Deep within the confines of the labyrinthine Shie Hassakai headquarters, a towering man dressed in a newly acquired bone white suit filled a chair. He sat relaxed, in control, and unaffected by the aura of mistrust bleeding from every other person in the room.
None had introduced themselves, each waiting for their visitor to make the first move. Fingers tensed around quirks as the man dropped his leg from his knee.
"Interesting operation," High Street lazily took in his surroundings, the turn of the century decor, the lack of a recognisable patriarch. Though with the masks these gentlemen were wearing that didn't come as a shock. "You came highly recommended." His smile was slow and confident.
"Who," The obvious senior force in the room, seated on the opposite side of a painfully kitsch glass table let the syllable hang in the air and leaned forward, the sequins on his plague doctor mask catching the light. "...Are you?"
High Street chuckled lightly to himself, all too familiar with weak intimidation tactics. "You don't get many visitors do you? Do you often greet guests with an entire battalion?" He asked, sweeping a gaze across the packed crowd.
"We don't tend to entertain many guests who find their way through our security."
"Security is an adorable way of putting it. I'm no stranger to hidden doors, I'll put it that way. Suffice it to say, I'm not here to lecture you on your laughable home safety system." It was High Street's turn to put on the 'charm', now, leaning forward menacingly. "I'm here to make you a deal."
The Yakuza leader scoffed derisively. "You have nothing to offer us." He leaned back, "And we don't make deals with strangers."
"You can call me High Street." He listened for it, and there it was. The slight hitch in the throat, the unmistakable, impossible to hide mark of recognition.
High Street's smile broadened, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he continued, "Ah, I see you've heard of me. That makes things easier."
Fear was a usual response, occasionally respect, often confusion, but this was a new reaction. The authority in the room shifted himself to the very edge of his seat and spoke with purposeful elocution. "I. Don't. Care. Yes, I've heard of you Mr. High Street. And what I've heard is a story of an organisation long past any relevance. You're a dead institution. As I said already, you have nothing to offer us."
Anger seeped in, but High Street kept it at bay by focusing on the reason he was here. Without the bullets, the strain of multiple quirks would continue its onslaught against him, and he wouldn't be alive to witness the future he had planned.
Instead, he feigned an amused smile. "A dead institution?" He asked, tilting his head. "I suppose if you're not looking closely enough, you might think that." High Street's eyes darted from person to person, noting reactions and subtle movements.
"Let me explain things to you, son." He said, an edge to his voice. "My organisation may not be on your radar, but it's because we have adapted. We're as strong as ever, and totally, imperceptibly, invisible."
The lie came easy, as lies often did. The man was right, The Market was dead, possibly for good. But, well, he didn't need to know that.
The leader in the plague doctor mask wavered slightly, almost brought in by the words. "Invisible, irrelevant. Two sides of the same coin."
"Really now?" High Street's voice grew low. "Tell me, how would you like to have access to the deepest, most impenetrable vaults of information? I can help you bring your operation into a new era. With my help, you could make the Yakuza a force to be reckoned with once more." He paused, allowing the offer to sink in. "Irrelevance is an outdated idea for people clinging to outdated methods. My offer to you, Overhaul , is an opportunity to join me in the shadows so that I may bring you gloriously into the light."
Silence fell across the room as High Street's words were given contemplation. Around them, the men exchanged uncertain glances. Finally, their leader spoke. "And what exactly do you want in return for… Enlightenment?"
High Street's Smile returned, more relaxed this time. "Quirk bullets. A steady supply."
Overhaul leaned back, fingers steepled over his chest. After a moment, he answered. "No."
"No?" High Street echoed, his eyes hardening.
"The Shie Hassakai isn't in the business of handing out our most valuable assets to people with nothing but promises."
Leaning back in his chair, High Street was the picture of casualness. "I'm offering more than promises. Think about it, the quirk bullets are a means to an end, but my endgame is much bigger than you could imagine."
Overhaul gestured to his men, a swift hand motion. "I think we've heard enough."
With a sigh, High Street stood from his seat, his demeanour entirely unfazed by the encroaching danger. "Pity." He said.
As the first goon lunged forward, hair strands aimed like deadly needles, High Street's telescopic limb shot out, a swift palm strike sending the thug reeling. Sterilisation surged, turning the yakuza into a bubbling mess, but All For One's power failed to manifest. "Timing, always a thorn," he muttered to himself, brushing off the failed quirk steal attempt with a wry smile. "Need a fresher body next time."
