i had to refresh myself on a lot of these characters, hope i did them justice!

Shaking off his oddly placed nostalgia, Denji awkwardly walked past Shigaraki who stared at him in silence as he walked past him, Kurogiri and Giran both silent at the man's interjection. Standing in front of the monitor, he gave a cough as he stared at the near-black screen. A distorted reflection of his own self stared back at him, taken aback for a second he stared. He hadn't gotten a good look at himself before he… before he had to fight Maki–

"Your name is Denji, correct?"

Startled, Denji nodded. Then he realized he was talking to a fucking computer and quickly bounced back. "Uh, yeah."

He could almost hear the man on the other side of the screen contort his face into a smirk. "I take it Giran has not informed you of the League's greater goals and ideologies?"

Instinctually stretching his arms Denji flippantly replied. "Nah. Just told me you guys take in outcasts like me. Said you guys were the League of Villains. And look, I ain't a hero. But I have limits. If you're anything like the yakuza bastards I dealt with as a kid. Then I'm out."

Chuckling, the monitor's red camera seemingly stared directly back into Denji's hard eyes. "Well, I'm glad to see you have a backbone. I suppose if you are to be honest, then so shall I. If I were to rule, I would destroy this system and crack open Japan for my own selfish desires. In my tyranny, I would be almighty and all governing laws would arise from myself. I would redefine good and evil, heroes and villains, and even the concept of love and hate itself to my own benefit. Men, women, and children would be equally under my rule in this new society. How is that?"

"...Doesn't matter. You said would, not will," an unreadable expression appeared on Denji's face as he continued. "You're not actually the big boss."

The man let out an amused and quickly aborted chuckle at Denji's reply. "Clever too. You are correct. You've already met my prized pupil and successor. Tomura Shigaraki is the leader of the league. I am simply the previous generation whose mistakes must not be repeated. No more than just a figurehead after some grievous injuries, I'm afraid."

Slightly tilting his amber pupils to look back at Shigaraki's still unmoving posture, Denji asked, "And what's his deal?"

"Why don't you answer him for yourself, Shigaraki?" The monitor flickered total black and Denji stared back into himself again.

"...Okay." Only then did Shigaraki move from where he was standing and completely face Denji. "Sensei took an interest in you, so fine. You want to know my deal? I want to crush this heartless and disgusting society just like him. But… if you need to hear this to join then whatever. This whole plan is not out of any personal gain, sure it just feels good when I take revenge, but for people like us? This whole world is nothing but a show for those with good enough lives to enjoy it all. Heroes have corrupted this society BEYOND repair. Every day, there is always another person abandoned by the so-called heroes, another dream shattered, another kid LEFT to ROT. I'll annihilate anything and everything in my way, I'll craft a new world, a world that is free, and true for everyone to live."

Shigaraki paused finally at his rant, took a deep breath, and dropped his arms down from the air in his pent up rage. "...That's my end game plan."

Shigaraki had a lot more to him than he thought. Denji took a moment to just breathe and slowly raised his hand. He stared at his palm, blood leaked and dripped off in unending clumps. Only did his white knuckle grip on his own hand stop the echoes of pain. It's time for his own speech. "Y'know. I used to really, really want to just live a normal, good life. A fresh bath, friends, tasty warm food, the whole thing."

The soft orange fur of his only friend snuggling up to his cold skin, warm embraces between choked sobs as they laid their heads against each other in the darkness, and silent cooking lessons before the sun even got out flashed through his head, and Denji uncurled his fist. Shigaraki and Kurogiri stayed still as Denji took a breather and Giran took a small drag out of a fresh cigarette.

Denji let out a very tired breath as he thought intensely about what to say. "But… I think I want more than just that now. I only wanted that shit that everyone gets basically for free cuz my life was way past crappy. And I… I don't think I want that to happen to other people. Not anymore. I don't want what happened to me to ever happen to anyone else ever again. I don't want other kids who are living like I was living… dreaming day to day about things normal people take for granted."

Shigaraki only tilted his eyes slightly forward. "Are you in?"

Denji exhaled slowly. "Yeah, I'm in. But I don't trust your old leader. I was an unofficial hero back ho– where I was before, and I liked it. I never thought about this whole society shit, but don't pull shit on me, and I'll follow you. But I ain't letting innocent kids and shit dyin' cuz of your kicks, got it?"

Shigaraki bored his eyes into Denji for a few seconds and only the slightest turn of his mouth upward displayed any reaction at all to Denji's words. He turned away from Denji and nodded slightly at Giran as he stood still waiting in the doorway. A silent wave of relief washed over Kurogiri as his (somehow) tensed shoulders relaxed, dealing with a fanatical lunatic in the first half of the day and an ideological debate alongside a surprise introduction of Master in the latter half was very nerve-wracking. He had nearly slammed his head down onto the bar in stress. He also did not want to endure another stabbing.

