Disclaimer: Both Street Fighter and My Hero Academia belong to each of their respective franchises. I claim no ownership whatsoever.
NOTE: I've decided to repost this following the recent DNS issue.
BEEP
BEEP
BEEP
BEEP
BE-
A hand gently pushed down the alarm clock beside a bed, a mound of bedding tossed and stirred, a bush of dark, shaggy hair sticking out as the appendage slipped back under the covers. A single eye stirred, followed by the other, which stared into nothingness before the vision adjusted. A young man soon pushed back the blanket and rubbed at the lingering sleep as he sat up, dressed in an All Might pajama shirt and boxer shorts.
Izuku Midoriya, thirteen to fourteen, looked at the time on his alarm clock; 6:59. He groaned inwardly, wondering if his sleep cycle had been disrupted by the recent drills. Discarding that train of thought, he made a stop to his bathroom to do his morning rituals, turning on the light to gander at his reflection by the mirror.
He blinked away more of the sleep, his unkempt bed hair falling over his eyes before he brushed the fringe back with a hand, painfully reminded that he needed a haircut. He stuck out his tongue and winced when he caught a whiff of his morning breath, smacking his lips as he reached for the medicine cabinet. As he did so, his other hand reached up and scratched at a bandage taped to his right cheek, the cut barely a day old.
"He overdid it yesterday…" Izuku thought to himself, exasperated at such an early time.
After taking a bath and slipping into his black gakuran, Izuku hobbled down the stairs and into his kitchen, where his mother had just finished setting down breakfast. Seeing him ready, she smiled and sashayed to her own place at the table.
"Morning, mom," Izuku greeted as he gave thanks before eating.
Inko returned the greeting, giving thanks at the same time as her son. As they ate, she asked, "Well? Has he said yes?"
Izuku paused, the rice between his chopsticks stopping midway from his mouth. A nervous grin drew itself on his lips as he answered as his head sank between his shoulders, "Define…'yes'."
Inko scoffed, closing her eyes as she popped some rice into her own mouth. "If he's going to keep being stubborn, then you might as well just give it to him yourself."
"R-Right," Izuku nodded, finishing his breakfast and once again grateful for the food. Afterwards, he made his way to the counter to get his bento, next to which a larger set was neatly stacked, more elaborate than his own meager lunch and held together by red rope.
"Koraku bento? I didn't think mom would go this fancy," Izuku thought to himself with a bit of awkward bewilderment, knowing all too well that the recipient might not even care for it, if at all.
His mother soon appeared beside him, having brought out a wide cloth to wrap around the Koraku bento for him to take with him. "There. Stamped with a seal of our gratitude."
Izuku smiled meekly and shuffled over to the chair where his bag was hanging and slung it over his shoulder. He met his mother at the door, where Inko was waiting for him, her hands on her waist and an even brighter smile on her face. "Are you excited?"
Her son nodded. "Yeah. With graduation coming up, we've been working extra hard."
Inko's smile faltered hearing this, some tears showing in her eyes. "Truth be told, I can still hardly believe it. You're…you're…"
Izuku brought his hands forward placatingly and pleaded, "D-Don't cry, mom! I-I promise that-"
"N-No, i-it's not that…" Inko refuted as she turned her head away, sniffling as she rubbed at a stray tear. Her son now stood a bit taller than her, marveling at how he had grown in the ensuing years. He was deceptively lean with his uniform on, but underneath, his body was honed from rigorous training. "I just…never thought that…when you came home the other day and told me that you passed the written exam for UA, I thought you were joking. But when you showed me the form, I…I just…"
And the dam broke, a waterfall of tears poured out from her eyes, followed by her son, her sobbing contagious. When they were finished, Inko, who gently kissed his bandaged cheek, bade her son good luck and a farewell; she and Mitsuki still had much to prepare.
Leaving the building, Izuku took a deep breath of the cool morning air, the cherry blossoms on the verge of blooming as graduation was just around the corner. Only half a week left. It still didn't feel real to him as he walked down the streets gilded by sunlight, the magnificently blue sky leaning just a little on the cloudy side for today. He soon quickened his pace, not wanting to be late again, his record of tardiness the only troubling aspect of his tenure at Orudera Junior High, which was indicative of his somewhat notorious reputation and title among his peers and the staff, Chideku.
After boarding the train, he sat down and put the bento next to him to free up his hands. Taking out his phone, Izuku perused the net for the usual news. Heroes, crime, local and global events. One of the most basic, yet integral, parts of being a hero was keeping up-to-date. It didn't matter if it was junk, tabloids, or conspiracy theories, if there was even a shred of truth behind it, it wouldn't hurt to know. And even if there wasn't, it was better to be aware when something was false. He only avoided the most obvious of click bait, but one did manage to catch his eye as he kept scrolling.
