fork and knife in hand, Shoto wasted no more time on pleasantries; as the villains continued their discussions of tea and opera and high culture, he worked his way through eggs and sausage and toast, stealing furtive glances out the window whenever he felt sure that his captors weren't watching him.

I have to take this one step at a time if I want to get out of this place, Shoto reminded himself, his eyes drifting back to the smooth, featureless metal bracelets fastened tight about his wrists as he lifted his fork to his mouth. There was a matching pair around his ankles as well, magnetically sealed and practically impervious to tampering- if he so much as lightly tugged at any of the four quirk dampeners, a brutal electric shock sent him to the verge of unconsciousness, paralyzing his body and alerting the Syndicate. On one infuriating occasion a week or so prior, he'd accidentally triggered the system by rolling around in his sleep; after twenty seconds of pure agony, it had been a mercy when Chaudron and Twice stepped in and sedated him.

These things don't look big enough to carry their own power source, so there's a chance they operate on a proximity signal, connected to some central unit. If that's the case, maybe they'd turn off on their own if I left this apartment, but that's not something I want to risk by busting through one of these windows and hoping my quirk comes back before I hit the ground. Shoto's eyes narrowed as he searched the streets below in between bites of food, watching the bustle of Kyoto's downtown and the majestic scenery of the surrounding mountains. Maybe I don't need to bust out, though- all I need is to get someone on the outside's attention. There must be thousands of heroes in Kyoto, and thousands more police officers supporting them- and that's not even mentioning all the millions of civilians. All I need is for a single one of them to be looking up at these huge windows, and I could leave them some kind of signal to spot… an SOS, something subtle but eye-catching. Maybe if I-

"Ah, I see our guest is being well provided for. Do you mind if we join you?"

An all-too-familiar voice derailed Coldflame's train of thought; his body tensed instinctively, and his head whipped back around to meet Seraph's gaze with widened eyes. As if on cue, a crescendo of strings swelled from the record player, echoing dramatically through the room.

Midoriya Izuku strode slowly and deliberately from the far end of the dining table towards their tea party, humming along to the tune of the opera with a wide, satisfied smile on his face; Hatsume Mei trailed along just behind him, stretching her arms up above her head as she flashed a contented grin of her own. In a sharp contrast to his usual impeccably refined and formal appearance, though, Seraph looked as if he'd just worked a shift in a coal mine- his hair and skin were both slick with sweat, and the latter was smeared with black stains from oil or grease. In place of his blazer, he was wearing some sort of flight vest and matching pants over a simple, sweat-soaked black jumpsuit, and Hatsume's appearance was roughly the same as Midoriya's, albeit with an even greater volume of grease strains on her skin, though it was a much less unorthodox look when worn by the Syndicate's queen of tech and engineering. In a more unexpected development, though, Hatsume's right arm appeared to be entirely artificial now, similar in appearance to Midoriya's but somehow more refined. A strange combination of aesthetic and utilitarian in its design, the limb was made from interlocking curved plates of silverish-grey metal, ending in a fully functional hand that seemed to be just as capable of fine motor manipulation as Izuku's.

"Not at all," Pandora replied, smiling demurely as she beckoned the pair to sit. "I trust all went well?"

"You bet your perfect ass it went well," Mei shot back, cackling in gleeful self-contentment as she slumped into a chair, leaned back, and slammed her heavy workboots onto the table. For a brief, fleeting moment, Coldflame watched both Pandora and Chaudron's eyes widen in horror and dismay at their colleague's lack of decorum, but their expressions quickly shifted to begrudging acceptance, indicating that this was hardly a rare occurrence.

"Listen, everything I make is my baby, but this one is my pride and joy- I've been working on her circuits and her code for months, tracking down every teesny little flaw! No more power overloads, no more servomotor freeze-ups, just pure perfection- she pilots as smooth as butter."

Longshot blew a kiss into the air to illustrate her point, then reached into one of the many pockets lining her cargo pants and produced a can of beer. Cracking it open with a loud sigh of contentment, she took a brief swig and gestured to Seraph.

"Now, I admit I was worried Izuku might struggle a little with the controls, but we all know he's a quick learner. Give him another few days of practice and he'll be tearing up Top Ten heroes with his eyes closed."

"You flatter me," Midoriya replied, a modest grin on his face as he took a seat to Shoto's right and poured himself a cup of tea. "Ah, a Ceylon blend? Very nice choice, Atsuhiro. Now, tell me, Shoto…" Suddenly Seraph's piercing, hollow green eyes were locked once more onto Coldflame's, and Shoto struggled to return Izuku's satisfied smile. "How's your escape plan coming?"

"I-I'm sorry?" Shoto stammered, his cheeks flushing involuntarily with color as he struggled not to choke on his most recent sip of tea. Deflect, deflect- go on the defensive, don't let him shake you. "I'm a bit offended, to be honest." Shoto's brows furrowed in frustration, and he allowed a small fraction of his suppressed anger to seep through, a veil of steam escaping a lidded pot. "I wait all this time to talk to you again about joining the Syndicate, stay patient for days on end while you leave me with nothing to do but read your essays and stare at the walls, and now the first thing you do is question my dedication?"

"You'll have to forgive me, Shoto," Izuku replied, shrugging his shoulders in faux innocence, "but I couldn't help but notice you staring ever so intently out that window when we entered- your body language was simply screaming that you were searching for an escape route, like a cornered animal." Leaning towards him over Yaoyorozu's lap, Midoriya reached out and patted his mechanical left hand on Todoroki's forearm, still smiling all the while. "I must've been mistaken, though- I should've known that you were simply enthralled by this gorgeous Kyoto skyline. It is quite a lovely view, is it not?"

Absolutely, Todoroki almost said- he almost launched into a round of effusive praise for the scenic location, almost did his best to keep buttering up his captors. But as he stared into Midoriya Izuku's haunting green eyes, something stopped him; he wasn't sure how, but Shoto knew that blind praise and agreement was the wrong answer.

"…Actually, you were right." Coldflame declared after a moment's silence, straightening up and narrowing his brows. "I'll admit it, Midoriya- I have been thinking how nice it would be to get out of here." Once more, Shoto allowed some of his anger and indignation to seep into his voice. "Because every day I'm stuck in here, staring at the walls for hour after hour, is a day I'm not out there helping the Syndicate take the fight to the heroes. With my quirk on your side, think how much more you could've accomplished by now!"

To Todoroki's left, Monoma nearly choked on his sip of tea as he hunched over in a fit of wheezing laughter; when he finally glanced back up, wiping tears from his eyes, his mouth was twisted in a smile as wide and mirthful as Shoto had ever seen.

"Well in that case, Lord Shoto," Chaudron replied, still breathing hard as he recovered, "you'll be thrilled to know that we've made quite extensive use of your ability while you stared so patiently at those walls."

At that, he reached out with his right arm and tapped Shoto on the wrist; as he withdrew it, Neito's hand sprouted a forest of ice crystals, and a crest of orange-yellow flames flickered to life along the left side of his face.

"It's strange- even though they know you're in our custody, heroes always look so surprised when I kill them with your quirk!" Chaudron leaned back and ran his left hand through his hair with a chuckle, still marveling at the frozen shards protruding from his right. "If Seraph decides that you've made your commitment to us sufficiently clear, though, you'll have the chance to begin dispatching them yourself- lucky you!"

"Oh…" Shoto managed, blinking. "…I see."

A maelstrom of emotions was currently running rampant through Shoto's chest, horror and rage and fear. How many people has he killed with my ability? How many did I know? How many died screaming in my flames, impaled on my ice? His instincts urged him to strike Monoma full across the face, to surge across the table and grab hold of the villain by his neck, but Coldflame forcibly suppressed them once more, keeping his expression level and apathetic. Blood had flushed involuntarily across his cheeks and ears, but he played it off it as best as he could manage with a sip of tea and a subsequent bout of feigned coughing.

He's lying, Shoto assured himself, desperate for any port he could find amid the storm. He's trying to rile me up, make me lash out. The test has already begun, and this is part of it- I can't afford to fail.

"Sorry, went down the wrong pipe. But you're right- I am glad to hear I've been able to help you out in some way while I waited." Coldflame paused to take a bite of egg and sausage, then glanced towards Chaudron and pulled his lips into a grin, gesturing with his fork as he swallowed. "But my point still stands; there's more I could be doing for your cause. I know my intel is a few weeks out of date, but there are things I could tell you about the heroes' defenses and protocols if you'd just ask- vulnerabilities you wouldn't know about. Not to mention…"

Shoto trailed off once more, steeling himself for what came next. This'll be the hardest part to sell them on- I have to come off as completely sincere, or they'll see right through me.

"…Not to mention what?" Midoriya prompted, his hands clasped together and a polite smile on his face as he waited for Todoroki to continue.

Beside him, Yaoyorozu wore an equally patient and forgiving expression, as did Compress; La Brava and Longshot simply looked bored, the former running a finger idly around the rim of her teacup and the latter struggling not to doze off in her chair. Only Monoma was watching him with clear malice and contempt in his eyes, but that was to be expected- judging by the handful of times Todoroki had encountered the boy before he left U.A., his personality had simply been amplified by the Syndicate, not altered in any meaningful way. Convincing him is probably a lost cause, Coldflame concluded, his eyes flitting back towards Pandora and Seraph. But lucky for me, he's not the one making the big decisions- if I win over these two, everything will fall into place.

"Not to mention how useful I could be as a decoy or a double agent." Todoroki leaned forward, his brows furrowed in determination. "I know how it may sound- but the heroes still think I'm being held against my will, so they see a chance to 'rescue' me, they'd drop everything to come find me. And if they thought they 'freed' me, imagine how much intel I could feed you from inside their ranks!"

The response from the table was more or less what Coldflame predicted; Seraph's warm, smiling expression remained almost entirely unchanged, Pandora's brows knit in contemplation, and Chaudron struggled to stifle another burst of hysterical laughter.

"If they thought they 'freed' him!" Monoma repeated, leaning back in his chair as tears of amusement welled in his eyes. "Oh, I'm so very glad to see you've been working on your sense of humor these past few weeks, Lord Shoto! Do go on, though- I'm guessing this brilliant plan of yours involves us driving you past Endeavor's hero agency in the back of an unguarded van, with 'Syndicate Prisoner Transport' painted on the side? Perhaps we could hit a pothole and 'accidentally' let you fall out the back, right on daddy's doorstep!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Coldflame shot back, scowling. "We would have to make it look realistic, obviously. It's not like I'd expect you to go through with something like this without planning out all the details."

"As dismissive as my colleague Chaudron may be," Seraph replied, "I've been considering an operation like the one you're describing for quite some time now. I'm sure you understand why we're so hesitant to send you running back into the heroes' arms, though- the risks to our organization would be enormous if your commitment were to… falter." Midoriya's eyes took on a brief, threatening gleam, and a shiver raced involuntarily up Todoroki's spine as they locked onto his own. "It's to that end that we've devised a final test of your loyalty- perhaps Pandora already mentioned it to you. It's time for you to step outside the confines of this apartment and back up your promises and speeches with action, Coldflame."

Seraph infused the word 'action' with a particularly ominous undertone, and Shoto felt his fingers clench into fists beneath the edge of the table.

Here it comes.

"Name the mission and consider it done- anything you ask, Seraph."

"Your confidence is appreciated- you and Pandora will depart to begin reconnaissance of the mission site as soon as you're finished with your breakfast, and once you've rendezvoused with Overhaul and Dabi's teams, the operation will commence at 1600 hours. From this point onward, your Syndicate codename will be 'Magician'."

Seraph paused to take another sip of tea, briefly closing his eyes in satisfaction as he drained the rest of his cup. When he opened them again, his expression was one of pure, sadistic delight.

"Today, you're going to kill Sir Nighteye."

---

9:17AM – Tokyo

"Kendo. Kendo, can you hear me?"

Stirred back to reality by the sound of Nighteye's voice and the gentle touch of his hand on her shoulder, Itsuka blinked the world into focus. She was lying on a hospital bed, dressed in a simple white gown with an IV drip attached to her right forearm. The beeping sound of machines echoed all around her, and the astringent smell of floor cleaner filled her nostrils; her nose wrinkled in discomfort at the strength of the citrusy aroma, and Nighteye let out a small, quiet chuckle from his seat at her bedside as she shifted herself into an upright position, auburn brows furrowed.

"Well, at least you still have your sense of smell- it seems the cleaners came through while I was away." Sir reached up a hand to pinch at his own nose, his mouth twisted in a wry grin. "It really is quite unpleasant, isn't it?"

"Like having a lemon peel soaked in bleach shoved up your nose," Itsuka replied, returning his smile; her expression swiftly turned to a grimace, though, when she absentmindedly pressed her left hand down against the mattress, and a burst of sudden, stabbing pain jolted through the entire limb. A small, muted cry of pain escaped her mouth, and a familiar, aching sensation began to return to her body, piercing through the fog of painkillers the doctors had given her when she arrived.

"Careful," Nighteye urged, his expression wracked with worry as he held an arm behind her back to steady her. "I'll call the doctor- you need another dosage."

"No- no more painkillers." Kendo shook her head adamantly, gazing down at the gauze wrap that covered her entire left forearm; even through the bandages, the faint black outline of the second scar was visible, parallel to the first and over twice as long. "They're making my head all fuzzy- I was trying to contact the Vestiges, but I couldn't stay concentrated for long enough."

The second attack had come just after dawn. After a seemingly endless shift of debriefs and cleanup from the Syndicate's brutal assault on Public Safety Commission headquarters that stretched well into the night, Battle Fist had finally returned to her apartment just past two in the morning, physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. Sleep had come to her quickly, but it was far from restful, filled with twisted visions of the blood and death she'd witnessed hours prior- the handiwork of Kamakiri Togaru and his team of butchers. After four hours of relentless nightmares, Itsuka had been woken by Shimura Nana's voice, shouting a warning through the fog. The Seventh Wielder's words were faint and distant, but her meaning had been clear: Another outburst from One For All was imminent, even worse than the last.

I'm pretty sure she called it an 'Overflow', Kendo mused, tracing her fingers lightly along the path of the scar. God, I'm lucky she woke me up- I would've destroyed half the apartment otherwise.

In the end, Shimura had bought Itsuka around a minute of time- enough for her to race up to the roof of her apartment building, well away from her roommates. Just as All Might's mentor warned, the subsequent outburst of energy was much stronger than the first one, lashing the rooftop with bolts of energy strong enough to melt gravel and metal. Likewise, the pain had been immense, rendering her unconscious on the spot; Kendo had awoken in the hospital an hour later, in the middle of a series of scans to assess her condition. According to Sir, Tetsutetsu, Jiro, and Kodai were all in the waiting room, but only Nighteye and Recovery Girl had been permitted to see her- U.A.'s former head nurse was another member of the small circle of confidants aware of the true nature of One For All, and had made her best effort to heal Kendo's scars, but to no avail.

"So, anything new?" Eager to change the subject, Itsuka forced her mouth into a smile as she turned back to face Sir. "Are my test results finally ready?"

"They are, yes. The doctor's waiting for us in his office." Sir fell silent for a moment, his lips turned in a slight frown as he mulled his next words. "…He asked me to tell you that he's given you the go-ahead to begin moving around, but I can have him come and present the results here if you're not feeling up to it."

"No way- I need to get out of this damn bed." Itsuka let out a groan of discomfort and arched her back against the mattress, stretching her aching shoulders. Every muscle in her body was sore to some degree; it was the same sensation of muscle fatigue that set in a day or two after an intense workout, but twice as strong. "I feel like I'm gonna turn into a vegetable if I lay here any longer."

"I expected as much."

Sir let out the briefest hint of a chuckle, then turned and waved over Kendo's nurse from the doorway. Once her IV had been disconnected, and she'd been thoroughly admonished to take things slowly and carefully for the time being, Kendo swung her feet out over the floor and dropped down into a waiting pair of slippers, holding up her bandaged and throbbing left arm to keep it from bumping against the guardrail on the side of the bed. Another wave of aching discomfort rippled up her legs as she steadied herself on the floor, but it faded relatively quickly, and Itsuka shrugged off Nighteye when he reached out an arm to help her balance; likewise, she rebuffed the nurse's offer of a four-pronged walking cane with a wave of her hand.

"I'll be fine, I promise. Which way again?"

"Down the hall to the right." Sir stepped up beside her as she began to move forward, hands clasped behind his back. "You heard the nurse- take it slow, Toshi-"

Nighteye froze in place and fell silent midsentence; his eyes widened for a brief moment, then screwed shut in frustration, his hands curling to fists at his side.

"…Kendo," He finished, pinching at the bridge of his nose- his tone was hollow and flat, devoid of emotion, but a brief, worried glance was all it took for Itsuka to tell how much pain was hidden just beneath the surface. "My apologies. Take it slow, Kendo."

"It's okay." She reached a tentative hand out towards his arm, a sympathetic smile on her face. "No worries, Sir."

"Hmm," was the only reply Nighteye offered, starting forward again before she could attempt to reassure him any further. Kendo followed alongside him; her stride was slowed and stiffened by the pain, but Sir slowed his pace to keep from leaving her behind, and the farther she walked, the more she became accustomed to the discomfort. By the time they reached the office half a minute later, she was close to matching her normal movement speed again, and the steady burn in her legs was more reminiscent of a good run on the treadmill than the crippling agony she'd experienced a few hours prior.

"It's good to see you up and about, Miss Kendo- I was about to come by and check on you." Glancing up from his computer, Itsuka's doctor gave them a weak half-smile, though it wavered as he gestured for them to enter. "Come in, please- take a seat. How are you feeling?"

'Yochimura Kaigyo', the nameplate on the doctor's desk read; his office was relatively sparse, with two well-worn leather chairs facing his desk and little décor to speak of aside from degrees and certificates on the walls. Yochimura himself was relatively young, likely in his mid-thirties, but the lines under his eyes could have easily belonged to a man twice his age, and his unkempt light brown hair sported a few visible strands of grey. He was the same practitioner Kendo had seen after breaking all the bones in her right arm during her first attempt to use One For All at 100% during the winter of her first year at U.A, and again after the first Overflow just a few days prior. Yochimura was one of a small circle of doctors aside from Recovery Girl with permission to review her medical data, which was normally kept under wraps for security reasons.

"Pretty good, all things considered." Kendo forced a smile onto her face; despite her best efforts to keep up a positive outlook, though, a rising wave of anxiety was swelling inside her, and her heartrate had begun to quicken. "So, how's it looking, doc?"

"We were nearly finished analyzing the results of your previous scans when you came in this morning." Yochimura paused to sip deeply from a steaming mug of coffee- the doctor's eyes had flit back to his monitor, and a frown spread steadily across his face as he continued. "But it's safe to say this new data only served to reinforce my existing conclusions regarding your condition."

