The usually mild, almost absent flavor of raw chicken had become pungent ash on his tongue with every bite. Still, he mechanically tore through every slimy drumstick, idly munching on pale skin hanging over his teeth while his brain was far away from the roof he sat crosslegged on. For the first time in nearly twenty years, Keigo Takami wished that his mother had simply broken his neck and dumped his body in the waters of Fukuoka.
He had done a lot for the safety of Japanese society, naturally at the direction of the HPSC. Many of his missions were ethically justifiable, if not morally. Many were not. In the grand scheme, spiriting a child away from her home amongst potentially dangerous disrupters was pretty tame on the scale of questionable activities he had conducted for the betterment of the nation. No one was getting decapitated, after all.
Hopefully.
From Tokoyami's descriptions and Keigo's brief view of them on the street, this little girl loved her newfound family dearly, and he was going to take her away from them. It wasn't anything he hadn't done before; there were more than a few children that the HPSC saw potential in that ended up in their care, and just like him, many came from broken homes. Just as well, many did not. Keigo didn't like thinking about them.
Truly, the alloy sphere digging a pit in the deepest, darkest recesses of his gut wasn't the "what" or even the "how," but the "why." What he was scheduled to do later that day wasn't for the betterment of Japan, at least not really. For all of Madame President's iron unflappability, she was very transparent regarding her motives. She wanted Eri purely so that Nezu wouldn't have her, and the ungodly frustrating bit about it all was that the argument that a quirk like Eri's shouldn't be in the hands of a scheming wild card like Nezu was exceptionally compelling. At least under the HPSC's watch, her quirk would never be weaponized against heroes or the nation at large, and that couldn't be guaranteed with anyone else.
He was ultimately doing the right thing. He always was. The ends justified the means when the betterment of society was in question. Still… the greater good wasn't Madame President's end goal here, merely a fortunate consequence of one-upmanship in a cold war that was only debatably cold at this point. He could accept that it was possible to kill two birds with one stone, but how slippery of a slope were they entering? Was this just the start of it rather than the extent?
And then there was the subject of this little girl. By the day's end, she would be under the HPSC's thumb. What did that mean for her? Would they train her into a hatchet man like him and Nagant before him? Or was that going to be Midoriya's lane should Keigo successfully bring them both to headquarters?
The weariest of sighs escaped him, and he tossed the stripped bone back into the bucket with the rest. This attempt at clearing his mind before the mission had been a bust, but he expected that. There was no clearing his mind, only numbing himself to the actions committed. What he thought was ultimately irrelevant; it was bigger than him. This was for the good of Japan.
Slipping his wings through the slits on his coat as he put it on, the early morning sun looked down on him in shame as he slid on his visor to complete his costume. Hawks gazed dispassionately back at the sun's disapproving grimace.
For the good of Japan.
Izuku was a colorful blur, maneuvering around the arboreal obstacle course of trees as he zoomed through the woods surrounding UA in 2nd Gear. He was far enough away from the building to not disturb anyone except for potentially Hound Dog, but he wasn't set to begin patrolling until 8 a.m., so Izuku still had a good bit of time to test out the improvements to his costume.
Mei really was a blessing. The improved gauntlets were phenomenal. Not only did every punch feel more impactful (though that might've just been him being excited), but the grill handguards were a splendid touch that gave him more than a few ideas to try out in the future. Mei's suggestion of shaking his tendrils through the holes worked, but he wondered how else he could use them beyond superpowered backhands. The vents on his boots were also working beautifully to make flight much easier, as liftoff from a standing position now took less than a second.
…Actually, was he even flying, or was he simply not falling? Questions for later.
He zoomed through the trees until eventually coming to a halt in a small clearing with a vibrant flourish, landing on the grass and spinning on his heel to face a tree that stood a little further away from the rest. Aiming his right gauntlet at the tree, he angled his hand to point the handguards at the wooden victim to test one of the many stupid ideas he had bouncing around his brain. Crimson fire shot up around him like a supercharged Bunsen burner, and he focused them into the small vents of the grill. Emerald eyes narrowed at the tree as scorching heat pooled on his knuckle, and after a lengthy moment of charging up, he fired, jettisoning a beam of condensed red flames from the gauntlet like a laser. Said laser lanced through the tree like butter, leaving a burned, smoking hole about the width of his finger in the tree trunk in its wake before petering out.
"Holy hell!" Izuku marveled, gazing between the tree and his hand with an excited grin. This would be a fabulous addition to his repertoire… once he dialed down the lethality. If it could pierce through a tree trunk that easily, he didn't want to imagine what it would do to a regular person. Still, he could weaponize his flames into fucking lasers, which just added to the utter insanity that was his quirk.
On the subject of lasers, he was really thankful for Ashido giving him a comparatively lighter role in their performance than everyone else, allowing him the time and opportunity to do some light training without worry. While his classmates were either playing in the band or dancing, he was given the job of being their human disco ball and laser show. This newfound application was off the table for the laser show in the interest of avoiding unnecessary homicide, but he could definitely make do with the display his scarf would make when ignited with his quirk.
He also couldn't wait to show Mirko this technique when she returned from her business in Hiroshima—whatever that business was.
