The paperwork on his desk was piling up and the interns were bringing more stacks of it every hour. Tensei stares at the incident report form he's been filling out for the last half hour and wants to cry. His brain might process things faster than the average person's in order to keep up with him when he uses his quirk, but it doesn't do anything to help with the way his hands cramp while doing paperwork. Not for the first time, he dreams of a world where he has tiny engines on his hands.
He's on page 28, signing where it's needed and cringing at one of his sidekick's description of the property damage related to the new intern's latest misadventure. It's the third incident report this month alone and he's beginning to think that he might not invite this particular person back when they graduate high school. It makes him feel bad to even consider, but the kid is just too much of a loose cannon and hasn't shown any signs of learning how to control themself. If they want to continue in this manner, he can't in good conscience allow them to be an official part of his agency.
He signs his name on the last dotted line and leans back in his chair, sighing and shaking his hand out. There's still so much work left to be done, but the grumbling of his stomach and a glance at the clock tells him that he's way past due for a lunch break. He pulls his phone from the desk drawer and begins the trek to the break room, smiling at his coworkers along the way. He chats with one of the sidekicks as he prepares his lunch, happy to catch up but glad that she has to leave for patrol by the time his food is ready; he prefers not to try to eat and talk at the same time.
He's settled down with a glass of grapefruit juice, a mug of coffee, and his meal by the time he notices that he's got texts from both Koichi and Tenya, as well as one from an unknown number. He opens Koichi's first, smiling at the way the man rambles awkwardly even through texts. It looks like they're still on for their run next Tuesday and he feels a flutter of excitement at the thought. (Which is, of course, a totally normal reaction to the thought of seeing a dear friend.)
He shoots back a quick response, not allowing himself time to overthink and second guess his words, and then sets the phone down to eat. Koichi should be in class right now, so he's not really expecting a response right away, which is why he's surprised when the phone buzzes immediately.
Did you see the pic Pop sent? It took forever to convince her you weren't a weirdo so be nice when you respond!
Tensei frowns, confused for a moment until he remembers the text from the unknown number. He finds and opens it, absentmindedly adding the number to his contacts as he does.
this is the only picture i have of yudai, she writes. he asked me to delete all the ones that had him in them but i guess i missed this one
It surprises him how blunt her texting style is. For the type of public persona she has, he was expecting a lot more exclamation marks and…sparkles, maybe? He's not sure. All he knows is that all the high school girls who have interned with him have had a lot more personality in their texts.
He opens the attachment and the picture fills his phone screen. It is a slightly blurry, candid shot taken from a few feet away of a boy around Tenya's age. His dark green hair is messy, like he hasn't combed it in days, and there is a streak of purple frosting on his cheek. He is baby faced with wide green eyes and a dusting of freckles on otherwise sunless skin. Tensei smiles when he sees the Ingenium logo on the boy's long sleeved shirt.
Other than the state of his hair, nothing about this kid really sticks out. Tensei can't help but frown the longer he stares at the picture, zooming in to try to get a better look at his face. Yudai seems perfectly average, but there is something about him that seems familiar to Tensei, something that teases some distant memory in his head and sets off alarm bells. He feels like he's seen this kid somewhere before.
He thinks as he eats his lunch, trying to determine where he might have seen Yudai before. Koichi had mentioned the kid's interest in heroes. Maybe he's come to a merch signing or has hung around to watch one of the ingenium agency's more public villain captures? That would explain why he seems distantly familiar.
He shakes his head, telling himself he's being silly, before sending a quick thank you text to Pop Step. He'll look forward to meeting a fan.
.
The rain is pouring down outside and he already knows that it will all freeze as soon as the sun sets. Traversing the rooftops will be hell for days, if not weeks. His more immediate concern is the way the water is working itself through the cracks in the ceiling of this joke of an apartment, though it won't be his problem for much longer. The tinny sound of it plopping into the only pot he has available is nearing tortuous, considering how his current company is doing her level best to take a buzzsaw to his worn patience.
ting
ting
ting
"It's just a couple more," she whines, clutching the manila folder close to her chest. She is pouting but the mischief in her visible eye ruins any affect the expression might have been going for.
"Don't look at me like that," he snaps. "You look fucking stupid. My answer is no."