He let out a quiet sigh, then shifted his gaze to lock eyes with Kendo, his hands clasped together atop his desk. Though his tone and expression had grown deadly serious, the doctor's eyes had softened, as if to apologize for what he was about to say. Itsuka's cheeks flushed instinctively with blood, and by now her heart was pounding like a hammer in her chest- all the fear she'd been suppressing since the attack was threatening to flood out at once. Sweat had begun to bead on her brow, and a drop rolled lazily down her temple as she waited for him to continue.

No- please don't look at me like that. Please, please, don't-

"Although we have little to no precedent for your symptoms, the trendlines and resulting implications are… concerning, to say the least. Allow me to begin by providing you both with some context for today's results, though."

The doctor's voice cut through Itsuka's thoughts like a knife; as he continued, everything around her slowly faded away, leaving only his face.

"I trust you both remember the basics of quirk factors, yes? The genetic and physiological markers present in every quirked individual? Well, for reasons I can't explain, your body seems to have developed two sets of them, Kendo. This wasn't the case in your childhood medical records, but the second set began to show up roughly two years ago- it was first recorded by Recovery Girl in U.A.'s medical logs, then again when you saw me for your compound arm fractures." Yochimura leaned back in his chair, frowning. "Now, I don't need to tell you that this is considered to be a genetic impossibility by a majority of the scientific community. The only other confirmed cases of multiple recorded quirks come from captured Nomu- data concerning them is limited and heavily classified, but as best we can tell, they lose all of their higher cognitive functions as a result of the strain on their bodies, even with extreme bioengineering to increase their tolerance. Well, them and…"

Yochimura trailed off, his brows furrowed in concern; he didn't need to finish his sentence for Kendo and Nighteye to know who he was referring to.

"It may be the conventional wisdom that holding multiple quirks is impossible, but Kendo experienced a sudden mutation which allowed her to overcome that barrier, according to your report at the time." Nighteye's voice broke through the fog, and Kendo glanced to the side as he leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "Your report also stated that both of her quirk factors were stable, and that they posed no threat to her health."

"Yes, I believed that was the case- at the time."

Yochimura's frown grew, and he reached forward to rotate his monitor so that they could all see it. A bar graph was visible on the screen; the first few results were dated from Kendo's childhood and adolescence, up to the beginning of her first year at U.A., and showed a slow, gradual increase up until the time she turned fifteen, when it briefly accelerated its sluggish pace.

"Now, keep in mind that it's perfectly normal for quirk factor levels to increase steadily over time- this is typical to see among heroes, as the individual trains their quirk and uses it more frequently. Likewise, if a someone abstains from using their quirk, or uses it very seldomly, we'll see these levels steadily decline and eventually even out. What is not normal is the sheer magnitude of quirk factor increases we've observed in your scans and blood tests."

Next, the graph showed a sharp, dramatic spike that perfectly coincided with Kendo inheriting One For All- the next bar was nearly twice as high as the one before it, and the two after that, dated in the months shortly afterward, showed the same steady increase as before. A large gap in the data followed; over the past year and a half, Kendo had been lucky enough to avoid any injuries serious enough to require hospitalization, spending most of her internships fighting low-level criminals that were hardly a match for her raw power.

The final bars in the graph came from her two Overflows; the first alone was almost three times the height of the one before it, and the bar from this morning nearly stretched through the top of the screen. Both had passed into a red-shaded 'danger zone' that occupied the top quarter of the graph.

"I can't say exactly when your quirk factor count crossed this level," Yochimura continued with a sigh, tapping at the dotted line with his finger, "but the results speak for themselves. Your body is producing new quirk factors at an exponential, unsustainable rate, and building up massive amounts of excess energy as it does so. With no other way to escape, this energy periodically overloads your nervous and muscular systems and transmits itself directly through your skin, causing the 'attacks' you've been experiencing thus far, along with the resulting lesions in your epidermis."

With a click of his mouse, the doctor switched to an image of Kendo's two blackened scars, and a grim expression settled in across his face.

"As you know, Recovery Girl made her best effort to heal these wounds, but they've proven resistant to all of our efforts; the scarring process has already progressed beyond repair, barring more extreme solutions such as skin graft. The scars themselves are a secondary concern, though- at the current pace, you are rapidly approaching lethal concentrations of quirk factors, with the highest rates of growth occurring in your arms."

Another click, and an x-ray image of her body filled the screen, overlaid with hundreds of tiny white dots- by far, the densest groups of them were in her hands and wrists, though the clusters on her left arm slightly outnumbered the clusters on her right.

"…Lethal?" Nighteye's voice was close to breaking, despite his best efforts to the contrary. "That… that must be hyperbole."

"Yes, lethal." Yochimura paused; his eyes darted briefly down to the wood of his desk, then back up to meet Kendo's once more. "Your second attack released over twice as much energy as the first, and our data indicates that this trend will continue at an accelerating rate, until the damage to your body eventually becomes too severe for even your enhanced physical durability to withstand." The doctor's expression softened, and paused for a brief moment, leaning forward.

"I'm sorry to say our current prognosis is that this condition is terminal. My best estimate is that you have roughly three months to live."

"Oh," Kendo breathed, blinking.

At the drop of a pin, all of the emotions rising up in Itsuka's chest had simply vanished; her heart began to return to its normal pace. Rather than angry or afraid, she simply felt nothing at all- only a vast, gaping emptiness. The world around her was muffled and muddied, and in stark contrast to the vivid fear she'd been experiencing moments prior, Itsuka felt strangely detached; it was as if she were observing the room through a thick curtain of fog. Amid the silence that followed, her gaze shifted idly back to the monitor- Kendo's reflection had come into focus on the darker parts of the screen, and for the first time since the night before, she caught a glimpse of her own appearance. A second streak of white now cut through her auburn hair alongside the first, twice as wide- below that, her skin was pale, and her eyes were hollow and empty, drained of light and life.

Like staring at a corpse.

"That's not acceptable," Nighteye snapped, cutting through the haze; he shot to his feet and slammed one palm down on the desk, towering over the doctor with golden brows knit in furious indignation. Despite his outward display of anger, though, Kendo could hear Mirai's voice wavering in pain as he continued. "How can you possibly talk as if this is a foregone conclusion when there are still so many unknown variables about her condition?! We haven't even begun to discuss possible treatments, and you're already conceding defeat! W-What about quirk suppressors? Those shackles that police have started to use! Or taking measures to enhance her physical durability even further- you could-"

"Sir, please- sit down." Yochimura's reply was more tired and exasperated in tone than anything else, his mouth fixed in a sympathetic frown. "I was about to address that topic, but first, I want to make it clear that when it comes to treatments, we do not possess the medical technology to completely reverse or 'cure' Kendo's condition- it simply doesn't exist." The doctor paused, a conflicted expression on his face, then glanced down and took up a folder on his desk, leafing through pages of medical documents. "Quirk-suppressing shackles are a prototype technology that's been very popular with law enforcement over the past year or so, but they can be quite unreliable depending on the subject, and they only stop a quirk from being outwardly expressed- they don't alter anything about the wearer's genetics. There are some drugs in the trial phase that may be able to slow the growth of her quirk factor levels, but I need you both to understand that even in the best-case scenario, these would only serve as a temporary stopgap- they wouldn't be able change the final outcome, only delay it."

"How…" Nighteye paused to clear his throat and straighten his glasses as he settled back into his chair, making his best effort to return to his usual stoic demeanor. "How much time would they buy her?

"It's difficult to predict until we can see for ourselves how her body responds to them." Yochimura picked out one of the documents and flipped it around for Nighteye to see. "The primary treatment in question is being developed for individuals who suffer significant, socially debilitating side effects as a result of their quirk. By flooding the body with a specific combination of hormones and other chemicals targeted at the organs and other systems involved in expressing the subject's quirk, it attempts to dampen the expression of quirk traits, and prevent the growth of new quirk factors."

Pulling another few pages from the folder, the doctor splayed them out atop the desk, his eyes flitting between them.

"A man who produces toxic, corrosive sweat and saliva that destroys his clothing and possessions, and renders activities such as exercise and intimacy impossible. A woman whose hair follicles grow porcupine quills that consistently cause injuries to those around her, and regrow at a rapid rate even when trimmed. A teenage boy whose skin involuntarily emits harmful doses of gamma radiation when he experiences negative emotions. These were just a few of the test subjects for the initial trial phase."

"And?" Nighteye leaned forward with pursed lips, his hands clasped together. "What were the trial's results?"

"Of the 100 participants, 78 experienced a significant or almost total reduction in the expression of their negative quirk traits, contingent on maintaining a consistent dosage regimen. Their rates of quirk factor growth also slowed to a crawl, and even declined in some cases." Yochimura reached out and tapped his finger on one of the sheets of paper; from the corner of her eye, Kendo could see the vague shapes of a series of graphs, but her gaze was still fixed on her reflection. "Keep in mind, though, that all of these patients were starting from far, far lower baselines than Kendo- compared to the trial subject with the largest initial quirk factor growth rate, her total count is nearly four times higher, and expanding over seven times as quickly. To put it bluntly, I don't believe these drugs will be able to completely halt her rate of acceleration- it'd be like trying to stop a speeding truck with a chain-link fence."

"But they could slow it down," Nighteye countered, eyes narrowed. "Those were your words."

"Yes, it's likely that they could." Yochimura reached into one of the drawers at his side and produced a small glass vial filled with pale yellow liquid, accompanied by a small injection kit in a transparent plastic box- Kendo's eyes finally broke away from the screen and focused in on a syringe and set of cotton swabs as the doctor removed them and set them out on the table.

Needles. God, I hate needles.

"It's an intramuscular injection, twice a week- the kit contains detailed instructions for self-administration in the thigh or upper arm, but we can also handle that part for you if you're not comfortable doing so. If your body responds well to the medication, my personal projection is that this could give you an additional two to three months, maybe four." Yochimura pushed the papers and kit aside and locked eyes with Kendo once more. "If you choose to pursue this option, though, know that there will be side effects. They've varied from subject to subject, but the higher their initial quirk factor levels, the more severe they've been. There's no way for me to predict exactly how they'll manifest for you, but in any situation this extreme, when we're dealing with treatments this aggressive, it's important to consider the tradeoff between…" The doctor paused, mulling his next works carefully. "…between duration of life and quality of life."

A wave of crushing, oppressive silence followed, broken only by the soft, muffled thumps of Nighteye's shoe tapping rapidly against the carpet- it was a nervous tic of his, though it was no exaggeration to say that Kendo had only seen him genuinely nervous on a handful of occasions over the past two years. Sir's brows were still knit in frustration, his eyes fixed deep in thought- wracking his brain in search of a solution to an impossible problem.

"Regardless of your decision on the treatment, a simpler, less invasive method for slowing down this condition's progression would be for Kendo to immediately stop using her quirks," the doctor added after several long moments, glancing between the pair of them. "Heavy quirk usage correlates directly to quirk factor growth, and I believe that this morning's attack was likely triggered by Kendo's extensive use of her abilities during the incident at HPSC headquarters yesterday evening. Now, I don't have the legal power to issue an order removing Battle Fist from active hero duty unless authorized by the Public Safety Commission, and given that the HPSC's leadership is currently… indisposed, I likely won't be able to obtain that authorization anytime soon."

Yochimura shifted his gaze squarely to Sir Nighteye, lips pursed in thinly veiled frustration.

"Which is why I would like to urgently implore Battle Fist's superiors to remove her from duty of their own initiative, out of concern for the health and wellbeing of both Kendo and those around her."

"And how much time would abstaining from quirk usage buy her?" Nighteye asked, his voice hollow and empty; his shoe was still tapping, louder than before.

"Likely not as much as the medicine, assuming a positive response, but at least another month. And as you can imagine, continuing to use her quirks at a high rate could cut her remaining time even shorter."

"…I see."

"I'd like to hear your thoughts, if that's alright, Kendo." Yochimura leaned towards her once more, setting a box of tissues at the front of his desk in a not-so-subtle gesture of professional consolation. "These conversations are never easy, especially when they come at such an early point in life, but it's important for you to articulate how you're feeling right now."

…How I'm feeling? Kendo blinked and tore her idle gaze away from Sir's shoe, glancing back up towards the doctor.

"It's funny," Itsuka finally replied, her voice calm and steady. "But I… don't really feel anything right now. Is that weird?"

"No- that's a common response, actually." The doctor gave her a sad half-smile, doing his best to take on a reassuring expression and tone. "Often, it takes time for us to fully process-"

"Sorry, but can I ask you a question?" Kendo cut in, leaning forward; a sudden thought had just popped into her mind, and at the moment, she admittedly had no interest in hearing a lecture on dealing with trauma- not after everything she'd endured over the past month. "You said there's no precedent for my condition, but there should be at least one other patient on record who went through the same rapid quirk factor growth I did. Do you have Toshinori Yagi's medical files?"

Beside her, Sir snapped out of his trance at the mention of All Might's name, his eyes widening in realization.

"I do, in fact." The doctor turned back to his computer, tapping at the keyboard. "Recovery Girl mentioned that you might ask about Toshinori, so she granted me special clearance to access them- I took the liberty of comparing his quirk factor levels with yours."

A few clicks later, a second bar graph popped up beneath Kendo's. Unlike hers, this one started from zero, and though it showed the same explosive increase beginning during All Might's teenage years, its peak eventually began to level out, the growth rate steadily decreasing before finally beginning to decline around eight years ago. His fight with All For One, Itsuka recalled. When he got that injury to his stomach. A second, much sharper decline followed six years later, when he passed on One For All- at the time of his death, his count was close to zero again.

"All Might's quirk factor levels certainly experienced a similar growth rate, which was made all the more unusual by the extremely late manifestation of his quirk, but there are a few key differences between your cases." Moving the cursor, Yochimura highlighted the early section of the graph. "Given that he was functionally quirkless until age eighteen, Toshinori's period of rapid quirk factor increase started from a baseline of zero. Yours, on the other hand, was building on top of your existing growth, which was already quite considerable for someone of your age. Even at his peak, his quirk factor levels never crossed the threshold into life-threatening, as yours now have."

The doctor's eyes narrowed as he turned back to face them, his mouth a slight frown; once more, his expression had grown conflicted.

"There's no hard evidence backing this, but if I had to put the contrast in layman's terms, the data appears to indicate that Toshinori Yagi never experienced this condition because he only ever developed one quirk. It was an incredibly powerful and abnormal ability, a complete scientific anomaly that manifested in late adolescence, but still- just one. You, on the other hand, started with a normal quirk from an early age and then seemingly gained a second set of quirk factors, which displayed the same anomalous growth rate as All Might's. Alone, this type of 'abnormal quirk' may not be lethal, but in combination with an existing one…" Yochimura pursed his lips and shook his head, his eyes flitting back to the graphs. "As I said, I have nothing concrete to support this description, but that's the story the numbers are telling."

Nighteye's expression had grown perturbed and defensive, his golden eyes narrowed; entirely by accident, Yochimura was stumbling dangerously close to uncovering the true nature of One For All. He leaned forward and opened his mouth to reply, but Kendo beat her mentor to the punch.

"So hypothetically speaking, my… condition would be fatal for anyone with a quirk, but not for someone born quirkless?"

"…In theory, that is the indication." The doctor replied, his demeanor increasingly hesitant. "It's important not to extrapolate broad conclusions from limited data, but if I were to simulate this condition on a random selection of medical profiles from the general population, then yes, I believe that the quirkless would all survive, while those with quirks would all eventually cross the lethal threshold."

Did All Might know about this? Kendo felt another bead of sweat roll down her brow; her mind was suddenly racing with questions, her heart quickening its pace once more, but she shook her head a moment later, an adamant refusal. No, no, he couldn't have. If he did, he would've chosen someone quirkless instead, someone like…

Oh.

"Listen, I think we're getting much too far into baseless speculation here." Nighteye declared, eager to steer the conversation away from its current course. "You said it yourself, doctor- these claims aren't supported by any evidence, so I hardly think they're worth taking the time to discuss. Now, if we could return to the subject of treatment, I was wondering-"

Sir was still midsentence when Kendo suddenly hunched over beside him, trembling. Quick to comfort her, he reached out and wrapped an arm around his protégé's shoulders, his brows knit with worry; likewise, Yochimura held out the box of tissues expectantly, his lips fixed in an apologetic frown. Their concern swiftly turned to surprise and confusion, though, as it became clear that Kendo wasn't crying- her eyes were wide and tearless, her mouth turned up in a hollow smile as her body shook with a fit of quiet, wheezing laughter.

I should be sobbing right now, Itsuka knew, biting down on her lip to stop herself before she ran out of breath; warm red blood seeped out from the wound, coppery to the taste. Anyone else would be.

The tears refused to come, though- in spite of the existential horror looming over her, the prognosis of certain death, Itsuka's mind remained fixated on the keenest and most bitter irony of her plight.

You'd really be loving this, wouldn't you, Midoriya?

---

9:04AM – Tokyo

"Okay, that's it. It's officially been too long, right? We should've heard back from them by now. I… I know something's wrong."

Jiro Kyoka's heavy black boots thumped rhythmically against the dull white linoleum as she paced back and forth across the hospital's waiting room, her heart pounding feverishly in her chest. One of her jacks was curled tight around her right index finger, an idle nervous habit, and the other was plugged into her phone, which had just exhausted her favorites playlist for the second time since she arrived, leaving her with nothing but deafening silence and her own terrified thoughts. Kyoka's brow was slick with sweat, making a mess of her dark purple bangs, and her stomach had been a ball of unrelenting nausea for nearly three hours now. The sensation showed no signs of abating as she turned her gaze towards the double doors at the far end of the room- still no sign of the doctors that had rushed Kendo to the operating room atop a stretcher, slipping in and out of consciousness and writhing in pain. Thirty minutes later, a nurse had emerged to tell them that Kendo's condition was 'stable', with the caveat that she still needed to undergo more tests before she could receive visitors; in the roughly two and half hours since then, not so much as a peep. Jiro had sent a half-dozen texts to Nighteye in the interim, and left him just as many voicemails, but Sir had gone silent as well since he followed Kendo into the ICU- as one of the leaders of Strike Team Fenrir, it seemed that he was the only one with high enough clearance to accompany her.

Then again, it's not just the clearance, Kyoka reflected, biting her lip in frustration as she glanced down to her phone and began to scroll through her seemingly endless collection of playlists. They were always close thanks to All Might, but he's been way more protective of her ever since the Black Day- not hard to guess why.

Crust, the nation's twelfth-ranked hero, had arrived several minutes prior to take over the morning watch shift before the doors leading deeper into the ICU, standing guard alongside Rocklock and four armed police officers in riot gear, submachine guns slung around their shoulders. In addition to Battle Fist, Tokyo Central Hospital's operating rooms currently held a majority of the wounded from the Syndicate assault on Public Safety Commission Headquarters the day before, President Kengen Hokori among them, and as a result, security was tighter than Jiro had ever seen. Any non-intensive care patients without a hero license or Public Safety Commission security clearance had been transferred to other hospitals the evening prior, and new arrivals from the general population were likewise being rerouted, leaving the vast ICU waiting room eerily empty and quiet; a dozen neat rows of chairs sat largely unoccupied, with only a handful of other sidekicks dotted throughout the room, waiting for news of their wounded friends and colleagues.

