The 12:30 p.m. bell rang throughout the halls of U.A. High, signaling the end of another long morning of training and academics. The students of Class 1-A began exiting the room for lunch. A mix of excitement and nerves joined the usual chatter; and for good reason. The Sports Festival was only two days away, and the anticipation was palpable.

Izuku Midoriya lingered at his desk. He stared at the open page of his Hero Analysis for the Future notebook, but his eyes weren't reading the words. His mind was elsewhere, consumed by a whirlpool of thoughts and emotions as he contemplated what lay ahead. The U.A. Sports Festival. It was more than just a competition. It was a chance to prove himself, to show the world that he could be a hero worthy of the name; to live up to the hopes and expectations placed on him; to shine as bright as his mentor.

His fingers traced the letters of All Might's autograph. "One For All," he murmured under his breath. The Quirk that had been passed down to him from the Symbol of Peace was a blessing, but it was also a heavy burden. Controlling its immense power was a constant struggle, each misstep a reminder of how far he still had to go.

Thoughts of his last conversation with All Might resurfaced, the stern but encouraging words of his mentor echoed in his mind. "I want you to think of this Sports Festival as your debut. You are the fledgling Symbol of Peace. The next All Might! Izuku Midoriya. I want you to introduce yourself to the world and proudly say 'I am here!'"

Midoriya clenched his fist. He had come a long way since he first inherited One For All, but there was still much to learn. His thoughts turned then to his classmates, friends and rivals both. Each one of them had their own battles to fight, their own goals and dreams. They were all extraordinary in their own unique ways, and the festival would be a stage for their incredible talents. But for Midoriya, it was more than that. It was his declaration to the world and to himself that he was on the path to greatness. The upcoming festival was his chance to test his limits. To push beyond them and show everyone, including himself, that he could be a hero.

"Midoriya, are you all right?" A voice broke through Modiriya's reverie. He looked up to see Tenya Iida, his earnest and ever-diligent class representative, peering at him with concern.

"Oh, Iida! Yeah, I'm fine," Midoriya said, forcing a smile. "Just thinking about the Sports Festival."

Iida adjusted his glasses, a serious expression on his face. "Yes, it's a crucial event. We must all give it our utmost effort to honor the legacy of U.A. and show our potential as future heroes."

Midoriya nodded, feeling a surge of determination. "Right."

"Hey, Deku! Iida!"A bubbly voice's call made the boys look right. Ochaco Uraraka came to join them, her brown bangs bouncing lightly. "Sorry, I overheard you guys talking about the Sports Festival." Her eyes sparkled with determination, her usual cheerfulness amplified by the anticipation of the upcoming competition. "We're almost there! You guys ready?"

"Absolutely!" Iida answered enthusiastically, chopping his arm in the air per his usual tic. "We must all strive to give our best performance and uphold the honor of our class!"

Midoriya felt some of the weight lift from his shoulders. Uraraka's infectious optimism never failed to brighten his spirit. "I've been thinking a lot about it. It's such a big opportunity for all of us… It's been making me a little nervous."

Uraraka's eyes softened as she looked at Midoriya. "I know what you mean, Deku. But we can't let that hold us back. This is our chance to show everyone what we're made of!" She lifted her hands and squeezed them tight, a determined look in her eyes. "For me, it's not just about becoming a hero. It's about my family. I want to make them proud and give them a better life. That's why I've gotta give it my all!"

Midoriya felt his admiration for his friend swell. Uraraka's resolve was inspiring, a reminder of the personal battles they all faced. She understood the stakes as much as he did, if not more. "You'll do great, Uraraka," Midoriya said earnestly. "You've worked hard, and your Quirk is amazing. I know you'll make a big impact."

"I wholeheartedly agree," Iida added. "Your determination and strength of character are exemplary. We all have our reasons for becoming heroes, and it's that passion that will drive us to succeed."

Uraraka beamed at the boys, her face radiating warmth. "Thanks, guys. And remember, we're in this together. Let's all do our best."

"Yeah, that's the stuff!" came the spirited voice of Eijiro Kirishima. He joined the three of them, Hanta Sero at his left and Mina Ashido at his right. "Great to see you guys all fired up."

"It's so exciting!"Ashido bubbled, motioning her arms back and forth. "Everyone will be watching us!"

"I can't wait to show off what I can do," Sero added, looking pumped. "Agencies will be knocking down my door with offers."

