The crowman told us to contact them once we were 'coolheaded' enough to discuss.

So here we are in one of the many underground sites governed by the Eight Pecepts of the Death: Shigaraki, the crowman, and I.

My mistake, Chisaki Kai.

Otherwise known as Overhaul.

I take in my surroundings. Besides the three of us, there are two other subordinates with plague doctor masks. Inconsequential at the moment. What is more interesting is the bareness of the room. Bare white walls, pristine tile floor, a single poster with the yakuza emblem, two sofas, a coffee table, and a door and window leading to a labyrinth. The atmosphere gives off the feeling of sterility and hygiene. An uncomfortable level of sanitation.

Even Shigaraki points out as much. "What a dreary office you have here," he groans.

"Cluttered configurations aren't really my taste," Chisaki-sama replies nonchalantly. He and his short lackey are already seated on one of the sofas. It does not escape my notice that he does not invite us to do the same.

Unfortunately, Shigaraki does not observe what I do. He continues to complain. "You had me going round and round underground for 30 minutes! Like an ant! What kind of yakuza house is this supposed to be?" I want to remind Shigaraki to stop scratching his neck, but that is not the kind of impression I want to give to the Eight Precepts. Eventually, silence prevails speech.

But while Shigaraki's irritation is stoked, the effect reflects off the gangster with no effect. In that same bored tone of voice, he explains, "We don't know who's watching, nor do we know what our guests are thinking. There are many routes that have been connected underground. This reception room also serves as an underground hideout." His miniature lackey adds on how this level of paranoia and caution have enabled the organization to survive despite the decline. It is then Chisaki-sama's gaze lands on me. Everyone present in this room arrived in their villain apparel. Chisaki-sama with his partial tuxedo and signature mask; Shigaraki with his long, black, leather coat and notable plaster hand; I with my white trench coat and suit ensemble. Since this rendezvous is occurring at night, even my hair has changed colors to match my clothes. "Remove the mask," Chisaki-sama commands. I comply. As I set the white masquerade mask on the table, I watch him for a reaction. He belies none. Does he truly not recognize me, or is he an actor excellent at hiding his emotions? "I didn't see you when the League and I last met. And this secret meeting was supposed to be between Shigaraki and I."

Shigaraki emits a sound of annoyance as he plops onto the sofa across without invitation. I take as my cue to sit as well. Never breaking my gaze with the gangster in front of me, I lean back and cross one leg over the other. "And yet you brought two of your subordinates to this secret meeting. I am certain you did so because you trust them. The same courtesy can be extended to us. As for your not seeing me statement … not every member of the League of Villains was visibly present at the warehouse. One was busy recruiting members, another was occupied elsewhere, and the other was hiding in the shadows. I will let you guess which one I was."

Both Shigaraki and Chisaki-sama release a snort of approval. Their agreement over something surprises me and them. Shigaraki attempts to hide it as a cough, but Chisaki-sama's attention on me is undeterred. He scrutinizes me. "So you're the spy," he states. "There were rumors, but I did not expect it to be a teenage girl attending Japan's most famed school of heroes and the heiress to one of Japan's business magnates."

So he did know who I was. An impressive actor he is. "The same way your mafia organization has been operating under the noses of the heroes, I have been stealing information from them and feeding it to the League. Under their noses."

"And despite all your cunning and stealth, your comrades do not know how to use that information wisely," he scoffs.

Anger seizes me. My introduction was to get him to not underestimate me. To respect me and what I have to say because Shigaraki brought me here to serve as the diplomat. What with Mr. Compress still tending to his injuries, it was up to me to be the mediator from the League's side. Prove my loyalty to the League and negotiate a deal. Take responsibility for what happened to Mr. Compress and Magne. I was also here to serve as a trump card. To show the Eight Precepts of Death that the League of Villains is not as helpless as they presume, and I was their key to victory. If push came to shove, I would reveal my absorption ability in front of these crows.

However, Chisaki-sama's patronizing tone showed that our efforts backfired. He thinks that our organization is more pitiful than he had presumed. The urge to show him just how pitiful his existence is rises within me, but I manage to tamp it down. Shigaraki itches to decay him to dust. Before I can, I speak. "But here we are, willing to talk. I would say that is a wise decision," I argue calmly in an attempt to bring the conversation back to the main subject.

The pipsqueak of a gangster pipes in. "Now then! About what we discussed on the phone the other day. Were you for real? That depending on the conditions, you'll side with us?"