Two came from Ryukyu's agency, another from Mount Lady's, and a fourth was a recent hire at Lemillion's budding practice: Nakagame Tatami, Ketsubutsu alumna and one of the veterans of Yoroi Musha's infamous failed arms sting against the Syndicate in Osaka. Whether Turtleneck was here to check on her new boss or her perennially wounded boyfriend, Epicenter, was another matter, though. Kyoka had greeted them all in turn as they arrived, exchanged the usual condolences and pleasantries, but aside from that, she'd stuck to her own section of the waiting room; she wasn't exactly in a sociable mood, a trait that Tetsutetsu, Kodai, and all the other sidekicks currently seemed to share.

Up in the corners, two televisions were playing the morning news, but Jiro was making an active effort not to watch. The few times she'd spared the screens a glance, it had been wall-to-wall coverage of yesterday's Syndicate attack, a nonstop stream of interviews with traumatized eyewitnesses, blustering politicians, and so-called 'hero experts', all hurling volleys of scathing criticism at the government and the hero system. Mercifully, both TVs were muted, but the headlines and scrolling news ticker made it perfectly clear the type of coverage the anchors and guests were providing.

People are dead- goddammit, one of my friends is dead- and these assholes have the nerve to go on air and spend all morning throwing us under the bus for everything we should've done to prevent this. Hindsight's real fuckin' sharp, huh?

Jiro's hands clenched for a moment into shaking fists, her lips pursed in anger as memories from yesterday evening flooded through her mind- huddling around a restaurant's wall-mounted TV in downtown Osaka with Nighteye, Ashido, Hagakure, and Kaminari, halted in the middle of their post-patrol dinner by the news of the attack. Watching the casualty reports come in as the HPSC tower was liberated, her mind growing number and number with each new confirmed death.

Gang Orca. Hound Dog. Awase.

With no other outlet to express her anger, Jiro turned to one of the TVs and aimed a middle finger up at the anchors. Worthless sacks of shit. You have no idea how much we're sacrificing to try and keep you all safe.

Throughout the rest of the building, dozens of heroes and a hundred-odd guards and police officers currently patrolled the halls in groups of three, giving the hospital the oppressive and spartan air of a military compound rather than a medical facility. When Jiro and Kodai first arrived, following Kendo's ambulance in Sir Nighteye's car, they'd been subjected to stringent searches and numerous scans, checking for even the most miniscule trace of potential Syndicate infiltration. The same type of DNA scanners that had been installed along the U.A. Barrier before its destruction at Overhaul's hands were now embedded into key entryways throughout the hospital, and the building's perimeter was lined with Power Loader's anti-Warp Gate devices- according to Jeanist's latest Fenrir briefing, delivered late last night, the stakes were now capable of blocking Kurogiri's portals in addition to detecting them, a welcome respite from the constant threat of Syndicate strike teams warping in from thin air.

"I'm sure they're just being thorough," Kodai Yui offered in a quiet voice, glancing up from the magazine she'd been reading to pass the time. "Itsuka's probably going through twice as many scans as we did. But she recovered from the last one just fine, so this one should be more or less the same." Yui glanced down at her watch and let out a yawn, rubbing at her eyes with one hand. "I think I'll go get some more tea from the cafeteria- do you want anything?"

An hour prior, Yui had gone down to the hospital's cafeteria to fetch breakfast for the group, but most of Kyoka and Tetsutetsu's food remained uneaten, plates of eggs and rice left practically untouched; a plastic mug of instant coffee was the only thing Jiro had finished from her tray. Like Jiro, Kodai was still dressed in her pajamas- there hadn't been a chance to change into normal clothes amid all the morning's chaos, but Yui's silken lavender nightgown and matching pants still managed to make Kyoka feel decidedly underdressed in her oversized band-logo t-shirt and plain black athletic shorts. Taken in combination with the rugged boots she'd hastily slipped on while running out the door after Kendo, Jiro's apparel made for an almost comically out-of-place outfit, though that was far down on her current list of priorities.

"But this time was… so much worse," Jiro brushed Kodai's question aside, her eyes screwed shut in frustration as images of the scene on their apartment's rooftop flashed through her head. "I thought she died, Yui. We had to check for a pulse after she passed out- she was barely breathing!"

Jiro had still been sound asleep when Kendo rushed from her bedroom to the building's stairwell, but her stumbling and panic woke Kodai, who roused Jiro in turn; they'd only just begun to follow after Itsuka when the shockwaves started, shaking the building like an earthquake from the top down. The incident only lasted around twenty seconds in total- it was over by the time they reached the roof- but the bolts of energy that singed the walls in their kitchen during the first attack had been strong enough to melt gravel and steel during the second. They found Kendo at the center of the destruction, doubled over and crying out in pain, most of her clothes burned away; she fell unconscious moments later, as her roommates singed the soles of their shoes stumbling across streams of red-hot molten gravel to reach her.

At first, Kyoka was sure that Itsuka had been attacked- that some villain had struck her with an energy blast- but when Jiro caught sight of the second streak of white in her hair, of the second scar that had carved itself into Kendo's arm alongside the first, still charred and smoking, the truth was all too clear. Kodai had already called for an ambulance by then, and Jiro dialed Nighteye's emergency number as soon as she realized what had happened, just as he'd instructed her to do following Kendo's first attack. From there, everything until they reached the hospital was a blur of adrenaline and fear.

"I'm gonna go talk to Crust and Rocklock," Tetsutetsu declared, rising to his feet from a chair on Jiro's right. Real Steel had arrived around two hours ago, initially demanding to see Kendo only to finally relent when the guards and doctors rebuffed him. Since then, he'd been uncharacteristically quiet, hunched over in contemplation or prayer or something in between, only occasionally speaking. Part of Jiro wanted to try and console him, or to commiserate at the very least, but they each had their own method of coping- his was stoic silence and hers was listening to music at max volume, and the two unfortunately didn't mix well.

"Those doctors see so many patients, they get detached, y'know?" Tetsutetsu turned to meet Jiro's gaze; his hands were curled into fists, and his voice and expression were both torn between determination and desperation. "They don't get what it's like to be stuck waiting out here while someone you love is in there- it's a waste trying to explain it to 'em. But if I talk to those two, man-to-man, I know they'll understand."

He gestured again to the pair of heroes standing guard by the doors, and Jiro turned to face them as well, her mouth turned in a conflicted frown. I doubt either of them knows anything about Kendo's condition, but if we can just persuade them to go back and ask about her- have the doctors give us another update- it'd be better than just sitting here for another hour not knowing anything.

"I'll go with you- let's give it a shot." Kyoka gave Tetsutetsu a nod and started forward alongside him, even as Yui stood in protest.

"Guys, I really don't know if that's a good idea- they're on duty, we shouldn't be distracting them. If the doctors have any news, they'll come out and give it to us."

"It's alright, we'll be quick." Tetsutetsu continued forward without so much as a backward glance, and Jiro paused to spare Kodai an apologetic shrug.

"Don't worry, we're not gonna harass them or anything- we just wanna check, y'know? For good measure."

Just as Jiro turned back towards Tetsutetsu, though, the muffled sound of several loud, familiar voices caught her ear, emanating from the other side of the waiting room's entrance just a few meters behind them. Kyoka froze in her tracks, one eyebrow cocked, and extended one of her jacks, placing its tip against the door to listen in.

Oh, god. Is that…?

As the jack began to relay the group's conversation in perfect clarity, Kyoka let out a long, defeated sigh, pinching at the bridge of her nose with one hand.

Of course it's him. Brilliant.

"…and now they're saying we've gotta pin the whole building's security plan on these things?" A voice that unmistakably belonged to Bakugo Katsuki let out a loud scoff. "We can't start getting complacent because of a bunch of goddamn metal sticks!"

"All they are is a crutch," Mirko replied, her tone full of scorn. "Technology's always gonna malfunction at the worst moment- or short-circuit, or get hacked, or what the fuck ever. Point is, it's gonna break when you need it the most."

"That's exactly what I'm saying!" Bakugo cried out in reply, slamming a gloved fist into his open palm as Mirko threw open the doors to reveal the new arrivals, forcing Jiro to stagger back or be knocked aside like a ragdoll. "Those little Syndicate psychos are gonna figure out a workaround in no time, I guarantee it. What if they warp up to orbit and shoot down a bunch of missiles?! Or that creepy little hacker chick gets into the system?! I bet they already-"

Bakugo faltered midsentence as he glanced forward and made eye contact with Jiro, though Mirko was quick to pick up the slack.

"Yo, Punk Rock!"

The Rabbit Hero reached forward to wrap a muscular arm around Jiro's shoulders with a wide smile on her face, ruffling Kyoka's hair affectionately; like Bakugo, Usagiyama had a habit of giving out nicknames to her coworkers, though hers tended to be decidedly less mean-spirited in nature. Mirko's grin swiftly shifted to an expression of concern, though as she glanced back and forth between Kyoka and Tetsutetsu, who had turned to face his mentor with a reluctant, pained expression on his face.

"…We heard about Kendo on the way here. How's she doing?"

Usagiyama nodded back towards the group of heroes that had followed her into the waiting room; aside from Bakugo, Yanagi Reiko, Shoji Mezo, Nejire Hado, Kamui Woods, and Majestic were all present as well, chatting at a noticeably quieter volume as they brought up the rear. Several of them offered greetings and condolences in turn as they entered the room, with Nejire in particular reaching down to wrap Jiro in a tight, sympathetic hug.

"We still don't actually know how she's doing," Kyoka finally managed in response to Mirko's original question, somewhat overwhelmed by the sudden crowd of heroes that had formed around her, Kodai, and Tetsutetsu. "Just that she's 'stable'. They haven't given us updates in hours, and Nighteye isn't responding."

"Bastard's ignoring you too, huh?" Mirko glanced down at her cellphone with a worried grimace, then gave a loud huff and shoved it back into one of the pouches on her belt. "Must be pretty serious for him to be ghosting all of us for this long."

An uneasy pause filled the air, and Jiro swallowed uncomfortably, her eyes flitting between the group of heroes. We never did tell anyone about the first attack- even Tetsutetsu didn't know about it until I came clean to him this morning. Sir and Kendo didn't want to worry anyone until we knew what was going on, and then the attack on HPSC Headquarters, all this shit with Kamakiri… all of the sudden, it felt like we had more important things to deal with. I never thought another one would happen so quickly.

"We can ask him ourselves in just a minute, though," Mirko finally declared, cutting through the silence. "Now, come on, we need check in with the next guard post." The Rabbit Hero started off across the room towards Crust and Rocklock, then turned back, pointed a finger at Jiro's trio, and jerked her thumb back in the direction of the security detail. "You three, tag along with us. I'll get you through."

"T-Thank you!" Jiro stammered, struggling to keep pace with Mirko's swift strides as the rest of the group followed after her. "You can't all be here to visit her, though- were you guys assigned to be part of the hospital's security detail?"

"Nope, we came in for our medical checks," Majestic replied, stroking at his stubbled chin. "Everyone in Fenrir's getting them, remember? They have to make sure we're not compromised by any, ah… Syndicate tech."

The Magic Hero lowered his voice for the last two words; though his eyes were covered with scarves, Kyoka could tell he was glancing in Nejire's direction, a sympathetic frown on his face. Jiro felt a shudder race up her spine as memories of Uraraka's death flashed through her mind, and her eyes screwed briefly shut, a wave of nausea threatening to expel what little food she'd consumed today. The emergency Fenrir meeting convened last night by Jeanist had included a recording of Kengen's ill-fated briefing at the HPSC tower, for the benefit of the strike team members who weren't in attendance; needless to say, the revelations regarding Uraraka's condition had provoked a keen emotional response from her former classmates and friends. Bakugo, Ashido, and Hagakure had all taken the news particularly hard; the latter two both broke down in tears, and had to be temporarily escorted from the room until they recovered.

Like I needed another reason to want to strangle Midoriya Izuku with my bare hands, Kyoka mused, running her fingers through her hair as her headache surged once more. And it just keeps adding up, all the horrific shit they've done, until you're too numb from the shock to feel anything anymore. There's only so much grief a person can handle before they either snap or stop caring. Kyoka's eyes darted up to Nejire's chin-length pale blue hair, bobbing back and forth ahead of them. Hado's steely demeanor and dark-toned outfit were a far cry from the bubbly persona she'd been known for before her encounter with the Syndicate, but her eyes still shone with determination. In spite of everything, Wavelength- her new hero name, as opposed to the more whimsical 'Nejire-chan'- hadn't broken.

"I'm sure they can work the three of you into the appointment schedule for this morning if you'd like, seeing as you're already here," Kamui Woods chimed in, changing the subject away from the Syndicate's gruesome mind probes as quickly as possible. "We all just finished with ours, and the process was fairly quick. We're heading to a briefing at the moment, but like Mirko said, we'll see if we can get you access to Battle Fist- I think all of us have a few people here we'd like to check on."

A briefing in the ICU? Who the hell are they seeing? Kyoka's eyes narrowed in confusion for a moment, then widened. Oh, shit. Is she awake?!

"You gonna go see Mount Lady?" Tetsutetsu interjected before Jiro could ask her question aloud; as usual, he had all the subtlety and tact of a brick, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. "I heard things looked bad, but she's a fighter- she'll get through this, I know it."

Up ahead of them, Mirko, Nejire, and Kodai were already holding out their hero licenses and ID cards for Crust, Rocklock, and the rest of the guard detail to scan, another repetition of the same routine security measures they'd likely already undergone a dozen times since they arrived. While Kamui fumbled for an answer to Real Steel's question, visibly flustered even beneath his wooden mask, Jiro reached down to fish her wallet from her pocket; thankfully, she'd had the presence of mind to grab it from her bedside table before rushing down to hop into Nighteye's car, or she wouldn't have been able to enter the hospital in the first place.

"W-Well of course I'm concerned for Takeyama- we've been colleagues for quite some time, after all, but I wouldn't say I-"

"Kamui Woods, Majestic, my esteemed friends! It's such a pleasure to see you!" Midway through his attempted explanation, Kamui was spared the pain of continuing by Crust; the Shield Hero surged forward to wrap his muscular arms around Kamui and Majestic's shoulders, his bombastic laughter echoing through the room. "And so many fine young heroes here with you! I hate to trouble you, but could you all do me the favor of producing your identification documents, and smiling while the nice gentlemen here scan you?"

Five minutes of scans and verifications later, their group was finally on the other side of the ICU doors, moving at a brisk clip past doctors and nurses and patients laid out on stretchers. The latter were spilling out into the hallways as the hospital's rooms overflowed with dozens of HPSC employees stricken by Mustard's gas and police officers maimed by the Syndicate's barrage of missiles. Jiro occasionally caught sight of a hero's name on the door of a room as they navigated the labyrinthine maze of hallways toward their destination, but the vast majority of the patients were simply collateral damage from the Syndicate's assassination attempt. Even the wounded heroes were simply small-timers from the neighborhood around the Safety Commission tower, for the most part; they'd been rushing to the scene of the attack to do try and save civilian lives when the Syndicate's missiles and bullets streaked down from the sky, bringing fire and death in their wake.

Reluctant to interrupt any of the hospital staff who were busy tending to patients, Kyoka and Tetsutetsu waited until they happened upon a doctor who seemed to be more or less unoccupied to ask for Kendo's whereabouts; after exchanging a brief glance, they broke away from the group to approach the woman together.

"Excuse me," Jiro began hesitantly, giving the doctor a polite wave; likely a surgeon judging by her gloves, hair cap, and scrubs, she hardly glanced up from the clipboard she was currently jotting notes on, eyes narrowed in suspicion behind her glasses. "Sorry to bother you, but do you know Kendo Itsuka's room number? We're close friends, and we were just wondering if… if we could…"

Kyoka faltered under the woman's withering, impatient gaze, but Tetsutetsu was quick to jump in.

"I'm her boyfriend," he declared bluntly, "and this is her, uh…" Tetsutetsu glanced to the side and flushed slightly, suddenly fumbling for words.

"…Her roommate." Kyoka finished, a hint of color on her own cheeks as well- this was hardly the time to discuss labels.

"I know who you both are," The surgeon replied in a curt, clipped tone, glancing back down to continue scribbling on her clipboard. "But I'm afraid Sir Nighteye and Kendo's physician were both very insistent that she receive no visitors until further notice, as a matter of safety. My apologies, but I can't disclose patient information without permission, especially not under the current circumstances. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have multiple wounded hero personnel to operate on this morning."

As the woman strode away, Mirko stepped up next to them, hands planted on her hips.

"Real charmer, huh? I can go after her if you want- bet I can get her to blab if I push hard enough." Usagiyama shrugged her shoulders, a smirk on her lips. "No offense, kids, but you aren't exactly masters of persuasion."

"…No, it's fine." Jiro shook her head in exasperation, rubbing at her tired eyes. "She has more important things to do, we shouldn't delay her. Let's just keep an eye out and see if we can find her on our own- we know she's somewhere in this ward."

"Your call, Punk Rock. I'll keep an ear out too, see if I can hear any doctors mention her name." Mirko gave them a nod of acknowledgement before continuing ahead with the others, and the group fell back into a respectful silence as they navigated the corridors of wounded.

"Alright, let's get things straight." A few moments later, Bakugo fell in step between Jiro and Tetsutetsu, his brows furrowed in exasperation beneath his black and orange domino mask. "What exactly happened to Ms. Per- to Kendo?" Katsuki's voice was tinged with a mix of confusion, annoyance, and an emotion that Jiro might have taken for concern, if she didn't know better. "The text you sent us was pretty short on details, Metalhead. You said it was something about her quirk?"

"…Jiro and Kodai know best," Real Steel replied with a shrug of his shoulders after a brief pause, gesturing to Kendo's two roommates. "They were the ones who saw it."

Katsuki turned his gaze back to Kyoka; there was no malice or contempt in his eyes, but she felt her body tense out of pure reflex, a hostile scowl spreading across her face and color flushing across her cheeks. During her early days at U.A., Jiro had counted Bakugo as a friend, in a manner of speaking- at the very least, he'd been more tolerant of her presence than practically anyone aside from Kirishima and Kaminari. As members of Class 1-A's band for the U.A. Cultural Festival, they'd spent hours together in practice, and as it turned out, their taste in music aligned surprisingly well. Even when their final performance on the day of the festival was ruined by the Gentle Criminal- he'd quite literally stolen Jiro's spotlight, pouncing onto the stage and seizing her microphone moments before their set began- they'd managed to bond over the experience, pursuing Gentle through the school's hallways as he made his frantic escape and commiserating about the debacle for weeks afterward. But in the months that followed, all of that had changed; the closer Jiro grew to Kendo, the farther she drifted from Bakugo, as Ground Zero's casual disregard for Battle Fist slowly blossomed into open contempt and disdain. By the time of their graduation two years later, she could hardly stand the sight of him- every time she watched Katsuki speak, it took a conscious effort on Kyoka's part not to lunge forward and kick him in the groin.