"Don't expect me to go easy on you if we match up," Kirishima said with a competitive but friendly grin. "We'll go head-to-head like men and show the world what future pros look like!"

Midoriya felt a surge of camaraderie wash over him. The challenge ahead seemed a little less daunting with friends like these by his side, supporting him and pushing him to be his best. They were all driven by their unique motivations, but their shared goal of becoming heroes united them. "Yeah," Midoriya said, feeling a renewed sense of confidence. "We'll give it everything we've got."

Iida raised his hand in a gesture of solidarity. "To Class 1-A! Let us shine brightly at the Sports Festival and show the world the future of heroism!"

His classmates joined in, raising their fists in a rallying cry. "Yeah!" The students shared a moment of determination, their resolve strengthening in the face of the challenges ahead.

The lively conversation buoying the aspiring heroes' spirits was interrupted when a sudden, uncharacteristically somber voice broke through their thoughts. "Oh, man…"Denki Kaminari sat at his desk nearby. His typically light-hearted tone was tinged with an unusual seriousness. He had his phone in hand, his brows furrowed as he stared intently at the screen.

The other six students turned to him, their expressions shifting from camaraderie to curiosity and concern. "What's up, Kaminari?" asked Kirishima.

Kaminari glanced up, a grim look on his face. "I was just reading this news story. It's pretty messed up." He held out his phone for his classmates to see. The headline was stark and unsettling: Reporter Dies in Mysterious Fall. "Some reporter fell from the top floor of a parking garage. It says he died on impact."

A sudden stillness swept over the group, all their eyes opening wider at the disturbing article. "How gruesome," Iida said, looking shaken.

"That's awful…" Uraraka's added, her voice more distant and dull. "Do they have any idea what happened?"

Kaminari shook his head."Not really. He was investigating something big before he died, but there's no clear sign of what it was. Just a lot of speculation." He kept scrolling, reading further down. "But it does say this is the second person memorable person to die like that in the past two weeks. The first was a detective from the Musutafu Police Department."

Ashido gasped softly. "Another one?"

"I'll bet you it's some villain!" Kirishima said hotly, balling his fists. "Two of the same thing so close together sounds really fishy to me!"

Uraraka looked at the red-haired boy. "You think someone could be behind it?"

"That is a pretty weird coincidence…" Sero thought out loud.

"Making bold claims based purely on speculation is reckless, Kirishima," Iida told his classmate, adjusting his glasses. "Though I admit, it is very troubling."

Midoriya took the phone from Kaminari, scanning the details of the article. He found himself agreeing somewhat with Kirishima and Sero. Two virtually identical incidents happening in such a short period was quite the coincidence. Maybe there was more to this than meets the eye. Had the two decedents been onto something dangerous? The thought that people could be targeted for uncovering some dark truth sent a shiver down his spine. "It's so sad… Their families must be devastated," Midoriya said heavily, handing Kaminari back his phone.

There was a quiet agreement among the seven classmates, a somber mood smothering over the earlier light-heartedness.

"Even so, let's not let it distract from the task ahead of us," Iida advised. "The Sports Festival is our primary focus. It will demand our full focus and attention. And on the off chance there is something more sinister at work, we must trust these types of matters to the authorities and heroes sworn to protect us."

A few of the group nodded to themselves, deciding to just accept the word.

As they parted ways to head home for the evening, Midoriya couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to these incidents than met the eye. The story was a sobering dose of reality for all of them, a reminder that their journey to becoming heroes was fraught with unexpected dangers. They had to be ready to face any challenge, whether it was in the arena or the real world.

Naomasa Tsukauchi was an experienced detective. He prided himself on his meticulous approach to investigations. But today, his caution had failed him. He struggled against the red, cement-like fluid pinning him to the grimy wall, as he had been for almost half an hour. His muscles ached from the effort, but the substance held fast, unyielding. Light trickled in from the first floor of this abandoned building's filthy windows, casting eerie shadows on the walls. The space was sparsely furnished, its only features being a dilapidated couch, a few rusted metal chairs, and the remnants of graffiti on the walls. The air was thick with the smell of mold and decay.