"That's a self-serving way of putting it," Shigaraki seethes. "You're the ones who want to latch onto the League's name. But we happen to be looking for ways to expand our influence." He slams his shoe on the surface of the table with a thud. A blatant sign of disrespect. His hands cross and rest on his knee, an obvious sign of a warning. "Our motives happen to align."

This action finally elicits some sort of strong reaction from Chisaki-sama. Though his voice is placid as ever, his eyes betray his chagrin. "Put your foot down. You're dirtying the table up."

My polite persona deigns to agree with him. But because of that change in demeanor, and the League's need to put up a front, I say nothing.

Shigaraki continues unaffected, "I believe that should be 'Could you please put your foot down?' young boss. If anything, you should be bowing your head in respect." Internally, I smirk. It seems like my pride is rubbing on him. Then he orders me to list our terms.

"First and foremost," I begin. "Let us make it clear that the League is not here to be bought or subdued. Our planning, our strategies, our moves. We are here for a partnership. A joint venture, where each party reaps equal amount of rewards."

"Is that the only condition?"

"There is more."

Shigaraki speaks next. This next condition is of particular interest to him, so best he mentions it. "That 'plan' you were talking about … tell me more about it. It's a natural condition. I can't just lend you our name for worthless schemes. Although …" He reaches into his coat just as Chisaki-sama's two lackeys attack him reflexively. The taller plague doctor who was hovering by the window the entire time pulls a gun and fixes it to Shigaraki's temple. The pipsqueak one turns out to have a quirk of bodybuilder muscles and restrains Shigaraki's arm. I think it is problematic that it is that development that surprises me more than the death threats. Where are my priorities?

"You're getting a little ahead of yourself, aren't you?" the former pipsqueak gloats.

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, YOU PUNK?!" the gunman shouts.

I pity. Not Shigaraki, but the two idiots who made the mistake of confronting him like that. It occurs to me that Shigaraki may not be able to restrain himself after this insult. I reach over to tell him to bide his time, but he interrupts me before I can. "'Who do you think you are?'" he echoes distastefully. "That's my line. Do you really think your throwaway small-fry yakuza human shields are of equal value to our Magne? Don't forget, we're down an arm, too." He raises his left hand for emphasis. "If you can't even make a simple compromise …"

The threat is thinly veiled. Its message reaches its intended recipient. Chisaki-sama orders his lackeys to leave him be. "He did come all this way to consider the future with us. Let's hear what he has to say." In a display of interest, Chisaki-sama extends his hand to urge him to continue.

Shigaraki searches his inner coat pockets again. No one dares to interfere this time. He pulls out a cylinder with a needle the size of a segment of my thumb. The dart that pricked Mr. Compress. "This has something to do with it, right?" he asks. Shigaraki spins the dart between his fingers, playing with it, studying it. "Compress was no longer able to use his quirk.

"What is this? What do you plan on doing with it? Tell me."

Chisaki-sama's response is most intriguing. "I'm going to destroy justice," he says with true confidence. We wait for him to explain. So he does. "I hear that All for One controlled others by taking their quirks. I figured I'd brush up on that approach a little bit. Our roots have already spread throughout the country. Little by little, all the preparations are proceeding according to plan." And now I learn just how much of a psychopath he is.

To my surprise, Chisaki-sama is very cooperative when it comes to his ideals and visions. He claims that quirks are a blight on humanity. His mysophobia and the theory that quirks originated from sewer rats have led him to believe that these supernatural abilities are an infection. They dictate the diseases of heroism and villainy. As a result, he scorns both heroes and villains for their measly morals or lack thereof. An interesting notion. Chisaki-sama wants to eradicate quirks from society. Revert to a stage before quirks existed, so that the yakuza groups can rise from the ashes once again. Stronger than before. It strikes me as ironic that his beliefs would be as such, especially when his own quirk is impressive.

More creative is the method by which he intends to go about this vision. The dart - rather, bullet - was one of his constructions. A temporary quirk-erasing bullet. Testing and development are still underway. Once his experiments are successful and a better, permanent solution is generated, he will export the product within the underworld networks. A bullet as small as this can bring an entire empire to its knees. What with heroes losing their quirks one by one and in masses, no one will be able to restore their glory. Despite my loathing, I must admit that Chisaki-sama is a genius. Even Shigaraki whistles his approval.