Another attacked, pulling a knife to his hand from across the room, but barely made it a step before the telescopic arm punched a hole through him. This new quirk was easy to understand, and a gun held up by another man found itself gravitating directly into High Street's hand.
High Street took one look at the gun and the gears in his mind turned, quirk erasing bullets. Immediately, the bullet found itself lodged deep within Overhaul's chest. The room exploded into chaos. High Street moved with surgical precision. Quirk after quirk, he absorbed and wielded, each one stretching him closer to his limits. Crystallise hardened his defences, Strongarm bolstered his strikes, Barrier repelled attacks, while Larceny and Sloshed turned the tide in his favour.
"Get Eri out of here, now! Don't let him get to her!" Overhaul's voice rang out, tinged with rare panic. Masked men scrambled towards the exits, their focus split between fending off High Street and following their leader's desperate command.
In the heart of the maelstrom, High Street fought on, a whirlwind of stolen quirks and relentless determination. His body strained, threatening to tear itself apart with each power he borrowed, but still he pressed on.
High Street's eyes locked on to Overhaul, attempting to crawl away from the chaos. Drawing a deep breath, he concentrated, channelling Crystallise, Strongarm and Barrier into his right arm. The muscles and tendons beneath his skin bulged, forming a lattice of hardened crystals over his flesh.
"It's time I ended this," he growled, swinging his arm with all his might. The force of the punch blasted through the side of the building, debris exploding outward in a shower of brick and mortar and taking most of the remaining men with it.
With intense speed, High Street lunged across the room ignoring the cloud of dust and beaten criminals, Telescopic Arm snaking out to seize Overhaul by the collar. He yanked the villain off his feet, dragging him through the breach and slamming him into the ground with a bone-rattling thud.
Overhaul gasped. "You... you can't do this!" he spluttered. "You don't know what you're dealing with!"
Around them, the remaining henchmen hesitated, their resolve faltering as they witnessed their leader brought low. High Street tightened his grip on Overhaul.
"Tell your men to stand down," he demanded. "Or I'll tear this place apart, brick by brick."
Overhaul's eyes flickered, and he glanced around at his faltering forces, then back at High Street. With a reluctant nod, he signalled the few remaining men to lower their weapons.
His grip on Overhaul tightening High Street leaned in closer. "Who is Eri?" His voice a low growl.
Overhaul panted, his face contorted with pain. "You won't be able to use it. You don't know how it works."
"She's how you make the bullets, isn't she?"
"It won't matter!" Overhaul spat bitterly. "Without my quirk, it's impossible."
Without another word, High Street extended his arm, hoisting the broken man high by the throat. Overhaul's feet dangled helplessly above the ground, his eyes widening in terror.
"Where is she?" High Street asked, his patience wearing thin.
Resisting was futile. Overhaul's resolve crumbled under the unrelenting pressure. "...Third floor. East wing,"
"When I'm finished here," High Street leaned in, his voice a menacing whisper, "and you're left in the wreckage of all that you've built, you'll see just how irrelevant I am."
Inko could barely keep her eyes open, her head propped up by her hands, elbows planted firmly on the anti-market task force conference table. She hadn't pulled any all-nighters or endured a gruelling shift, no, the real problem was about four feet tall, had ketchup-coloured hair, and a one-track mind.
"People who watch Gentle on the internet aren't really getting to know the real him, not the way I do. He confides in me about everything, he says I'm special that way, he says so. The channel needs the two of us on the same wavelength, so-"
"Uh huh. Uh huh. Is that right. You don't say," Inko drawled, operating on autopilot. La Brava was as good as she claimed when it came to computers, but she also liked to talk while she worked And she talked. A lot. Cracking into the hard drive files must have been a monumental task, given the time it had taken.
With Tsukauchi alongside the aforementioned Gentle away in Hosu, and aside from the hovering presence of Officer Sansa, Inko had somehow become the foremost authority figure in their clandestine group. It wasn't a role she had asked for, or even one she felt in any way qualified for, but she accepted her lot in life either way. Lacking the computer skills of La Brava, the detective skills of Tsukauchi, and the subterfuge skills of Yuki, it seemed the best she could offer was a supportive ear. It appeared, however, that sorting out La Brava's codependency issue would take more than an ear.
Inko was about to attempt a headfirst conversation into Gentle and La Brava's 'dynamic', when Yuki appeared in the doorway - a police escort joining her. She nodded a thank you and stepped inside, the swipe of a keycard locking the door from the opposite side.