Rumi's sigh expressed nothing but a mountain of exhaustion wearing on her brain. Contrary to Izuku's belief, she was no longer in Hiroshima, or anywhere in Japan for that matter. She was currently in Cairns, Australia at her mother's childhood home, though she wished the circumstances were better. Her grandmother had passed in her sleep, and Rumi, her mother, and her comically massive litter of siblings had made the journey to be there for their grandfather and ensure that he was handling things well. Not only them, but her mother's equally numerous siblings were also present, filling a rather small house to the brim with a bunch of grieving heteromorphs.
Among them was Rumi's grandaunt, her father's sister who was more hotheaded than Burnin and kicked even harder than Rumi did. She could chalk that up to having a kangaroo quirk just like her brother, and it made Rumi idly wonder what things would've been like had her mother inherited the kangaroo traits rather than the bunny traits from her grandmother. It was, after all, preferable to watching the elders of the family attempt to coax her grandfather out of his reclusive slump.
According to her grandaunt, closing himself off from others and burying himself in his work had been his way of mourning the loss of his wife. Rumi couldn't really blame him for it nor say that she would've done much differently had she been in his place, but it came at the price of him offering not much more than a wave to everyone as he left for (and came back from) work every day despite several efforts to get him to sit and allow himself to grieve healthily. That had been the case for a few days now, and it was the case this morning, as her grandaunt and a few others had prepared a large breakfast for everyone, with great care taken to prepare her grandfather's favorite meals.
So, naturally, they were all excited and cautiously optimistic when he arrived home. Upon doing so, he walked into the kitchen, gave everyone a wave without saying a word, grabbed a six-pack of beer from the fridge, and promptly walked into the living room to sit in his chair before turning on the TV.
At 8:30 a.m.
Needless to say, her grandaunt's patience had reached its limit.
"Steven," she sternly called out to him from the table beside an empty seat, hoping her tone would convey their desire to reach out to him.
Steven simply cracked open a cold one and began drinking, not even bothering to acknowledge his sister as he channel-surfed.
"Steven!" she hissed, and it actually elicited a disgruntled sneer from her brother.
"I'm trying to watch the bloody television in here!" he called back without turning his head, keeping his gaze locked on the screen while landing on a rerun of Blue Heelers.
"Steven!" she yelled, shooting up from her chair and banging her finger on the table. "Get in here and sit at the table! Your family's here, and we're all worried about you!"
"Oh, would you shut the fuck up, woman?!" he barked, matching her irritation full force as he finally turned to address her with a bulging blood vessel in his head. "I was down in the bloody mines for fourteen hours today!"
"Don't you tell me to shut up!" she shot back, leaving the table and storming into the living room to begin a painfully familiar shouting match.
Rumi face-planted on the table beside her plate, drowning out the shout of, "I can do what I bloody hell want, you're not me fuckin' mum!" She wondered what her favorite little shithead was getting up to right about now. Hopefully, it was better than this mess.
"Midoriya, you're still a little stiff!" Mina coached him in the minutes before their class was set to take the stage. "Keep your hips loose and maintain your balance, and remember to show off that bakery when you hit that spin!"
"My what??"
"My dearest viewers, I believe it's time to give you another taste of my hijinks!"
Tomura paused his perusal through the minutia of Yoroi Musha's hidden activities from the stolen data of the HPSC, and his gaze shifted to Mr. Compress on the other couch. On Compress's phone was a livestream of someone Tomura was unfortunately quite familiar with.
"Try not to be so dazzled that you avert your eyes when your favorite scoundrel shows off his talents! Gentle Criminal, at your service!"
"Turn that shit off," Tomura groused with a twitching brow.
"Oh, quit being such a killjoy, Tomura," Mr. Compress lightly rebuked. "He's not so bad. He's a terrific showman that's developed quite the following."
"He only has that following because of us," Tomura grumbled. "He hasn't even done anything big with that boost. How many live viewers does that stream have?"
"About forty thousand concurrent," Mr. Compress hummed. "That certainly is quite a lot of eyes."
"See? And all he does is steal pudding, rough up a few heroes, and be little more than a public nuisance. Tens of thousands of people enjoy this?"
"Jealousy is not in vogue this season, Tomura," Kurogiri remarked, appearing beside him.
"Oh, my mistake, Mr. Foggy Fashionista," Tomura sardonically scoffed. "I'm not jealous. I just wish he would capitalize on his newfound platform by doing something worthwhile-"
"For my next dastardly deed, I shall boldly go where no man has dared before: I will infiltrate the National Diet!"
Whatever Tomura was saying died like Frog King Harold on his tongue as he processed that declaration. "….What?"
"Yes, my darlings, you heard me correctly. I shall infiltrate the National Diet and crash the chambers of Parliament!"
Tomura blinked, still wrapping his mind around the absurdity. "…Why?"
"I'm glad you asked, dear viewer! Many among you may already know, but for those unaware, some polarizing legislation is being brought to a vote in the House of Representatives, a bill championed primarily by the Hearts and Minds Party that seeks to roll back many restrictions on civilian quirk use, no doubt bolstered by the tragedy that befell Deika."
"Okay…" Tomura slowly nodded. He was following along so far, and while he wouldn't say he was on board, he was theorizing about where Gentle Criminal could possibly take this.