"Remarkable feat," I comment once he has finished. " Fight fire with fire, poison with poison. You're using the concept of quirks to eliminate them altogether. But how were you able to create this bullet in the first place? Whose quirk enables you to do so?" Because although I am in awe of this man, I am afraid of him, too. If he realizes that I have absorption, one of the most powerful quirks in existence, he will see me as a threat that he must eliminate. Trump cards guarantee victory. But if it betrays its wielder, defeat is imminent. I know my lifespan is short, but I will not die today or soon.

"That …" he drawls as he leans forward. "Is a secret." My eyes narrow in suspicion. "You know the purpose of the Eight Precepts: the decimation of quirks. We know yours: the end of hero society. It's like your colleague here said, our goals align." I glance at Shigaraki. Intuition tells me that even he is on his guard. "But I don't know about yours. You still haven't answered why someone like you is in tandem with the League."

"That's because you never phrased it like a question," I reply.

He chuckles again. "Witty, are you? So tell me. Why are you with the League?"

"What do you gain with that knowledge?"

"I'll tell you that later. First, my question."

I rest against the pillows of the sofa and twirl a lock of hair between my fingers. "Revenge, mostly. The way that we are here to make a deal with you, similarly the League approached me to join them. In exchange for being their spy, they gave me the opportunity to seek vengeance."

I expect that much to be enough of an answer. But I am mistaken. Disappointment clouds Chisaki-sama's eyes, and he sighs in disdain. "So does every one of you in the League lack foresight? No long-term goals, whatsoever."

That condescending tone … I truly, truly despise it. Furthermore, I sense him reconsidering the deal. The wrath is so profound that I have to remain quiet for a few moments to regain semblance of control. If my voice becomes any icier than it is now, then he will have the advantage. Shigaraki rises to strike, but I place my hand on his shoulder to hold him back. "We do have long-term goals," I say carefully. "But they are a secret." He glares at me when I retort with his own words. "What I can reveal are some details about myself," I add. That keeps his interest in me. Excellent. "Let's play a game, shall we? You make an assumption about me, and I will verify whether it is true."

Shigaraki hisses into my ear, "What the hell are you doing? We didn't come here to play get-to-know-each-other like a bunch of toddlers."

I whisper at him to hush and let me continue.

"What makes you think I will agree to this game?" Chisaki-sama inquires.

I laugh sadistically. "You are a psychopath, and so am I. Coldheartedness, lack of morals, manipulation, coercion, and calculation … all of these are traits associated with psychopathy. Things like heroism and morality bore us. So what is it that really captivates our interest? Games. Whether they be board games, sports games, video games, or mind games, anything that compels us to scheme wickedly excites us. So from one psychopath to another, what do you say?" I raise a brow in challenge.

"I accept," he replies. I think I can detect a malicious grin behind that mask. "If we are psychopaths, what does that make your partner?"

"Shigaraki is a sociopath."

Said sociopath protests in indignation, but both of us ignore him. I usher Chisaki-sama to make his first assumption. After all, we have plenty of time tonight. He studies me again. Closely. Carefully. My pride gives me the strength to not wither under his stare. As I wait patiently, I unravel a black rose from my hair and toy with the stem. The action captures the eye of the pipsqueak-not-pipsqueak.

The instant I flash a flirtatious smile at the little crowman, Chisaki-sama makes his first guess. "A few months ago, the League launched an attack on the forest where the U.A. students were going through summer training. You and that blonde boy were kidnapped. But actually, it was only the boy that was abducted. You went along willingly."

I clap in amazement. "Correct! I joined the League of Villains long before that attack. Make another." The short crowman squeals in delight when I gift him the rose, while the taller one huffs.

"One of my comrades was taken down by a poisoned knife at the warehouse. Based on the angle, you were hiding up in the ledges. And noting the accurate trajectory, that was not sheer luck at play. You have a penchant for blades."

"Again! Right guess!" To make the other lackey happy, I give a rose to him, too. It's cute how he stutters a thanks. They're both idiots. Shigaraki scowls at me behind his plaster hand, but I am too busy entertaining these fools.

"That wasn't the first time you've killed. Your revenge had to do with murder. The daughter to a tycoon joined the ranks of a lowly criminal organization. Emigrated from Japan to immigrate to England. But now has returned. Reaching that level of precision on your target takes time. The League started making its appearance exactly a year ago. You were at the U.S.J. incident. So it's logical to assume that the League approached you before," he deduces. My pretense at amusement fades. Wariness rises instead. Even Shigaraki tenses beside me. "You've been killing for a year now. And circling back to the professionalism of that strike, you've killed many. Somewhere in the hundreds. But nowhere on Japan's news channels did reports of a serial killer besides the Hero Killer arrive. One would think a mass murderer would make headlines every day.