"But my boss will pay you double just for these guys! He's been sooo impressed by your work so far, and these ones are the really important ones. I promise there's no more after this!"
"That's what you said last time," he reminds her with bared teeth, and she doesn't even bother to act contrite. She flashes a sharp toothed grin and shrugs.
"What can I say? I'm just the messenger."
"No."
ting
"Aw, c'mon!"
ting
"I'm done. You pay me, and then I'm leaving."
ting
"Okaaaaay, I'll pay you now for the work you've done, but just think about what I'm saying."
She pulls an envelope from her backpack and flings it at him like a shuriken. It hits his chest and flutters to the ground. She giggles and he wants to wring her neck.
"Just three last targets and you get double this amount. Doesn't that sound nice?"
He grabs the money from the floor, hating that it forces him to bow his head to her. The thought of the back of his neck left exposed makes something twist in his gut and he straightens quickly. He steps past her, heading for the door, always careful to keep her in his peripheral vision. He doesn't trust her not to try something while his back is turned.
"You already have my answer," he growls.
His head feels like it is stuffed with rocks. He just wants to go back to the apartment he shares with Izuku and sleep for the next three weeks, but he can't. He has to get Izuku packed up, get his own shit together, and get them out of this city and far away from the bloody mess he's leaving behind. They have to set up for the next phase of his training.
It's time for Izuku to grow up. He has already surpassed Chizome's expectations, has mastered the basics, and has been sitting stagnant for far too long. Chizome knows the kid is ready, but there is a part of him that still dreads the thought of him facing the dark truths of the world of heroes and vigilantes.
"Pleeeease?" Hachisuka says, drawing the word out like a song. Chizome startles out of his thoughts, a sick feeling in his stomach as he realizes he had been so wrapped up in his own head that he had practically forgotten that she was still there. "Don't you have a little mouth to feed? Think of Izuku-kun! Wouldn't it be nice to have some extra money for him?"
He stills, hand on the knob, chewing her words over. Just hearing his kid's name in her grating tone makes him want to kill her on the spot, but…. She's right, of course. Her employers pay better than most, and if he is going to be devoting more time to Izuku's training then he won't be able to take on as many jobs. It's the whole reason he accepted her offer in the first place.
ting
He thinks of Izuku, the way his eyes stare so longingly at toys and books when they go shopping, knowing better than to ask. Empty cabinets and big eyes staring from a gaunt face, too thin wrists, threadbare clothes, and his own twisting stomach when jobs are scarce and he has to decide between feeding himself or his kid.
He swallows hard, throat clicking.
ting
She is closer now, circling him like a shark, sensing his hesitation like blood in the water. Her proximity grates against him like sandpaper against skin. A shuddering takes hold of his spine and he has to tense to hide it from her, the weight resting upon his shoulders so heavy he wonders how much longer he can continue to push forward. His head aches and he isn't sure how much longer his body can bear the strain.
ting
"What's the catch?"
ting
"Nothing much! These ones just have connections to some of the local heroes, so they might be a pain to deal with."
"Heroes?"
"Vigilantes might be the more accurate word, I guess."
He wets his lips and turns back to face her. A haze hangs over her features like a shroud and he isn't sure if the buzzing in his head is coming from her or not. His mouth feels dry, and he finds
himself wishing for the taste of blood to fill it. He didn't use to crave it like he does these days.
ting
He should say no—
ting
—but something stills his tongue. She grins at him, sharp teeth shiny with saliva. Her lips are red and chapped. He's heard before about the cruelty of children, but he hadn't believed it until he met her.
ting
She pulls a vial of blood from her backpack and holds up the manila envelope, waving them at him. His mouth waters.
There is no further hesitation as he steps away from the door.
.
Koichi leaves class smiling down at his phone and hardly able to believe that he had managed to pass the midterm. Between all the late nights studying and chasing down Trigger addicts and trying to keep Knuckleduster from killing someone, he would have been happy with just barely scraping by with a passing grade. At the rate he's going, though, he might actually make it through this year with a grade that won't make his mother weep with shame. For the first time since he held his shaking hands pressed to the gaping wound in that woman's side, he feels like things are going okay.
He's still waking up from nightmares, still feeling the blood beneath his nails, but small things like this are enough to make him feel happy and it feels…nice. Like maybe things can get better. Are getting better.
