A few days later, Izuku found himself, once again, at a lordly ball.

This one was taking place at yet another Lord's estate, though Izuku had yet to meet tonight's host in person. The man was something of a recluse by noble standards; though he was present at this gala, he was not in the usual spot a lordly host would have been, at the high table in the center of the dining room, celebrating and accepting gifts and greetings from visiting nobles seeking to gain their favor.

That particular issue was far from Izuku's mind at the moment, though. At the moment, he was sitting at a table with a number of young men he had made acquaintances with previously; indeed, he was surprised to find that he actually quite enjoyed their company.

To be sure, he felt like an outsider; when it came to the sorts of battles Izuku had fought, these men were green as summer grass. But they were not soft; he had made that mistaken assumption going into that first night, but he would not make it again.

There were currently four of them sitting here, in addition to Izuku; Lord Ejiro, finally separated from his betrothed-for the moment, at least-and seeming just as cheerful and open as ever, a bizarre bright spot in a room full of icy silence and well-crafted masks, was sitting to his right, while Lord Fumikage Tokoyami, a quiet, calm man whose avian eyes nevertheless seemed deeply intense, was on his left. Further down the table was Lord Kaminari, also without his new betrothed by his side; however, his bodyguard, Jirou, was present, standing with her arms behind her back against the far wall, behind her charge. Even though he was looking in the opposite direction from her, Izuku could feel her gaze prickling on the back of his neck.

Yeah, she definitely knew who he was, and she did not like him being here.

Finally, at the far end of the table was the man currently making a play on the position of Izuku's least favorite person.

"Lord Denki," Neito Monoma said as he wiped his mouth of the remains of his meal, "I meant to offer you my congratulations on your betrothal the other day. A shame the night was so rudely derailed."

Kaminari sighed, setting down his fork. He managed a surprisingly genuine smile-though it was still not convincing enough to fool any of them-as he replied, "Thanks, Lord Neito. Ibara is a wonderful woman."

Even Izuku could sense the lack of sincerity in Kaminari's voice. It didn't feel malicious, didn't even feel dismissive-it felt more like Kaminari was simply going through the motions, resigning himself to repeating those words again and again.

Monoma could plainly sense it too. His brow furrowed, eyes unreadable as he studied Kaminari, who seemed to wilt under the scrutiny. At last, Monoma asked, "Is everything alright, Lord Denki?"

Kaminari blinked. "Of course," he replied quickly. "Why wouldn't it be?"

The dodge was plainly obvious, and Monoma didn't even accuse it of being one; he simply fixed Kaminari with a dark, creeping stare, and said, "I would think that a nobleman such as yourself would be more satisfied with a woman such as Lady Ibara. She is of excellent stock, you know. She will be a fine wife…but then, if the rumors are true, your tastes in women may well be…lacking."

As Monoma spoke, he made the slightest of gestures-barely a turn of his head, but enough-towards where Kaminari's bodyguard stood against the wall. Jirou's back was ramrod-straight, her expression hidden by dark glasses, but she wasn't a noble, hadn't learned to school her body language into a perfectly inscrutable mask; Izuku could see the fury vibrating in her limbs, even as the intricacies of what, exactly, the rumors were sailed over his head.

Judging by the way Kaminari's face flushed red for half a second before he got control of himself, though, he figured he could guess.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Monoma," Kaminari said, showing the first real bite in his voice since Izuku had first met him. "But whatever "rumors" you are talking about aren't true. Now, can we just enjoy the meal, please?"

Monoma raised an eyebrow, and Izuku found himself wincing internally; judging by the look on the arrogant man's face, Kaminari's heated denial had only confirmed whatever suspicion he'd had.

"Of course," he said smoothly. "But if they were, well…I could only suggest to such a man that he reconsider who, exactly, he associates himself with. Particularly when his intended is such a…superior woman."

That made something darken violently in Kaminari's eyes. Stray sparks rolled down his arms and frazzled his hair; he opened his mouth to speak, and the mood at the table began to grow tense.

Izuku wasn't sure what made him speak, then. Kaminari was no particular friend of his; the man was nice enough, but they'd barely known each other a few days. Perhaps, then, it was just that Izuku didn't like bullies.

"I find myself agreeing with Lord Kaminari," he said casually, leaning back in his chair. "Rumors are not particularly good dinner conversation. Why don't we talk about something else?"

Kaminari shot him a grateful look, but Izuku was more concerned with the anger in Monoma's darkening eyes as the man turned to him.