"And it did. Not in Japan. But in England."

All control I had on myself vanishes. My eyes widen involuntarily. How did he-

I never get the chance to finish my thought. I don't need to. Chisaki-sama answers the question without any prompting. He explains, "It was happenstance. To land upon a news article about a murder outbreak in England while I was learning more about the Hero Killer. But it piqued my interest, nonetheless. All the victims were men killed in different ways but one thing was common amongst each of them. Crushed bones. Comminuted fractures riddled their bodies. The murderer was named the Bone Crusher Killer and suspected to be a woman. And then in May, reports of a weapons mafia syndicate flew in like a storm. Its headquarters were blasted to smithereens, and the Bone Crusher Killer was shot when she fled the scene. Her saga ended there.

"But she never died, did she? She staged her death because she got her revenge. And that vengeful little spirit is now sitting in front of me, isn't that right?"

And you figured out all that from a single blow. Well, I suppose there is no point in hiding now. I tilt my head to the side and level a cold glare at him. "That's three in a row. Absolutely brilliant, Overhaul."

The genius chuckles without restraint. He did not strike me as the type to release himself so wholly. Shigaraki and I pass a quick glance of mutual cynicism. I feel for the daggers strapped to my skin just as Shigaraki flexes his fingers.

"Indeed, you are a psychopath. You slaughtered all those men in cold blood."

And I will do the same to you and your gang of idiots.

But I must tread carefully. "Since your research and deduction skills are beyond par, how about one final guess? Here is my question: how did I break my victims' bones?" The instant the question leaves my mouth, I reconsider. Victory gleams in his eyes. He beckons his taller lackey to retrieve something. And when he does, it takes everything in me to keep my jaw from dropping. My cane. The one with the Japanese silver dragon handle and ebony staff. The one that I thought was missing forever after it fell into the river. It is miraculous how both its onyx eyes are still embedded in the metal. I do absolutely nothing to hide the shock from my eyes.

"Obtaining this was also pure circumstance," he says fondly. The way he rotates my cane, admiring its beauty, sickens me. How dare you! That. Is. Mine. I force myself to clench my fists to prevent myself from leaping at this throat. "I only saw it once, during the video footage of the U.A. Sports Festival. Then a few months ago, when one of my comrades said he found it washed up ashore. Not hollow. Made of pure silver. He suggested selling it would be profitable, but I had other ideas."

And I know just what sort of ideas those were. I list them for him. "This cane represented an opportunity far more lucrative than any auction on the black market. You intended to approach my father on the basis of returning the cane to me. Then, strike a bargain. Increase your profits exponentially. My father's expansion into the hero industry, and your quirk removal bullets. I do not blame you. We corporates are opportunists, after all." I lean forward. The tides turned in his favor when I proposed the guessing game. But now it is my turn to regain control of the situation. "However, you have different plans now. Blackmail. Knowing that I am a member of the League of Villains has made you believe that you have leverage. In exchange for servicing you, you will not reveal my secrets to my father. Because in terms of reputation, you have nothing to lose, but I have everything. Am I correct?"

"What will you do now?" He responds to my question with a question, indirectly confirming my analysis.

"Well, you know about my motives, my identities, and my deeds. It was why you asked me earlier for my reasoning behind supporting the League. Let me make it clear that I will not be blackmailed. Remember that I destroyed a mafia organization singlehandedly. And as stated earlier, this is a joint venture." For the short while it will last, that is. "We have two more conditions. The first, you return the cane to its rightful owner. The second, is that you and your henchmen keep my secrets to yourselves. In response, I will provide you vital information." Chisaki-sama shrugs and sets the cane on the table. I shake my head, though. "Not like this. Everybody at school and my father know that my cane disappeared. If I go back with it having suddenly reappeared, they will become suspicious. I will tell you when and how I want my cane in due time. Just keep it clean for now." Really, I loathe the idea of parting with it after it is in my grasp. But it is a necessary sacrifice. My cane … my symbol of pride … I will have it back soon.

Chisaki-sama repeats the bored shrug as the same subordinate takes the cane away. The loss feels visceral. I do not know how much more I can resist. "I've got conditions of my own, too," he declares. Obviously. "From you, I want a meeting with your father. My ambitions have not changed, only my method. I promise not to mention you. And from your partner, I want to play a game of shogi of with him. Let's see if the sociopath loves games as much as you."

I accept his terms the moment that Shigaraki howls, "THE HELL!" The shorter subordinate tosses Shigaraki's foot aside as he sets up at the board and pieces in the center of the coffee table. "I'm not playing some stupid kid's game with you!" Evidently he does not like games.