Blowing out one last cloud of smoke out of his mouth, Giran smirked. "What'd I say, Shigaraki? I don't disappoint with recruits."

"Yeah, sure. Go show Denji to the hideout. I'm done for today, don't introduce new party members till tomorrow."

Denji walked past Shigaraki, nodding as he did so, and walked out of the bar as Giran cheekily waved a hand at the two remaining members and closed the door quietly. The secretly listening monitor made a quiet ping to signify its return to the discussion.

"Quite an interesting character to join, don't you agree?" All for One broke the silence. "He quite reminds me a lot like you, Shigaraki."

Nearly disintegrating the bar's wooden exterior underneath his hands, Shigaraki reigned himself in and quietly said, "I don't see the resemblance."

A statement full of amusement replied back, "Very well then. Go take a rest. Today has been quite fruitful."

Only then did All For One's observing eye close.

…

Reclining slightly, his neck popping was an absurd relief amongst the various electronic disturbances around him. Not the good doctor's fault, of course, just the difficulties when dealing with a stubborn patient. He was sure if his ears were more than barely functioning, it would be far more bothersome. No, he just hated hearing his agonizingly pathetic breathing more than anything. An annoying reminder of his recent mortality.

"Do you see the resemblance as well?"

The man paused, perplexed at his sudden question. "Not until the boy gave his monologue, truly a blast from the past," he replied after some thought.

The immortal demon king smiled thinly at that. "Good, I had begun to be worried I had finally gone senile in my old age. Seeing people who remind you of your past is always so painfully nostalgic."

"I suppose you have taken an interest in him?"

"Indeed. He has quite a striking resemblance. I dare say with a dye of the hair and some contacts, he would be indistinguishable. It's uncanny, even."

"Master, would you let me–"

"No need. All we shall do is perform the normal precautions and take some blood from him. He is a new member of the league, and we shall treat him as such. Oh, and give him some new clothes."

A genuine smile appeared on All for One's face. It seems things are getting very fascinating.

His stolen eyes, given to him by one of the many quirks he had taken to replace his destroyed senses, moved to another monitor, different from the one had just used to chat with Tomura. Green bursts of lightning and walls of ice and flame streamed slowly into his mind again. "Kyudai, would you play the rerun of the sports festival?"

Very fascinating, indeed.

With a small swipe of his dagger, he sliced off a small portion of his scarf and tied it tightly over his right forearm in the spot with his freshly opened scar as he slid in through the open window into an abandoned building. He had been left little to no time to recover from his earlier scuffle with that fraud before running into that pair of the warping man and disintegrating boy. That man had gotten a few lucky licks in on him, faker Ingenium may have been, those legs of his left some irritating welts. His time at that bar had given him no time to recuperate, only further stress on his mind. His mission being stalled by something so utterly TRIVIAL as an injury only further aggravated this issue. He had nearly gone out and fought the nearest hero near him the moment he left that bar, he was barely able to control himself.

DAMNIT, he had hoped to hunt another false hero before the dawn of the next day, but something had riled up every fucking yakuza and yakuza imitator in Mustafu, the violence spilling out to the less "honor" bound gangs and organizations in the surrounding cities. Which only inevitably led to heightened police presence and hero patrolling. A domino of sorts had fallen while he was busy licking his wounds, a chain reaction of hero patrols and gang violence had completely ruined his plans. The impostors and fakes run rampant an extra day longer due to some mere street thugs. It was only a matter of time until this hideout would too be in the eyes of the crossfire, but he could not risk the loss of his cultivated image.

Chizome sneered at it all. Of course all the scum of the earth comes crawling out the moment that he decides to settle down in one location and start teaching the next generation. If anyone with even a hundredth of All Might's spirit roamed Hosu's streets, this filth would be long since cleaned.

Twirling with his knife, he tested its edge on his thumb. Stopping right before it nicked his finger and drew blood, the murderer sighed. Perhaps it would have been best to take advantage of his popularity with the league, he certainly would be in enough shape this night to have taken out one of the more low ranking and pathetic heroes. There was plenty of that on his list operating in this city.

The Hero Killer got up and slowly opened up an outdated laptop. Covered in scratches and blood with just a single old All Might sticker on the top, it was the only device he had that was more advanced than a compass. His access to the association database was bound to expire soon, he had grown too infamous for his meager funds to bribe any more association officials, he would have to find a fellow kindred spirit in their ranks. Any more delay to his pursuit of true justice could mean the stagnation of his ideals.