"I was not aware that you could tell me what I can and cannot discuss, mercenary," Monoma sneered.

There was venom in Monoma's glare as Izuku met his eyes, but it was pathetically weak compared to the hateful expressions he'd seen on the faces of men doing their best to kill him; Monoma's hate rolled off Izuku's back like water, and Monoma clearly knew it.

"Lord Monoma," Izuku said casually, almost-but not quite-smiling as he spoke. "Whatever have I done to offend you so greatly? We've barely met."

The whole table was silent as the grave as Monoma and Izuku locked gazes. Izuku found himself actually slightly impressed by Monoma's resilience; he knew he had an intimidating glare, honed into a razor edge by fire and death, and yet Monoma didn't so much as flinch.

"Very well," Monoma said at last. "You wish to know what I loathe about you, mercenary? It is your mere presence in this room."

Izuku blinked at that, surprised, if only a little. The silence provided an opportunity for Monoma to continue, "You are nothing more than a lowborn commoner, mercenary. You do not belong in this room. You have no right to be seated here, among your betters."

Izuku forced himself to stay calm, as if Monoma wasn't hammering relentlessly on every insecurity still lingering in his mind. Evenly, without the slightest hint of anger, he said, "I am the adopted son and heir of Yagi Toshinori, Lord Monoma. I should think that that gives me the right to be seated wherever I want to be seated."

Monoma scoffed. "You really think that anyone believes that fiction?" he snapped. "You may be adopted, mercenary, but we all know what you really are. You're his bastard, aren't you?"

Izuku's gaze darkened. The other men at the table shifted nervously as the smell of ozone filled the air.

"Excuse me?" Izuku growled.

With a victorious grin, high on the success of cracking Izuku's mask at last, Monoma crowed, "You heard me, bastard. Tell me, did you know that your mother was a high lord's plaything, or did you first learn about it the day he showed up to collect you because he had no other options?"

An unnerving, anticipatory silence fell as Izuku rose to his feet. His eyes were dark and heavy, his barely-constrained muscles seeming to roil like the surface of a stormy sea. Monoma-whatever his game was-seemed utterly unafraid, his eyes glowing with eager light.

And then, a cool, calm voice asked, "Is everything alright here?"

Izuku turned, surprised, to see another man standing there, having approached from behind Lord Monoma. The sight of him sent a chill down Izuku's spine.

Lord Kai Chisaki was one of the most unnerving men Izuku had met since returning to Japan. He was tall and slim, with close-cropped hair and a pale, almost corpselike face. Like Izuku, he wore fine white gloves-a style beginning to go out of fashion among noblemen, but still prevalent enough that it suggested a considerate, careful man rather than an out-of-touch one.

But that was not the thing that gave Izuku pause. That was Chisaki's eyes. They were perfectly, utterly emotionless, cold as winter ice and just as hard. Though his body language was casual, almost bored, Chisaki's eyes gave the lie to it-they glimmered with barely-concealed danger. His casual manner was that of a lion among sheep; he knew he had nothing to fear.

That shouldn't have been enough to make Izuku as uneasy as he was, though; he'd seen people in these halls with that sort of demeanor before, had seen how Shoko Todoroki herself could prowl through a room and leave a lingering, oppressive presence in her wake. And yet, his instincts warned him that Kai Chisaki was, perhaps, the second most dangerous individual he had yet met in the halls of Japanese nobility.

At the sound of Chisaki's voice, Monoma whirled, though if he'd had some venomous retort already forming on his lips, he did an impressive job of stifling it; by the time he locked eyes with Chisaki, his face was a perfect mask of politeness.

"Ah, if it isn't our esteemed host for tonight!" Monoma said, somehow managing to almost sound natural despite his abrupt shift in tone. "How are you, Lord Chisaki?"

Chisaki's eyes betrayed nothing; he seemed almost bored as he replied, "I'm well, thank you very much. Might I ask what the commotion is over here?"

Monoma didn't so much as flinch; he simply answered, "Ah, nothing of any consequence. Lord Midoriya and I were simply having a…small disagreement."

Chisaki made a noise that might have been a snort. Slowly, his chilling eyes shifted onto Izuku. Ignoring Monoma, Chisaki asked "Really? I suppose it's fortunate I came over here, then. I've been meaning to meet Lord Yagi's heir for myself."

Izuku forced himself to focus. He could already tell that he would need to be at the top of his game for this conversation.

"Fortunate indeed," he said dryly. "It's nice to meet you, Lord Chisaki."