He begins the trek home, long and meandering in order to clear the walkways of all of the trash that has collected during the day. He returns two dropped wallets and finds a woman's ring for her. His favorite vendor has curry puffs and when he points out that she gave him too much back in change the old woman running the stall laughs and gives him a couple extras.
The day seems to be going pretty good. He feels himself rising from the pit of anxiety and misery he's been sunk in since he lay paralyzed, face to face with a pair of lifeless purple eyes. He goes home and he drinks a beer, eyeing the silver age hoodie hanging on the back of his door, and he thinks that maybe tonight will be the night he gets back out there.
He waits until the sun has set completely and the city is illuminated only by streetlights and neon signs. Then, he shrugs on his protective gear and All Might hoodie. Taking several deep breaths, he steps out onto the desolate rooftop and brings his phone to his ear.
"What?" Knuckleduster grunts when he answers, blunt and to the point as always. Koichi licks his lips and forces himself to speak, trying his best to sound casual.
"I'm going out patrolling tonight," he says, wincing when the words come out three octaves too high. He clears his throat while he listens to the quiet breathing coming through the line. Koichi starts sweating, wondering if this is a mistake after all. Maybe it's too soon.
"Go fuck some shit up." Knuckleduster mutters after a long moment, just as the silence was beginning to get awkward. "Call me if you find anyone needing an ass kicking. I'll be there."
He hangs up as soon as the words are out of his mouth, leaving Koichi grinning into empty space with the phone still pressed to his ear. Though the man is rough and an overall pain to deal with, the vote of confidence and the promise of backup are enough to give him the courage he needs.
He stands tall as he makes his way to the street, noting proudly that the many flights of stairs don't leave him winded like they used to. There is no hesitation as he drops to all fours to begin his patrol, and though it is a quiet night, when the sun crests the horizon and all is said and done he goes to bed with a smile on his face. It feels good to know that he helped at least a few people.
Things seem to be turning around, which of course should have been his first hint that something was about to go very bad.
.
It is a roar that catches his attention. It is human, yet makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The cocktail of pain and fear and rage has him moving before he's fully processed the situation, groceries abandoned on the sidewalk as he rushes headlong towards the side streets, scanning alleys, ears pricked for the slightest sound. He is beginning to sweat beneath his heavy winter coat. He pauses, just for a second, just long enough to shrug it off and let the cold air hit his sweaty skin.
The roar echoes again and he jerks to attention. It is closer now, so close the volume of it makes his heart vibrate in his chest like when he was younger and would turn the bass all the way up on the speakers his uncle got him for his birthday. The blood is rushing through his veins, adrenaline flooding his system as he rounds a corner and pulls up short.
Not again, he thinks, eyes wide and goosebumps rising as he takes in the scene in front of him.
Souga, recognizable only by the color of his hair and the scowl on his face, covered in spikes and mutated by what he can only assume is Trigger.
Stendhal, sword held tightly, coiled and ready to strike. He is holding himself so confidently, with so much grace, and even knowing what this man has done Koichi can't help but think that he looks so cool.
Just like a hero should.
He forces the thought away as the memory of the squelch of blood and the warm wetness covering his hands and soaking into his clothes comes rushing back. Stendhal's sword looks so clean, glinting in the late afternoon's watery light, it is easy to imagine that it has never been used. Koichi knows the truth, though.
He steels himself, forces his trembling hands to stay firmly rooted to the ground as he crouches, ready to fight or flee as the situation dictates. Despite the tightness of his throat, he forces himself to speak.
"Souga? Stendhal? What are you doing?"
He knows the answer, recognizes the wild eyed fear in Souga's face, but there's a desperately optimistic part of him that is hoping that they are somehow in cahoots. That there is a simple explanation and that he had somehow totally misunderstood the bloody scene he had borne witness to before. Souga's a jerk, but he's not a killer, and he can't deny that he's wishing the same to be true of Stendhal.
"Stay out of this," the masked man says, attention never straying from Souga's snarling face. "I'll find you later, after I deal with this villain."
Koichi's mouth goes dry at his words, but he swallows down his fear. Souga's gaze darts between them, confusion and betrayal flickering across his features. He seems suddenly vulnerable, like a candle in the wind. Kochi meets his gaze steadily and gives a small shake of his head, hoping Souga realizes that he isn't working with the man.