"Oh, Yuki, thank God." Inko began, before realising how dismissive she was sounding to the third party in the room. Thankfully La Brava disregarded the comment entirely. "You weren't able to get the coffee, dear?"
Yuki shook her head. "They're concerned about my quirk. I already have a surprising degree of freedom given my... situation. But it seems coffee cups are beyond me."
"Does your quirk work with disposable coffee cups?"
"No, but I would rather not make anyone feel more anxious than they already are." Yuki sat down at the table and pulled an assortment of coffee pods, tiny cartons of milk, sugar packets and little wooden stirrers, pouring them all out in front of her. "What?" She said, noticing Inko's expression. "I can't be good all the time."
Inko laughed affectionately, "I appreciate the effort Yuki, but what am I supposed to do with all of this without a cup?"
"I hadn't thought that far ahead." Yuki answered with a contemplative expression, before turning to the woman still furiously hammering away at a laptop. "Excuse me, Miss Aiba? Why are you reading Detective Tsukauchi's emails?"
La Brava's hands immediately froze mid-type, she'd been caught out. "Gah! Uhh research!"
"Aiba!" Inko exclaimed. "Have you been hacking the police station this entire time?! We're here for an important reason, you know?! Not so you could make us into, into accessories!"
"Don't get your panties in a bunch, lady!" La Brava retorted, flipping her hair back. "I sorted out that hard drive hours ago. I'm not about to let an opportunity like this pass me by! I'm close to scoring Gentle a full pardon!"
A stern look on her face, Inko grabbed the laptop and started pulling it towards her. "No, Aiba. That's enough."
"But just a few more emails!" The hacker pleaded, even climbing up on the desk to get back to the keyboard.
Casually sipping out of a milk carton, Yuki leaned over and flicked La Brava sharply on the forehead. After an involuntary grunt, she fell flat on her face, dead. …Asleep. Dead asleep.
Yuki almost missed the look of horror on Inko's face, and had to explain, "She'll be fine in about twenty minutes."
Her demeanour relaxing, Inko took a sigh of relief. "I forget that you know how to do things like that. Now then," she turned the laptop to face them both. "Let's see what we have."
Over in the centre of the city, Mirio Togata (hero name: Lemillion) and the new intern Kuri Kuri (hero name: Oak) were on their first work studies patrol together. Joining them was a slightly confused Izuku Midoroya, carrying a hastily grabbed notebook and pen.
"Togata, are you sure Nighteye said I'm meant to be on patrol with you? I thought I might get to the development studio today."
"Oh, yeah!" Lemillion smiled, "Sir said you should get to see firsthand what sort of wacky adventures us heroes get up to in the field. Like research, you know?"
The confused expression didn't go away from Izuku's face, but it did shift focus. "Did Sir Nighteye really say 'wacky adventures'?"
Before Lemillion could answer, an intense looking youth barreled straight into the three of them, clutching a Mirko themed backpack to his chest, one strap broken.
"I ain't got shit, hero!" The stranger immediately exclaimed.
Lemillion, dressed in his colourful hero costume stuck out like a sore thumb as he faced the scraggly haired youth. The first thing he noticed was how the boy's eyes were bloodshot and tired.
"I didn't say you did, buddy!" Lemillion smiled toothily. "You bumped into us, remember? You go on your way, and have a fantastic day!"
"Um, Togata," Kuri tugged slightly on the sidekick's cape like a small child trying to get his parent's attention. "He seemed pretty suspicious, was it alright for us to let him leave like that?"
"Yeah…" Izuku agreed. "That backpack might have been stolen, right?"
"Maybe!" Lemillion laughed, before turning serious. "But heroes can't go around making accusations about people. If we started stopping and searching everyone who looked our way, what would the people think of us?"
Kuri made an unsure expression, "I guess there are a lot of things about heroics I still don't-"
"Help! That man has my bag! Someone stop him!"
"Alright scratch that," Lemillion said, breaking into a run, "definitely stolen! Come on guys, what are you waiting for?"
"Right!" Kuri said, suddenly ten times more sure of himself.
Izuku managed a far more subdued, "Uh, sure."
The backpack thief didn't seem particularly well prepared to the three of them, running directly into crowds of people near a busy shopping district. It was almost as though he was pinning himself in, with any luck this'll be over before it began.
In no time, he was shoulder checked to the floor and rolled, the crowd dispersing a little to let the costumed heroes through.
"Wow, hell of a workout!" Lemillion's chipper attitude hadn't faltered at all. "But whaddya say we get that bag to its rightful owner, huh?" He said, holding a hand out to the thief.