Chisaki's eyes were cold and quiet as he looked Izuku up and down. He made no attempt to shake Izuku's hand, and his presence was so much like a cold spot in the room that it made Izuku nervous. Nor was he the only one; as the other diners finished their meals, they slipped from the table, giving only brief farewells as they looked distinctly eager to excuse themselves from Chisaki's presence.

Chisaki did not speak until even Monoma had left, shooting one last disdainful look at Izuku as he turned away from the table. Izuku didn't even give him the courtesy of acknowledging his departure, his focus entirely on the much more concerning man in front of him.

At last, Chisaki said, "I do wonder why Lord Yagi chose you."

Izuku's eyes narrowed, ever so slightly. "I have fielded quite enough insults from Lord Monoma tonight," he said evenly. "I find my patience for them has worn very thin."

Chisaki snorted. "Please, I'm hardly stupid enough to insult a man like you," he replied-and that was another thing that made Izuku uneasy; what did he see in Izuku, to earn a response like that? "I mean the question with full respect. Your father is a clever, thoughtful man; only a fool would not respect his choice of successor. Indeed, only a fool would not wonder…why is it that Lord Yagi has chosen you?"

Izuku shrugged. "I'm his stepson," he answered; years ago, describing himself that way would have felt bizarre, but he'd long since grown used to it. "I would imagine that would be the reason."

"Which means you have no blood claim," Chisaki countered; he'd still not taken a seat, and showed no inclination to. He simply stood in front of Izuku's table, eyes still utterly unreadable. "Your father had any number of options, even after marrying your mother. He could have given you funds to support yourself, and chosen someone else to inherit the House; he could have simply left you in America to rot. He had a wide-open field of potential candidates. I have often found that to be a surprisingly…enviable status to have, when selecting an heir."

Izuku raised an eyebrow. "And what do you mean by that?" he asked.

For the first time, Chisaki's expression shifted, becoming a tiny, unnerving smile. "You do not hold your position by birthright," he explained. "There are many people in this building tonight who do not deserve the positions they hold; they have them because their ancestors were people to be feared. In some cases, they hold them over better, more competent members of their own families, due to the mere accident of their birth. But people like you…you are here because you were invited. Your father saw something in you, something that suggests you are worthy to stand among the most dangerous and powerful individuals in this country. I must admit…I am intrigued to see what, exactly, Lord Yagi himself thought gave you the right to enter our world."

Izuku…hadn't considered that. He found himself more unnerved by the thought that Chisaki didn't see him as a useless commoner than he had been by Monoma's hostility. Then, a thought struck him.

"And what about your heir, Lord Chisaki?" he asked. "I understand you aren't married, correct?"

Chisaki's wry half-smile grew wider. "I happen to have been similarly lucky," he replied. "Well…for certain definitions of "lucky," at least. My niece is my heir. Or at least, she was originally my niece; I adopted her as my own daughter, after her parents met an…unfortunate end."

Izuku nodded slowly. "I see," he mused. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting her. Is she here tonight."

"Sadly, no," Chisaki replied, shaking his head. "But if you wish to meet her, that can of course be arranged. After all, she is nearly of an age to begin considering her marriage options, and I understand that you are looking for a wife."

Izuku's eyes widened. "Oh, no, I wasn't-" he began, only for his gaze to narrow more suspiciously. "How old did you say she was, again?"

Chisaki smiled. "Lady Eri has recently celebrated her fifteenth birthday," he said casually. "Which is perhaps a little young, but if that suits your tastes-"

Izuku nearly retched. He made no particular claims to any moral high ground-he'd done some pretty fucked-up things as a mercenary, it came with the territory-but no. Never in a million fucking years. "No, no," he said hastily. "I'm quite alright, thank you very much."

Chisaki raised an eyebrow, but said nothing for a long moment. Then, with a shrug, he replied, "Very well. I was merely making the offer. A marriage prospect like yourself does not come along very often, you understand. I felt it prudent to do my due diligence-but if you have no interest, I am quite alright with that. I'm afraid I must take my leave now, but this has been a wonderful conversation. Farewell."

Izuku managed to mumble out a farewell of his own, before watching Chisaki stalk off, his slender, snakelike form quickly vanishing into the background. He leaned back in his chair, suddenly in desperate need of either a strong drink or an industrial-strength shower.

"Christ, talking with him feels like tap-dancing with a buzzsaw," he thought. "One wrong move, and I'm down a limb."