"So, of course, with stakes like these in play, every representative will be sure to be in attendance to cast their vote, and what better opportunity than that for the Excellence of Elegance to make a spectacular appearance and-"
The stream abruptly went offline, and an annoyed growl reverberated from Tomura's throat.
"Ah, seems they got him," Mr. Compress mused. "Most platforms try not to host villains. Give it a minute; they'll be back up on a dummy account momentarily."
"How the hell does anyone know how to find the stream if they're always playing Whack-a-Mole?" Tomura questioned incredulously.
"The subreddit is always pretty quick about letting people know he's gone live," Mr. Compress suggested. "Have you checked that place out?"
Tomura absently gazed at his screen in thought.
"You have been permanently banned from participating in r/GentleCriminal."
His gaze refocused, and he returned to perusing the Commission files on his laptop. "No."
"Y'know…" Mr. Compress drawled, turning to Tomura. "We do have a business relationship with La Brava. Perhaps we can make use of their popularity…"
"You are not suggesting what I think you are," Tomura immediately shot him down.
"I wouldn't write them off so cavalierly, Tomura," Kurogiri chimed in. "Tens of thousands of initial eyes on the data from the HPSC we absconded with will quickly balloon to tens of millions with this kind of damning information."
We have Spinner for that," Tomura insisted. "He made the Stain video and streamed our rebrand against J-Store. We have no issues going viral."
"There is merit to the particular kind of reach that Gentle Criminal and La Brava possess," Kurogiri countered. "People from all walks of life are enamored with his very whimsical presentation, and his antics are inoffensive enough to not turn away ordinary civilians. In contrast, we are domestic terrorists with body counts in the thousands and property damage costs in the hundreds of millions."
"Skill issue," Tomura grumbled.
"My point is simply that the information we have on the HPSC is shocking and could instigate societal upheaval, but the government could still play defense and do damage control if it was leaked by us or even anonymously," Kurogiri continued.
"And that'll be a lot harder if it came from the mouth of Gentle Criminal," Tomura sighed in resignation. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're not wrong."
Then, an alert on Kurogiri's phone captured their attention. Upon checking the message, Kurogiri opened a portal beside him for Spinner and Twice to jump through, only they barreled into the room in a frantic mess of tangled limbs before Kurogiri closed the portal. Tomura stared at the two in confusion, quirking an eyebrow at them once they untangled and caught their breath.
"…Should I ask?" Tomura questioned.
"Sorry, we got into a little trouble near the end," Spinner said as he dusted his clothes off.
Deciding not to inquire any further, Tomura nodded and switched gears. "You two find anything?"
"Nope," Spinner sighed. "We checked every corner of Naruhata and combed through all the abandoned hideouts like you asked. No remnants of Number Six or the Villain Factory at all."
"We found this vigilante wearing brass knuckles, though," Twice chimed in with his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. "Real nut job. He was so inspirational!"
"He got really mad when we asked him about the Villain Factory," Spinner added. "Said they've been wiped out for years. Everyone involved is either dead or in jail."
Spinner paused and briefly considered something. "He also said to pass along his thanks for killing the bastard that stole his quirk."
Surprise ghosted across Tomura's face. He didn't really think about that fact much, nor the incredible implications of him being the guy that slayed the nation's boogeyman on national TV.
"We may not be as popular as Gentle Criminal, but you still do have infinite street cred, Tomura," Mr. Compress chuckled.
"Whatever," Tomura dismissed. "Still no leads on how the HPSC got their hands on his corpse… or why he's no longer a corpse. Thought only the doctor could resurrect the dead."
"Perhaps the HPSC has Nomus of their own making," Kurogiri mused.
"Don't even joke about that," Tomura quickly replied.
"I am incapable of joking," Kurogiri neutrally declared, unfazed by Tomura's pointed, disbelieving glare.
"…Would something like that be in those files?" Spinner hesitantly probed. "How far have you combed through them?"
Tomura fell into the backrest of his seat with a tired sigh, and then he refocused on the screen. "Not far enough, apparently."
Eri's beaming smile was the highlight of Izuku's day. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that her smile was the highlight of his life. The pure, unfettered joy pouring off of her after his class's performance and the excitement so palpable that she was literally vibrating while they explored and enjoyed the rest of the festival was all Izuku could have ever asked for. Of course, some of that joy could have likely been attributed to the candy apple that Eri was devouring while she giddily sat on his shoulders, but the fact that she was having such a blast was all that mattered to him.
He was still wearing his costume after his class's concert (which Eri absolutely loved), and it was probably rumbustious of him to walk around the festival with it on like a Beacon for attention, but he couldn't care less so long as Eri remained mesmerized with his scarf while her other hand was occupied with her sweet treat. On that note, not only had she loved their concert, but she was enthralled by 1-B's play, and whole galaxies twinkled in her awestruck gaze as Nejire dazzled the beauty pageant. Her joy was so infectious that every student they wandered by couldn't help but smile at her, and that was exactly what Izuku wanted for her.
This was the life he wanted her to have. This was the happiness he was willing to fight and die for her and his mother to be able to enjoy in peace.