"You never played shogi before?" Chisaki-sama remarks.

Shigaraki huffs in childish exasperation. "And I'm not going to, either. Pack it up, I don't even know the rules."

Chisaki-sama folds his hands and cracks his knuckles in eager anticipation. "Don't say that," he coos like a parent soothing its angry toddler. "I'd like it if you used this opportunity to appreciate the game. You'll be able to watch over the state of the game." Shigaraki lets out a sarcastic gesture of agreement as Chisaki-sama makes the first move. But my mind scrutinizes the last four words that left Chisaki-sama's mouth.

I press Shigaraki's shoulder again and whisper, "He never specified how many conditions he had. Listen carefully."

To my relief, Shigaraki sighs irritatedly but does not escalate the situation further.

"What's fun about shogi," Chisaki-sama continues as he slides a game piece forth, oblivious to the rising wariness, "Is how you can use the pieces you took from your opponent. I'll take Bubaigawara and the heiress, and Toga or Blackmist. If they're allowed to run around as they please, that'd make me wary." There. Those are his true terms. He still intends to keep me under his thumb.

Shigaraki itches his neck once more. Admittedly, I feel disturbed as well. "Oh sure. All the useful ones," he complains. "You just want to chip away at our mobility. They're the lynchpin of my whole operation! Like I could just hand them over!"

"And my answer is no," I interrupt. "I am doing plenty enough."

"Let's build some trust here," Chisaki-sama tries to reason placidly. But the word he emphasizes almost makes me chortle. Trust? As if! "Right now, there's still some bad blood between us. We told you our whole plan, didn't we? Now it's your turn." He beckons toward the shogi board. Although, I think you withheld some important details about your plan.

Shigaraki pushes one of his pieces forward and grumbles, "You alliance guys really value your comrades, right?"

Shigaraki and I came here to strike a partnership offer, but now we are negotiating like street vendors and customers. He profusely expresses his denial on giving any member of the League to the Eight Precepts. Chisaki-sama matches his stubbornness equally. Meanwhile, I contemplate what this means.

There is both high risk and high reward. If we can compromise … give the Eight Precepts two instead of four … Two people can infiltrate the yakuza. Break it from within. We can avenge Magne and Mr. Compress, while still making a statement. But we have to be cautious. A gang that has survived this long must be perceptive beyond par. If Chisaki-sama has the slightest inkling of suspicion, he won't take his chances. I have to do everything to lower the risk involved … Suddenly, I recall something that happened not too long ago. An event that was kept under wraps from both parties, but from the wrong hands and wrong mouths made its way to me. A strategy starts to spin in my mind. And I think I know just how.

While the two of them are still bickering, shogi forgotten, I hit the ground thrice with my geriatric cane. It grabs both their attention. "Shigaraki, can we talk in private?"

Without waiting for permission from Chisaki-sama, he gets up and pulls to me a corner. He goes as far as to glare at the other two audience members as a warning. "What is it?" he hisses. Ignoring his bad mood, I tell him the gist of my plan. The risks, the rewards, and the deceptions. An age-old strategy but is effective even today.

Shigaraki analyzes my idea before returning. I swear he grins a devilish grin behind the plaster hand.

"You get Twice and Toga. Morningstar and Blackmist stay with me," he declares.

"Morningstar?" Chisaki-sama asks.

I extend my white gloved hand. "Lucifer Morningstar. Pleasure to formally make your acquaintance." He does not accept the handshake, even though he is wearing surgeon gloves. No matter. Both your hands will not last for much longer.

The time soon arrives for Shigaraki and I to depart. But before we can, Chisaki-sama stops us. "You said that you are a spy, Lucifer Morningstar. Prove it. Give me something useful now."

My foot hovers over the threshold, but I turn around. "A few days ago, two heroes on patrol crossed you and your daughter's path. Those heroes attend the same school as I do and intern in the same agency. Said agency caught a whiff of your organization and was monitoring you as of late.

"I suggest you prepare for a hero invasion of your stronghold.

"Amass numbers, strengthen your army, and hide your dirty little trove of secrets."

Because we will let the heroes do our dirty work.

No risk.

Plenty of rewards.

Such a diabolical psychopath I am!

Note: I have copied some dialogue from one of the English-translated versions of the manga. The links to the chapters are here:

.online/manga/boku-no-hero-academia-chapter-132/

.online/manga/boku-no-hero-academia-chapter-147/