The next time a waiter passed by, offering a deep tawny port wine that must have cost more than Izuku's childhood home, Izuku took two full glasses. For a moment, he considered downing them both, before he caught movement out of the corner of his eye-someone seemed to be coming towards his table again.

When he realized who it was, he had to fight back the urge to lean back in his chair and groan.

Speak of the fucking devil.

With his free hand, Izuku took one of the wineglasses, and placed it in front of the seat next to him, just as Shoko goddamn Todoroki walked up to the table.

It seemed like his night was nowhere near over.

If Shoko was surprised to find a glass of wine already waiting for her when she arrived at Izuku's table, she showed no sign of it.

Indeed, as she took the seat directly next to Izuku, she said, "If I didn't know better, I would think you were expecting me, Lord Izuku."

Izuku turned to her, somehow managing to twist his features into a playful expression. "I had absolutely no clue," he said with a wry grin on his face. "What would have given you that impression?"

Shoko responded by wrapping her long, slender fingers around the stem of the wineglass in front of her. "This," she replied. "You got my favorite wine."

She took a long, thoughtful sip, and sighed luxuriously. That gave Izuku a chance to study her carefully; Shoko was just as gorgeously dressed tonight as always was, opting for a dark, mysterious purple gown tonight, a white belt cinched around her waist breaking up her outline and making the fabric hug her hips just tightly enough to leave any man drooling.

"Why are you here?" he heard himself ask. "Surely you have other people to be speaking with tonight."

Shoko's gaze shifted back towards him. Yet again, Izuku found himself entranced by her scar; it was so obvious, worn almost proudly despite the fact that it was nearly disfiguring-and the effect, somehow, turned a mark that should have ruined the beauty of her features into the most gorgeous thing about her. By refusing to hide, Shoko made herself undeniable.

"Well, that's quite simple," Shoko said airily. "I have gotten quite tired of speaking about the Iida train attack, that's all."

Izuku blinked. "Really?" he asked, confused. "I'll admit, I had thought you would have all sorts of opinions you wanted to regale me with about it."

"Please," Shoko replied, rolling her eyes. "That's all anyone has talked about this entire night. I find that my ability to discuss the same thing over and over again is quite tapped out, so I decided to come find you instead. You always have something much more interesting to say."

Izuku raised an eyebrow "Is that all I am to you?" he asked, aware that he was starting to tread dangerously close to the edge of what could be considered safe discussion topics, but not particularly caring. "A diversion?"

Shoko's only response was a devious, worrying smirk. "That's all anyone is to me, Lord Izuku," she answered. "A source of interesting distractions from the monotony of balls and parties. Some are deeper wells than others."

Izuku sighed. That was a good reminder, he supposed; no matter how pleasant she was to talk to, he had to remember just how cold Lady Todoroki really was. She was every inch the perfect noble, manipulative and eager to exploit anyone who trusted her. And yet…

"Well, that's good to know," he said stiffly. "But anyway, I am curious to hear your thoughts on the attack-"

Shoko's eyes flashed, but then became more playful again. "Oh no," she shot back, wagging a finger in his direction. "Don't you start. I just told you I'm tired of talking about it."

Finally sitting up in his chair, Izuku leaned forwards. "I would have expected someone of your reputation to take such a thing far more seriously," he remarked.

"Which is why I delight in eluding your expectations," Shoko smoothly answered, still frustratingly casual, so unlike how she'd been when they'd first met. Eventually, though, her expression grew graver. "Believe me, I am taking it seriously. But there is just as much danger in overanalysis of an event as there is in underanalysis."

Izuku frowned, but had to admit he saw the logic in that easily. Not only had Toshinori told him the same thing, he'd come to similar conclusions in his time in America; overthinking about what your enemy would do was a good way to paralyze yourself with indecision and paranoia, which only harmed your chances of actually dealing with your opponent. "I see," he replied.

"But enough about that," Shoko continued, once she seemed to be certain that Izuku wasn't actually going to make her discuss the attack. "There are much more…interesting topics to discuss."

"Like what?" Izuku asked cautiously.

At last, Shoko put her wineglass down, having already drunk nearly a quarter of it. "Like the man I happened to notice you conversing with not a few moments ago," she said just a little too casually. Indeed, her expression became pointed and knowing as she told him, "Lord Chisaki Kai is…quite an individual to meet."

Ah. So that was what this was about. She wanted to know how he'd handled himself in conversation with one of her-presumably-biggest rivals. Honestly, Izuku wasn't sure what scared him more; the intricate inner workings of Shoko's mind, or the fact that he could almost follow her inside-out, fucked-up logic.