"Izuku," Eri spoke up, the sudden softness of her tone juxtaposing the exuberance she felt up until that point.
"What's up, Eri?" he asked.
"This is the second-best day of my life," she lovingly declared with a smile.
"Oh?" Izuku questioned, a smile of his own taking shape. "What's the first?"
"The day I met you and Mama."
Both the statement and his heart subsequently skipping a beat halted him in his tracks. Her answer logically made sense, but it didn't make his heart swell any less once it was back to its usual functionality. It also didn't stop the burgeoning waterfall of tears from emerging, confirming that he was his mother's son through and through.
"…Likewise, Eri," he managed to choke out after a moment, and her hand lightly running through his hair to soothe him both eased and bolstered the waterworks, however the hell that worked.
As the day went on and the two continued enjoying the festival, they eventually found themselves near the main gate where a cutout of Nezu stood with a hole for anyone to place their faces onto their principal's body. When Eri signaled to him that she wanted to check it out, Izuku obliged and headed for the cutout to get a picture of that for his mom. However, chatter at the gate caught his attention along the way.
"-of the utmost importance, then I can escort you directly to Principal Nezu if you wish," rumbled the deep voice of Ectoplasm.
"That would be best," came another voice that Izuku recognized, and the deadly serious tone he sported contrasted with the carefree demeanor he typically had.
Then, Ectoplasm ushered them through the gate, and following closely behind him was Hawks and three men in suits, the sight of which put Izuku on edge. However, it was when he caught Hawks's gaze and spotted a flicker of zeal in his golden-brown eyes after he paused that Izuku's gut told him to be on alert.
"Izuku Midoriya," Hawks addressed, drawing out his name and bringing the attention of the other four men onto him. "Nice to finally meet you in person. I've wanted to for a while."
"Let's continue on our way," Ectoplasm urged with an uncharacteristic quantity of ice in his tone, but Hawks was undeterred.
"You guys go on ahead," Hawks lightly waved him off, but his tone was hardly casual. "Hand Nezu the warrant while I kick back here."
Now, the curious sight of the current No. 3 Hero entering the campus was more than enough to garner the attention of any student milling about the area away from the rest of the festival. However, the mention of a warrant and the presence of a few suits got them all to glue their eyes to the scene, much to Ectoplasm's dismay.
"Let's not do this out here," Ectoplasm urged, but he was waved off again by Hawks.
"Midoriya," Hawks uttered his name once again, this time in a manner that belied the gravity of the situation. "We're going to need Eri to come with us. Her quirk registration has been falsified, which is a felony."
Emerald eyes hardened at the utterance of Eri's name before narrowing dangerously. By this point, another clone of Ectoplasm had arrived and sidled beside him, posturing himself a bit between Izuku and the others. With him in place, the other Ectoplasm ushered the three suits toward the main building, leaving Hawks alone with his objective.
"She won't be charged if that's what you're worried about," Hawks joked in a fruitless attempt to ease the developing tension. "Still, a crime was committed. Even if it was just a clerical error, I gotta look into it. You understand."
The joke was not received by his audience if the continued silence of Izuku and Ectoplasm were any indication, causing Hawks to awkwardly cough into his fist and clear his throat. "A-and there are some inconsistencies in your own quirk registration that will need clearing up, too, so it would be nice if you came with us also-"
"No," Izuku finally spoke up, visibly taking Hawks, Ectoplasm, and even the spectators peppering the area aback with his tone.
"…Excuse me?" Hawks prompted.
"No," he reiterated louder this time to ensure that Hawks heard him clearly. "Eri will not be going anywhere with you, and neither will I."
He inclined his head toward the gate, idly noting that a few of the surrounding students had pulled out their phones to record the interaction. "Now, please leave. We're trying to enjoy the school festival we all worked tirelessly to put on after the insane year we've had, and you're intruding on that."
"Kid, this isn't optional," Hawks rebutted, taking a single step forward that caused Ectoplasm to tense even further. "We have a warrant."
Izuku wasn't fazed, however. "And I said no. Leave."
By now, everyone was recording. It was clearly the scenario Ectoplasm was trying to prevent, and even Hawks didn't seem too thrilled about it, but he kept his full attention locked onto Izuku, bearing the full brunt of his glare without flinching.
"Midoriya…" Hawks stonily intoned, the feathers of his wings anxiously shifting. "Don't make this any worse for yourself. Just comply."
The warning was loud and clear, both to Izuku and Ectoplasm, and the unspoken threat received three different reactions. Ectoplasm had finally fully put himself between Hawks and his student, stepping forward and blatantly drawing his line in the sand for the situation. Izuku, meanwhile, felt the heat of his quirk blooming in his core in response to his anger, and he absently snaked a purple tendril around Eri.
Speaking of Eri…
"Hey, asshole!" Eri shouted, pointing right at Hawks and stopping everyone in the area short, hero and student alike. "My brother said no! Now get the fuck out of here, you shitty nerd!"
Every single soul in the vicinity was completely gobsmacked, none more than Hawks himself. He stared at Eri, mouth agape, only to be met with the resolute glare of a pissed off and viciously protective seven-year-old who had possibly been watching a bit too much TV with Bakugo.