"Remains of a whale…" Izuku read the headline and the article itself, speaking of a report made by some fishermen and coast guard officials of a dead whale that had washed up at Kamino bay. He sweatdropped, as he knew very well what; or who, was responsible for such a travesty, a bit too intimately to his liking at that. "Just as long as we keep quiet, mom won't need to know where that whale meat came from." Last night's curry was delicious, though.
He sighed, turning to look out the window at the sky, passing building after building.
Elsewhere…
"Officers and locals…are baffled…" Toshinori read on his phone, a small tremor to the hand holding it, walking down from the convenience store with some extra condiments to season…the…whale…meat…
"I just can't…" He thought to himself in equal parts misery and agony, sweating cold over needing to be silent on the matter. A guilt stricken part of him wanted to break the lid on such a mystery, but that would mean incriminating a certain someone and putting a slew of others at risk; which did not exclude himself. "This must be how corruption starts…"
He pocketed his phone as he rounded a corner, lifting his head to gaze up at the sky with a wistful sigh.
Orudera Junior High…
Katsuki sat at his desk, head cradled by his good hand as he lazily scrolled through his phone and came across a rather strange headline shared on his social network. "Oh fuck..." He clicked on it with his thumb and read through the article, the curl of his lip indicating annoyance, but with some amusement seeping in at how absurd it might sound in the right context. Checking the time, he snoozed his phone before slipping it into his pocket and looking up in time to see Izuku burst through the door, brush past him, and slide into his desk.
At least his old lady was grateful for the whale meat.
Not a moment later, their teacher arrived, and some in the class snidely remarked that their resident shaggy-haired boy was almost late again. He didn't pay much attention to such background extras, scowling as he clenched his bandaged hand, ignoring the aching pain as he could feel Izuku's presence behind him. He could care less about the pain, with only the sting of yesterday's spar still fresh in his mind.
With a breath, he drowned out the teacher's babbling to spare himself a look out the window, remembering that graduation was fast approaching. With such a thought came another, shared by two others in almost perfect synchronicity.
Eight years…
Some time after the initial shock had subsided, the strange monster of a man had gently placed the two boys he had been holding down, allowing Inko to beckon them into her protective arms. Hisashi had placed himself in front of them, making demands ranging from who the man was to wanting him to leave. Albeit, he looked like he was about to faint from the sheer terror gripping him as the man stared back with the same intense glare, but the effort was commendable.
Toshinori, who had just remembered that he still had a phone, dialed in for Tsukauchi, keeping one eye on the man who strangely hadn't moved from where he was standing despite being wailed on, which didn't sound like such a good idea, and was nervously on guard in case violence broke out.
Much to his relief, Tsukauchi Naomasa arrived some time later with two other officers, who were almost taken aback by the... rather bizarre scenario they had stumbled upon. To his surprise and further relief, the man was surprisingly cooperative and went along with the other officers while Tsukauchi stayed to question the family and the children. After getting their side of the story and verifying that the adults were the only ones being remotely truthful; singling out the children for muddying certain details, he and Toshinori trudged down the stairs at an even pace to make some small talk.
"What do we have here, Toshi?" Naomasa asked nonchalantly as he flipped through his notes, with Toshinori close behind him, looking more drained than usual after reaching his time limit.
"Would you believe me if I told you that I haven't the slightest clue?" Toshinori groaned, earning a snort from the detective.
"Not much of a choice on my part," Naomasa obliged. "Was he hostile in any way?"
"Other than abducting those boys?" Toshinori mused. "No. He hadn't shown anything resembling aggression or attacked anyone. He just... I don't really know where to begin."
"Well, we can have a proper beginning down at the station," Naomasa said, slipping his notepad down his coat pocket. "We'll have you there as a witness. You don't mind, right?"
Toshinori shook his head, his sunken eyes trained down before looking up at his friend. "What about the boys?"
Naomasa scoffed. "Classic case of bullying. Even without my Quirk, the telltale signs are there. That's out of my jurisdiction, unfortunately. The families can hopefully sort things out on their own, which means tall, dark and handsome is gonna be our problem alone."
"Bullying...?" A breath escaped Toshinori's nostrils and he sagged from exhaustion. He wondered why the shaggy-haired child had appeared as he did. From what he could glean from the scene, the blonde boy must have gone overboard with his Quirk. Hopefully, today's events had set the kid straight, and if not, he might just check back on them once he had the time.
Upon arriving at the station and placing the man in a detainment cell, everyone was understandably on edge, as the man had made quite a stir. Though there were heteromorphs of all shapes and sizes amongst them; officer and felon alike, none could deny the overwhelming presence the newcomer had cut as he was paraded through the halls.
Toshinori practically flung himself back on a chair within Naomasa's office, lolling his head and running a hand over his hair. "And here I thought I could just take a day off."