Izuku sipped his own wine thoughtfully, enjoying the sheer sweetness of the port, before humming in agreement. "You can say that again," he muttered. "One five-minute conversation with him, and I feel like I just went a dozen rounds with a heavyweight champion boxer."

Shoko smiled, as devious and dangerous as ever. "What did you talk about, out of curiosity?" she asked, raising her glass again.

Izuku shot her a look, wondering if she really thought he believed she was asking "just out of curiosity." Judging by the smirk he received in return, he figured she simply didn't care one way or the other.

"Honestly, I couldn't tell you," Izuku admitted. "He's like you-loves talking around his point, but never actually getting to it."

Shoko's smirk got wider. "Aww, is the poor mercenary getting lost in our aristocratic wordplay?" she cooed.

Izuku rolled his eyes. "Hardly," he replied. "Though I will admit, in my old line of work, at least when a man wanted to kill me, he had the decency to be obvious about it."

Shoko laughed, the sound like a bright, clear chime in the hall. For a moment, it almost sounded genuine-though Izuku knew better than to think it was. When she made eye contact again, he knew he had been right to be skeptical.

"Well," she said, "allow me to take a wild guess, then. Lord Chisaki said something about the uniqueness of your position, given your status as an adopted son, and referenced his curiosity as to what about you made Lord Yagi deem you worthy of being his successor."

Izuku's shock must have been plainly obvious on his face, because Shoko's expression became distinctly smug. Fighting back his surprise, he admitted, "You pretty much got it."

Shoko grinned. "Of course I did," she said airily. "You do know who you're talking to, right?"

Izuku sighed, leaning back in his chair and waiting a moment before saying, "Well, if you know so much about everyone, maybe you can explain to me why Lord Chisaki was so interested in me."

Shoko nodded. "That isn't exactly hard," she replied breezily. "After all, Lord Chisaki was adopted, too."

That made Izuku sit right back up in his chair. "Really?" he asked, not sure what to even do with that information.

Shoko met his eyes, and Izuku could see her suddenly become significantly more serious. Not completely serious-he doubted that the mischievous twinkle ever vanished completely from her eyes-but enough so that he forced himself to match the graveness of her expression.

"It was some years ago," she told him. "Kai was quite young; at first, he was merely a ward of the previous Lord Chisaki. But the man was quite old, and when his son and heir died, he was left with two options: make his daughter his heir, or adopt one. The problem was, his daughter was already married, and had joined her husband's House. If she inherited, House Chisaki would cease to exist as an independent entity. So…Lord Chisaki chose Kai instead."

Izuku nodded slowly. "I see," he said cautiously. "He implied that adopted heirs are…"

Shoko was nodding before Izuku even finished speaking. "They're not common, but neither are they exceptionally rare, in truth," she agreed. "Often, they're used to bring new powerful quirks into the aristocratic fold, if the wielder isn't an adult of means who can be granted the right to found a new House. As a result, adopted heirs have something of a reputation. They are, almost universally, chosen for competence. And believe me, that makes them stand out."

Izuku raised an eyebrow. "I presume Chisaki is no different there," he said.

"Indeed," Shoko said, still grave and serious. "He is a dangerous man, and I do not say that lightly. His quirk is powerful, to be sure, and he is an astute, ruthless businessman-but there's something else to it."

"What does that mean?" Izuku asked, frowning.

In response, Shoko leaned back in her chair, her eyes once again holding that deadly edge that made her beautiful-in the same way that an unsheathed knife was beautiful.

"Understand that I am speaking only of rumors and whispers," she began, "but then, Lord Kai is the sort of man who thrives on rumors and whispers. All I can say is, since his adoption, House Chisaki has suffered a streak of truly rotten luck."

"How so?" Izuku asked.

Shoko took another swig of the port wine in her glass before replying, "Well, aside from the death of the Chisaki heir that prompted Kai's adoption in the first place…not long after Lord Kai reached the age of majority, his adopted father suffered a serious stroke that left him essentially comatose, making Kai the acting Lord of his house. The man never recovered; he died a few years ago, not long after his daughter and her husband also perished, supposedly as the result of an accident from their daughter's quirk. All of them terrible tragedies, all plausibly genuine deaths…but also remarkably convenient for Lord Kai."

Izuku felt a chill go down his spine. "You're implying he killed them," he said flatly.