Things had changed again since the Black Day, though. While he was still an obnoxious ass at most of Strike Team Fenrir's briefings, Bakugo's rancor towards Kendo- and by extension, towards Jiro and Tetsutetsu- seemed to have mellowed as of late, and Kyoka had even witnessed the two interacting without exchanging shouts or insults on more than one occasion over the past few weeks. When she mentioned the apparent détente to Itsuka over dinner the night before last, shortly after Kendo returned from interrogating Toga Himiko, Itsuka had finally come clean about her drunken one-night stand with Ground Zero, confessing the full truth of the incident and its aftermath. At first, it had seemed like a bad attempt at an elaborate practical joke; it took a great deal of convincing on Itsuka's part to force Kyoka to realize that she wasn't setting up for a punchline. A day and a half later, the disbelief was still wearing off, and Jiro been dreading her next encounter with Bakugo even more than usual.

"So? What's the deal, Ears?"

"It's… tough to explain," she replied after a pause of her own, still frowning. "I don't really know if I should say before we hear back from the doctors."

"Huh? The hell is that supposed to mean?" Katsuki's eyes narrowed in skepticism. "Just talk straight, goddammit. Is it classified or something?"

Jiro spared a quick glance over at Tetsutetsu, hoping he'd speak up in her place. Apparently, he'd found out about the tryst in a decidedly less ideal fashion a few hours before she did, courtesy of Carmilla, but he seemed to be taking the development much better than she'd expected, judging by the fact that he wasn't currently beating Bakugo senseless.

"Yes, it does seem that it was something related to her quirk," Kodai cut in a moment later. Even with only a few hours of sleep, Kyoka couldn't help but notice that Yui's features were practically picture-perfect, a stark contrast to the dark circles, messy hair, and bloodshot eyes that Jiro had seen staring back at her in the hospital's bathroom mirror. "It's not classified as far as I'm aware, but I think it should be Itsuka's decision how much she'd like to disclose."

"Exactly," Tetsutetsu added hesitantly, frowning. "She can choose for herself if she wants to tell us."

"She really loves to take her own sweet time on those types of decisions, doesn't she?" Bakugo shot back, sarcasm heavy in his tone. "I guess I should expect an answer in what, three or four weeks?"

"If you've got a problem with Itsuka, say it to my face." Tetsutetsu growled, visibly tensing; out of the corner of her eye, Jiro noticed his hands curl into fists. "Listen, man, I thought we settled things, but if that ain't the case, then we maybe we need to take this outside and go another round."

"What, you wanna sucker punch me again?"

Ground Zero scoffed, and Jiro felt one of her brows rise. Itsuka did mention that Tetsu slugged him pretty good, come to think of it- I deserve a free shot too, right?

"As much as I hate to admit it, Metalhead, your girlfriend's health is kind of a matter of national security right now." Bakugo had dropped his voice to an angry whisper to avoid drawing the other heroes' attention, practically spitting his words through grit teeth. "So can we quit it with all this vague bullshit and talk straight? I think I deserve a real goddamn answer here."

"Boys, what did I tell you about playing nice?"

Just as Jiro opened her mouth to join in, Mirko suddenly fell back alongside them, a wide, uncanny smile on her face as one of her brows twitched visibly in annoyance. Bakugo and Tetsutetsu's eyes both widened in a mix of surprise and fear, but before they could reply, Usagiyama slipped deftly into Jiro's spot between them, jerked back her arms in unison, and gave them both a swift elbow to the gut, doubling the pair over in twin fits of wheezing and coughing. A moment later, she reached out and seized them both by the shoulders, wrapping a muscular arm around each of their necks and pulling them into a tight huddle. For her part, Jiro continued moving forward down the hallway with Kodai and the others, all of whom seemed to be ignoring the disciplinary action rather purposefully, but her jacks still managed to pick up the faint vibrations as Mirko spoke.

"Do you remember why we're here today, boys?"

Usagiyama's voice had lowered to a furious, guttural growl, a tone she usually reserved for villains and criminals; a shiver raced up Jiro's spine, and her jacks very nearly retracted back up towards her ears out of instinct.

"Y-Yes, ma'am," Tetsutetsu stammered in reply. "We-"

"We're here to meet with Kengen fucking Hokori, who's spent most of the past twelve hours lying on an operating table with her skull cut open because the Syndicate turned an entire neighborhood to rubble trying to kill her yesterday. And if either one of you hormonal little shitheads is incapable of treating this situation with the proper fucking respect because you're too busy having a dick-measuring contest over Kendo Itsuka, I will personally have you removed from Fenrir. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am,"the pair answered in unison, now meek and quiet.

"Sorry, ma'am." Tetsutetsu added hurriedly, and after a brief moment of silence, Bakugo followed suit.

"…Sorry. Won't happen again."

"Well, glad we could come to an understanding, boys!" Mirko declared aloud, her voice rising back to its normal, boisterous tone as she released Ground Zero and Real Steel from her iron grip, clapped them both on the back, and started back towards the others. "Now pick up the pace, we've got a schedule to stick to!"

As their group came closer to the heart of the ICU, though, their delays and detours began to mount, as the security patrols and checkpoints grew more frequent, and the name cards lining the hospital rooms they passed became increasingly familiar. Of the wounded Fenrir members, they encountered Epicenter first; Shindo Yo was more or less up and about, hobbling out into the hall to greet them with his IV drip in tow despite vocal protests from his nurses and the heavy gauze bandages around his torso, right forearm, and left thigh. According to the casualty reports, he'd taken five bullets and several shards of shrapnel during the siege, but in a stroke of luck, they'd all missed his vitals. After exchanging greetings with the group of heroes and cautious hugs with Nejire and several others, he glanced down the hall behind them, his expression growing sheepish.

"Is, uh… Is Nakagame here with you guys? My nurse mentioned I had a visitor waiting for me to get outta surgery, but my phone took a bullet for me yesterday, so I can't exactly check in with her…"

"Yeah, she was in the waiting room with us," Jiro replied with a nod. "I think I've got her number, I can text her if you-"

"Yo!"

Practically on cue, Shindo's fellow Ketsubutsu alum rounded the corner with a flustered nurse in tow; within moments, the two were locked in a tight embrace that swiftly transitioned into a deep kiss.

"Let's, ah… give them some space," Majestic half-whispered, beckoning the rest of the group towards the other side of the hallway; they were more than happy to follow his lead.

A few doors down, they came across Cellophane, who was still bedridden after Kamakiri severed his right leg at the knee; luckily, the doctors had been able to reattach the limb in the nick of time, but it would likely still be weeks before he could comfortably walk with it, much less return to active hero duty. After several minutes spent crowded around Sero's bed, exchanging greetings and well-wishes, they ran into to Ms. Joke, who was already mostly healed from the burn and bullet wounds she'd been dealt by the Syndicate's armored mech. The Ketsubutsu teacher was seemingly in good spirits, especially when she heard the news of Shindo and Tatami's reunion, and ventured out into the hallway in search of the pair shortly afterward. Their next encounter was Mount Lady and Ryukyu; the two were sharing a room, and both their conditions were far more severe than any of the previous three. Despite Mudslide's desperate attempt to defend her, Takeyama had suffered grievous wounds during the Syndicate's initial barrage- her left arm was simply gone, reduced to ash and gore on the battlefield, and much of the left side of her body was covered in burns and fractures, wrapped tight in bandages. Even her famously beautiful face looked to be badly scarred beneath her partial mask of gauze, large swathes of her luscious blonde hair shaved down to only a few millimeters in length where the fire of the explosions had charred and scorched it.

On the other side of the room, Ryukyu wasn't much better off- Dark Shadow had dealt her a dozen grievous wounds over the course of their battle, and she'd lost a great deal of blood before the paramedics arrived. An IV transfusion was currently supplying fresh blood into her arm, but her skin still looked pale, her golden eyes sunken and hollow. Just waking from her post-surgery anesthetics as they entered, she perked up slightly as Nejire rushed forward to embrace her, returning the hug as best she could with bandaged wounds on both arms. A great deal of happy tears swiftly ensued, and though she didn't know Ryukyu well, Jiro still felt moved by the sight, her eyes slightly misty. It was a conflicted feeling, though- as heartwarming as the moment was, watching the series of reunions had only made the sting of Kendo's absence all the more painful in her chest. For his part, Kamui Woods showed a good deal more restraint as he approached Mount Lady, taking a seat at her bedside and gently clasping her hand in his own. He began to murmur a Buddhist prayer, but stopped short of the second verse when Mount Lady's eyes blinked drearily open.

"Shinji…" Takeyama murmured, her voice barely audible even with Jiro's enhanced hearing. "Is that you?"

"Y-Yeah," Kamui replied, doing his best to keep his emotion from showing; he was facing away from the group, but Jiro could see his hand darting up to his eyes to wipe away tears. "It's me. How are you feeling, Yuu?"

"Better now," She whispered, a faint hint of a grin on her cracked lips as she curled her fingers around Kamui's. "A lot better."

Her cheeks suddenly bright red, Kyoka jerked her head away from Mount Lady's bed and began to make an active effort not to eavesdrop on the rest of their conversation, humming song lyrics to distract herself. Mercifully for the parties involved, Mirko hardly seemed intent on rushing either reunion, waiting patiently by the door as Jiro and the others lingered just past the threshold; after a short while, Ryukyu beckoned them over, smiling weakly as she held tight to Nejire's hand with fingers interlaced.

"Apologies for neglecting the rest of you," She chuckled, wiping a few stray tears from her cheeks with her free hand as Mirko stepped up to her bedside and ruffled Ryukyu's chin-length blonde hair. "I'm sure Nejire didn't mean to monopolize me."

"I did too," Hado insisted with a smile, her eyes red and puffy; she leaned her head down and pressed a kiss against Ryukyu's forehead, then wrapped an arm protectively around the woman's shoulders. "That's twice now you've gotten hurt because I wasn't there to help you, Ryuko- trust me, you're not gonna be able to shake me after this."

"Good thing she's tough as goddamn nails," Mirko chimed in, giving Ryukyu a light punch on her uninjured forearm. "These bastards keep throwing all the dirty tricks they've got at her, but she pushes through and fucks up their little schemes every time. But still, Ryuko…" Usagiyama paused, her grin faltering for a brief moment before it returned. "Do me a favor and let me tag in for ya next time, okay? You can't keep hogging all the glory for yourself, y'know."

"Oh, you know me- always have to be the center of attention." Ryuko let out a wheezing chuckle, but it faded as she winced in pain moments later, clutching at one of the bandages on her torso. "Ah, fuck…"

"Ms. Tatsuma, can you show me where the pain is coming from?"

Monitoring the situation from behind them, one of the nurses swiftly rushed forward; as she leaned down to assist Ryukyu, she glanced back at the others and waved a hand towards the door. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you all to leave unless you're immediate family."

Their group filed out into the hallway in short order after that, with Kamui and Nejire predictably taking the longest to depart. As they waited for Kamui to finish his goodbyes with Mount Lady, though, Jiro found herself glancing around in confusion.

"Uh, guys… Where's Kodai?"

"Bathroom, probably," Bakugo replied bluntly, arms crossed as he glanced up and down the hall.

"I don't think so," Yanagi Reiko chimed in, raising one hand as she meekly stepped forward from the back of the group. "At least, not unless she was being weirdly modest about it. While you guys were talking with Ryukyu, she got a message on her phone and told us she had to go." Yanagi gestured to Shoji, who stepped forward as well.

"Yes, she said it was urgent," Tentacole added, nodding. "Then she headed that way."

Shoji pointed down the hall in the direction their group had been moving, and Kyoka watched as Mirko and Majestic exchanged a silent, knowing glance.

"Well, I would've appreciated a heads up," Usagiyama huffed, "but I'll give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she had a good reason for running off. Come on, though- we got here half an hour early, so I'm sure as hell not getting chewed out for running late."

The rest of the group quickly resumed their forward march, but as they navigated past a swarm of hospital employees rushing a patient's stretcher to surgery, Kyoka found her eyes lingering on the back of Reiko's head, a worried frown on her face. As long as Jiro had known her, Poltergeist had never been especially gregarious, but even so, she seemed much quieter and more reserved than usual today, mostly keeping to herself rather than engaging with her peers. Not like I can really blame her for not feeling talkative after what she went through yesterday, Kyoka mused, frowning. Or Yui, for that matter- she barely said a word about what happened since she got back, but I've known her long enough to tell when she's rattled. She saw Gang Orca die right in front of her, not to mention what happened to Awase and Komori.

Kodai and Reiko were the only members of the current group who'd been present for the Syndicate's siege of HPSC headquarters the previous evening; Yanagi had been injured, but only with a minor shrapnel wound, and Poltergeist's hospital stay had lasted just a few short hours before she was discharged. Then right back into the thick of it the next morning- no rest for the weary. She fought like hell, too, according to all the battle reports, even took Longshot down a peg.

Aside from their successful capture of Mustard, the only other prize Fenrir and the Safety Commission's defenders could claim from the previous day's engagement was Hatsume Mei's right arm, severed at the shoulder by Poltergeist; compared to the massive losses they'd sustained, though, a single Syndicate prisoner and one solitary limb were nowhere close to proportionate, and the bitter taste of defeat remained inescapable. Not like a missing arm is even much of an obstacle for those fuckers anyway- not when they can just have Overhaul and Pandora whip up all the parts for a replacement in ten seconds. Kyoka's frown deepened to a scowl as thoughts of Pandora filled her head despite her best efforts to suppress them, her hands clenched into shaking fists.

After the Black Day, for the sake of her own mental wellbeing, Jiro had begun to separate Pandora from Yaoyorozu Momo in her mind, to erect a wall between the two and the treat them as distinct entities. Pandora was a creation of Midoriya Izuku, a twisted caricature of Momo's genius that had only been made possible through brainwashing or cloning or some other horrific technology- that was the truth that Kyoka had decided to believe, a truth reinforced by the revelations regarding the brain implant that had controlled Ochako before her death. And if that were the case, then maybe somewhere deep down, the real Momo was still in there, waiting to be released- maybe there was still a chance she could be saved. The alternative- that Yaoyorozu had committed all of Pandora's crimes of her own volition- was simply unthinkable, out of the question. Because my best friend would never have done any of this willingly, she reminded herself, squeezing her eyes briefly shut. Because the first person I ever fell in love with would never-

"Kyoka, you okay?"

Suddenly, Reiko was staring back at her, a look of concern on her pale, grey-eyed face; it seemed she'd finally noticed Kyoka's gaze.

"Y-Yeah," Jiro stammered, blinking. "I'm fine. How about you, though? I know it must be hard, being back on duty so quickly after …getting wounded in action."

After one of your best friends went on a killing spree for the Syndicate, Kyoka's brain finished. Thankfully, she knew better than to mention Kamakiri; Yanagi was likely trying just as hard not to think about 'Scimitar' as Jiro was about Pandora, given how close they'd been.

"I'll be okay." Yanagi replied, a faint ghost of a smile on her lips. "It was just a scratch, really- I can't even feel it anymore. I've just… got a lot more important things on my mind right now." She shrugged her shoulders and reached her hands behind her neck, rubbing at the back of her head. "Plus, overusing my powers gives me a killer headache for a few days afterward, and my painkillers are already starting to wear off. Got any ibuprofen on ya?"

"I usually carry some- I actually get headaches too if I overdo it with my soundwaves. But if you can't tell, this morning was a bit of a scramble," Jiro glanced down at her attire with a self-deprecating smirk, shoving her hands inside the pockets of her baggy exercise shorts and turning them both out.
"Tragically, I'm a bit short on my usual inventory."

"'I kinda dig the look, if I'm being honest," Yanagi replied, brows raised in amusement. "But yeah, 'scramble' sounds about right, from what I've heard." Reiko paused for a moment, her expression growing pensive once again. "It must've been terrifying, waking up to find Itsuka… suffering like that." She shook her head in dismay and let out a heavy sigh, her expression shifting to one of concern. "I heard you guys talking about her earlier, and you're right- we should wait for the doctors before we make any speculations, but still…" Reiko lowered her voice to just above a whisper and leaned a bit closer. "…Do you think there's a chance this was actually a Syndicate attack? During the Commencement, she got shot with that syringe that blocked her quirk for a few hours- what if it's still messing with her DNA or something?"

"That's… not off the table, I guess." Kyoka frowned, slightly frustrated that the same theory hadn't occurred to her as well. "But she got all sorts of bloodwork done after that attack to flush out the chemicals- they were thorough as hell, did a ton of tests on her. I guess they could've missed something, but she didn't-"

Three hands hand suddenly tapped on Kyoka, Reiko, and Tetsutetsu's shoulders in unison, interrupting Jiro midsentence, and they turned to the left to find a trio of Shoji's dupli-arms waving them over in his direction.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I've located Kendo's room."

Sure enough, a placard bearing the name 'Kendo Ituksa' was fixed outside room 309, but Jiro and Tetsutetsu's subsequent elation proved short-lived; the room was empty, though the bedsheets were still wrinkled from a recent occupant. Her patience seemingly at an end, Mirko finally pounced on the next nurse to pass their group, a short woman in her twenties with brunette hair tied in a ponytail.

"Listen, sweetie, I'm gettin' real tired of the workaround from your buddies, so let's cut to the chase, okay?" Backing the flustered young woman toward the wall, Usagiyama planted one muscular arm against the plaster and narrowed her eyes, her voice dropping back to a low, furious growl. "I need to know where Kendo Itsuka and Sasaki Mirai are, and what the hell they're doing. It's important hero business- you understand that, right?"

"Y-Yes, of course!" The nurse squeaked, her cheeks flushed scarlet as she gazed up at Mirko's scowling face with an expression somewhere between fear and awe. "They're in Doctor Yochimura's office, discussing her test results! He said not to interrupt them, b-but if it's urgent, I could show you where it is…"

"No need, but I'll tell you what you can do." Softening her demeanor and tone somewhat, Mirko held out one hand expectantly, her right arm still fixed in place next to the nurse's head. "Gimme that clipboard and pen."

"S-Sure thing!"

The woman complied with surprising speed and enthusiasm, and Mirko finally broke away for a moment as she jotted something in the margins of the document pinned in the clipboard. Standing a few meters back with the rest of the group, Kyoka and Reiko exchanged a wide-eyed glance, impressed.

"That's my cell number," Usagiyama declared a moment later, pressing the two items back into the nurse's hands. "I want you to call me as soon as they're out, okay? It's very important- tell me you understand, Hanami."

