Chapter Two: The Long Game

The rain had no intention of letting up. It pounded the streets with a cold, steady rhythm, the kind that sank into your bones and reminded you that in this city, warmth was a fleeting luxury. I stood there, in the neon glow of Naruhata, staring at the bloody symbols that painted the alley walls, my thoughts tangled in the twisting lines.

Naomasa had given me everything he knew, but it wasn't much. Whoever left this message wanted me to chase them, to follow the breadcrumbs they'd scattered, leading me straight into their web. But what bothered me wasn't the symbols or the bodies. It was the fact that this felt familiar—too familiar.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me from the murky depths of my thoughts. I pulled it out, glancing at the screen. A message from Shinso.

"I've got something for you. Meet me at the usual spot."

Of course he did. Shinso was always a step ahead of the game, even if he didn't like to admit it. If anyone could help me make sense of this mess, it was him. He had a way of seeing through the lies, through the shadows, and getting to the heart of things. And right now, I needed his eyes more than ever.

I glanced at Naomasa, who was still staring at the wall, deep in thought. "I've got a lead. I'll let you know what I find."

He nodded without looking up. "Be careful, Izuku. Whoever this is, they're not playing by the rules."

I smirked, tucking my phone back into my pocket. "In this city, no one plays by the rules."

I left the alley and headed toward the usual spot, a small bar on the outskirts of town where Shinso and I often met. It wasn't a place where heroes or villains went to relax. It was a place for people like us—the ones who operated in the gray, who saw the world for what it really was. Shinso was already there when I arrived, sitting in the corner booth, his hood pulled up over his head, shadows clinging to him like an old friend.

I slid into the booth across from him, shaking the rain off my jacket. "You've got something?"

Shinso looked up, his eyes tired but sharp, cutting through the gloom of the dimly lit bar. "You've got yourself tangled in something big, Midoriya. I've been hearing whispers, and they're not the kind you ignore."

I lit a cigarette, letting the smoke curl upward in lazy spirals. "What kind of whispers?"

"The kind that involve quirk experimentation. Dark stuff. Underground labs, people disappearing without a trace. And the name I keep hearing is Overhaul."

Overhaul. The name hit me like a punch to the gut. I hadn't heard it in years, not since we'd put an end to his operation, rescued Eri, and dismantled his empire. He was supposed to be locked away, powerless, a ghost of a threat. But the thing about ghosts is, they never really disappear.

"That's impossible," I said, taking a long drag from the cigarette. "He's locked up. I made sure of it."

Shinso shrugged, his expression grim. "Maybe. Maybe not. People like Overhaul… they have ways of coming back. Even if it's not him directly, someone's picking up where he left off."

I stared at the cigarette, watching the ember glow faintly in the dark. "What do you know about these labs?"

"Not much," he admitted, leaning back in his seat. "But I've got a contact, someone who's been keeping tabs on the quirk black market. If this is tied to Overhaul, they'll know."

I crushed the cigarette in the ashtray. "Where do I find them?"

Shinso shook his head. "They'll find you. Just be ready when they do."

I stood, pulling my coat tight against the chill that had settled into the room. "Thanks, Shinso. I owe you one."

He waved me off. "You always owe me one, Midoriya."

As I stepped back out into the rain, I couldn't shake the feeling that the ground was shifting beneath me. Overhaul. Quirk experimentation. Missing people. It all felt too familiar, like I was being dragged back into a nightmare I thought I'd escaped. But this time, it wasn't just my life on the line.

I lit another cigarette and started walking. The city blurred around me, the rain turning the neon lights into streaks of color that ran together like wet paint. I needed to get ahead of this, to figure out who was pulling the strings before they pulled me under. But the deeper I dug, the more I realized I wasn't the one in control of this game. I was just another piece on the board, and someone else was moving the pieces.

As I made my way through the winding streets, my phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn't a message from Shinso.

It was a name I hadn't expected to see.

"Eri."

I stopped in my tracks, the rain pouring down around me as I stared at the screen. I hadn't heard from her in years, not since we'd ensured her safety, keeping her far away from the madness that had consumed her life. But there it was, her name, staring back at me from the glowing screen.

I swiped the screen, my heart pounding as I brought the phone to my ear. "Eri?"

Her voice was quiet, trembling, but unmistakable. "Izuku… I think I'm being watched."

The cigarette fell from my lips, forgotten, as the words sank in. Whoever this was, whoever had left the message in Naruhata, they weren't just playing with me.

They were coming for the people I cared about.

"Where are you?" I asked, my voice tighter than I intended.