Naomasa chuckled, filling up two mugs with coffee. "I hear that. What were you up to this morning?"
"Fishing," Toshinori replied as he took his mug from the man.
"Wish I'd joined you," Naomasa remarked ruefully. "I could use a break myself."
"Not anymore, I'm afraid," Toshinori snorted, taking a small sip. "But maybe you really should have been there, Naomasa. Would have been the scare of your life."
Naomasa sighed. "How did you run into the guy anyways?"
"He ran into me, actually. Back at the pier," Toshinori revealed, twirling the mug slowly between his hands, staring at the steaming black liquid. "Jumped right out of the water as I was sitting there minding my own business. Next thing I knew, he was walking off like he didn't even see me."
"You expect everybody and their grandma to get your autograph?" Naomasa quipped, slipping behind his desk to rest on his chair, to which Toshinori chuckled.
"So," the man opposite the detective started, "you think he's bad news?"
"He hasn't done anything or said a word, so I can't really say without an interrogation," Naomasa said coolly. "After that, we'll see. If he is just a troubled homeless man, there's nothing we can do with him except ship his ass off to a mental ward."
Toshinori dipped his head with a thoughtful hum and took another sip of his coffee. Just what the doctor ordered after the day he had. About an hour later, Naomasa and another officer went to the mystery man's detention suite, where the sole occupant sat quietly against the wall in a lotus position, hands on his knees. He was staring at the opposite wall in an almost entranced manner, but something told the detective that it wasn't necessarily the wall itself that he was focused on.
Naomasa studied the man carefully to memorize as much of his profile as possible, but at the same time, he doubted that he would ever be able to forget such a distinguished individual so soon. If he was being honest, his physique even seemed to slightly dwarf Toshinori at his peak.
He eyed the man's wrists, held together by metal cuffs of just the right size, and wondered if they would be enough. Strength-enhanced or abnormally strong criminals were a dime a dozen, so they were specially designed to be tougher than steel. Just one of the perks of their budget, subsidized by grants and donors. Hero agencies like Might Tower were often the most generous.
The officer who had accompanied Naomasa called out to the prisoner, who did not immediately respond until a quiet moment had passed. The man slowly rose to his feet, the floor actually quaking slightly. As soon as he was upright, he glanced at them with his fixed scowl, causing no small amount of tension to run through them as they prepared to reach for their weapons. Both men had to step back as the prisoner approached, both because of his intimidating physique that towered over them, and because of the smell. It was clear that Toshinori's account of him emerging from the sea was not mere hyperbole.
Hours then passed, and the stranger didn't so much as utter a word since entering the interrogation room, with Naomasa and Toshinori watching from outside.
"Just who is he?" Toshinori asked; more to himself than anyone else.
Naomasa scratched his head, betraying his annoyance at how difficult the stranger was proving to be. Not even the usual tactics produced any results or progress; the man simply refused to budge. If anything, he seemed to be doing a better job of unnerving them. They were tempted to get a mind reader, but that required jumping through numerous legal hoops. "That's what we've been trying to find out. Not just from the horse's mouth, but by going through databases, fingerprints, everything."
Toshinori turned to him. "Nothing?" His expression softened in sympathy for his friend when he shook his head. "Not even a name?"
"If he even has one," Naomasa groused, in dire need of a smoke break. "One more time. Just one more, and we're done."
Toshinori frowned as he had already given his testimony and was now free to leave. But for some reason, the man seemed to pique his curiosity. To his understanding, he had not done anything remotely violent or confrontational. And he did return the children to their families when he could have done any number of things to them. On the other hand, that may have simply been because his presence served as a deterrent. He gingerly placed his hand on Naomasa's shoulder.
"I want to try and get through to him," Toshinori posed. "Maybe…maybe I can get him to talk."
Naomasa ran both hands down his face, closing his eyes and saying, "He knows your secret."
Toshinori winced, stammering, "W-Well, I, uh, he didn't exactly see…"
The detective sighed. "Whatever. Just to get this over with."
Both men entered the room, the detective motioning for two of the officers already there to leave, who complied, their patience having been tested and spent. Taking his place opposite the man, Toshinori stood to the side with his arms folded over his chest, but refrained from assuming his muscular form.
Instead of a spiel, Naomasa went directly with, "Well?"
The man, his own trunk-like arms folded across his broad chest, seemed as unshakable as when they had begun. "Can we at least get your name?" He was already waging that the man didn't even have a name, or at least a solid identity that could be traced to any registry. A long gap of silence later, Naomasa stood up and gestured for Toshinori to take his place.
Swallowing, Toshinori shuffled near, steeling himself as he took his seat in front of the stranger. A pit in his stomach told him that this could go any number of ways, but the hero in him pushed him on. "Hello."