Mirko glanced pointedly down at the nurse's nametag as she spoke, addressing her with her first name; by the look of it, the woman nearly keeled over before composing herself to reply.

"…I understand, m-ma'am."

"Atta girl." Mirko reached out and squeezed the woman on the arm, prompting a muted yelp of surprise. "Now go on, get back to work."

"O-Okay! I will!"

As the woman rushed off down the hall, still bright red from ear to ear, Mirko returned to the group with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Did you just… kabedon that lady?" Tetsutetsu asked with his customary candor, his mouth still half-agape. "Holy shit, that was-"

"I'll kick your balls into your stomach if you if you say 'manly'," Mirko warned, leveling an accusatory finger in Real Steel's direction with one brow raised. "Do as I say, not as I do, Tetsu- I ever catch you trying something like that, you're in deep shit."

"You're just a walking HR violation, aren't you, Usagiyama?" Majestic ran a hand down his face and let out a heavy sigh of exasperation, followed by an amused chuckle. "Come on, let's go. We're almost running-"

"Hey there strangers, how's it hangin'?"

A familiar voice interrupted the Magic Hero midsentence, and the group of heroes pivoted in unison to find the smiling face of Togata Mirio poking out of one of the doors just ahead, phased partway through the wood.

"C'mere," Lemillion continued, still grinning mischievously even as Nejire and the others rushed towards him. "Hit me with your best knock-knock joke!"

"Knock-knock," Nejire replied, wiping tears from her eyes. Though Wavelength had initially reached for the handle, she swiftly reconsidered, instead standing patiently before the doorway as she rapped on the wood with one gauntleted hand.

"Who's there?!"

In spite of everything he'd endured the day before- a litany of gruesome lacerations inflicted by Scimitar and bullet wounds from Longshot, not to mention severe damage to his lungs from Mustard's gas, Mirio seemed as jubilant and enthusiastic as ever, to Jiro's distinct surprise. With just his face and a few locks of his golden hair protruding through the door, the only discernable trace of his injuries was a slightly raspy quality to his voice, though he seemed able to compensate for even that through sheer volume and willpower.

"…Cargo." Nejire finally declared, after several seconds of intense contemplation.

"Cargo who?"

"No, car go beep beep!"

Both Nejire and Mirio swiftly broke down in snorting, hysterical laughter, doubled over and wheezing, as the rest of the group looked on with widening grins. After a few moments, Mirio lost his footing and fell forward with a whoop of surprise, pushing the door open with his body and landing in Nejire's arms; she wasted no time wrapping him in a tight hug, though the crutches under his arms and the bandages crisscrossed over much of his body complicated the embrace. Lemillion's right foot was practically mummified in a cast and boot that stretched up to just below his knee, and an oxygen inhaler mask hung from a cord around his neck, reminders of his defeat at Mustard and Scimitar's hands. Jiro had hardly believed the report of his injuries when she first read it; from the day she met him- or more accurately, the day he trounced all of Class 1-A with ease in a practice match- Mirio had always seemed like an unstoppable force, practically indomitable in combat.

"Careful, Neji, careful- my doc's gonna get real mad if I re-open my stiches again." Still beaming even as he winced in pain, Togata returned Hado's affectionate squeeze, then turned and flashed the rest of the group a double thumbs up, balancing his crutches under his armpits. "Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of your captain, I'm happy to announce that your in-flight entertainment has arrived! Now, as we prepare the cabin for takeoff, make sure your seatbelts are fastened, and all tray tables are- oof, that stings."

Mirio reached out and clutched at one of the bandages on his left arm after sweeping it outward a bit too dramatically; one of his crutches clattered to the floor, and Nejire and Majestic reached out to hold him upright, their expressions shifting from joy to worry in the blink of an eye.

"I'm fine, guys, I promise." Nodding appreciatively towards Poltergeist as she used her telekinesis to lift the fallen crutch back into his hand, Lemillion politely waved away the others' assistance once he was stabilized. "Just a little worse for wear, but I'll be back out on patrol before you know it." Mirio paused to suck in a breath from his oxygen mask, then started off down the hall, swinging himself forward on his crutches and nodding for the group to follow. "Come on, I need to get some exercise anyway- I've been cooped up in that little room for way too long! Any of you guys seen Juzo or Setsuna? I've been wanting to check on 'em!"

The rest of the group was quick to follow alongside him, with Mirko, Nejire, and Majestic taking the lead.

"Haven't had eyes on Reptilia or Mudslide," Usagiyama replied with a shrug, "but reports say they're both fine, more or less- minor injuries, nothing to worry about. Your new sidekick's here too, by the way- Turtleface, or whatever her name was."

"Turtleneck," Majestic corrected with a chuckle, shaking his head in bemusement. "She's a little busy at the moment, though, Maybe give it a few minutes before you check in with her."

"Ah, no worries- of course she'd check in on Shindo first. I'm just glad to hear he's okay. But what about Ryukyu and the others?"

"They're alright, Miri." Nejire gave her former classmate a reassuring smile, rubbing a hand against his back as the group paused to let a group of doctors and nurses escorting a stretcher pass ahead of them. "We just saw most of them- everyone's improving, they're all out of surgery."

"That's a relief," Lemillion sighed, shaking his head. "I gotta ask, though- how are things outside?"

An awkward pause followed, broken a few moments later by Ground Zero.

"Shit's gone pretty far south." Bakugo declared bluntly, arms crossed. "People got wind that Kengen's in this hospital, so there's a bunch of protestors outside, saying the police should arrest her and the HPSC should shut down. Bunch of fuckin' idiots."

"There were protests last night in front of the National Diet and a bunch of major hero agencies too," Jiro added, frowning. "The police and some heroes got called in to break 'em up when curfew started. I wasn't there, but from what they were showing on the news… things got ugly. People on the news keep saying there might be martial law in Tokyo if things don't get better."

"I was there," Majestic added with a grimace, "at the Diet, at least- and ugly is certainly the right word. I've never seen such vicious…" He trailed off, glancing up at Lemillion's dismayed expression, and shook his head, pulling the brim of his wizard's hat down over his eyes. "Well, perhaps this isn't the best time to discuss such things. Come, President Kengen's room is just ahead, and we have an appointment to keep."

He gestured to a heavily guarded doorway several meters ahead, lying at the center of a T-shaped intersection between their corridor and another; half a dozen riot-armored police officers stood watch before the room in question, regarding their approaching group with suspicion. Yoroi Musha and Ectoplasm were visible in their midst, both chatting with a mustached police captain, but the pair whipped back to attention moments later as Majestic and Mirko moved forward to greet them, the former slamming the haft of his massive spear down against the linoleum with a loud, echoing clack.

"We're here to see the prez," Mirko declared, tossing her hero license and visitor's badge towards Ectoplasm; he caught them both deftly in one hand. "We're on the list. Earphone Jack, Real Steel, and Lemillion are with us. Now do whatever scans you gotta do, but make it quick, okay? I feel like I'm gonna start growing a third arm if I have to sit through one more goddamn x-ray."

"We'll need to clear any unscheduled visitors with the president's chief of security," Yoroi Musha replied with a huff, gesturing towards Jiro, Tetsutetsu, and Togata. "You three, hold there. The rest of you, hand over your credentials. President Kengen is already in a meeting, but she'll be with you shortly."

As the heroes in their group began to produce their documents, Jiro's eyes widened in sudden realization, darting down towards her Black Keys t-shirt and plain exercise shorts.

"Ah, shit. How the hell am I supposed to see the president of the Public Safety Commission looking like this? I'm in my friggin' pajamas- I don't even have a goddamn bra on."

"We're all professionals here," Reiko replied with a shrug, glancing back in Kyoka's direction. "And there are more important things to worry about. I doubt she'll mind."

"Yeah, I'd hope not, but… it still feels weird."

"Punk Rock, babe- look at me." Mirko reached out and wrapped a burly arm around Jiro's shoulders, shaking her head in exasperation; once she was sure she had Kyoka's attention, she turned to the side and gestured down at her waist, accentuating the skimpier sections of her costume. "You do realize I have two thirds of my ass hanging out in the breeze on a daily basis, right? No one's gonna care if you don't have a bra on, sweetie."

"…Fair point," Jiro managed after a slight pause, her face bright red. Eager to change the subject, she glanced past the crowd of guards towards Kengen's door, brows furrowed. "So, uh… who do you think she's meeting with?"

"I have a pretty good idea," Mirko replied, her arms crossed and her rabbit ears twitching. "Interesting little crowd she's got in there."

---

9:22AM – Tokyo

"I… I'm sorry, but I don't understand, ma'am."

Honenuki Juzo shook his head in disbelief, his eyes still wide with shock. His hands were clasped into fists at his sides, and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead as he forced himself to ignore the half-dozen other heroes standing throughout the room and meet Kengen Hokori's gaze head-on. Propped up in a sitting position in her hospital bed, Kengen was still dressed in a patterned blue-white patient's gown; bandages covered the left half of her face, masking the massive scar left behind by Scimitar's blade. The wound was faintly visible even through the gauze, a crimson line stretching vertically from her lower cheek through a now-empty eye socket to her upper forehead.

"I killed five men," Juzo choked, holding back tears to the best of his ability. "Five police officers who'll never see their families again because of me, because they drowned in-"

"No," Kengen snapped, her voice so harsh and keen that Juzo flinched, blinking in surprise. "That's incorrect, Mudslide. The Syndicate killed those men. The Syndicate bear the responsibility. They would've died regardless had you not intervened, torn apart by rockets; instead, you tried your best to save them, and you did save fourteen others, including Mount Lady. Fourteen lives that would've been snuffed out if not for your quick thinking. Even if you had only saved one, it would still have been worthwhile."

Juzo slowly nodded, though his breathing was still heavy, his eyes misty.

"Y-Yeah, I get that. I do." He swallowed, forcing himself to remain composed. "But while I was trying to save them, I almost brought the whole building down- I almost killed all of us, you included!"

"But you didn't," Endeavor countered gruffly, arms crossed. "You made an error, yes, but you swiftly recognized and corrected it- even in the midst of all that chaos and bloodshed, with rockets raining down on you. The discipline under fire you displayed yesterday- not to mention the degree of control over you quirk- was nothing short of exceptional."

Finally tearing his eyes away from Kengen, Mudslide turned back to face the other heroes gathered in the cramped hospital room, his brows hiked in surprise at the sudden praise from the famously stern and prickly Flame Hero. Todoroki Enji, stood at the foot of Kengen's bed, and though he was dressed in his silver-armored hero costume, the trademark fiery beard that usually flickered about his face was extinguished for safety's sake within the hospital grounds. Towering above the room's other occupants, he was currently regarding Juzo with begrudging approval in his piercing blue eyes. To Endeavor's left, three of Juzo's U.A. classmates were grouped together on the far side of the president's bed- Shepherdess, Magnify, and Shemage, all gazing back at him with sympathetic expressions. Like Kengen, Komori was still in the process of recovering from a wound dealt by Scimitar; wheelchair-bound for the time being while the laceration across her torso healed, she was wearing the same patterned white hospital gown as the HPSC president, her chin-length brown hair tied up in a short ponytail and her heavy bangs pulled to one side with hairclips, revealing her cross-pupiled red eyes.

Kodai had only arrived a few minutes prior, still garbed in her silken pajamas for reasons unbeknownst to Honenuki- Shiozaki, on the other hand, had been immersed in silent prayer for some time now as he spoke, though that was nothing out of the ordinary. Behind the trio of Class-B alumnae, Snipe, one of their former teachers, was leaning against the wall in the room's back corner, white bandages visible around his forehead beneath the brim of his trademark cowboy hat. Gale Force stood alongside him, regarding Endeavor with a cold, skeptical stare, though his eyes softened somewhat as they shifted back to Mudslide. Juzo couldn't exactly blame Inasa for his apparent hostility towards the Flame Hero; after all, it had been less than a week since the Syndicate's Nemoto Shin forced Endeavor to confess to abusing his wife and son. There was a great deal of debate in the media over whether the admission was genuine or a deliberate manipulation, with some of Endeavor's fans arguing that the yakuza's quirk could've been enhanced with Syndicate tech to force a falsified confession in a hit on Endeavor's reputation.

That particular argument had been undercut by Todoroki Natsuo's subsequent announcement of a lawsuit against his father, but the population was still bitterly divided over the allegations; according to an opinion poll that had dominated news headlines earlier in the week, a slim majority of the public believed that Endeavor's potential crimes didn't matter as long as the Syndicate emergency was ongoing, and that he was still needed on the frontlines regardless of whether the abuse had occurred. Endeavor himself had been largely silent thus far, referring all questions to his legal team- after a brief, voluntary leave of absence from his duties on Strike Team Fenrir, he'd made a dramatic return to action the evening prior as part of the emergency first response team to the Syndicate's siege of HPSC headquarters. A well-timed picture of the Flame Hero carrying Ryukyu's unconscious body through the smoking field of rubble and wreckage surrounding the Safety Commission Tower towards a waiting ambulance, accompanied by the rather unsubtle caption 'The Phoenix Rises from Ash', currently dominated the front page of one of Tokyo's largest new websites, garnering a storm of comments that generally tilted towards support. Taken in combination with his presence in President Kengen's hospital room, the signs were in place for a swift comeback for Endeavor's reputation, at least in the short term.

I'm still not exactly sure how to feel about him myself, Juzo mused, his brows furrowed in uncertainty as he nodded toward the Flame Hero in gratitude. If he really did that to his wife and Shoto, then fuck him, but… Honenuki's eyes dropped back towards the floor. But we sure as hell could've used him at the tower a few minutes earlier. I don't know how picky we can afford to be right now.

"…Thank you, sir. I appreciate it. Maybe eventually, I can believe it too."

"I'll need you to believe it sooner rather than later," Kengen countered, leaning forward in her bed with her one remaining eye narrowed. "Everything Endeavor told you is accurate, Mudslide. Your quick thinking, your sheer power, your ability to recognize danger and course-correct accordingly- they'd all be assets to this squad and its mission. So I'll ask again- will you accept my invitation to join Gungnir?"

"I'm still not completely sure what this squad's mission even is." Juzo replied with a sigh, running a hand down his face. "I… I know you already explained that our objective is to 'search and destroy', and I'm sorry if I didn't completely understand, but what exactly would we be doing that Strike Team Fenrir isn't already? The difference seems kinda hazy to me."

"Allow me to clarify, then." Kengen replied, her hands clasped together atop her sheets. "Fenrir's mission is to defeat the Syndicate. Your mission is to decapitate them."

The president's tone had grown as cold as ice and as keen as a knife; Juzo felt himself flinch under the sheer intensity of her gaze, his eyes widening.

"Fenrir's objective is to engage the Syndicate's forces in battle," Kengen continued, glancing to Endeavor and Snipe in turn. "Operation Wild Hunt is aimed at drawing them out into the open and draining their resources and manpower, exposing their assets and their tactics- and in time, their vulnerabilities as well. And as Fenrir continues the hunt, Gungnir's role is to exploit those vulnerabilities- to find any chink in the Syndicate's armor, no matter how small, and tear it open. Best Jeanist, Sir Nighteye, and Mirko, Fenrir's leadership, are aware of our existence and our mission, and they'll ensure that our two groups can work in concert when possible, but Gungnir will also be capable of taking independent action when necessary- ultimately, this unit is under my direct command, not theirs. If Fenrir is the rider, we are the spear- they flush out the fox, and we deliver the killing blow."

Kengen paused for a moment, drumming her fingers idly against the armrest of her bed as her piercing gaze swept out across the room, scrutinizing each hero's face in turn.

"There will be no room in our operations for hesitation, no room for due process or chivalry in combat. We are engaged in a life and death struggle for the future of our nation, and the one who hesitates, loses- Seraph has proven that simple truth time and time again since the Black Day. Where it concerns the Syndicate, I have granted each member of this squad the legal authority to act as judge, jury, and executioner, and you will carry out our enemies' sentences by any and all means at your disposal."

Kengen leaned back against her bed, her mouth set in grim determination.

"Each member of this squad has been chosen for the unique properties of their quirk- for their utility and their lethality, as well as their natural skill and talent. With your participation, Mudslide, our arsenal would be complete."

"…I wish there were another way to go about this," Snipe offered with a heavy sigh, shaking his head in frustration as he stepped forward from the shadows. While his usual heavily modified revolver was still holstered at his hip, Juzo couldn't help but notice the military-grade rifle slung across Snipe's back, its scope and muzzle-braked barrel poking out from beneath the folds of his red poncho. "I wish we didn't have to involve any of you kids. You may be graduates now, pro heroes on paper, but you all still feel like students to me. At the end of the day, though, President Kengen is right- you were all chosen for a reason. We need each one of you to accomplish our objective."

"With all due respect, ma'am, I think our arsenal could still use at least one more addition."

Gale Force advanced alongside Snipe, his eyes brows knit in determination. Surprisingly, his voice was lowered to a relatively normal conversational volume, as opposed to the usual booming bombast Juzo had come to expect from his handful of encounters with the Shiketsu graduate. He was quiet yesterday too, come to think of it.

"If we really want to give ourselves the best possible chance at beating the Syndicate, then we need Battle Fist too. I fought with her yesterday, and we made a good team; without her, I would've been dead half a dozen times before I made it into the tower." He paused for a moment and shook his head, his voice dropping in volume once again. "…Without her, you'd probably be dead too, ma'am."

"You're absolutely right, Gale Force." Kengen gave a slow nod affirmation, her eye narrowed. "I owe Battle Fist my life- and a great deal beside that. But you must understand- her role in this war is far different from our own. Her duty is the same as that of her predecessor: to serve as a shining symbol for this nation and its people, to remind them that all is not lost. She is our standard-bearer, our paragon- we can't afford to drag her down into the mud and blood with the rest of us. At the end of all of this, there has to be someone left standing whose hands are still clean."

Kengen gazed down at her own hands, her expression torn between amusement and despair- her voice dropped down to a soft murmur, barely audible.

"I am in blood, stepp'd in so far… that should I wade no more, returning were as tedious as go o'er."

"…Ma'am?" Yoarashi leaned forward, his eyes narrowed in confusion. "Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"It's nothing, Gale Force." Kengen's gaze shot back upwards, her harsh tone and hardened stare returning in an instant. "Do you understand now why she can't be part of this? Why Battle Fist must remain with Fenrir, in the public eye?"

"…I do," He replied after a moment's hesitation, frowning.

"I get why Kendo can't be here, but I don't know why I still am." Komori Kinoko rolled forward in her wheelchair, dejection and disappointment heavy on her face. "I… I'm honored that you chose me for this team, ma'am, but after yesterday, I'm gonna about as useful in a fight against the Syndicate as a wet paper bag. I had Kama- Scimitar locked down, but he used some type of fungicide and wiped out all my mushrooms, even the ones in his throat- he was already prepared for me, and with Pandora on their side, the whole Syndicate's gonna have access to those same chemicals."