Shoko met his eyes, and that playful, joking light was utterly gone, snuffed out in an instant. "I imply nothing," she replied, just vague enough to seem disinterested. "I'm merely making observations. I think it's impossible to ever know for sure. The original Chisaki heir's death, at least, I think it unlikely Kai had a hand in; he was a young boy, and nowhere near the training accident that killed the man. His adopted father was old and known to be in poor health; children's quirk awakenings killing their parents is tragic, but not unheard of. But this life does not train you to believe in coincidences; it doesn't teach you to be a conspiracy theorist, either…but still. Paranoia, to my eyes, has killed far fewer people than its absence."

Izuku fell silent. He had no response he could think of; he was too busy picturing the cold, lifeless eyes of Chisaki Kai. He was something of an expert on what the sort of man who could kill in cold blood looked like; he had come to know many, at Mercy's Bar. Not all of them had looked like Chisaki, like the sort of person who could betray those they owed the most to without hesitation.

But a few of them had.

He was jolted from his thoughts a moment later, when Shoko spoke again. "Understand this, Lord Izuku: there are those who remember Lord Chisaki when they look at you. I don't blame them. You are an unknown factor, just as Lord Kai was. More than that…Lord Yagi, the greatest of all the lords of Japan, had complete freedom in choosing who would be the richest, most powerful man in this country after he was gone. And of all the options, he chose you," Shoko said pointedly, mismatched eyes boring into him. "That means that there is something about you, something special. But then…there was, and is, something special about Lord Kai, too. Men like the two of you are a dying breed-adoptees, I mean. They grow rarer with each generation, as our position grows more and more solid, and we become more and more isolated from the outside world."

Izuku frowned. Something about her words simply…didn't add up. Perhaps in an attempt to change the subject-he truly didn't know his own intentions, so badly disturbed he had been by Shoko's words-he used his own confusion to his advantage. "What do you mean, you're growing more isolated? I'm afraid I don't understand what you're talking about," he admitted, starting to wonder just how outmatched he was, after all.

To his surprise, Shoko didn't jump on his admission of weakness. Instead, she swirled her wine, eyes lingering on the dark, tawny liquid for a worryingly long moment. "Hmm…perhaps an example would help," she decided. "How much do you know about port wine?"

Izuku blinked at the abrupt change of topic-but was not going to turn down such a blessing. "Other than that a bottle this good costs more than an average worker's salary for a whole year? Not much," he answered.

Shoko sighed, though whether it was at his lack of refinement or something else, Izuku had no idea. "I see," she replied, before beginning, "Well, there are only fifty manufacturers in the whole world. It comes from a single city, Portu, in Northern Portugal. All fifty Houses own a winery on the south bank of the Douro river, where they make their wine. To make port wine, you must own a winery on that bank of the river-but they do not allow anyone to build there anymore. Those fifty Houses are all there will ever be. Do you follow?"

Izuku frowned. "Yes, but I admit, I don't see how this is relevant," he admitted.

Shoko drummed her fingers on the table, locking her gaze onto his. "Those fifty Houses are the only ones who can make port, Lord Izuku," she stressed. "And the last one was founded five hundred years ago. Not a single new port house has been founded in half a millennium; they would have to be recognized by all the existing Houses, and the others no longer allow new competitors. No outsiders are invited to join their ranks; none of their secrets, or their wealth, is shared with any but those born to them. They remain closed-off, set in their ways. For a wine house, this can be fine-I can't exactly argue with the perfection of their product, after all-but for a Noble House? It causes us to stagnate and become insular, opens up gaps for powers to rise to oppose and unseat us."

Izuku's eyes widened a fraction as he finally got what she was angling at. "I see," he said slowly.

Finally, Shoko set down her wineglass. "The same thing that befell those houses is slowly happening to us, Lord Izuku," she said, eyes more genuine than he had ever seen from her before. "We are ossifying. Very slowly, but unstoppably. Bit by bit, we are growing more closed-off from the world, marrying amongst ourselves, our quirks growing stronger and stronger…yet we become more and more ignorant of what lies beyond our constructed walls. Opportunities like the one you have received are not common-and they are only getting rarer. Remember that."

"I will," Izuku said softly, not sure what else to say.

Shoko held his gaze silently for a long moment, and Izuku once more felt as if he was being examined under a microscope for the slightest flaw, the tiniest imperfection. At last, though, he passed whatever inspection Shoko was making; she leaned back in her chair, sighing, "But I feel I've talked long enough. Why don't you amuse me with tales of your many adventures?"