Suddenly, the boy scrambled back a few feet and unzipped the bag, holding the open end away from him. "Fancy bags like these always come with a few surprises!" He yelled, as the backpack began to inflate.
Izuku's eyes went wide, barely enough time to shout, "Lemillion! MOVE!"
With a force that pushed the thief back, an enormous metal sphere exploded out of the backpack like a cannon. On reflex, Mirio phased and the ball flew straight through him. Quickly, he grabbed the ends of his cape in an attempt to net the ball, but the speed was too great.
Lemillion watched in horror as the ball shot towards a group in the crowd, mentally preparing to head underground and intercept. When suddenly:
SMASH!
Kuri dived through the air, a rapidly spinning chestnut casing on his head, making contact with the weapon with just enough force to change it's trajectory. With a loud thud, it embedded in a wall dangerously close to a store window. Kuri rolled to a stop, his thorns scattered around him.
"That's my quirk, hero!" The villain laughed. "Ball Bag!"
"Midoriya! Oak! Get the people out of here!" Lemillion ordered, completely ignoring what the other man was saying.
"The bigger the bag, the bigger the surprise! When I pull my big balls out, I'm unstoppable!" He then began laughing maniacally. Lemillion was moments away from responding when an enormous blast echoed from down the street, a cloud of dust enveloping the road. A civilian shouted, "The bird's nest just exploded! The whole building just came down, everyone run!"
More cries of "Villains are attacking!" Filled the air, making an already tense confrontation far worse.
Izuku's eyes darted between the fleeing crowd and the crazed villain, panic spreading like wildfire among the civilians making it harder for Izuku and Kuri to keep the situation under control. Lemillion, trying to protect the people and subdue the villain, was becoming overwhelmed - Ball Bag taking the opportunity to fire off a new barrage of projectiles, firing smaller rounds from purses in his hands.
"Everyone, please! Remain calm and follow me!" Izuku shouted, trying to direct the panicked civilians towards a safer area. Kuri was doing his best to shield the people from stray bullets with his chestnut armour, but it was clear they needed to act fast to regain control.
"Izuku!" Kuri yelled across the crowd, "Dragon form! NOW!"
His heart racing, feet rooted to the spot, Izuku shook his head awake and pulled the hard drive Mei had given him out of his pocket. As he plugged it in, he felt a surge of anxiety, seeing Lemillion struggling to reach the villain while protecting the people from the onslaught of metal spheres. Time seemed to crawl as he watched the download progress bar inch forward in his peripheral vision.
"Come on, come on!" Izuku muttered under his breath, the chaos continuing around him. Oak managed to deflect another ball, but the effort was taking a toll.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the download completed. A smiling 16bit rendition of Mei appearing with a celebratory sound effect. A surge of power coursed through Izuku's body, as the latticed armour of the dragon suit enveloped him faster than he'd ever managed before. Without hesitation, he leaped into a mid-air twist, a gymnastic manoeuvre he had never attempted before, catching one of the metal spheres in one hand with ease.
With another powerful flip, Izuku spun, and launched the ball directly back at the villain, missing his head by inches. The sphere embedded in the ground behind him, a warning shot.
"Holy shit! This is amazing!" Izuku marvelled at the enhanced strength and agility the new program had provided, doing another flip just because he could.
"We're all very impressed, Midoriya!" Lemillion yelled, "But do you think you could help us out here?!"
"Oh, right!" Izuku ran forward, dodging the bullets with ease, spinning and twisting in the air, and sliding underneath the weapons. The new program had improved everything, his reflexes, his agility, his technique. He could feel new information inserting itself into the suit, martial arts skills he never dreamed he could pull off, gymnastics, athletics, form, the dragon armour knew how to react before Izuku could even think about it. A ball shot past Izuku's head, and he caught it between two fingers, which may have been him showing off a little.
With the villain now fully focused on Izuku, it gave Oak and Lemillion ample time to continue evacuating the civilians - now joined by a few other local heroes who had rushed to the scene following the explosion. In no time flat, Izuku had a finger pointed to the villain's face like a gun.
"Bang." he said calmly.
Fearfully, Ball Bag put his hands up, and he dropped the bags to the floor. "...I surrender!"
Izuku flipped his head back, the helmet covering his face retreating. "And don't be going around doing crime anymore you big, criminal bad guy!"
Ball Bag shook his head in confusion, before Lemillion appeared from beneath the ground and uppercut him in the face.