"Let's try to work something out," he implores, slowly straightening, both hands held in the air in a bid for peace. "This guy's a punk, but he's no villain. Well, maybe a little bit, but he's mostly harmless! We can just talk about whatever the problem is! I'll help you guys figure out a compromise."
Stendhal makes a noise low in his throat. It rattles, and Koichi's not sure if it's meant to be a growl or a laugh. The sound is unhinged, not quite human, and it sends prickles of fear racing along his skin. The spines on Souga's Trigger-mutated back bristles as well and his clawed hands curl into fists.
"So you're the one connected to him. Figures."
"What do you—"
The flash of silver and the red blossoming across Souga's chest register first, whole seconds before he's even realized that Stendhal had moved. Souga screams as the skin of his bare chest splits like overripe fruit, muscle and fat gleaming wetly just beneath his skin as blood is spilled. This blow probably won't be lethal if he can get help soon, but there's no denying it anymore; Stendhal intends to kill him.
Koichi is moving before he has the chance to feel sick at the realization. He rushes forward with a burst of speed he hadn't known he was capable of, swerving around and then in front of Stendhal, aiming for his ankles, tripping him up before he gets the chance to deliver a finishing blow. The man stumbles and it allows Koichi just enough time to maneuver Souga's massive form across his back.
"I need you to hold on," he says through gritted teeth. His quirk flares to life again as he crouches, enveloping his hands in the smooth, buzzing coolness he's come to associate with it. "And retract your spines or something! They're stabbing me!"
"I can't," Souga wheezes as he lifts a shaking paw to rest on Koichi's shoulder. His voice is tight with pain. Blood and sweat mix, soaking into the back of Koichi's sweater. His limbs tremble beneath Souga's weight, but he forces himself forward, feels the ground mere millimeters beneath his palms and prays for the speed and the strength to get both of them far away from this desolate alley before Stendhal regains his bearings and comes after them. Predictably, though, his prayers go unanswered.
He has barely moved ten feet when he feels the pain, sharp and sudden and worse than anything he's experienced up to this point. He screams as his leg gives out, calf burning, and his quirk sputters out with the loss of four points of contact.
He faceplants into the rough gravel of the road, crying out again as it scrapes along his skin. Suddenly, he's reminded of when he was a child just discovering his quirk, of the way his mother would scold him for the rug burns and the road rashes he'd come home with after trying to learn how to control his new abilities. How her words were harsh and biting but her hands were gentle as she cleaned away the gravel from his wounds and wrapped them in clean white bandages. He wishes desperately that she would be waiting to do it again after all this is through.
"So you've made your choice," Stendhal says from behind him, voice soft and deadly. "Siding with the villain."
Souga is still on his back, his breathing coming in sharp bursts, blowing hot puffs of air against the side of Koichi's neck. His hand's gone limp on Koichi's shoulder and he can hear the way the guy's teeth grind together.
"I'm not siding with anyone," Koichi says, twisting back to find the man, his eyes searching the space for anything he can use to defend himself and Souga with. A glass vial lies abandoned in the alleyway, but Stendhal is nowhere in sight. His stomach lurches when he catches sight of the knife sunk to the hilt in his calf, but he knows better than to pull it out. "I won't let you kill anyone else!"
"Anyone else?" Souga hisses into his ear. Koichi ignores the question, not wanting to think about it.
"Get off me! You're crushing me and I won't be able to fight him off like this."
"I can't move," Souga says, voices trembling. "He must have done something."
"Shit," Koichi says with feeling. Then, gritting his teeth against the pain, he forces himself to press his knee to the ground and move.
"I thought you were going to fight him! What are you playing at?" Souga demands as they skid across the ground at a dizzying speed. Souga wobbles precariously with every bump, but they're so close to escape Koichi can almost taste it.
"I'm not playing, I'm running!" he snaps, turning his head just enough to let Souga see the way he glares. "If I can just get us to a busy street, he might not follow and somebody can call for help! What choice do I ha—"
His limbs freeze up, going useless and numb. Even so, he still feels it when he eats asphalt for the second time in as many minutes. He thinks wildly that if he gets them out of his alive he's going to wear his protective gear under his civilian clothes always, even when he's just out running errands.