If he hadn't gotten used to Shoko steering the conversation at abrupt, jarring right angles by now, Izuku would have once again been left floundering. As it was, his eyes merely darkened. "That's quite the presumption there, Lady Shoko," he said in a voice that wasn't quite a growl, but was more than close enough for his purposes.

"Please," Shoko scoffed, utterly unaffected by the darker turn Izuku's expression had begun to take now that the topic of discussion had begun to shift towards his past. "Men love it when women want them to talk about themselves."

Izuku's frown deepened. "As I have said before," he replied, "My…adventures aren't really good after-dinner conversation."

Shoko raised an eyebrow. "Really?" she asked. "I should think that tales of daring and heroic conflict are quite good conversation. Certainly, if you want to impress noblewomen who have never left the comfort of their estates, let alone faced combat, you could relate a few tales."

Izuku's expression remained dark and just a tad dangerous, but Shoko didn't seem to mind. If anything, she seemed to enjoy the way his eyes raked over her, clearly wondering if she was including herself in that description deliberately or by accident.

Silly boy. He should know by now that she did nothing by accident.

"Why do you assume that that was what it was like, serving as a mercenary?" Izuku asked, still gravely serious.

Shoko smiled playfully. "Feel free to correct my assumptions; I'll get what I want that way, too," she said cheerily. But when Izuku still did not speak, she sighed. "Very well. If you insist on treating your past like such a secret, I suppose I'll just have to ask for it as your secret for tonight."

Izuku froze. For a second, he looked like he might disagree, might try to wriggle out of it. But he knew better than to try and renege on a deal with Shoko Todoroki. After a long moment, he sighed, and slumped back in his chair.

"Fine," he said, resigned. "Ask your one question, and I will answer it."

Shoko grinned in victory, and spoke. "What was it like, over there?" she asked as she curled herself up on the fancy chair, wineglass in her hand.

In response to such a seemingly innocuous question, Izuku chuckled a little, twisted fingers roaming over the armrest of his own seat, next to hers. It was not a nice sound; to her trained ear, so skilled at picking apart guarded emotions, it rang with frustration and dark amusement and more than a little menace.

Shoko was used to menace, but this…this was different. This wasn't a simpering noble breathing threats; this was a man with scars on his face and eyes that saw ghosts. He was her age, but his eyes-his eyes were old.

"You know how many people have asked me that since I got back?" Izuku asked. When Shoko shook her head, he continued, "it must be a dozen, at least. Most of them women, too. And all of them wanted to know what it was like to kill people, like…like it was some hobby they'd never heard of."

Shoko snorted. "Of course they did," she chuckled. "Remember what I said earlier? Step one in seducing any man is making him talk about himself. Well…most men."

Izuku blinked, his train of thought seemingly halted entirely. "Excuse me?" he said, strangled.

Shoko bared her teeth in what could only sort of be described as a grin. It had far more in common with a shark baring its teeth. "You do realize those women were trying to seduce you, right?" she asked, only for Izuku to shake his head. "Well, I doubt it would've worked. Any woman who can't look past the muscles and the scars and see that you're not some meathead killer doesn't deserve you anyway."

"You seem to think you know me shockingly well for someone you met barely a week ago," Izuku said dryly, leaning back in his chair. "Also, how do I know that you're not trying to seduce me?"

Shoko grinned, and much like Izuku's earlier laugh, it was not a pleasant expression. "Lord Izuku, my whole life is reading people at a glance," she said, equally dry. "Learning their beliefs, their motivations, what makes them tick-and using that against them. I had you pegged the moment you walked in that door."

Izuku gulped ever so slightly as Shoko drained the last of her glass and set it down on the table before speaking again.

"For the record," she continued, "I wasn't asking because I was curious about killing people. I was asking because, well…I'm curious about the people."

Izuku nodded thoughtfully. "Fair enough, I suppose," he said, thinking for a moment before answering, "They're…a lot like the people here, I suppose."

Shoko raised an eyebrow. "Really?" she asked, gesturing around them at the ornately dressed aristocrats at the party. "I find that hard to believe. Especially since you're now implying that I'm not unique."

Izuku snorted. "Please," he laughed. "I think we both already know there's no other woman in the world like you. No, what I meant was…well, the way I see it, everyone wants basically the same things, right?"

Shoko tilted her head curiously. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Izuku shrugged. "I'm not sure, really," he admitted. "It seems to me that, at their core, all the things we do are driven by the same motivations. Food, water, a warm, dry place to sleep, safety…and ideally someone to share it with."