As if it were possible, the silence in the room grew even thicker and more uncomfortable for all three, or two, as the man remained unwaveringly taciturn. Toshinori leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table. "Look, I...know that we didn't exactly get off on the right foot, but...I...we're not accusing you of anything. I mean, if I'm being honest, you didn't exactly do anything wrong."
Naomasa watched the scene in front of him attentively, ready for anything. Toshinori must have sensed this and subtly opened and closed his hand to dissuade him. "Introductions first. I'm Yagi Toshinori. And I'm sure you've already met Inspector Tsukauchi here." He cut himself off with an awkward chuckle, beginning to feel more at ease. "Uh, n-now you."
The stranger stared back at him, Toshinori ensuring that he had eye contact as he spoke for better communication, and doing his level best at ignoring the chill that ran up his spine as those red eyes seemed to read into his very soul. Another number of minutes passed, and Naomasa was getting ready to dismiss the interrogation entirely.
"Gouki."
His voice was raspy, a deep guttural sound that made both men's hair stand on end. "Gouki-san," Toshinori greeted much more agreeably, taking advantage of his momentum, "first of all, I'd like to apologize to you for the way things went. We were just under the wrong impression that you had bad intentions when in fact you were intervening on behalf of a bullied child." He waited for a response, and when there was none, he continued. "What exactly were you doing this morning? Back when you were at... at the water."
They waited, and something seemed to shift in the man's demeanor; could Toshinori really have reached him?
"I see that much has changed, but just as much remains the same."
Both men braced themselves from those words, sensing that something was amiss. "What…do you mean by that, Gouki-san?"
Gouki, his gaze and expression unwavering, seemed to fall into an odd silence once more, leaving what he said cryptic. Still, Toshinori had long gotten the impression that Gouki wasn't what he seemed to be on the surface. There was more, buried under layers, but whether he was determined to unravel such a mystery or simply leave the man alone, the knot in his stomach rendered him indecisive on the matter.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door, which Tsukauchi took the liberty of answering. A policeman, a middle-aged man from the looks of it, stepped through, and from where he was sitting, Toshinori could make out someone else behind him, wearing what looked like a navy blue power suit.
The two men exchanged whispers, and Toshinori could practically feel a change in his friend when the officer finished speaking and left after motioning for the one behind him to enter. It was a woman, early twenties, American, short blonde hair swept to the side, fair-skinned and wearing ruby red lipstick. Her emerald green eyes seemed to scan the room before landing on the man sitting across from the anorexic-looking one, making for a rather odd sight.
She turned to Tsukauchi and showed him her badge, which he immediately recognized as legitimate, his eyes widening at the woman's identity. "Interpol..." he muttered worriedly. Toshinori stiffened as well.
Slowly, the Number One Hero rose from his chair, to which the woman motioned with her hand for him to remain seated, refocused on the man now known as Gouki. "I can hardly believe my eyes. The living legend himself," the woman murmured, but they all heard her quite clearly.
"Living legend?" Toshinori mused to himself confusedly. "Um…Miss…"
"Charlotte Guile," the woman introduced herself. "Charlie or Guile, either one will do, All Might."
"I…I see, well, Miss G-" Toshinori seemed to age drastically in a second as soon as he realized what the woman called him, with Tsukauchi stepping back in shock and alarm. "You…"
"Yes. I, or rather we at Interpol, are well aware of who you are," Guile said nonchalantly. "Apologies, but I just wanted to get that out of the way. Of course, you needn't worry. Keeping secrets is part of the job. I am afraid that what you should really be worried about, gentlemen, is the Pandora's box that has landed on your doorstep."
"Pandora's…box?" Toshinori repeated inquisitively, and Guile only needed to motion a hand at Gouki, whom she was seemingly referring to. The man, oddly enough, didn't seem bothered by the young lady's remarks. "Wh-What are you saying, Miss Guile? Who…Who is Gouki, exactly? A criminal?"
Guile didn't react too drastically, other than a tiny curl of her lips. "Criminal?" She sounded mildly amused, as if there was some humorous undertone to his labeling of the only other man in the room with them. "You could say that, Mister Yagi, though his list of crimes rather date all the way back to the 21st Century."
A pin would have made all the noise in the world as soon as those words left her mouth, Toshinori's pupils dilating to pinpricks as he choked back a gasp, his sunken eyes wider than they had ever been in years. "The...21st..."
"Miss Guile," Tsukauchi croaked urgently. "If you would, please speak plainly. Who... or what are we dealing with?" His eyes were on Gouki now, torn between drawing his sidearm and waiting for the woman to make sense.
Charlotte Guile, as eerily calm as the moment she had entered, glanced at the other two and declared, "One who had earned the fear and respect of warriors long past, his strength and brutality in battle unequaled. The man in front of you in this very room cannot be anyone else but the Akuma. The Supreme Master of the Fist."