"I'm safe. For now," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But there's been… people. Watching me. I don't know who they are, but I can feel it."

"Stay where you are," I said, already turning on my heel and heading toward her apartment. "I'll be there soon."

"Izuku…" she hesitated, and I could hear the fear in her voice, the same fear that had gripped her all those years ago. "Do you think it's him? Do you think Overhaul is back?"

I clenched my jaw, my mind racing as I tried to piece together the fragments of information I had. Overhaul. The missing people. The experiments. It all pointed to one thing, but I couldn't bring myself to say it.

"I don't know," I said finally. "But I'm going to find out."

We hung up, and I quickened my pace, the rain pouring down harder as I moved through the city. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was running out of time, that whoever was behind this was always one step ahead, pulling the strings from the shadows.

By the time I reached Eri's apartment, my clothes were soaked through, the chill biting at my skin. I knocked on the door, listening for any sounds inside. After a few moments, the door creaked open, and Eri stood there, her face pale and her eyes wide.

"Come in," she said, her voice small.

I stepped inside, glancing around the small apartment. It was just as I remembered—simple, neat, the kind of place where someone tried to keep the outside world from creeping in. But the fear in Eri's eyes told me it had already found its way inside.

"Tell me everything," I said, my voice softer than it had been on the phone. "Don't leave anything out."

She sat down on the couch, pulling her knees to her chest as she spoke. "It started a few days ago. I noticed people… watching me. At first, I thought it was just my imagination. But then I started seeing them more often. Outside my window. On the street. They never get too close, but they're always there."

I frowned, my mind racing as I tried to make sense of it. "Did you recognize any of them?"

She shook her head. "No. They're just… shadows. I can't see their faces."

Shadows. Just like in Naruhata.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I stared at the floor. "Do you think they're connected to Overhaul?"

"I don't know," she said, her voice trembling. "But I'm scared, Izuku. I thought I was done with all of this."

I stood and moved to the window, pulling the curtain aside just enough to peer out into the street below. The rain made it difficult to see, but I didn't need clear visibility to know we were being watched. I could feel it. The same cold, creeping sensation that had been following me since the alley in Naruhata.

"We're going to figure this out," I said, turning back to her. "But for now, I want you to stay here. Keep the doors locked, the windows shut. Don't go anywhere unless I'm with you."

Eri nodded, her eyes wide with fear, but she trusted me. After everything we'd been through, she trusted me.

As I stepped away from the window, I could feel the weight of the city pressing down on me again, heavier than before. The long game was just beginning, and whoever was playing it was pulling me into the center.

But they'd made one mistake.

They'd threatened Eri.

And that meant the rules had just changed.

The rain continued its relentless drumming on the windows as I stood in the dark of Eri's apartment, my mind racing. Eri was scared, and for good reason. There was no way I could leave her here alone, not with shadows watching from every corner. But there was only one person I could trust to keep her safe, and I didn't want to make that call.

Mirio.

I hadn't spoken to him in years. Not since I left that world behind—the world of heroes and shining lights, the world where people like Mirio were the beacon of hope for everyone else. He'd moved on, grown into the role that was always meant for him. Number one hero. The symbol of peace. Meanwhile, I had sunk deeper into the shadows, becoming something else entirely.

We'd chosen different paths, and I hadn't looked back. Until now.

I pulled out my phone, the glow of the screen casting a pale light across the room. My finger hovered over his contact, hesitation creeping in like a second skin. He was the number one hero now. He had his own responsibilities, his own life. I didn't want to drag him into this. But Eri's safety came first, and there was no one else I trusted more to protect her.

With a heavy sigh, I tapped the name. The phone rang once. Twice. The sound seemed louder than it should've been, cutting through the quiet tension of the room like a knife. After a few rings, I started to think he wouldn't answer, that maybe Mirio had moved on from me just as much as I had from him.

Then, the call connected.

"Midoriya?" His voice hadn't changed. It was still full of life, still that same warmth and confidence that could light up a room. It felt distant, though, like I was hearing it from another world.

"Yeah, it's me," I said, my voice rougher than I intended. "I know it's been a while."

There was a pause on the other end, and for a moment, I wondered if he was going to hang up. But then he spoke again, and his tone was more serious. "It has been a while. What's going on?"

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to find the right words. "It's Eri. I think she's in trouble."

That got his attention. "Eri? Is she okay? Where are you?"

"We're at her apartment," I said, glancing over at her. She was still curled up on the couch, her eyes wide, listening to every word. "But I don't think it's safe for her here anymore. She's being watched. I don't know who they are, but they've been keeping tabs on her for days."