Unfortunately for Hawks, her even more violently protective older brother had recovered first from her outburst with a proud, mirthful smile. "You heard the girl, Hawks. Eri's not going anywhere. However, you do get a consolation prize."
"…And that would be?" Hawks cautiously inquired.
"The fuck off the campus," Izuku answered, his tone growing frigid in a millisecond.
Hawks minutely flinched back at the sudden shift in demeanor, a chill traveling up his spine as he stared down Izuku's venomous glare. Unfortunately, however, it was not going to be enough to deter him, and his wings flared, exposing them in all their glory as a few feathers broke away from the collective to hover dangerously around him.
"…You're going to make this happen the hard way, aren't you?" Hawks muttered, resigning himself to the impending skirmish.
Izuku's glare was nearly burning at this point, and he took a few steps around Ectoplasm, planting himself beside his teacher while slowly lifting Eri off of his shoulders with the purple tendril wrapped around her. He did not pry his gaze away from Hawks for even a picosecond as he gently nudged Eri into Ectoplasm's arms.
"Okay, maybe we just didn't make ourselves clear enough, and that's our bad, so allow me to reiterate this succinctly," Izuku said in a tone so deadly that it almost didn't sound like his own. "You have two options right now: either Eri stays, and you leave with your wings, or Eri stays, and you leave in a body bag, and so help me, if any of those feathers even come within shouting distance of her, I will kill you where you stand."
The entire area was struck silent once again, even Eri once she was fully in Ectoplasm's grasp. Flickers of colorful fire came to life on his body to drive the point home that this was only going to end one of two ways. Eri tried to reach for him, but Ectoplasm tightened his hold of her and took a few steps back, and he spied more clones quickly approaching the scene with a few other teachers in tow, Midnight and Present Mic leading the charge
"I have to bring you in for that, Midoriya," Hawks resignedly informed him, also cognizant of the approaching horde. "You understand that, right?"
"Then consider this as me declaring open war with the Hero Public Safety Commission," Izuku replied without hesitation, drawing audible gasps from their spectators.
"Midoriya," Ectoplasm began to warn, but the overwhelming power of 2nd Gear flared to life, nearly toppling him out of his prosthetics and momentarily halting the approach of the teachers before true panic could set in.
Izuku's glare flickered a slitted yellow and green, forcing the chill up Hawks's spine to be far more violent than the previous one.
"Leave. Now. Final warning."
The tension in the area wasn't just thick, it was so ridiculously suffocating that even Hawks's feathers had trouble swimming through the invisible gelatin they were stuck in. The teachers were in full panic mode now, and the horde of clones immediately started ushering the present students away right as a roaring Somnambulist cloud stormed toward Izuku and Hawks like a rushing wave. In that same moment, feathers from all around darted toward both Izuku and Eri right as Hawks lifted off the ground, but they were immediately batted away by lightning-fast purple tendrils just as the ground beneath Izuku exploded.
All the surrounding students witnessed was the Rainbow Comet in action warping Hawks away in a fiery burst that jettisoned them into the sky. Izuku and Hawks blasted off before anyone could even blink, completely leaving the mauve mist in the dust. The frenetic struggle between them saw Izuku's hand clamping down on Hawks's throat like a vice while a storm of razor-sharp feathers falling out of Hawks's wings nearly tore through him, but only the rare few that could even make it past the intense heat of his quirk left shallow cuts down the length of his arm and across his cheeks.
Izuku's iron grip was undeterred, regardless of how hard Hawks attempted to pry his arm off, and Izuku kept that hold locked tightly as they nosedived toward the unoccupied Ground Beta. Before Hawks knew it, they crashed through an unoccupied building like a missile before he was skipped across the floor and into the wall in a heap. Not even half a second was allotted to him to open his eyes before a flaming fist slammed into his chest, blasting him through that wall and several others on his way back out of the building through the other side.
Using that brief reprieve to regain his bearings, Hawks righted himself and zoomed to a nearby rooftop, keeping his gaze rooted on the hole in the building as the storm of deployed feathers caught back up with him. Meanwhile, Izuku stepped right up to the exit he created and met Hawks's gaze, a wary sea of golden-brown facing off against the murderous emerald sitting behind a flaming mosaic. His fist clenched as he prepared for another burst, and a long, sharp feather slid into Hawks's hand on the rooftop.
"There's still time to come back from this, Midoriya!" Hawks shouted, though the way he clutched the feather in his hand like the hilt of a sword sent mixed signals. "It doesn't have to end this way!"
Izuku knew that wasn't true, though. There was only one way this was going to end so long as the Commission had its sights set on him and his loved ones.
"The HPSC will burn, and it starts now," Izuku lowly muttered in response, but Hawks was good enough at reading lips to get the idea even at that distance.
Hawks could only sigh in resignation, and he readied himself for the impending battle. "What a waste…"
Then, to both of their surprise, a loud, mechanical whirring echoed through the faux city as several pillars rose from the boundaries of the cityscape. Within moments, a yellow, staticky force field came to life around the training ground, boxing them inside entirely.
"The hell?" Hawks confusedly muttered, making the mistake of taking his eyes off Izuku for a single moment.