"I appreciate your candor on this matter, Shemage, but rest assured, I have a countermove in mind. I may not have much time left in my tenure give the current circumstances, but as long as I remain in office, I still retain the legal power to authorize provisional field usage of prototype hero support items. One of our covert R&D labs has been working on a special enhancement for some time now- one that should prove uniquely useful for Gungnir, and for you in particular."

Reaching off to her right, Kengen plucked a metal box from a bedside table and removed the lid, revealing what seemed to be an armored vambrace designed to slide over the hand and lower arm. On the underside of the device, though, roughly where the wearer's wrist would be, a small vial filled with pale blue liquid was embedded between the metallic plates, accompanied by a short, retractable needle angled inward.

"You'll be able to give it a test run in the coming days, but if it performs as expected, I suspect that the Syndicate's fungicide will cease to be an obstacle rather quickly."

"Some type of injection?" Endeavor murmured, gazing warily at the device. "A chemical stimulant?"

"That's correct," Kengen replied, her tone defiant. "It amplifies quirk output and power by a significant amount for a short duration, at minimal risk to the user. It's been safety-tested quite thoroughly, and is currently being custom-tailored for each of your respective quirks. In your case, Shemage, it should allow your mushrooms to overpower any fungicides."

"With all due respect, will this type of performance enhancement really be necessary, ma'am?" Snipe interjected, hands planted on his hips. "I know how important our mission is, but I'd rather not use the same tactics as Trigger junkies to get it done, if we can help it. Maybe we can find some other workaround to keep Shemage in the fight."

"I must also object on moral grounds," Shiozaki added, her brows knit in concern. "I have made peace with the nature of our mission, ma'am- the Syndicate's sins are beyond even the forgiveness of our Lord. Death is the only suitable punishment to fit their crimes, as it was with Sodom and Gomorrah. But to sully my own body with narcotics…"

"After yesterday's events, I shouldn't need to remind any of you that we will need every possible advantage to win this war," Kengen cut in, a harsh grimace on her lips. "And make no mistake- this is a war, no matter how dearly the rest of the government wishes to avoid using that particular word. If you want to serve in the vanguard- to do your duty and kill the enemy before they claim even more lives than they have already- know that there will be sacrifices, both physical and moral. If you're not prepared to make them, you're not prepared to be a part of this unit. Is that understood, Gungnir?"

"Yes, ma'am," the room replied in unison; Juzo joined the chorus, straightening his posture to attention.

"I take it you've made your decision, then, Mudslide?" Kengen turned back to face him, her brow raised.

"I have."

Juzo sucked in a deep breath, his hands clenching back into fists. As Kengen and the others spoke, thoughts and memories had been racing through his mind- images of the rockets streaking down towards him, of Mount Lady's limp body in his arms- of the blood and carnage and screams that had filled the world all around him as he surfaced from a lake of concrete and blood to carry her to safety, then plunged back down into the abyss to begin dragging the submerged police officers to the surface. His muscles straining with each stroke, his forehead slick with sweat, his lungs ready to burst as he heaved each man and woman up onto the shore and turned back for the next. He'd been so absorbed in his rescue mission that he nearly failed to notice that his Softening had spread too far, eating into the tower's foundation- by the time he counteracted it and re-liquified a smaller area to continue searching for submerged survivors, his endurance had been drained almost completely, his body sapped of strength. From there, everything was a blur up until Cementoss arrived, erecting a barrier of concrete just in time to protect Mudslide and his charges from another barrage of missiles.

Fourteen lives, he reminded himself, glancing downwards; a pang of soreness echoed through his arms and legs as he maintained his rigid posture, a lasting testament that yesterday hadn't been a bad dream, but immutable reality. They'd all be dead if I hadn't been there. All murdered, turned to dust and ash. I made a difference, goddammit. I did everything I could. The same doubts and worries that had plagued him all night and morning threatened to rear their heads once more, whispers at the back of his mind about the five that had perished, but Juzo pushed them away, steeling his heart. No- she's right. Seraph killed those men, not me. I can either mope about it, or I can avenge them.

Juzo released the breath he'd been bottling up in his lungs, relaxed his fists, and gave Kengen a nod.

"Let's get the bastards."

Kengen returned the nod, then leaned forward and extended a hand, a faint hint of a smile on her lips.

"That's what I like to hear. Welcome to the Gungnir Unit, Mudslide."

"Thank you, ma'am." Juzo reached out and accepted the handshake, his eyes widening slightly in surprise at the president's iron grip. "It's an honor."

"Don't go thanking me too soon," Kengen replied, turning back toward the others as any trace of levity swiftly vanished from her expression. "Now, this isn't exactly a typical classified briefing room, but my team has gone to great lengths to secure it, so we'll make do here for the time being. I won't bother with any pleasantries- we need to move quickly, and take advantage of my 'incapacitation' to retaliate for yesterday's attack before the prime minister moves against me. He won't act while I'm still in the hospital- that would be perceived negatively by the public, even with approval ratings as low as mine- but as soon as I'm released, he'll scramble to pin the entire incident on me, and likely demand my resignation in a public speech. It goes without saying that don't have anywhere near enough political capital remaining to weather the PR storm that will follow."

Kengen shook her head in bitter frustration, running a hand through her hair as she sought to maintain her steely composure.

"With Mera gone and many of my senior staff hospitalized, I have no way to predict the identity of my successor- in all likelihood, they'll be a clueless political lackey. Accordingly, our window of opportunity is limited- a few days, at most. After that, I'll be stuck on the outside, and the rest of you will have to improvise."

The president paused for a moment in contemplation, then turned to face Kodai.

"Magnify, we'll begin with you. When was your last contact with your Syndicate handler?"

…Her what? Juzo's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Last night," Kodai replied calmly, pulling her phone from one of the pockets in her silken pajamas scrolling briefly through her texts before handing it over to Kengen. "She wanted to 'check in on me' after the attack- I'm fairly certain it was Chaudron standing in this time, judging by the message's diction. Regardless, I'll be meeting 'Katou Asuka' for coffee again this afternoon at 3:30."

"Good- that's very good."

Reaching back to the table at her bedside, Kengen retrieved a small plastic case, just a few centimeters on each side, and popped it open with her thumb, revealing a set of three pill-sized greyish-black capsules nestled inside.

"When the opportunity presents itself," the president continued, closing the case and holding it out towards Kodai, "you're clear to begin the next phase of the operation."

"Yes, ma'am. Understood."

"Next, Shepherdess- any updates on your end?"

"Yes, Madam."

As his eyes flit over towards Ibara, Juzo was fairly certain that he caught a glimpse of her coiling one of her vines tight around her left hand, but she quickly clasped them together behind her back, her expression stoic.

"My…" Shiozaki faltered for a moment midsentence, as if she were struggling to produce the words out of sheer distaste. "…my date with Kaminari Denki is scheduled for tomorrow evening. From there, it should be a simple matter to isolate him and drop his guard. I don't anticipate any trouble."

"Hold on- I think I missed something, guys." Juzo shook his head and ran both hands through his hair, his brows still furrowed. "What does Shiozaki going on a date with Kaminari have to do with our mission? And what did you mean about Kodai's 'handler'?"

"Ah- you'll have to forgive me for my impatience, Mudslide." Kengen chuckled and shook her head in exasperation, rubbing at her temple with one hand. "Given the urgency, I was ready to rush right into our mission reports, but our first order of business today should be properly briefing our newest member. Snipe, you have a copy of our files for him, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am- right here."

Stepping forward, Snipe reached into one of several large, buttoned utility pouches sewn into the interior fabric of his poncho and pulled out a manila folder, branded in bright-red classified markings; he held it out across the president's bed towards Juzo, who hurriedly accepted it with a nod of gratitude. 'Gungnir Unit Intelligence Report,' the title on the first interior page declared, just beneath another set of classification markings; judging from the thickness of the sheets that followed, the folder likely contained around a hundred pages' worth of material, and Juzo felt his eyes widen again in awe.

"To put it briefly, Mudslide, our initial goal is to tighten a net around the Syndicate's recruitment operations- the means by which they converted your classmate, Kamakiri Togaru, and an unknown number of other hero students into defectors, moles within our ranks. Midoriya Izuku has proven himself to be dangerously charismatic, and the composition of the Syndicate's inner council proves that his preferred targets are those his own age, the young and manipulable. He's likely been honing his skills of persuasion since before he went underground, learning how to identify and exploit his targets' psychological weaknesses."

Kengen closed her eyes and shook her head in disgust; anger and frustration flashed briefly across her face before it returned to stoic calm.

"After the Commencement- after Jack Mantis' betrayal- I was certain there would be more like him. The question was no longer whether there were more traitors, it was simply how many. At first, though, Best Jeanist, Nighteye and I was at a loss- how could we possibly uncover the moles, short of attempting to trace and analyze every social interaction and off-campus activity of each U.A. hero student for the past two years? It seemed like an impossible task, until Magnify came forward to Fenrir's leadership earlier this week and told us all about her 'new friend'."

Kengen nodded towards Kodai, who stepped forward and turned her gaze to Honenuki.

"About two months ago, a college student calling herself Katou Asuka approached me at a café. I found her a bit overbearing at times, but we got along well enough, and she was charming- very beautiful, too." For a brief moment, a the faintest bit of color crossed Kodai's cheeks, but it vanished just as quickly, and she continued, unphased. "We started meeting up every week or so after that, chatting about school and life. But there was always something about her that struck me as a bit… off." Yui pursed her lips and shook her head, her eyes dropping briefly to the floor. "I could never pin it down exactly what it was; for a while, all I had to go on was a gut feeling. But over time, some of the things she said started to rub me the wrong way, especially after the Black Day- like she was trying to provoke me somehow, to get a reaction. I don't like to argue with people, though, so I always just played along and told her I agreed."

Kodai shrugged her shoulders and let out a sigh that betrayed a slight hint of frustration- a surprising display of emotion compared to her usual blank-slate demeanor.

"It went on that way for a while, until earlier this week, two days after the Commencement. I met up with her like usual, and… long story short, some of the things she was saying didn't add up, and she was really starting to creep me out." Yui seemed to shudder at the recollection, clinging to one of her own arms defensively. "That's when I started looking into her online. I found the hair salon where she worked part-time- she'd mentioned it a few times when we talked about our jobs- and messaged the manager to ask if she'd been acting strange at work lately. I told her it was for a hero investigation, which was technically the truth. She said that Asuka had suddenly quit about two months ago- right before she was due for a promotion, too. Next, I looked into her university, and emailed one of her professors with the same question. Apparently, she withdrew from all her courses and requested an academic leave of absence for mental health reasons."

"Let me guess," Juzo cut in, one brow raised. "Two months ago?"

"Two months ago," Kodai replied quietly, her brows furrowed in concern. "The day before we first met. At first, I was worried she was a stalker- Asuka talked about her boyfriend pretty often, but there were a few times when I started to get the feeling that she was… interested in me. But the more I thought about the Commencement, and Carmilla, and what happened with Jack Mantis, the more things began to fit together. Honenuki, do you remember Kuroiro's birthday party last fall, when Kamakiri arrived late?"

"Y-Yeah," Juzo stammered, caught off-guard by the sudden change in subject. "I remember that. I remember Shihai and Reiko being pissed at him- it was his best friend's birthday, but he didn't show up until the cake was already half-eaten and people were starting to leave."

"But do you remember why he was late?"

"Not really, to be honest…" Juzo shrugged, rubbing at the back of his head with one hand as his cheeks flushed slightly in embarrassment. "Was it something with his suspension? Court appearance, maybe?"

"No, nothing to do with that. At several points throughout the evening, Yanagi and Kuroiro complained quite openly and vocally that he was ditching them for an older, college-aged friend, and that he seemed to prefer this friend's company over their own."

"The Waseda Guy!" Juzo snapped his fingers and pointed in Yui's direction, his eyes widening in sudden revelation. "Goddamn, I do remember! Shihai got drunk on shochu shots, and he kept talking shit about this guy from Waseda Uni that Togaru was hanging with!"

I was also drunk on shochu shots at the time, Juzo recalled with a tinge of embarrassment, but no need to mention that now. Sorry for throwing you under the bus, Shihai.

"That's right- Tomoki, I believe. That birthday party wasn't the only time those three mentioned him, but it was the first one that came to mind. In light of Kamakiri's actions at the Commencement, the similarities in my 'Katou Asuka' and his 'Tomoki' suddenly struck me as too similar to be a coincidence, and I reported my findings to Jeanist and Nighteye. From there, they escalated the matter to President Kengen."

"Based on the information that Magnify brought forward," Kengen cut in, "it is our running theory that both Kodai and Kamakiri were contacted by Toga Himiko- 'scouted' by the Syndicate to assess their viability for recruitment as double agents. In Scimitar's case, it seems that her mission was a flying success."

Kengen let out a heavy sigh of frustration, one hand tracing along the scar that had claimed her eye and nearly claimed her life, and Honenuki felt his brows knit in guilt and discomfort. All that time, three years spent in classes with the guy- I knew he was angry, knew he had trouble controlling his quirk sometimes, but I never thought he'd be capable of anything like this. But maybe I should have seen it coming, Juzo mused, searching his memories for any signs he'd missed- red flags he'd ignored. Maybe I should've listened closer when he complained about the Safety Commission.

"Based on when Kamakiri first mentioned his friendship with 'Tomoki', this has likely been Carmilla's modus operandi for most of the past two years: abducting college students, assuming their identities, and using them to approach and befriend the Syndicate's targets. She presents herself as an older mentor figure- attractive, charming, and knowledgeable, a shoulder to lean on during difficult times. All classic manipulation tactics, of course. Whether she kills the abduction victims or keeps them captive is unknown, but when it concerns Toga Himiko, it's often safe to assume the worst."

"Which is why we'll be taking thorough precautionary measures when Magnify meets with 'Katou Asuka' again later today," Endeavor added, frowning. "We can't tip Carmilla off that we're aware of her identity, but at the same time, it's vital that we have failsafes in place to protect Magnify in a worst-case scenario."

"You'll find the precise details of our security measures in your briefing," Kengen added, gesturing to the folder in Honenuki's hands, "but your presence won't be required- this is strictly an information-gathering mission, not a sting. Given Toga's capture, the Syndicate must be using one a double provided by Twice to continue the meetings, so there won't be any chance to eliminate one of our targets. For now, all we can do is lay the groundwork for a future strike, and hope that Toga's double leads us back to her home base."

"As for your first mission," the president continued, nodding first at Honenuki and then towards Shiozaki, "you'll be serving as backup for Shepherdess tomorrow. You get along fairly well with Chargebolt, don't you, Mudslide?"

"…Yeah, more or less." Juzo replied hesitantly, his eyes flitting anxiously between his classmates- their expressions had all grown noticeably more distraught when the topic shifted to Kaminari. "I wouldn't say we're best friends or anything- I'm not as close with him as Bakugo or Kirishima- but we've hung out plenty of times. W-Why do you ask?"

"I'm sorry to inform you so abruptly, then, but I won't mince any words." Kengen drew in a breath and pursed her lips in dissatisfaction. "Over the past week, we've collected overwhelming evidence indicating that Kaminari Denki is another Syndicate mole. Consequently, all Strike Team Fenrir operations involving Chargebolt since the group's formation are now considered to be compromised."

A deafening wave of silence swept across the room, and Juzo felt his jaw slacken in shock.

Denki? No, that's… that can't be right.

"We've already begun the process of isolating Chargebolt from any ongoing missions and feeding him false intelligence regarding Fenrir's activities, but I fear that's only a temporary measure- it won't be long before Seraph realizes that his agent has been compromised and whisks him away to safety, as he did with Scimitar following the Commencement."

The president's frown turned to a scowl, her expression hardening as she turned back to face Juzo once more.

"We can't afford to let another traitor slip through our grasp- so tomorrow, you and Shepherdess are going to capture Chargebolt. Failing that, you have my authorization to eliminate him."

---

10:36AM – Kyoto

"T-This has to be a joke- there's no way you're serious."

On the other end of the video call, Skeptic leaned back in his chair and let out a peal of laughter, though it was easily apparent by the twitch of his brow and the forced sharpness of his smile that he was very much still brimming with fury.

"I'm so very glad that you've chosen today to start developing a sense of humor," he continued in an increasingly strained tone of voice, his white-knuckled hands clasped tightly together atop the long, mahogany table that dominated the conference room of the Meta Liberation Army's Deika City headquarters. "But this isn't really the time for games, Seraph. So let's keep things serious and substantive, and steer this discussion away from any outlandish fantasies, shall we?"

"I'm afraid I'm being quite serious," Midoriya replied with a chuckle, his lips twisted upward in a half-grin. "And I must admit, Skeptic, I'm rather confused as to why exactly you'd characterize any of what I just proposed as 'outlandish'. If you return your attention to the text of our agreement, you'll find that this operation is perfectly compliant with the terms we both agreed on."

"Compliant, he says!" Skeptic let out a loud snort of derision. "You wouldn't know the meaning of the word compliant if I-"

"Now, now, Skeptic- let's not insult our dear friend's intelligence." Yotsubashi Rikiya laid a hand on his lieutenant's shoulder, silencing him midsentence; all the while, he kept his eyes fixed on the camera, a soft, self-assured smile on his face. "I'm sure he was quite thorough in ensuring that this little jaunt doesn't jeopardize our agreement- isn't that right, Seraph?"

"Of course, Re-Destro." Midoriya replied with a widening grin, struggling to keep his tone from growing too obsequious. "Per our terms, I've given you a full briefing on the nature of the operation, six hours' advance notice before it begins, and my complete, binding assurance that no MLA assets or activities will be harmed or interfered with."

"One could argue that you violated that last clause yesterday evening." Hanabata Koku leaned in towards the camera, stroking thoughtfully at his chin with one brow raised in bemusement. "My presence outside the Safety Commission tower was quite thoroughly 'interfered with', after all."

"With all due respect, I'm not entirely sure whether that's the case, Trumpet."

Before Izuku could speak up, Synapse leaned forward beside him, a smug grin on his face despite the bloodshot exhaustion in his eyes. Drumming his fingers against Midoriya's desk with one hand, he gestured towards the camera with the other.

"First of all, you made no mention of this 'operation' when we gave you advance notice of our attack on the HPSC tower yesterday, which leads me to conclude that either you deliberately withheld it from us, or you weren't planning on being there in the first place until after we told you."

Hitoshi's smirk had stretched into a full smile by now, and he paused to take a deep sip of coffee- normally introverted and silent in these scenarios, he was hitting his rhetorical stride in a way that Izuku had rarely witnessed over the past two years, and Midoriya found his eyes widening in pleasant surprise. How wonderful to see him stepping into his new role so naturally- he'll be taking over as my 'replacement' starting tomorrow, so it's vital that he can sell the part.