Mirio didn't hesitate. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

I blinked. "Wait, you don't even know what's going on yet."

"Doesn't matter," he said, and I could hear the determination in his voice, the unwavering sense of responsibility that came with being number one. "If Eri's in danger, I'm coming. We can talk when I get there."

The line went dead before I could respond. I lowered the phone, staring at the screen for a moment before tucking it back into my pocket. He didn't ask for details, didn't need an explanation. That was Mirio for you. Always ready to jump into action without a second thought.

I turned back to Eri, who was watching me with those big, anxious eyes. "Mirio's coming. He'll get you somewhere safe."

She nodded, but I could see the fear still gnawing at her, the memories of her past still clinging to her like a shadow. "Do you think… do you think Overhaul's really back?"

I didn't know how to answer that. I didn't want to lie to her, but the truth was murky, hidden beneath layers of mystery I hadn't yet unraveled. Instead, I crouched down in front of her, resting a hand on her knee. "I don't know, Eri. But I promise, we'll figure this out. You're not alone."

She nodded again, and I could see a flicker of trust in her eyes. That was something, at least. But the weight of what I'd just set in motion was heavier than ever. Bringing Mirio into this meant more than just keeping Eri safe. It meant confronting a part of my past I'd tried to bury.

Fifteen minutes felt like an eternity as we waited in silence, the rain still beating down outside. I stood by the window, watching the street below, my senses on high alert. I didn't see anyone, but that didn't mean they weren't there. The shadows had a way of hiding things, keeping them just out of sight.

Then, I saw him.

Mirio's arrival wasn't subtle. Even in the rain, he moved like a beacon, his bright blonde hair practically glowing against the dark city backdrop. He was wearing his hero uniform, of course—clean, bright, everything I wasn't anymore. And as he approached the building, I felt that familiar pang of envy. He was everything I used to want to be. Everything I'd walked away from.

I let out a slow breath and opened the door before he could knock. He stepped inside, his presence filling the small apartment with an energy I hadn't felt in a long time. His eyes immediately went to Eri, who stood up from the couch, her small frame trembling slightly.

"Eri," Mirio said softly, his tone gentle as he crouched down to her level. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, though I could tell she was fighting to keep the tears at bay. "I'm okay. But… they're watching me. I don't know why."

Mirio's expression darkened, his usual smile fading as he looked up at me. "You said someone's been watching her. How long?"

"Days," I said, crossing my arms. "She said they've been outside her window, following her. I think it's connected to something bigger, something I've been working on. But I don't know how deep it goes yet."

Mirio stood, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim light of the apartment as he moved closer. "Then she needs to get out of here. Somewhere safe. I can take her to my agency, put her under protection until we figure this out."

I nodded. "That's what I was hoping you'd say."

There was a brief pause, and I could see the unspoken questions in his eyes. He hadn't seen me in years, hadn't heard from me since I left the hero world behind. And now, here I was, dragging him back into something dangerous. Something messy.

"Midoriya," he said, his voice lower now, more serious. "What's really going on here? Why haven't you reached out before?"

I looked away, the weight of the years hanging heavy between us. "I didn't want to drag you into this. You're the number one hero now. You've got your own problems to deal with."

Mirio shook his head, his expression softening. "Eri isn't just my responsibility. She's yours too. We fought for her together. You're still a part of this, whether you like it or not."

I clenched my jaw, the guilt settling deeper. He was right. I'd walked away from the hero world, but I hadn't walked away from Eri. And now, it was all catching up to me.

"I didn't want to put her in danger again," I said quietly. "I thought if I stayed away, if I kept out of the spotlight, she'd be safe."

Mirio sighed, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You're not alone in this, Midoriya. You don't have to carry it all by yourself."

I didn't respond. I couldn't. Instead, I just nodded, feeling the weight of everything I'd been holding onto slowly start to slip.

Mirio turned back to Eri, giving her a reassuring smile. "Let's get you somewhere safe, okay? We'll figure this out."

Eri looked at me, her eyes filled with uncertainty, but she nodded. "Okay."

I watched as Mirio led her to the door, his presence a comforting shield against the darkness outside. I knew she'd be safe with him. If there was one person I trusted with her life, it was Mirio.

Before he left, he turned to me one last time. "I'll be in touch. Don't disappear on me again, okay?"

I forced a half-smile, though it didn't reach my eyes. "I'll try not to."

And with that, they were gone, leaving me alone in the quiet of the apartment, the rain still hammering against the windows.

I stood there for a moment, the weight of everything pressing down on me like a vice. Eri was safe, for now. But whoever was behind this, whoever had been watching her, wasn't done. This was just the beginning, and I had a feeling that the storm was about to get a lot worse.