Shoko frowned, but said nothing, not quite sure how to disagree-or even if she did disagree. Finally, she asked, "A noble ideal, certainly. But, simply put-what happens if someone else wants to take one of those things from you?"

It was now Izuku's turn to snort with amusement. "Then you punch them," he said simply.

Shoko's expression remained skeptical. "We can't all be musclebound hunks like you, you know," she pointed out, nodding meaningfully at the straining lines of his suit, which did just good enough of a job at containing him to make his bulk seem more a deliberate statement than a result of shoddy tailoring. "What if you can't?"

Once again, Izuku laughed, reaching for his own wineglass, finishing off the last of his drink. Dryly, he replied, "Why do you think mercenaries exist?"

With that, he stood, even as Shoko fought back a laugh of her own. She had to admit, it felt nice to be surprised by a man's thoughts for once.

"I'm afraid I need to cut this short," he said, sounding genuinely regretful. "I promised my father I'd meet with a few other noblewomen tonight."

Shoko sighed, wondering why she wished he wouldn't leave. "The life of an unmarried bachelor," she bemoaned. "You know, you could simply tell me their names, and I could tell you everything about them, right?"

Izuku raised an eyebrow. "That's what I'm afraid of," he pointed out. "That, and the fact that you'd neglect to mention anything you don't want me to know about the women, and twist it all so that you come off as the only perfect angel in this snake pit."

Shoko grinned irreverently. "Look at you," she cooed. "Such a fast learner. Well, go on, Mister Mercenary. Go woo some ladies. Just don't…punch them, alright? We prefer more subtle forms of courtship here in the civilized world."

Izuku chuckled, that same dark chuckle Shoko enjoyed so much. "Civilized," he repeated with a scoff. "You know, the only thing that's different between all these nobles and the mercenaries I knew back in America is that these people are slightly better dressed. Slightly."

As he turned to leave, Shoko rose as well. She made a snap decision-it had been a long time indeed since she felt such a powerful urge to make sure a man could never forget her. But she knew just how to do it.

"Oh, Lord Izuku, one other thing," she called out, making him pause and half-turn back to face her.

Before he could ask her what she wanted, she took two long strides, brought a hand ever-so-lightly coated with frost to the side of his neck, finger over his lips, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

She saw his eyes go wide as she finally pulled back-her burning-hot lips having lingered on his skin just long enough to be felt-but he said nothing. Perhaps he was too stunned.

Grinning, she murmured in a low, intense voice, "To answer your earlier question, my dear Izuku…if I was trying to seduce you, believe me, you would know."

She pulled away, intending to let him go now that she had had the last word, but then, his own hand flew up, trapping hers against his cheek, rough scarred fingers lacing over her own frosty ones.

His eyes were laughing as he asked, "I thought you said you civilized folk prefer more subtle forms of courtship?"

Shoko couldn't believe it. She'd planned to get the better of him-but now she was the one taken aback by another's brazenness, left speechless for a moment by the sheer daring of the man in front of her. She'd been outfoxed, again. Forcing herself to ignore the way her heart skipped a beat, Shoko put her hands on her hips as Izuku released his grip.

"I suppose if you're leaving, I still owe you my secret for tonight," she replied, eyes twinkling. "So, here it is: I've never been very good at being civilized."

For a moment, the world simply…ceased to exist. There was lightning between them, some sort of static electricity leaping from Shoko to Izuku and back again. Shoko could have lost herself to it, closed the distance between them and let the heady power of it all consume her.

She was tottering on her feet, using every last bit of her legendary willpower just to maintain propriety. She'd never felt this way before, like she was slipping on the edge of a cliff, about to fall, about to lose.

And then, the moment shattered. As Shoko struggled just to keep her feet, Izuku left, still chuckling under his breath as he turned away. Shoko was left standing before an empty table in a bustling hall, surrounded by her peers, and completely, utterly alone.

As she watched him retreat, stopping to greet women in beautiful gowns with simpering smiles who were her inferiors in every way, she wondered why her heart was still pounding so violently-even as she began to suspect why, exactly, Lord Yagi Toshinori had chosen this man as his successor.

"He really is something special. No…he's fucking magnificent," she thought to herself, forcing the catlike grin she wanted to wear to remain suppressed as she came down from that heady feeling and regained control of herself with a vengeance. "But that just makes what happens next that much more fun."

It was time for another invitation…to a very special sort of event.

Dinners and dances with her were one thing. But Shoko found herself very intrigued indeed to see how a former mercenary would hold up under Enji Todoroki's direct scrutiny.