It was only the thunderous boom of Izuku blasting off from the other building that potentially saved Hawks's life, as he thrusted his feather sword in the direction Izuku came from on instinct to intercept whatever attack was coming. Unfortunately for him, 2nd Gear more than allowed Izuku the wherewithal and ability to pivot on a dime, and pivot around the thrust he did, slamming the back of his fist into Hawks's head as he spun and blasting a frankly overkill stream of fire out of his handguards for good measure.
Just because Hawks was rocketed away didn't mean Izuku could remain idle, though, as another storm of quills converged on him in a crimson shower of death. His first instinct was to evade the quills he could and deflect the ones he couldn't with violet tendrils, and that's exactly what he did, at least at first. The immense speed of Hawks's quills was a nightmare for criminals across the nation, but Izuku was no ordinary bank robber, and Hawks was finding that Izuku was far beyond even the average, seasoned pro in abilities if his fight with Mirko hadn't already proved that.
Izuku was having little issue keeping pace with the quills themselves in 2nd Gear, dancing through bladed, feathery death with reflexes sharpened through years of brutal training, as well as the herky-jerky grace developed after a month of dance instruction from Ashido. Evading and lashing out at the barrage of quills while moving at 100mph wasn't terribly difficult… at least it wasn't at first. Like most things, the storm proved to be more than it initially appeared. Hawks's telekinetic command of the quills was so refined that a high-speed barrage of blades very quickly became an inescapable, crimson cyclone as each dodged and deflected feather circled back in rhythm with the others.
Soon, simply dodging and deflecting proved to be far too inefficient. The sheer quantity and unrelenting voracity of the attack whittled Izuku down little by little, feathers continually breaking through his defenses to cut him all over on a steady path to breaking him down. Even when he backed off to give himself a moment's breathing room, the feathers simply followed, relentlessly chasing him wherever he blasted off to in order to bring him down via death by one thousand cuts.
It was really fucking pissing Izuku off, and that showed when the vibrant colors of 2nd Gear steadily grew redder and redder until he was a crimson corona with solid, fiery patches of black interspersed throughout. The last straw came when a quill broke through and nicked his inner thigh a bit too high for his comfort, and he exploded in a screaming ball of carmine that incinerated any and every feather around him to ash.
With the feathers dealt with and his rage mildly sated, the flames lowered in intensity, and Izuku was able to take a much-needed breath. Or rather, he would have if not for a sudden whoosh behind him kicking his instincts into maximum overdrive, and he lit up red once again right as he felt something pierce his upper back, earning a panicked yelp from his attacker to match his pained grunt. Looking down, the unmistakable tip of a red feather was jutting out of his chest through his lung. Acting quickly, he pushed the feather back out of him through the entry wound and ignited in pink to reverse the damage.
"Fucking dickhead," Izuku growled, landing on the nearest roof and patching the otherwise mortal wound at the cost of a considerable drain on his remaining stamina. He turned around to spot Hawks hovering a good stance away and staring at him in awe. Disregarding that, Izuku noted that part of his headgear keeping his visor on was destroyed, and the surrounding area on his face was covered in third-degree burns. His ordinarily large wings were also a lot smaller, and he understandably looked even more hesitant to reengage.
'Right, his biggest weakness is fire.'
Izuku used that moment to take a longer look at the pale-yellow walls and ceiling enclosing the training ground. Nezu mentioned the electric cage around Ground Beta that he was testing, and the fact that it was up meant that Nezu knew exactly what was going on. Whether he caged them in to isolate them from the rest of the festival, to prevent any interruptions to their fight, to just detain them while backup arrived, or some combination of the three, Izuku had no clue. It was ultimately irrelevant, though. Hawks wasn't going anywhere, and he was at a distinct disadvantage on multiple fronts.
Hawks knew it, too.
"Midoriya, please!" Hawks tried once more. "Stop this and come peacefully. This doesn't have to end in bloodshed. Do the right thing!"
"I'd believe you more if you didn't just go for a killing blow," Izuku spat.
"You've been trying to kill me this entire fight!" Hawks countered.
"I didn't deny that," Izuku shrugged. "I gave you the chance to leave UA on your own power. You didn't take it. Whatever happens in this cage is on you."
"So that's it, huh?" Hawks scoffed, a potent mixture of disappointment and disgust seeping from his tone. "I thought you wanted to be a hero! I thought you were gonna reach a helping hand to those lost in the darkness. How are you gonna do that from behind bars, or in a coffin? How are you gonna be a hero from the wrong side of the law?!"
Izuku's gaze remained steady at Hawks's impassioned plea, and his expression was unnervingly blank for a long moment until he narrowed his eyes at his adversary. "Hawks, all I've ever wanted was to help people. I don't need to be a hero to do that. Taking down the Commission is the best way I can help right now."
"Help the nation you're duty-bound to, or just help yourself?" Hawks challenged. "Are you really so selfish as to put your loved ones over the greater good of Japan? Are you putting Eri over the rest of society? We don't have the luxury of doing that, Midoriya."
"This would mean so much more if it wasn't spewing from the mouth of a stooge for the Commission!" Izuku barked, his rage returning in full force. "You don't get to fucking lecture anyone about the greater good when you directly answer to a faceless, self-serving bureaucracy! You don't get to high road anyone when the skeletons in the Commission's closet outnumber that of a fucking cemetery!"