Souga had been thrown from his back when he collapsed and he lies a few feet away, just barely in Koichi's line of sight. His eyes are wide with fear, watching over Koichi's shoulder as their death approaches as they both lay frozen, helpless to stop it.
Stendhal circles him, coming to a halt just past Souga's prone form. He stares, head cocked like some animal considering its prey, before raising a boot and slamming it down onto Souga's wounded chest. He screams, blood frothing at his lips and spilling from his chest while Koichi can only watch, crying and wondering if Stendhal tortured his last victim the same way.
"You remind me of someone," Stendhal says, never looking away from Koichi's face as he grinds the heel of his boot in Souga's wounded chest. He steps off and past Souga, who is wheezing and gasping and crying, but still alive. Stendhal draws his blade, the metal hissing as it leaves its sheath.
"I had such high hopes for you," he murmurs. "Yet you've chosen to side with villains. How disappointing."
"Don't," Koichi whispers, tears burning a path to the ground beneath his cheek.
The shadow of his smile curves behind Stendhal's mask. He pauses, considering something, then says, "I will make your death fast."
His sword raises high over his head, but Koichi does not close his eyes. He stares up, breath catching in his throat as he waits for death.
Old man…Pop…Tensei… I'm sorry–please help
And, shockingly, help does come.
Seemingly out of nowhere, a small figure appears, flinging itself between him and Stendhal, standing directly in the path of the blade. Koichi opens his mouth to cry out, body frozen and useless but instincts urging him to do whatever it takes; to scramble forward on just his hands and knees, heedless of the blade sunk deep into the muscles of his leg, throw himself on the sword if it means he can keep this person from being hurt. He screams, desperate and terrified, because he recognizes the person throwing themself into danger for his sake. Though he's only met him twice, he knows that messy green hair and dirty oversized hoodie, red and yellow and blue and white, sleeves so long they hide his hands.
Yudai does not flinch as the sword comes for him. He stands firm and stiff, and Stendhal's blade ends its arc with the glinting tip a centimeter from the kid's freckled nose. All is silent apart from Souga's ragged breathing as the two stare each other down and Koichi watches with open mouthed awe. Then, Yudai crosses his arms and stamps one small foot.
"What do you think you're doing?" Stendhal growls. "Step aside."
Despite his words, much to Koichi's shock, the killer lowers his weapon. He takes several steps to the side, moving to keep both Souga and Koichi in his peripheral vision. The boy mirrors his movements and some distant, hysterical part of Koichi's mind rationalizes that even a murderer has to have some morals. Apparently, killing kids is where Stendhal draws the line.
"What am I doing?" Yudai parrots, voice rising in what Koichi can only guess is…anger? "What are you doing?"
"Teaching these two a lesson," Stendhal says, and there's a strange reverence in his voice. "There's more going on here than you can understand yet."
As he speaks, he crosses his own arms, sword flipped elegantly with the movement. The crimson stained blade is enough to shake Koichi from his baffled silence.
"Get out of here, Yudai!"
"Yudai?" Stendhal's head swivels to stare at Koichi, then to Yudai, then back again. If his body would allow it, Koichi would be cringing back under the man's masked stare. The kid, however, doesn't so much as flinch at what Koichi can only imagine is a withering glare as Stendhal slowly turns his attention back on him.
"Yudai," he says in a soft voice, dragging the word out like an executioner savoring the slow swing of an ax before the killing blow. "Go back to the apartment. Wait for me there. We'll be having a long talk once I'm done here."
"I'm not leaving without you if you're just planning to hurt these guys. Just call the police or something and come with me. You're tired and you're being meaner than normal."
He gives a pointed look towards Souga's limp form, gesturing with one hand as though to indicate his labored breathing and the blood collecting beneath his body. He seems disturbingly calm about the horrific situation happening all around him, and Stendhal groans and sheaths his sword. Koichi feels like he's been violently hurled into an alternate dimension where nothing makes sense.
"What is going on?" he whispers to no one. Souga gives him a helpless shrug from between Stendhal's legs, which Koichi hopes means that Stendhal's paralysis is wearing off.