"And second," Shinso continued, raising two fingers, "it's hardly a secret to anyone with working access to the internet that you, Representative Hanabata, have already benefitted quite extensively from our attack yesterday. You've spent most of the past twelve hours on a laundry list of cable news shows, being heralded as a hero for your courageous efforts to help coordinate the civilian evacuation from the site of the attack. In fact, I'm shocked you managed to pull yourself away from the talk show circuit long enough to meet with us this morning!"

Hitoshi reached to his right and grabbed a copy of one of Tokyo's largest morning newspapers, holding it up to the camera- a picture of Hanabata dominated the bottom half of the front page, standing atop his campaign van and shouting down at the fleeing crowd through his megaphone.

"'An outspoken political maverick came to Nihonbashi Plaza to protest the current government's restrictive anti-Syndicate policies,'" Shinso read from the article below, his bluish brows hiked in faux awe. "'But instead, he found himself thrust into the midst of a brutal terrorist attack, and showed the world his true self- a man who puts the people first at any cost, willing to risk his own life to help others escape from the carnage.' Just, wow- what a wonderfully heartwarming story, Trumpet."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, hon," Curious replied, blowing a kiss towards the camera with a playful wink. "No need to pretend you don't know it's one of my papers that published it- I'll fess up."

"Well then," Midoriya cut in, shrugging his shoulders, "it seems perfectly clear by now that our actions yesterday didn't interfere with MLA activities in the slightest- rather the opposite, we were an asset for you. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that our operation singlehandedly propelled Trumpet and his campaign for prime minister into the national spotlight, so please, let's not talk any more about 'interference'."

On the other end of the line, Hanabata simply chuckled in response, nodding in acknowledgement.

"Well, I can hardly dispute an argument as thorough as that. Don't worry, Synapse- just testing you." Trumpet shot a wink towards the camera, then rang a hand through his gel-slicked hair and turned back to Re-Destro. "With that in mind, Supreme Commander, I hardly see any reason to protest the mission they have planned for today."

"Nor do I," Yotsubashi replied, steeping his fingers together with a smirk. "Feel free to proceed with your mission against Sir Nighteye's agency, Seraph- I can promise, we'll be rooting for you. And it should go without saying, but we're all very much looking forward to the Syndicate's accession ceremony tonight- these two in particular."

Re-Destro gestured towards Gentle and Spinner, seated together opposite his MLA lieutenants; Tobita and Iguchi had remained silent throughout the call thus far, but they both gave the camera an appreciative nod, hesitant smiles on their faces.

"Y-Yes, indeed," Gentle declared haltingly, as if he were unsure whether he was permitted to speak. "Give La Brava my regards, would you, Seraph? Tell her it won't be much longer now."

"Same from me to Twice and Compress," Spinner cut in, grinning weakly. "Tell Jin he owes still me a goddamn beer."

"You'll be able to tell them both in person soon enough, but not to worry- I'll relay both your messages." Midoriya leaned forward and raised his steaming mug of tea towards the camera. "Until tonight, gentlemen."

"Until tonight," Gentle and Spinner replied in unison, echoed moments later by Re-Destro and his lieutenants. The video call ended moments later, and Midoriya leaned back in his chair with a sigh of relief and exasperation.

"Well, that was about as pleasant as I expected. They're rather adept at keeping up their end of the charade- I almost believed Skeptic's performance."

"You did good, Izuku. You both did."

Rising to her feet from her chair to Midoriya's right, Hatsume slipped between Seraph and Synapse and wrapped her arms around them both. Letting out a loud yawn, she pulled the two of them together and planted kisses on each of their foreheads, then kneeled down and nuzzled her head in the nook between their shoulders. Her right arm, the one wrapped around Izuku, was entirely artificial after yesterday's events at the Safety Commission tower, but thankfully, the metal plating was smooth rather than angular- there were no unpleasant corners or edges poking at him through his blazer.

"God, I could sleep for days right now. You guys wanna go hop in bed?"

"Someone's in a good mood," Izuku murmured, returning her kiss. As his eyes flit to his office's closed door and back, he watched with a smirk as Mei's hands slid progressively lower on their waists, then slipped beneath both of their shirts in one fluid motion. "What brought this on?"

"Mmm, you're both so warm." Mei declined to reply, letting out a sigh of mixed exhaustion and relief instead as her fingers pressed affectionately into their skin. Thankfully, Shinso had persuaded Hatsume to take a shower following her test run with Midoriya earlier in the morning- otherwise, the sensation of her body pressed against them might have been accompanied by a good deal more grease and sweat.

"You know she gets like this when she's tired sometimes," Hitoshi breathed in reply, his voice a low murmur. "Or when she's been testing babies, like today." He paused to give light gasp of surprise as Hatsume's fingers found purchase, beneath his belt, then turned to plant a series of kisses down her neck. "…They tend to go together pretty often. Babe, we should let Izuku go- he has work to do. He doesn't have time for this."

"Not for a few more hours," Mei whispered mischievously, tugging on Hitoshi's waist. "He's been working so hard, sweetie- the least we can do is help him rest a bit."

"Hmm."

Hitoshi exchanged a glance with Izuku, who simply shrugged his shoulders, closed his eyes, and leaned back in his chair, a soft smile on his face. Moments of shared intimacy such as this had emerged naturally for the trio over the course of the past two years, though Toga was usually an active participant as well, in order to avoid any instances of jealousy on her part. In the beginning, it had taken a good deal of persuasion to keep Himiko from extending her propensity for mid-coitus bladework to their 'group sessions' with Hitoshi and Mei, but by now, Izuku was usually able to avoid any unintended bloodshed. In this line of work, Midoriya reminded himself, relaxing his shoulders, it's useful to explore a variety of methods of stress relief. After all, isn't that what friends are for?

"I suppose I could spare a few minutes," Izuku finally managed, wrapping his artificial arm around Mei's waist and reaching up the with other to run his fingers along Hitoshi's cheek. "Just for you two."

I don't mind putting on a show for our guests either, he mused with a smirk, casting a brief glance towards the bookshelf that lined the far wall of the study. Let them squirm.

"He has been working hard, hasn't he?" Rising to his feet, Shinso laid his hands on Izuku's shoulders and pressed gently inward with his fingers, tracing along Midoryia's muscles. "So damn tense- you're even stiffer than me."

"Phrasing," Mei interjected, snorting with laughter as she paused midway through undoing Izuku's belt.

"Oh, please, Mei," Hitoshi scoffed in reply, smirking in spite of himself.

"You were so good with Talos today, Izuku." Pointedly ignoring Shinso's dissatisfaction with her sense of humor, Mei shifted positions and began to straddle Izuku's lap, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck. "I never thought I'd see anyone pilot one of my babies that well, but you… you're a natural."

Hatsume's voice took on a particularly intimate energy with the word 'natural', and Midoriya felt himself shudder involuntarily as both Mei and Hitoshi tightened their grip on him.

"That's it, Izuku," Mei whispered in quiet encouragement, pressing their faces together cheek-to-cheek. "It's okay to let go for a little while."

"It's just the three of us," Hitoshi murmured, continuing his massage; for a moment, one of his hands pulled away, but once he'd selected a playlist on his phone and soft rock began to filter in over the room's speakers, it swiftly returned to its original position. "The way it used to be. The way it should be."

"Well we weren't exactly doing this back then," Midoriya replied with a smirk, tilting his head back to gaze up into Shinso's eyes. "In those days, I would've fainted if you'd so much as suggested it."

"If you were shy about intimacy, you got over it more quickly than I did." Hitoshi leaned down and brushed Izuku's curled green-black bangs aside with one hand, then pressed his lips lightly against Izuku's forehead. "While you were shacking up with Himiko in discount love hotels, it took me almost tmonths to make a move on Mei- you remember, don't you?"

"You mean for me to make a move on you," Hatsume scoffed, pulling Shinso down into a brief, heated kiss just over Midoriya's head. "I put in 90% of the effort that night, and don't you try and pretend otherwise. This guy didn't even know how to put a condom on, Izuku- I had to do it for him!"

"Let's… not talk about that," Hitoshi muttered, color flushing across his face as Izuku looked on from below with a grin.

"Oh, it sounds like there's plenty to talk about." Izuku reached up and grabbed the collar of Hitoshi's shirt, pulling him back downward as he glanced back towards Mei. "How much else did you have to teach him?"

"First of all, he had no idea how to do this." Placing her hands on either side of Izuku's face, Mei pulled him into a deep kiss, slow and intimate. Passive at first, he gradually began to reciprocate, running one hand along Hatsume's back while the other reached up and tugged at Shinso's arm from above. Mei's artificial right hand was pleasantly warm on his cheek, its padded fingertips stroking along his skin with surprising precision; as their mouths broke apart, he held up his own left hand and interlaced their mechanical fingers, a gesture that elicited a loud groan of ecstatic delight from Hatsume.

"Holy shit, I think this is the hottest thing I've ever done."

Gazing at their joined hands with a mix of awe and delight, she let out a peal of manic laughter, her cheeks flushed bright red.

"Bold claim," Shinso countered with a grin, stroking at her cheek before laying a finger over her lips. "Quiet, though, babe- we don't want the others to hear."

"Oh, who cares if they know, 'Toshi?" Pouting, Mei began to rock idly back and forth on Izuku's lap, running the fingers of her free hand through his hair. "Momo's the only one who'd be jealous, and she's off on assignment."

"There's a sense of professionalism we have to maintain as this organization's leadership- we don't want them to think this is how we're spending all our free time, is it? Not to mention, it could-"

Tugging again at Hitoshi's shirt, Izuku interrupted him by pulling him down into a kiss, mouths pressed together for a brief, heated moment before breaking apart. They're both so different from Himiko, Izuku mused, gazing up into Hitoshi's indigo-blue eyes as they blinked back open. In Midoriya's experience, Toga tended to treat kisses as tongue-on-tongue warfare, attacking her opponent with the ravenous speed and ferocity of a predator subduing prey- not to mention the constant threat of biting or even choking, if her hands happened to be free. Hatsume and Shinso were both far gentler by comparison, and though Mei was clearly the more aggressive of the pair, it was still a refreshing feeling to simply reciprocate a kiss rather than fight in a battle for oral supremacy.

"And now who needs to relax?" Izuku shot Hitoshi a wink, then turned back to face Mei. "You did a good job teaching him, for the record."

"It took a while, but he got the hang of it, eventually." Mei stuck out her tongue in Hitoshi's direction, a teasing expression on her face, and Izuku's grin widened.

"Yes, he can be quite stubborn, can't he?"

"Oh, you're one to talk." Mei draped her arms over Izuku's shoulders and shifted her hips with a playful smirk, prompting a muffled groan. "Momo's really been coming onto you real hard lately, but you just keep playing hard to get. Why not get things over with and do it already? Better yet, bring her to one of these."

"Not to mention Monoma," Shinso added, pausing briefly as he pulled Hatsume up into another kiss. "Admittedly, I don't have any proof, and I'm not an expert on this subject, but I'm fairly sure he's been flirting with for you for at least a year now. I'm not sure if he even realizes he's doing it himself, but you can't deny he's desperate for your attention."

"…It's different with them," Izuku finally managed, shaking his head. "Momo wants me for herself, to win me like a prize and prove that she's my equal. I'm also doubtful that she'd be inclined to share, and Himiko would take exception to that, so it's better for all parties involved that I keep things from going too far. Neito…" Izuku let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand down his face. "Neito had no idea whathe wants, aside from my praise. But with you two, I don't have to think about what you want from me, what you want me to give you. Trust, complete trust, is difficult to come by, but we have it. There are no masks, we can just…"

Mei interrupted Izuku midsentence with another kiss, pulling his hand away from his face and placing it against her waist. As she broke away and gazed into his eyes, though, her expression slowly shifted from amusement to quiet concern. Leaning forward, she pressed her forehead against his own and took his face in her hands once more, her voice a faint yet urgent whisper.

"Izuku… you're still wearing the mask."

Midoriya's eyes narrowed in confusion, then blinked in surprise.

"That's not…" He faltered, searching for the right words- nothing came to mind, though, no clever retorts or well-phrased witticisms. Izuku's first reflex was to look away, but Mei's golden crosshair eyes refused to allow that, pulling in his gaze like a magnet. "It isn't as simple as…"

"It's just us- no one else." Shinso knelt down beside him and wrapped an arm around Midoriya's shoulders. "You don't have to be Seraph right now- you can just be Izuku."

Memories of U.A. flashed through Izuku's head- of the rush of anticipation he'd felt each morning when he walked through the classroom door and found Hitoshi waiting at his desk, then again each afternoon when they dropped by the Support Course workshop to bring Mei her lunch and test her latest inventions. Chatting together in the hallways between class, cheering on Shinso at the Sports Festival, frantically sharing homework answers at the last minute before first period began- only two years had passed, but it felt like a different lifetime entirely.

Other memories swiftly followed, though. Stumbling to the ground at recess, shoved by Bakugo Katsuki- bloody knees and scraped hands, laughter all around him. All Might's voice, tearing his dream apart: "I cannot simply say 'you can become a hero without power'." The sickening crack as the barbell slammed down into his chest, Bakugo's shouts intermingling with his own agonized cries before both faded into nothingness. Sitting on the steps outside the U.A. Hero Course entrance exam, his head cradled in his hands and tears streaming down his cheeks- zero points. Listening with growing horror and dismay as Aizawa Shota dismantled his dream for the second time- and as All Might looked on, doing nothing to stop it. The purse snatcher with the feline face, lashing out with a knife in his hands and hatred in his eyes.

Blood on his hands, blood on his clothes, blood running down the gutters. So much blood.

Izuku closed his eyes and let out a quiet sigh; when he opened them again, his mouth was set in a grim line, his brows knit together in contemplation.

"…I don't know if I remember how."

---

10:58AM – Kyoto

"Seraph, you in there? We need to talk. Now."

Chisaki Kai reached out and rapped sharply against the door to Midoriya's office, scowling beneath his mask and tapping rhythmically at the carpet with his shoe as he waited for a reply.

"Seraph?" After a few moments of silence, Overhaul reached down to open the door, but Midoriya's muffled voice interrupted him just as his fingers wrapped around the knob.

"Yes, I'm here- give me a moment, Overhaul. I'll be right with you."

"Yeah, yeah."

Retracting his hand, Chisaki crossed his arms and continued to tap his foot with gradually increasing speed, his eyes flitting back and forth across the Syndicate's Kyoto penthouse. He'd arrived via warp gate from Nagoya a few minutes prior, his handful of remaining henchmen and Setsuno Toya in tow. Six, he mused, watching the plague-masked foot soldiers as they lounged throughout the living room, checking their guns and counting their ammo. Two years ago, I had sixty- sixty men who'd take a bullet for me at the snap of a finger, who'd never dare to question a single goddamn word out of my mouth. Now it's down to six. What a sick fucking joke.

Admittedly, half of Eight Precepts' total strength had been captured during Nighteye's initial raid on his compound- the same raid that deprived him of Eri. Recruitment prospects had been slim over the two years that followed, as the heroes' net slowly tightened around them and all but cut off their potential supply of new members. Chisaki had hoped that partnering with the Syndicate would allow for a recruitment surge, but attrition had been frustratingly rapid since the negotiation of their alliance nearly two months prior. The partnership had brought them national recognition and influence on an unprecedented scale, but each one of the Syndicate's major battles- Niigata, Yokohama, the Black Day, the Commencement- had claimed his men by the half-dozen, steadily whittling away his forces until only a skeleton of the gang's former strength remained. Thanks to Seraph, the Eight Precepts were now the most infamous yakuza group in Japan by far, but with Fenrir on the prowl, the country's remaning organized gangs- Overhaul's usual source of fresh soldiers- were being watched more closely than ever.

And to make things worse, I have to deal with these goddamn basket cases to compensate. Chisaki's eyes narrowed in thinly veiled disgust as his gaze fell on Dark Shadow and Twice; at the moment, the pair were both lounging in the kitchen, chatting and joking with each other as Bubaigawara wolfed down a plate of food. Diseased freaks, the both of them. Mustard was one of the only ones I could tolerate, but the kid's gone and gotten himself killed and then captured inside the span of two days.

The thought had occurred to Chisaki more than once in the days since the Commencement that his ranks' steady depletion might not be accidental- that Seraph might have orchestrated it to ensure that Overhaul and his remaining followers were completely reliant on the Syndicate for survival. If that's what he's doing, though, he's already got me cornered. Chisaki's scowl deepened, his hands curling into fists. And I was just too slow and too stupid to see it happening. Nothing I can do now but ride this out until I get my boys back- with Mustard and his little psycho girlfriend both locked up, at least I know Seraph has plenty of reason to break into Tartarus too. Bastard still won't say when he's planning to stage the op, though, just 'soon'.

"You're looking real pleasant today, huh?"

Chisaki felt his fists tighten, his eyes narrowing once more as he turned to face the source of the voice: Dabi, halfway concealed in shadow further down the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a mocking grin on his face.

"The fuck do you want?"

Though they'd worked together on numerous operations, most notably the Black Day, Dabi was one of the members of the Syndicate whose presence Chisaki relished the least. Aside from Dark Shadow, he was perhaps the next best example of a man whose quirk clung to him like a disease, rotting his body from within as more and more of skin was charred by his own flames. The very sight of Dabi's stiches and scars made Chisaki's skin crawl in discomfort- he almost certainly didn't properly sanitize his wounds, after all- and his personality did little to make up for the repulsion.

"Aww, why so snappy? And here I thought we were best buds." Dabi sauntered forward out of the shadows with hands held in the air as if to proclaim his innocence; his sneering smirk only widened, though, white teeth gleaming beneath his piercing blue eyes. "Find a speck of dust on your panties this morning?"

"Come over here and say that again," Kai growled, beckoning Dabi towards him with one gloved finger.

"Ooh, scary." Dabi shoved his hands into his coat's pockets and shrugged his shoulders, striding forward at a leisurely pace. "You know that routine doesn't work on anyone but your little minions, right? Ain't many of them left, either." Pausing just half a meter to Chisaki's right, Dabi leaned towards him and narrowed his eyes, his voice dripping with faux pity. "Pretty soon, it's just gonna be you talkin' to yourself, while the rest of us pretend to listen."

"Oh yeah?" Chisaki felt his brow twitch in rage, but he managed to keep his fury leashed for the moment, smiling through grit teeth. "Well, I appreciate the concern, but I'd be more worried about myself if I were you. At this rate, you're gonna be nothing but a pile of charcoal and rotting skin by the end of the year." Chisaki glanced pointedly at the burn scars stretching across Dabi's neck and face, then reached a hand up and tapped at his mask. "At least I won't have to bear the stench."

Dabi's mocking expression flinched visibly in annoyance, but before he could reply, the door to Seraph's study opened, and Midoriya stepped out into the hall, one brow raised.

"Is everyone playing nice, gentlemen?"

"Like a couple of old pals," Chisaki grit, his brows hiked in mock affection. "I was just telling him how terribly worried about his health I am."