I pulled out another cigarette, lighting it with a shaky hand. The glow of the ember flickered weakly in the dark, just like the hope I'd been clinging to for so long.

The game had just begun, and this time, I wasn't sure if I was ready to play.

But I didn't have a choice.

Not anymore.

The door had barely closed behind Mirio and Eri when the sound of her phone ringing cut through the heavy silence of the room. The sharp, metallic tone jolted me back from my thoughts, and my hand instinctively went to my side where my gun usually rested.

But it wasn't danger waiting in the shadows. It was worse.

I glanced down at the phone on the table. Eri's phone. She'd left it behind in the rush, and now it was ringing, its screen glowing in the dim light. The number was blocked. Of course, it was.

I knew who it was. I knew they had been waiting for this moment, waiting for Eri to be out of reach, waiting for me to be alone. They always did. It was part of the game—pushing me until I was at the breaking point, keeping me one step behind while they controlled the strings.

My fingers wrapped around the phone, and I brought it to my ear, knowing full well that whatever came next wouldn't be anything good.

I didn't say anything. I just waited.

There was a pause on the other end, the faintest crackle of static filling the silence. Then, the voice came, smooth, cold, and dripping with mockery.

"Ah, Midoriya. I knew you'd answer."

I closed my eyes, the familiar sting of anger and frustration rising up in my chest. The voice was low, calm, almost playful, like this was all just some twisted game. And to them, it was. But for me? This was real. This was life and death.

"You've been keeping her safe, haven't you?" the voice continued, its tone dripping with false sympathy. "Sweet little Eri. Always watching out for her. Always protecting her. But you know how this goes, don't you? You can't keep her safe forever."

My grip tightened on the phone, the cigarette still smoldering between my fingers. I wanted to say something, anything, but I knew better. This was what they wanted—to provoke me, to get inside my head. To make me react.

"She's special, you know," the voice went on, unbothered by my silence. "That quirk of hers… it's something we could never replicate. But don't worry. We'll be patient. After all, we've waited this long. A little longer won't hurt."

I clenched my jaw, feeling the tension coil like a spring inside me. Whoever they were, they knew. They had always known. And they'd been waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"I'm going to find you," I said, my voice low, barely above a whisper. "And when I do—"

The laugh that followed was soft, amused. "Oh, Midoriya. Always so predictable. Always so noble. You haven't changed at all, have you? Still clinging to that old sense of justice, even in a world that's left it behind."

The taunt cut deep, but I didn't flinch. I'd heard worse before, and I'd weathered it. This was just another attempt to get under my skin. But this time, they'd made it personal. They'd involved Eri. And for that, there would be no forgiveness.

The voice paused for a moment, as if considering what to say next, then it continued, colder this time. "But you should know, Midoriya, this isn't about you. It never was. It's always been about her. And when the time is right, she'll come to us. Whether you like it or not."

The words hit like a punch to the gut, but I kept my voice steady. "I'll die before I let you touch her."

Another soft laugh. "Oh, I have no doubt about that. But we both know that's not the way this ends."

There was a click, and the line went dead, leaving me alone in the suffocating silence of the apartment. I lowered the phone, staring at the blank screen as if it could offer me answers, as if it could tell me what to do next.

But it couldn't. And I was no closer to finding out who was behind this than I had been before. They'd made their move. They'd gotten inside my head, just like they wanted. But I wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot.

I crushed the cigarette in the ashtray, grabbing my coat from where I'd left it. My mind was already racing, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. Whoever was behind this had resources. They had information. And they had been watching for a long time. Longer than I'd realized.

But they'd made one critical mistake. They'd underestimated me.

I dialed Naomasa as I headed for the door. If this was the long game, then it was time I started playing by my own rules.

He picked up after the first ring. "Midoriya?"

"I need to see you," I said, my voice sharp with purpose. "Now."

There was a pause. He could hear it in my voice—the urgency, the danger. "Where?"

"Meet me at my office. We're running out of time."

I hung up, not waiting for his response. Time was ticking, and the game had only just begun. But if they thought I was going to sit back and let them pull the strings, they were in for a rude awakening.

Because this time, I wasn't playing defense.

I was going on the hunt.

I stepped into my office, the familiar smell of smoke and damp wood filling the small space. The rain hadn't let up, and the constant tapping against the window was starting to blend into the background, like a heartbeat too loud to ignore. The city never rested. Not for people like me. Not for people like Naomasa, either.