Yudai has reached out a hand, resting it on Stendhal's wrist and tugging gently as though to lead him away. Koichi kind of wants to cry, both from relief that maybe this means he's not about to die and the horror that apparently Yudai knows Stendhal well enough that he knows where he lives and is able to make the man stand down. Stendhal pulls his arm gently away.
"Go back to the apartment. Leave now and I won't hurt them, but I do have to make sure they've learned their lesson before I come home."
Yudai considers him for a long moment, eyes narrowed as the thoughts glint behind his gaze, then he nods and takes a step back. Souga makes a choked, helpless noise of protest. Koichi feels sick, faced with an impossible decision. He wants this kid far away from here, far from any threat, but he knows that the second he leaves Stendhal is going to finish what he came here to do. The indecision freezes his tongue just as thoroughly as Stendhal's quirk has frozen his body.
"You promise you won't hurt them? And that you'll come right home after you talk to them?"
Stendhal's eye roll is somehow obvious despite the mask covering his face, but he nods once. Yudai's worried expression melts away, replaced by a small, fond smile. He looks at Koichi, his expression open and earnest and entirely oblivious to the fact that he's staring a dead man in the face, and it's breaking Koichi's heart.
"Go to the police," he pleads, voice a choked whisper. He's scared for himself, but for Yudai too. He doesn't want him to go home, to go somewhere that Stendhal can find him. "Go to the heroes. Get help."
Yudai shakes his head, still smiling despite the sadness hidden behind his soft green eyes. "I can't. But don't worry. Stendhal is rough, but he keeps his promises. He's not going to hurt you anymore."
"Go, now," Stendhal snaps. "And don't think you're off the hook, Yudai. We'll be having a long discussion about this as soon as I get back to the apartment."
Yudai's smile falters, his face paling even as a blush rises high on his cheeks. Koichi's stomach lurches and he feels like he's going to be sick.
"Don't go home," he tries again, desperate and scared for this kid. "Get help!"
Stendhal raises his voice, drowning out Koichi's words.
"Leave now, or I'm taking my promise back."
"Fine, fine! I'm going," Yudai says with all the attitude Kazuho must have taught him, and Koichi watches as he leaves through teary eyes. A feeling of defeat washes over him like a rising tide and his nausea gets worse as Yudai disappears and the sounds of his footsteps fade. Stendhal watches him go, then turns his attention back to Koichi.
"Who else knows about him?" he snaps, drawing his sword again. The blood on it has smeared and he remembers how Knuckleduster had once complained about how hard it is to clean the inside of a scabbard. Suddenly, the conversation he had borne witness to clicks and realization hits Koichi like a sucker punch to the face.
"You're his uncle?"
"Uncle? How much did he—?" He cuts himself off with a groan and a shake of his head. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. You won't live long enough to make any trouble left for us. There is no one left to save you."
His eyes and mouth are dark pits behind the mirror of his mouth, just barely visible when the light hits it just right. His smile only grows as he widens his stance, fist curling elegantly around the hilt of his bloodied sword. Koichi realizes with a shudder that he's enjoying this. He wills his body to move, fights to twitch even a single finger, but finds that he is still helpless to defend himself.
"There is no one who will worry about you, or care enough to notice you are gone. You have sided with villains and therefore lost your place in this world. Goodbye, Crawler."
"That's where you're wrong," a familiar voice booms, and Koichi sobs with relief. "'Cuz I am here!"
Heavy boots crash to the ground between them, trench coat billowing with his movement as he whirls and immediately strikes, sending Stendhal stumbling backwards. He narrowly avoids tripping over Souga's body, and one spine covered hand darts out to wrap around the man's ankle. Stendhal curses and kicks him away, and Souga screams as his heavy boot comes down on his fingers. The crunch of breaking bones echoes around them.
"What now?" Stendhal snarls as he whirls to face the newcomer, sword already raised. Before he can strike out, Knuckleduster's fist meets his face, brass knuckles shattering his mask, the force of the hit throwing Stendhal backwards in a spray of blood. Koichi's jaw drops.
The killer hits the ground and does not move to get back up.
Knuckleduster kneels to pick up the shattered remains of the mask, fingers trailing through the blood on it like it's nothing. Now that his adrenaline is beginning to fade a little bit, Koichi realizes that blood is splattered around the alley, which makes it look exactly like the murder scene Stendhal was trying to acheive. He grimaces at the mere sight of it, curling into himself a little and jostling the knife in his calf, which is how he abruptly realizes that Stendhal's quirk must have finally worn off. He can't walk with the injury to his leg, but he shakily raises himself onto his forearms to get a better look at the killer's limp body.