Tsukauchi's mind raced back over the chain of events that had led him to this precarious situation. Two recent deaths had drawn the attention of the Musutafu police force, the similarity of the incidents immediately raising suspicions of foul play. One of them had even been Tsukauchi's friend. A trail of clues eventually pointed to a more decrepit part of the city—and two villains he'd found scheming in this very place. In a moment of impulsivity fueled by anger, Tsukauchi had entered to scout out the situation alone. He thought he was being careful; not careful enough. In the brief scuffle that ensued, he only managed to get off a few shots before he was overwhelmed and subdued.

Now, in the suffocating silence of the abandoned building, Tsukauchi's thoughts were a whirlpool of frustration and desperation. He needed to find a way out, to warn the others about the villains' presence before they could strike again. But he couldn't move either of his hands far enough to reach his radio. His eyes scanned the room, searching for anything that could aid in his escape.

A sudden noise from outside made him freeze—footsteps. Someone was coming. Tsukauchi's heart pounded in his chest as he wondered if it was a savior or another threat. He couldn't afford to be discovered by the latter in his current state.

"Is someone in there?" an unfamiliar voice called out.

With a mix of relief and urgency, Tsukauchi called back. "Yes, please! I need help!" Hope filled his heart. Finally, he'd make it out of this mess, and with any luck, they could still catch the villains before they slipped away.

However, as the footsteps closed in and his would-be rescuer arrived, Tsukauchi's relief turned to surprise and uncertainty as a familiar figure in black and yellow entered. "Iron Fist…"

In the tightly regulated world of Japanese heroics, Danny Rand was an enigmatic anomaly. Word about him was slowly spreading through the police force and beyond. Having been there for the interaction between Iron Fist, All Might, and Ironman at the Hosu docks, Tsukauchi had heard Tony Stark's assertions that his fellow apparent Avenger had been given clearance. Tsukauchi's own private review had corroborated that, and even All Might had given Rand his endorsement. Still, Tsukauchi couldn't shake his reservations about having an unlicensed vigilante in their midst.

If Iron Fist was put off by Tsukauchi's tone, it didn't show in his face. He strode forward without breaking stride. When both the martial artist's hands suddenly glowed bright with golden fire, his bones visible as black shapes through the translucent flesh, Tsukauchi felt his throat tighten. He never had the chance to see the vigilante's Quirk in action. Whatever it was, it looked unsettling.

"Hold still," Iron Fist told him.

Tsukauchi took the advice; not that he had much choice. He was surprised when the American's glowing hands tore rather easily through the red substance, freeing him in just under ten seconds. Settling himself onto his half-asleep legs with only a little awkwardness, Tsukauchi regarded Iron Fist cautiously. "Why did you help me?"

"Because you asked," Iron Fist replied simply.

Despite himself, Tsukauchi half chuckled, a faint smile brushing his lips at the answer. His gaze hung on Iron Fist for a few more seconds. "What are you doing all the way out here? Most heroes don't usually patrol the outer parts of the city."

"Yeah, I've noticed," Iron Fist replied, a hint of disapproval in his voice. "I figured there are enough of them around the more densely populated areas. It'd be a shame to let others at the outskirts go without protection."

His response caught Tsukauchi off guard. It took a moment for him to find his words. "Thank you. I don't know how or when I would've gotten out of that on my own."

"No problem." Iron Fist turned, throwing an evaluating sweep around the area. "What happened here?"

"There've been two recent deaths that got our attention," Tsukauchi answered. "Both involved the victims being dropped from tall heights. The first was a reporter from Shimin Times." Tsukauchi's eyes fell. "The second was another Musutafu detective, Ryoma Asahi… He was a friend of mine."

A lump seemed to form in Iron Fist's throat. "I'm sorry," was all he could think to say.

The detective smiled wanly. "It's all right." There was a small moment of quiet before Tsukauchi continued. "Our investigation of the second incident turned up a witness who saw someone with what looked like insect legs coming out of their back. I was following up on another tip and found him here, but he had an accomplice with him who trapped me in that red fluid. Before I knew it, they had escaped."

Iron Fist looked back down at the artificial substance. He frowned; it looked vaguely familiar. "Did you get a good look at them? Anyone mention names?"

Tsukauchi shook his head. "No. The younger one with the spider legs I didn't recognize." He paused suddenly, his brow wrinkling further. "But the other one had an accent that wasn't Japanese… American, I think."

Iron Fist's masked eyes narrowed at the detective. "What did his costume look like?"

"It was a dark purple bodysuit with gray armor," said Tsukauchi. "Apart from his weapons, he also had a mask that covered his whole face. It had orange eyepieces and a spider symbol on the forehead."