He was already sitting in the chair across from my desk when I walked in, his trench coat soaked from the rain. His eyes met mine, and even though he didn't say anything, I could tell he knew the situation had escalated. When Naomasa looked like that, it wasn't just another case. It was something personal. Something dangerous.

"You got here fast," I said, closing the door behind me and shaking the rain from my jacket.

"I had a feeling this was big," he replied, his voice as steady as ever, though I could hear the concern laced beneath the calm exterior. "What happened?"

I didn't sit. Instead, I leaned against the desk, pulling out another cigarette and lighting it. The smoke curled into the air as I exhaled, and I let the silence hang for a moment, gathering my thoughts. The phone call still echoed in my head, the voice, the taunt. The game they were playing wasn't just a message. It was a challenge.

"They called," I said finally, taking a drag from the cigarette. "Blocked number. Said they'd been watching Eri. Said they'd been watching me."

Naomasa's expression hardened, the lines of his face deepening as he processed what I said. "Whoever's behind this, they're going for blood. They've been planning this for a long time."

"Too long," I muttered. "And they know me. Better than I thought. They said I was predictable."

Naomasa frowned. "And you think they're right?"

I stared at the cigarette for a moment, the ember glowing softly in the dim light. "Maybe. I've been playing this game their way, following their clues, letting them set the rules. But that ends now."

Naomasa leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "What are you planning, Midoriya?"

I flicked the ash into the tray, my mind racing through the possibilities. They thought they had me figured out. They thought I'd keep following their trail, doing exactly what they expected me to do. But they'd made one mistake. One big mistake.

"I'm going to do something they won't expect," I said, meeting Naomasa's gaze. "Something unpredictable."

Naomasa's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

I straightened up, stubbing out the cigarette. "I've already pulled off the first bandaid. I contacted Mirio. They probably expected that. Eri's safe with him for now, but it's not enough. We need more. We need someone they won't see coming."

I grabbed my phone, the weight of what I was about to do settling in my chest. This wasn't going to be easy, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be comfortable. But if I wanted to throw them off, if I wanted to turn the tables, I had to call in the one person they'd never expect me to reach out to.

It was time to call Katsuki Bakugo.

Naomasa raised an eyebrow as I dialed the number, his arms crossed. "Bakugo? You haven't spoken to him in years. Why him?"

I couldn't blame him for asking. Katsuki and I had drifted apart after U.A., after everything that happened. He'd gone on to become one of the most powerful and well-known heroes in the world, with a reputation as explosive as his quirk. We hadn't exactly kept in touch, and after what had gone down, no one would expect me to contact him. Not now. Not ever.

Which was exactly why I had to.

"He's the last person they'll expect me to call," I said, pressing the phone to my ear. The line rang once. Twice. Three times.

For a moment, I thought he wouldn't pick up. But then, the line clicked, and I heard his voice—gruff, as always, but unmistakably Bakugo.

"What the hell do you want, Deku?"

I took a deep breath. There was no going back now.

"I need your help."

There was a pause, and I could practically feel the confusion radiating through the phone. "You serious? After all this time?"

"I wouldn't be calling you if I didn't need you," I said, my voice firm. "This isn't about us. This is about something bigger. Eri's in danger."

Another pause. This one longer. When Bakugo spoke again, his tone was different. Not softer, but there was something else there. Something like concern. "Eri?"

"Yeah," I said. "And whoever's after her—they're good. They've been planning this for a long time, and I'm out of moves. I need you, Katsuki."

The silence that followed was heavy, stretching on long enough to make me wonder if I'd made the wrong choice. If maybe I'd miscalculated. But then Bakugo's voice cut through the static, sharp and determined.

"Where are you?"

Relief washed over me, though I didn't show it. "My office. Can you get here?"

"Give me thirty minutes," he said, and before I could respond, the line went dead.

I lowered the phone, glancing at Naomasa. He still looked skeptical, but there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes. He knew what this meant. He knew what calling Bakugo meant for me, for both of us.

"This is risky," Naomasa said. "You think he'll really help?"

"He will," I said, sliding the phone back into my pocket. "Because no matter what's happened between us, Bakugo doesn't back down from a fight. And right now, we're in the middle of the biggest fight of our lives."

Naomasa nodded, though the concern hadn't left his face. "I hope you're right, Midoriya. Because if this goes wrong—"

"It won't," I interrupted, standing up and heading to the window. The rain had slowed, but the city outside still looked the same—cold, dark, and full of secrets.

They thought they had me figured out. They thought I'd keep playing by their rules.

But they were about to learn just how wrong they were.

I wasn't the same person they remembered. And with Bakugo on my side, neither was the game