"What took you so long, old man?" he asks, attempting a shaky smile. His eyes burn as the relief he feels at Knuckleduster's presence sweeps over him. The man ignores him, though Koichi sees the hint of a smile twitch at the corners of his lips before it falls.
"You run into guys like this sometimes," Knuckleduster says, lifting the mask and giving it a little shake. A shard falls to the ground with a hollow tinkling sound.
"Like what?"
"Megalomaniacs who put on a mask and become convinced they're someone else entirely when they wear it. They're a pain in the ass to deal with because they think they're superhuman and will come at you without any regard for their own health or safety, or for the people around them who might get hurt.
"At the end of the day, it's like they've forgotten they're flesh and blood. Just human. People like that lack resolve."
It's at that moment that Souga says, "Oh what the fuck," and Stendhal sits straight up like a zombie in a horror movie.
"You're right," Stendhal says, blood dribbling from his mouth. Knuckleduster's face twists. "Everything you say is the truth. I've lacked resolve."
"Ew," Koichi mutters, taking in the gory sight of the man's crushed nose as he turns his head to spit a gob of bloody saliva.
"I see now," Stendhal rasps, bloodshot eyes rolling in his head to find Knuckleduster and Koichi. "I understand."
In a flurry of movement so fast and so unexpected that Koichi goes a little cross eyed trying to keep up, Stendhal is on his feet and up the side of the building, blood splatters the only hint as to his route up towards the roof. Knuckleduster hisses out a pained breath and Koichi is shocked to see a line of red across the back of the old man's hand, cutting cleanly through the thick leather of his glove.
A knife is clutched in Stendhal's hand as he clings like a spider to the side of the building, hair dangling loose and limp around his face, shoulders hunched and heaving with every wet, rattling breath. The glint of his red eyes peers down at them, shining with something manic and unhinged as he watches them from just out of reach. A long tongue slips from between his thin lips, reminding Koichi of a slug as it trails across the bloodied knife.
Knuckleduster collapses to the ground.
"Master!" Koichi cries, scooting across the ground to reach the man, desperate to make sure he is okay.
"Worse than villains," Stendhal is muttering to himself, voice strained and high, his whole body shaking. "Those whose sins number many, and on a much greater scale. The pretentious fools who lack resolve."
"What's your plan with the kid?!" Knuckleduster yells up at him, ignoring Koichi's fluttering hands as he breaks through Stendhal's disjointed ramblings. Focus flashes in the killer's eyes.
"What?"
"The kid! You don't seem the type to attend PTA meetings, so what're you planning to do with him?"
Stendhal cackles, head thrown back as blood mists the air around him with every labored breath. After an uncomfortably long moment his laughs taper out and his head falls limply forward, eyes once again glowing as he stares down at them.
"Both of you, so concerned with one child despite your precarious predicament. You see his promise, just as I do. Ah, that's right. I feel enlightened. Maybe you do deserve to live after all."
"That doesn't answer my question!" Knuckleduster bellows. Koichi swallows hard, waiting for an answer.
"My plan is to teach him," Stendhal says, head rolling but eyes never straying from his captive audience. "It's just as you say. He will be molded into the perfect weapon to rid this world of the fakes and the fools, the ones who bring shame to the name of heroes. It is our destiny."
He lifts a trembling hand to cover his decimated nose, and his knife clatters to the ground below. He laughs again, short and breathless, and shifts his grip on the wall.
"Stop putting words in my mouth! I never said that!"
"Vigilantes of Naruhata: Knuckleduster and The Crawler. For your guidance and your teachings…I thank you."
Moving like a nightmare, Stendhal scales the wall and disappears over the edge of the building. Silence falls over the alley, broken only by the occupants' labored breathing. Koichi can feel the coming panic like waves crashing over his head and forcing him under. It's getting harder to breathe the longer he thinks over the killer's words and realizes what the man intends for Yudai's future to hold.
"Hey," Souga demands, hoarse voice shattering the stunned silence. "what the fuck was that guy's problem?"