"Not bad, Midoriya! Are you sure you don't wanna have a spar?" Lemillion asked with a raised eyebrow, expectantly.
"No, I'm good, thanks. This was enough excitement, I think." Just then, Izuku's entire body started vibrating in short bursts. "W-what the hell? I think I… have a phone call?"
With a beep, Izuku started to hear the intensely excited voice of Mei Hatsume in his ears. "IZUKU! You used the programs?! Your heart rate is up, adrenaline is skyrocketing, WHAT HAPPENED?!"
"Mei?!" Izuku said in confusion, "Are you monitoring my vitals?!"
"Well obviously, dumbass! How am I expected to make improvements if I don't? Now give me an overview!" her voice then seemed to turn a little distant, as he heard her say "Oh yeah no it's just Izuku, I think he's over by that explosion that- IZUKU WERE YOU IN THE EXPLOSION?!"
"No, Mei! I'm fine, it was down the road from here, I'm just helping with evacuations! Listen, I really have to get going. I'll tell you more later."
Not knowing how to hang up the comms system Mei had somehow programmed into him, Izuku opted instead to revert the entire armour. As the last of the latticed metal clicked back into his fingertips, he looked at Lemillion with determination in his eyes. "What next?"
"What's next for you," Togata said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "is you and Oak heading back to the agency."
"B-but, we can handle things!" Kuri protested, "you've seen us, we can help!"
"I know you can! Unfortunately neither of you have licences to your name." Togata shrugged.
Kuri's chestnut shell formed, and he spoke with a muffled voice "I can't do nothing. Let me help with cleanup, at the very least. You don't need to be licensed to move some rubble."
His mouth tight, Togata looked like he was struggling to stop himself, before he finally let out a breath. "...Oh alright, fine! I just can't say no to that!"
With a nod, Kuri turned and sprinted towards the road. Izuku looked expectantly at the older UA student. "What can I do to help?" He asked.
"But I just said you couldn't…Ohh I'm so bad with peer pressure! Does that fancy suit of yours come with any life sign scanners?"
"I can make some."
"Cool! Alright hero, with me." Lemillion said, running ahead.
"But- but I'm not a hero!"
"You are now, kid! You are now!"
An older gentleman with greying hair leaned back in his chair, his eyes briefly closing in thought before he reached forward to adjust the camera on his desk. Taking a deep breath, he paused, and began to speak in a sombre, deliberate tone.
"My name is Hijiro Yutarai. Until recently, I was known by the alias High Street. If you are watching this, then I am already dead."
Yuki and Inko silently watched the recording, the only sound being the faint crackle of the recording playing through the tiny speakers.
"For the past twenty-five years," Yutarai continued, "I have led a covert community of like-minded professionals. The Market. Our goal was simple enough, to improve society by eliminating its most dangerous elements. But it was a fool's errand, an impossible task. We were stupid, and so, so naïve to believe we could 'cleanse the world' through violence."
He sighed deeply, the discomfort obvious as he shifted in his seat.
"We…I, made an error in judgement. Asuji Nikita, the man I trusted to steer The Market towards a semblance of peace, has turned on us. He is systematically killing every member of our organisation. He…" Yutarai swallowed, "Has already killed my daughter, I'm the only one left, and he's closing in."
He paused. "With this video, I am encrypting and uploading everything I have on Nikita and The Market. Every secret, every code, every document, our entire information network. With the hopes this makes it into the right hands, I have one request: leak this information to the public. Expose The Market for what we are, and ensure it can never rise again."
Yuki's face was tense, her jaw clenched in concentration. The man on the screen was a familiar figure, one she had seen in the compound, one that screamed at her with an unexplained memory.
On the screen, Yutarai took a final breath and said, "Tell everyone I am sorry for letting things reach this point." He leaned towards the camera, his hand reaching to turn it off, but he was interrupted by the sound of his office door creaking open.
Inko gasped quietly, as Yuki's heart raced. They watched intently as a little girl with straight black hair, her eyes soft and quiet, entered the room. And floating a few inches above her hand,
was a fork.
The girl looked up at Yutarai, "Grandpa?" she said softly, "Why are you so sad?"
Yutarai smiled as he turned to the girl, his demeanour shifting from that of a weary leader to that of a caring grandfather. "Not now, Katia." he said gently,
A surge of emotion welled up inside Yuki, the name echoing in her mind, unlocking buried memories of a life she had long forgotten. She was the little girl in the video. Hijiro Yutarai was her grandfather.
Her name is Katia.