Damn, Native was injured after a gang shootout, fortunate for him and unfortunate for Chizome. He couldn't rid this world of him just yet. Oh how utterly lucky that man was, he had such wonderful plans to leave his mutilated corpse as an example to any other "heroes" in an attempt to avenge Ingenium. He was still deciding on whether to spill his guts or slice open his–

Ping!

An update to a hero's schedule drew his attention and prompted a slight smirk that stretched wide across his face. Perhaps his stay here in this city would not be devoid of the purge it needs after all… To think he was worried that he had not drawn enough blood in this city yet. The "Normal" hero? Pitiful.

Chizome Akaguro licked his chapped lips, nearly tasting the blood off his dagger already. Manual was sure to be an easy kill if he had to bring along dead weight in the form of an intern.

Kai Chisaki stared dead straight into the eyes of his rambling underling. Sweat covered the man sitting across from him and only ten seconds into the man's rambling, he already had the urge to turn him inside out.

"I-I had to do something about that kid! He fucking… he f-fucking made us look like a joke! He took the prototypes too!" The grown adult man stuttered. How the man managed to spray spit while talking in a plague doctor mask, he did not wish to know.

Chisaki's mouth under his plague mask flashed his teeth in a rare show of annoyance and sucked air in through them. Resisting the urge to sigh and massage his temple, he said, "So you decided that using Boss's old contacts to give a hit order on a completely unknown blonde teenager to every major gang in the entire city was a good idea? Do you have any idea the amount of trouble you just caused?"

The color drained from the man's face as he prepared to say an apology that never finished, as Chisaki had placed his hand on the man and instantly ruptured his heart. His face froze in a visage of panic as his body slackened, slumping forward as his life faded away. Chisaki retracted his limb, and he carefully spritzed his hand with hand sanitizer on the table. He dabbed a handkerchief on his skin for further cleanliness, keen to remove all traces of the recently made corpse off his hand. Looking to the left, the man's flopped body on the table reignited his disgust and prompted cleanup.

Turning slightly to the right, Chisaki asked, "Chronostasis, were his friends aware of his decision?"

Unmoving, Hari replied, "From what we can tell, they were all knocked out before he had spread the hit. He apparently ran from the attacker and dropped his weapon."

Standing up, he motioned a few of the standing guards over and they picked up the fresh carcass. Already he regretted not making that idiot's death more painful for the sole reason being the new smattering of hives spreading upon his skin from mere contact. "I see. Inform them of my decision of their comrade."

Chisaki dully looked at the corpse being carried out to be cremated in apathy. "…How disgusting, to believe that such contagious victims think of themselves as part of the Hassaikai. A purge must be conducted once we're far enough up the totem pole. A purification has long since been overdue."

His closest confidant and right-hand man nodded before asking a question, "What do we do about the kill order? We cannot just retract it, that man was the son of the bosses' former right-hand man, to push back on this will lead the other gangs to siphon off members from us. They have already taken advantage of the confusion and started territory wars. Our reputation is plummeting."

This time, Chisaki did not hold back his sigh. "You're right. Recovering from this will be quite the ordeal. Ideally, either that boy never shows his face in this prefecture again, or one of our own kills him. We will be the laughingstocks of the underworld if he is an easy kill."

Tch. The prototypes were stolen too. What a waste of materials. If they get replicated, then this entire operation was for naught. That would mean that his usurpation of Boss only meant unneeded suffering for him. That was not acceptable. His hands locked in fury at the sheer thought of that future before Chisaki calmed himself down.

The empty eyes of his own visage reflected back at him from the table. Chisaki made up his mind.

"Chrono. Inform Mimic and the bullets. We're going to take this matter into our own hands, no other gang shall take that boy's life, for the sake of our reputation. But first, help prepare Eri. I need more stock to make up for the prototypes."

"...Very well."

Hari quickly walked off to Eri's room, leaving Overhaul hunched over and staring blankly at the table. Ah, right. This was the table in Boss's office. He had moved it to his own office recently.

Kai could almost see the disapproving look in his eyes sitting across from him. "I swore it to you, Old Man. I'm going to remake us into something better. Not just the yakuza, but this entire world will be cleaned of its filth, I swear it. I'm doing this all for you. I won't let this unnatural illness fester any longer. The streets will fill with the blood of the wicked spilled by MY hands before I let sin grow stronger, and I will not let some trivial tradition hold us back."

His guards stayed silent as Kai relished in his cathartic one-sided conversation. Overhaul clutched his Canterbury like cross in his hands tightly, and followed after Chronostasis. His shadow trailing after him a second too late.