"Yeah, he's a real softie all right." Dabi had already regained his composure, but there was an additional gleam of malice in his eyes that hadn't been present before. "Always so considerate of others."

"Well, it's a pleasure to see you two getting along so famously," Midoriya replied, taking on a smile far too amicable to possibly be genuine. "You'll be together in the field in just a few hours, after all, so I, for one, am delighted to know I can count on both of you to keep a level head and watch each other's backs."

All three of us know that everyone in this conversation is bullshitting, Overhaul realized, his lips twitching upward in a genuine grin as his eyes flit between Seraph and Dabi. But we can each still tell exactly what the others are saying. God, when did we turn into a bunch of fucking politicians?

Still smiling, Seraph reached out and clapped a hand down onto Dabi's shoulder, then turned and nearly did the same to Overhaul, only halting mid-gesture when Chisaki flinched away with a scowl.

"Ah, apologies. Germs, of course." Midoriya pulled his right hand away and gazed down at it for a moment in amusement, then held out his artificial left arm towards Chisaki instead, its metallic fingers curling back and forth. "Would you prefer to interact with this limb? I assure you, the material is quite sterile."

"I would prefer to move on from this conversation entirely," Chisaki answered in an increasingly curt and clipped tone, the involuntary twitch of his brow returning. "If you recall, Seraph, I wanted to talk- alone."

He refused to acknowledge Dabi with so much as another glance, keeping his gaze fixed on Seraph; after a moment's silence, Midoriya made a subtle, silent gesture of dismissal with two fingers, and Dabi turned to leave with a chuckle and an exaggerated sigh of disappointment, his hands clasped together behind his head.

"Ahh, just when it was getting good. See ya later, buddy- can't wait to watch that back of yours."

Seraph waited for Dabi to turn the corner into the living room, watching him until he was out of earshot, then glanced back towards Overhaul, nodded toward the open doorway, and started inside.

"Come on, then. And do let me know if he causes any problems today- we can have Synapse straighten him out if need be. Isn't that right, Hitoshi?"

As Chisaki followed Midoriya into the study and pulled the door shut behind them, his brows furrowed in annoyance at the sight of Synapse and Longshot lounging together on the couch that lined one wall of the room, the latter curled in the arms of the former. Light guitar music was playing over the speakers, and Shinso was whispering something into Hatsume's ear when they entered, prompting a peal of giggling laughter from Longshot.

Revolting. As if I'm not subjected to enough public displays of affection from these two as it is.

"Of course," Shinso replied, planting a brief kiss on Hatsume's head before rising to his feet. "Just say the word, and I can do a bit of… conditioning on him."

"The same type you did on that Todoroki brat?" Overhaul smirked at the thought, but shook his head a moment later. "Nah, no need. Dabi's nothing I can't handle, just a lot of hot air and ego- when it comes down to it, he'll fall in line."

Seraph simply nodded in reply, taking a seat in an ornate, Victorian-era chair behind his desk- elaborate baroque patterns were carved in the lacquered wooden frame, and the red velvet cushion was dotted with burnished, gold-plated studs. It was merely one of the dozens of luxury furnishings and other collectors' items that the Syndicate had inherited from the wealthy mogul who'd previously owned the apartment, before Synapse persuaded him to part ways with it. A Klimt original that had sold for millions hung from the wall behind Seraph's desk, while a Cezanne loomed over the couch, and the bookshelves on the opposite wall were lined with antique, leatherbound volumes dating back to the 18th century.

If I do end up ditching them, Chisaki mused, his eyes darting between the various items in the collection, all I'd have to do is snatch a few parting souvenirs from this room on the way out, and I'd be set for life. Forget about sixty- these goddamn paintings could buy me enough guns and ammo to arm six hundred men, plus all the black-market Trigger in Japan. Who'd be the boss then, Midoriya?

Kai allowed himself a small grin beneath his mask as he settled into a chair on the opposite side of the desk, drumming his gloved fingers along the wooden armrest. Just as he opened his mouth to begin, though, Seraph held up one finger.

"Before you attempt to remind me again about your request for 'privacy', I'll remind you that anything you wish to say to me in confidence, you can say to them as well." He gestured towards Synapse and Longshot; Shinso was standing by the bookshelf now, thumbing idly through some old novel, but in spite of the misdirection, it was clear that his attention was still very much focused on Seraph and Overhaul. Hatsume, meanwhile, was still stretched out on the couch, lying on her side with her chin propped up by her hand and her crosshair eyes fixed on Midoriya. An impish grin adorned her face, like a child who'd peeked at their Christmas presents before they were wrapped, and when Chisaki glanced in her direction, she turned her head and shot him a wink- he nearly very nearly gagged out of reflex before swiftly regaining his composure.

"Well, I don't wanna waste your precious time, Seraph, so I'll cut straight to the chase. I need answers about what the fuck is going on with us and the MLA- I'm talking about real answers, not that bullshit you're feeding everyone else about what a 'wonderful and productive partnership' we're going to have. They're a psychotic cult of diseased psychopaths, and we both know it." Chisaki narrowed his golden eyes and leaned forward. "The way I see it, one of two things is happening here. Either you've got some scheme cooking to cozy up to them and then take 'em out while their guard's down, or you're finally in over your head, and you've got no choice left but to take the deal and save your own ass. There's no way in hell you'd agree to step down and let them take over otherwise."

Chisaki paused to study Midoriya's reaction, watching for any minute tell of his true feelings or intentions- as usual, though, Seraph maintained a stunningly perfect poker face, his hollow green eyes and empty expression betraying nothing.

"So I'm gonna do you the courtesy of giving you a choice, which is more than what you gave me and my men when your double so conveniently negotiated this little deal behind all of our backs." Overhaul pointed his finger down against the wood of the desk and dropped his voice to a low growl. "Either you tell me what's really happening, or I take my boys and walk- which is it gonna be, Seraph?"

A brief pause followed, broken only by the faint sound of guitars and drums from the speakers- as Overhaul watched, Seraph calmly took hold of a pen and notepad laying off to the side of his desk and began to write.

"I must admit, Overhaul, I'm a bit confused by your line of questioning." Seraph shook his head in disappointment and let out a heavy sigh as he continued to calmly jot on the pad with slow, deliberate strokes. "It seems to me that you're making assumptions you're quite frankly not qualified to make- has it not occurred to you that what I told the others might have been the truth?"

Just as Chisaki bristled with anger, preparing to lash out with a venomous comeback, Midoriya silently held aloft the notepad and turned it in Overhaul's direction.

They're listening.

"You… W-What the fuck does that…?"

Chisaki blinked in shock and confusion, stammering for a few brief moments before Midoriya held a mechanical finger to his lips, then swept it around the room in a wide circle. All the while, he continued to write with his other hand- moments later, there was a new message below the first one.

Play along. Audio bugs, everywhere.

"I… I'm having a hard time believing that was anything close to the truth." Chisaki finally managed, running a hand down his face in exasperation as he searched for the proper words to prolong the charade. Jesus fucking Christ, of course they bugged us. His eyes were darting back and forth across the room in a frenzy, searching in vain for some telltale sign of the devices in question- were they in the bookshelf, under the desk, inside the walls? How long had they been listening? "First of all, how are we supposed to trust the word of a bunch of goddamn quirk fundamentalists? They're all stuck a hundred years in the past!"

As he spoke, Overhaul reached out and snatched the pen and paper from Midoriya's hands, jotting down a message of his own in hurried, frantic strokes before shoving it back in Seraph's direction.

How? Your defenses didn't catch them?

"You seem to be approaching this problem with a rather biased mindset, Overhaul. The MLA and their leadership are as pragmatic and goal-oriented as we are- while you might have a personal distaste for their ideology, that doesn't mean that you and the rest of the Eight Precepts don't stand to benefit immensely from a partnership with them."

Hacked our security systems. Skeptic tried to cover his tracks, but La Brava picked up his trail.

"Just consider the sheer scale of their resources and personnel, and think of everything we stand to achieve as allies rather than enemies! It's basic arithmetic, Overhaul- the simple truth is that we stand a far better chance of overturning the current hero system if we partner with the MLA than if we go it alone. All I'm asking is for you to give them a chance- per the terms of our agreement, you and your men are free to depart at any point if you're not satisfied with the new state of affairs. You're considered a functionally independent unit from the rest of us, and you have the right to negotiate with Re-Destro personally if you so choose."

Agree with me. Wrap up the conversation.

"…I still don't exactly trust their brass, but I can't deny that having a hundred thousand extra guys on hand would be an improvement from our current personnel situation." Chisaki shook his head in frustration, a grimace on his face as he took back the notepad and wrote out his reply. "Listen, I'll give them a week- one week, alright? If they're quizzing me on Destro scripture and trying to get me to praise the almighty power of Liberation, I'm out, but… we'll see how things go, I guess."

Can we grab Kurogiri, portal somewhere not bugged?

Seraph shook his head, making his answer clear as he took back the notepad and continued writing.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that we could come to an agreement, at least for the time being. Just stick with it, Overhaul- I have a feeling that we'll all benefit from this partnership in the end."

No. The bugs also detect Warp Gate signatures. They'd know.

Brilliant. Just fucking brilliant.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm not holding my breath." Chisaki rose to leave, clenching his hands into white-knuckles fists to fight his body's rising urge to tear off his gloves and turn the entire room to dust. Just as he began to turn away, though, Seraph shook his head once more and gestured pointedly towards Chisaki's chair with his left hand, his right still writing.

Stay. Keep quiet.

"Hitoshi- you and Mei have been rather affectionate today. How would you two care for a dance? I'll provide you with some suitable music."

"That sounds like a lovely idea," Shinso replied unflinchingly, setting aside his book and turning to face Hatsume with one hand outstretched. "Darling, if you would? I've been practicing my two-step, after all."

"Oh, have you now?" Mei hopped to her feet with a teasing grin. "That's what you said last time too, right before you trampled all over my feet."

Humming under his breath, Midoriya pulled out his phone and selected a song- moments later, a crooning English love ballad begin to fill the room, echoing through the speakers at a noticeably higher volume than the music that had been playing previously.

"You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you…

You'd be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much…"

Falling into their roles without hesitation, Synapse and Longshot began an intimate slow dance in the center of the room in rhythm with the music; Overhaul tried his best to avert his gaze, keeping his eyes locked on Seraph and the notepad. Midoriya held up a new message moments later, a hint of a grin on his face.

Now we can continue this without any pretenses. You have questions, yes?

You bet your ass I do, Chisaki nearly snapped, the strokes of his pen growing increasingly violent as he took back the pad and began to list his inquiries in short order.

When did they plant them?

Same for all our bases?

Still going through with transfer ceremony tonight?

Midoriya nodded in understanding as he took back the pen and paper, flipping to a new page now that the first was filled.

Last night, after HPSC tower attack.

All except Etna- haven't found it yet.

Yes.

"The sight of you leaves me weak, there are no words left to speak…

But if you feel like I feel, please let me know that it's real…"

A chorus of trumpets swelled in the air as Chisaki took back the notepad, a sheen of sweat dampening his brow and palms. Motherfucker. I thought Nagoya was still off their radar- that's where I was briefing my men half an hour ago. They heard all of it?

Answer my question from earlier.

I still need my men back from Tartarus. You need Toga and Mustard.

Do you have a plan, yes or no?

When he took hold of the pad this time, Midoriya let out a soft, quiet chuckle; rather than write out a reply, he simply circled the word 'yes' before handing it back.

"At long last love has arrived, and I thank God I'm alive…

You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you…"

"No," Chisaki hissed beneath his breath, shaking his head furiously as he continued to write.

I need more. Details, or I walk.

How will you lead the Tartarus raid when you're under their thumb?

You seriously think they'll let you do it?

As Seraph resumed writing, the strokes of his pen as calm and methodical as ever, the song steadily came to an end, and Midoriya paused for a brief moment to select a new one before continuing. More English voices and instruments began to pour out from the speakers, and Overhaul closed his eyes for a brief moment in pain and frustration, rubbing at his temples; the onslaught of sound and stress was bringing on a throbbing headache, but it was frankly far down the list of his worries at the moment.

"See the pyramids along the Nile, watch the sunrise on a tropic isle…

Just remember, darling, all the while, you belong to me…"

When Chisaki opened his eyes again, Midoriya's answer was waiting for him on the notepad.

They'll let me try because they believe I'll fail. They're counting on it.

When I succeed, and All For One is dead, our position will be secure.

We play along, gain their trust, use their resources to our advantage. Think long-term.

Overhaul gave a steady nod of understanding, his brows furrowed as his eyes flit between the neatly written characters.

And what then?

"Fly the ocean in a silver plane, watch the jungle when it's wet with rain…

Just remember 'til you're home again, you belong to me…"

As the voices from song filled the air, echoing off the walls, Seraph leaned forward across the desk, until his mouth was mere centimeters from Overhaul's ear; Chisaki began to pull away out of instinct, but Midoriya's artificial hand grabbed his shoulder and held him in place.

"And then," Seraph whispered, his eyes wide with manic fervor, "at the proper moment, I will take what is mine, one way or another. When that moment comes, Chisaki Kai, will you be standing at my side, or cowering in the shadows?"

"Take your fucking hand off me. Now."

While Seraph spoke, Overhaul had slipped off his right glove and calmly wrapped his fingers around Seraph's artificial wrist, his golden eyes narrowed in silent fury, knuckles white against the metal.

"Take it off, or so help me god, I will turn you to paste before you say another word."

At the edges of his vision, Chisaki was vaguely aware that Synapse and Longshot were both pointing guns in his direction, but in the moment, it hardly mattered; if he activated his quirk, Midoriya would be dead long before their bullets left the chamber.

"No you won't," Seraph whispered, his tone and expression perfectly unphased; as he spoke, he slowly and deliberately lifted one of his five artificial fingers from Overhaul's shoulder, leaving the rest in place. "Because you're a smart man, Chisaki- you can't let it end like this, can you? Everything you've worked your whole life for, all snuffed out in an instant?"

Chisaki's grip tightened, and he watched as a second mechanical finger slowly lifted to join the first, his heart pounding in his chest with adrenaline. Midoriya's mouth twitched up into a grin as a third song began to play, drowning out everything with the volume of its opening chorus.

"Put your head on my shoulder,

Hold me in your arms, baby,

Squeeze me oh-so-tight,

Show me that you love me too…"

"Don't forget your promise to your foster father," Seraph whispered, drawing close to Overhaul's ear once more as he withdrew a third finger. "You still haven't restored him from his coma, have you? What a shame it would be if you never had the chance to wake him."

Chisaki's eyes widened in a mixture of shock and rage, his jaw slackening for a brief moment before he recovered.

"Don't you fucking talk about him," Kai snarled, his voice low and furious. "You don't get to talk about him."

A few stray cracks had begun to snake across the metal plating of Midoriya's artificial arm, spreading slowly outward from Chisaki's fingers in a geometric pattern. He hadn't activated his quirk, at least not voluntarily; the phenomenon seemed to be occurring out of pure subconscious instinct, but in spite of the danger, Midoriya still displayed no outward sign of alarm.

Hatsume started wordlessly towards them, her eyes wide with panic and her pistol trained on Overhaul's head, but Midoriya held up his other hand and shook his head, halting her in her tracks midway across the room.

"No need for alarm," Seraph whispered, still grinning even as his arm continued to crack and splinter. "You're not doing this intentionally- are you, Chisaki? Your quirk is so fascinatingly complex, for something you refer to as a 'disease'; I imagine there are a great many things you don't know about it. So much vast, undiscovered potential- it's a power that could reshape the face of this world."

Glancing back down towards his hand, Seraph removed his last two fingers from Overhaul's shoulder, then began to flex his digits back and forth in a specific sequence- index, middle, middle, ring, index, thumb. Moments later, with a series of clicks and a small hiss of hydraulics, the mechanical limb detached at Midoriya's elbow, falling down to the wood of the desk with a heavy thud as it continued to steadily break apart and dissolve.

"People say that love's a game, a game you just can't win,

If there's a way, I'll find it someday, and then this fool will rush in…"

"Just think of everything you'll never accomplish if you end things here," Midoriya continued, his tone still hushed to blend in with the sound of the chorus. "For yourself, for your organization, for the world you can still build. I won't ask you to trust me- I know that's not in your nature. The simple truth is that either way, you're gambling everything, just like I am."

Midoriya's eyes shifted to the side to meet Overhaul's, then narrowed, challenging Chisaki not to flinch with the sheer intensity of their gaze.

"You can either go all in with me, or fold and see how far you can make it on your own. But let's be honest with each other, Chisaki- I think we both know which bet has better odds."

"Whisper in my ear, baby, words I want to hear, tell me,

Tell me that you love me too…"

For several long moments, nothing but the song filled the air; Chisaki's eyes had darted back down to the wood of the desk, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead as thoughts rushed relentlessly though his head. Dozens of possible futures, dreams he'd held for years, visions of a criminal empire stretching across the continent- his old man standing by his side. It all felt closer now than it ever had before- there was only thing he had to do to bring it within reach, but it was swiftly proving to be the most arduous task of all.

"Okay."

Overhaul glanced to the side and met Seraph's eyes once more, his heartbeat steadying as his white-hot rage slowly receded, replaced by cold, calculated resolve.

"I'm all in."

---

Well, it's been a much longer wait than I intended, but as is tradition at this point, I've also produced a much longer chapter than I intended, so hopefully that helps make up for the five month drought! These past few months have been a crazy mess of life, work, writer's block, and binging a few anime and TV shows (Monster has been taking up a lot of my attention this past month, highly recommend it to anyone who wants a good psychological drama/mystery anime), but I'm very glad to be back.

No action this time around, but there's still plenty of suffering for everyone this time on Entropy! As always, let me know your thoughts in the reviews- I'm curious how you guys feel about Todoroki's mission and Kendo's rather unforunate prognosis, not to mention Juzo and Overhaul both taking big gambles with their own personal circumstances- is Gungnir going to have any more sucess than their predecessor? I also know Midoriya's scene with Hatsume and Shinso might raise some eyebrows, but I've honestly been planning this kind of development for those three for quite a while now- it was just a question of where it fit in the story, especially when they usually have more important things to focus on than their personal feelings.

Meanwhile, the net continues to tighten around Kaminari, and the Syndicate is still inching closer to 'joining' the MLA- I'd be curious to hear any predictions on how those two developments are going to play out! Next time, Todoroki's test of loyalty begins, and Kendo and the Syndicate both confront their new realities.

Last but not least, you may notice that I've been experimenting this chapter with using specific dates and timestamps to make it more clear exactly what the timeline of the chapter is and when events are taking place relative to each other. Let me know if that's something you liked/would like to see more of! If so, I may consider going back and adding them retroactively to previous chapters, although it would likely take a while to do that for all of them.

Follow me at ImperiumScribe on the bird app for updates and news on the story going forward!