Hawks was taken aback by the fiery vitriol in Izuku's tone, but he was even more unnerved by the pitch-black flames that were slowly developing on him.
"The administration you so dutifully serve would gladly cover up the crimes of its employees to maintain the status quo," Izuku continued unbidden. "Endeavor abused his fucking family for two decades, and the Commission helped keep it quiet until he came out about it himself. How many others in the Top Ten, or Top Twenty, or Top 100 have help from you people keeping their crimes under wraps?!"
Izuku's voice was beginning to break, and furious tears pooled in his eyes, but he refused to stop. "How many people have taken advantage of those that trusted them?! How many people just wanted to help make the world a better place and were fucking violated for it?! How many of their voices were silenced in the name of maintaining the status quo?!"
The tears were streaming now, but they didn't make it far down his cheeks before they were evaporated by the scorching heat of the black fire enveloping him. Soon, only steam billowed from his tear ducts as his exposed skin began to bleed.
"My mother has been in pain for twenty-five fucking years because of you people, so don't you DARE try to lecture me about justice or the greater good!" Izuku roared, his voice so hoarse that it completed the almost monstrous picture standing before Hawks. "You don't get to fucking preach about heroism when you are at best complicit and at worst an active participant in maintaining a broken system."
A potent, painful silence fell over the two. Izuku was quietly seething but still managing to get a hold of his anger, and the disastrous black flames were crawling back down as a result. Hawks, on the other hand, was at a loss for words. His grip over the quill in his hand was shaky at best, and he was already struggling to remain in the air as it was. He opened his mouth several times to speak, but nary a word fluttered out. He was left to flounder in the stew of uncertainty and self-loathing that he'd been festering in for years.
"I'm ending this," Izuku finally spoke, his quirk reigniting over his damaged costume and even more damaged skin. "I'm putting down the Hero Commission once and for all."
Hawks's grip finally tightened over his quill, and he hardened himself for another clash as the feathers he'd slowly been letting loose into the wild got in position. Izuku knew what was coming, though, and he blasted off toward Hawks, but not before raising a reinforced, orange shell behind him to block the incoming feathers that struck as soon as he twitched. Closing the distance between them in less than a second, he dismissed Hawks's attempt to halt him with his feather sword by outright grabbing the blade with his left hand, allowing it to stab right through so he could wrench it away from Hawks and slam a haymaker into his face with his other fist.
After quickly incinerating the quill and healing the damage to his hand, he zoomed right for the dazed Hawks who was hurtling toward the ground in a corkscrew. Izuku would not allow him such a painless defeat, so he snatched him up the moment he reached him and rocketed back into the air above the rooftops. With Hawks firmly in his grasp, he leveled him with blow after blow, relentlessly raining 2nd Gear-boosted fists upon him as the rainbow comet soared over the skyline. Hawks was completely at his mercy, bereft of the energy to properly defend and the feathers to escape his confinement.
One final blow blasted Hawks through the window of a nearby building, and Izuku practically warped in after him and snatched him by the remainder of his wings. Slamming out of the other side of the building, Izuku channeled his crimson flames into his gauntlets with Hawks in his grasp, igniting Hawks's back as an unholy time bomb pooled in the vents of his handguards. He aimed his gauntlet (and consequently, Hawks) toward a faux storefront on the street, and when the heat reached its zenith, he fired.
Hawks felt nothing but a red-hot lance sear through his abdomen and the subsequent numbing of his lower body combined with the ungodly heat cooking his back as he was blasted toward the street. The usual bright red of his glamorous wings that made him appear as a rosy blur in the sky was replaced by the bright red trail of fire rocketing him to his doom. He crashed through the glass of the storefront like an errant brick before the interior of the store was battered by a sanguine explosion, one that comically propelled Hawks out of the building like a cartoon cannon. Belched from the void, he slammed into the unforgiving street and rolled to a pitiful halt on the sidewalk where he laid motionless at the mercy of his fiery foe.
Izuku descended to the ground with a heavy sigh, feeling the damage and exhaustion from the battle as he finally came down from the adrenaline high. His gaze fixed on the limp hero, he slowly meandered toward him, serenaded by the soundtrack of his boots crunching glass, debris, and disturbed asphalt. When he finally reached him, the first thing Izuku noted was that while Hawks's coat was in tatters, his shirt was relatively fine.
"If nothing else, his hero suit can handle some serious firepower," Izuku attempted to joke.
He couldn't even bring himself to chuckle as he gazed at the beaten, burned, and bloody pro hero, though. It wasn't just any pro hero, it was the current No. 3 Hero of Japan. Izuku had just fought, defeated, and potentially mutilated one of the most popular and beloved heroes in the nation in an impromptu death match.
"I've really gone and done it now…" Izuku sighed as the weight of his actions finally sank in with the absence of adrenaline.
Then again, it wasn't like he didn't know exactly what he was signing himself up for by brazenly threatening Hawks's life in defense of his sister. As he said earlier, this was only going to end one way, and taking down the Commission was the best way to protect his family since simply being under UA's roof was no longer enough.
"I can't stay here," Izuku finally reasoned. "They're going to be coming after me. The Commission and who knows how many other pros will be hunting me down."
His breath hitched as he made his decision. "Me being here will be bad for UA. Really bad. I have to go. I have to go right now."
Then, the mechanical whirring from earlier returned, and the electric cage that had trapped them vanished, exposing the cloudy, evening sky hiding the setting sun.
"Yeah, time to go," Izuku nodded, turning and laboring his quirk back into 2nd Gear. "No doubt Mr. Aizawa and my mom are on their way with Principal Nezu. I need to get out of here before Erasure can trap me."
"Midoriya…"
He froze when Hawks's voice reached his ears, and he turned back to see the badly burned Winged Hero struggling to push himself up to his feet. However, it was painfully evident that Hawks couldn't move his legs whatsoever.
"You're hellbent on going to war with the Commission, and I clearly can't stop you," Hawks remarked through gritty coughs. "But, even if you never listen to anything I say before or ever again, just hear me out this one time."
Izuku didn't reply, nod, or even indicate for Hawks to continue, but he kept his gaze on him, nonetheless.
"If you're gonna do this, you need to be smart about it," Hawks shakily continued, knowing that he was at least listening. "Madame President has the resources to crush and vilify you. Do not let her. You need to win in the court of public opinion if you want a real shot at this, Midoriya, even if you have to martyr yourself to do it."
Izuku stared at him for another long moment. Hawks's words were bouncing around his skull like a frenetic pinball, and he found himself deeply considering the advice. It was beyond time to go, however, so he sent Hawks a single nod, and then he blasted off into the sky.
As Izuku Midoriya flew into the unknown, kickstarting a new chapter of his life that could potentially rock Japan for decades to come, Hawks gravely sighed as the brief glimmer of consciousness he had taken full advantage of started to slip away once more.
"I hope I did the right thing…" Hawks murmured as his eyelids fell shut. "For once..."
Around ten seconds later, a chorus of frantic footsteps crescendoed into the area, and soon, the cavalry had arrived. Nezu, riding on Vlad King's back as the UA staff reached the scene, critically surveyed the aftermath of the battle, particularly the unconscious Hawks on the sidewalk. As expected, Aizawa and Inko were leading the pack and rushed to the side of Hawks, though not out of any benevolence.
"Where is he, you son of a bitch?!" Inko spat after viciously snatching the unconscious hero by his remaining hair while Aizawa's glowing, hateful glare scanned him up and down.
It was immediately clear that he was out, but Inko was having none of it, slapping him in the face as hard as she could as many times as it would take to beat the consciousness back into him.
"Wake up, you bastard!" Inko snarled, the brutal sounds of flesh impacting flesh echoing through the area amidst the silence of the other teachers. "Where is he?! Where is my baby?!"
Her voice wobbled with every angry shout. She knew it was futile. Her son had flown away on his own accord, but she refused to give up on forcing his destination out of an unconscious man. She couldn't stop. She needed Hawks to tell her. She needed to beat the information out of him…
"Why did he leave?" Inko choked up, and the infamous Shimura tears began to flow. "Please come back, Izu…"
"Inko," Nezu solemnly addressed, having climbed down from Vlad King to stand by her side. "Eri needs you right now more than ever."
She turned her tearful gaze toward her boss, and then she nodded, taking a deep breath before popping back to her feet and sprinting back the way they came. The teachers could do nothing but forlornly sigh, except Aizawa, who was smoldering in a corner.
"What a mess," Cementoss lamented, massaging his blocky forehead. "They chose today of all days to pull this stunt."
"Kid did a number on 'em," Snipe commented with a whistle, cringing at the horrible burns that were covering the bulk of Hawks's exposed skin. "Is he…"
"He's alive," Nezu confirmed with a dark edge to his voice. "For now."
His tone unnerved the others, particularly Present Mic and Midnight who recognized it from the aftermath of Oboro's death.
"What do we do with him?" Vlad King asked, pointing to the limp body of Hawks.
"Tie him up and take him to the catacombs like the other three," Nezu instructed and then turned to Ectoplasm. "Scatter clones around Musutafu and scour the city for Izuku. He couldn't have gotten far in the state I'm sure he's in."
"Aizawa and I will go with them," Midnight volunteered, grabbing her friend's scarf and dragging him away from his rumination. "We'll find him."
"We fucking better," Aizawa determinedly growled, and the two left with Ectoplasm.
Nezu nodded, but the weariness on his face was plain to see as he turned to the rest of his staff. "You all, please see to the students, especially Class 1-A. I do not doubt that word has already spread like wildfire."
"Not just word," Power Loader uncomfortably muttered as he stared at his phone, and then he flipped it to show Nezu his screen. "Look."
Nezu hesitantly grabbed the phone, and his blush white fur somehow grew even paler. Already going viral was a student's recording of the situation at the front gate.
"Oh dear…"
Holy hell, 50 chapters
No one tells you before you start writing that you'll end up doing loads of research into the most obscure subjects just to nail the accuracy of throwaway detail in a single scene. How the hell did I fall down the bogan rabbit hole and why can't I escape it?
FFN has been perpetually falling apart for about a decade now. If any writers haven't backed their stuff up on other platforms, I'd recommend it.
Thanks for reading.