Danny perked. That sounded more than familiar. "Give me a second." Reaching into his pocket, he took out his phone and clicked a button. "M.I.S.T.?"

"Yes, Mr. Rand," the AI's feminine voice replied. "How may I be of service?"

"Run a search for any known American villains with histories of murder," he instructed. "Full body dark purple outfit, orange eye coverings, spider emblem on the forehead."

"Right away, sir," M.I.S.T. replied.

Tsukauchi watched on, mildly enthralled at the technology the vigilante had at his disposal. Then again, maybe he should have expected as much from an ally of Tony Stark. "You know the person who trapped me?"

"I might," said Iron Fist, "but I wanna be sure."

After about twenty seconds, M.I.S.T. came back with a reply. "Search completed." A small beam of bluish light projected out from the phone's screen, and swirling particles resolved into the figure of a man. Much as Tsukauchi said, he wore a dark purple bodysuit that covered him from head to toe, with gunmetal gray, tactical armor pieces on his chest, arms and legs. Something resembling a high-tech backpack was strapped to his back. The costume included a utility belt, along with other pouches and holsters for storing tools and weapons. On his forehead, above the goggle-eyed orange lenses was the spider insignia. Coalescing next to the full body image of the villain was the face of an African American man with a goatee. "Parameters yield a ninety-two percent match for Eric Needham."

The dragon's face filled with contempt. "Black Spider."

Tsukauchi's teeth pressed together, noting the villain's name and appearance, as well as Iron Fist's considerably soured mood. He wasn't too familiar with American criminals, but it didn't seem like a good sign. "Black Spider?"

"Killer for hire," Danny answered stiffly, all but glaring at the assassin's image. "And apparently, now with some insultingly similar tools to a good friend of mine."

Tsukauchi was struck by the new intensity in the other man's voice. Whoever Iron Fist was talking about, it was clearly someone he had a lot of respect for. The American even seemed to take this assassin adopting that hero's likeness as a personal insult. "Is he dangerous?"

"Nothing I can't handle," the Living Weapon answered confidently, looking back at the detective. "The issue is he's supposed to be a solo act."

Tsukauchi's expression darkened. "Not anymore. His accomplice mentioned their new society was going to be making a lot of money here in Japan."

Danny's fist tightened at his side. "Society" implied multiple members. The last thing anyone needed was a team of assassins led by Black Spider terrorizing the country. They had to be stopped. "Not if I can help it." He turned his eyes around the building interior again, stepping away from Tsukauchi. "Help me look around. Maybe they left something behind."

Tsukauchi nodded firmly and the two started to search. His concern about the American's vigilante status still lingered, but the idea of a group of spider-themed murderers on the loose pushed that issue to the back of his mind. Right now, they had a job to do. The pair shuffled around the room for any sort of clue the villains might have left, anything to help them pick up the trail.

Abruptly, Tsukauchi remembered something. "Oh, wait!" He stepped over to a dilapidated couch towards one of the walls. Pushing it aside, he scanned the ground carefully, and found what he was looking for.

Iron Fist turned in Tsukauchi's direction, coming towards him. He saw the detective pick up a rounded metal device of some sort. "What have you got there?"

Tsukauchi held out the damaged contraption. "I managed to shoot one of these off Black Spider's wrist before he subdued me. It's what he used to fire that fluid of his."

Danny smiled. That was an invaluable piece of evidence. "Nice shot."

Tsukauchi chuckled, allowing a moment of self-satisfaction before focusing back on the device. "It's some pretty sophisticated tech. I can take it back to the station for analysis, but it'll take time for us to get any results."

"Fortunately, I've got a quicker solution." Iron Fist took the web shooter. With a thought, the martial arts hero's hand began to glow with the gold flame of Shou Lao's gift.

Tsukauchi drew back slightly at the display of Iron Fist's power. He wasn't sure what the foreigner was up to, but didn't interfere. It sounded like he had a plan.

Danny took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing his chi on the damaged wrist device and opening himself to it. A moment later, a torrent of memories surged into his mind, his recently developed power of psychometry unlocking the object's past. In his mind's eye, he saw a orange-haired man in his early twenties standing in the same place he currently was. The Japanese man had orange and black spider-like appendages growing out of his back. It must have been the nature of his Quirk. The younger man turned, and Danny saw Black Spider approach.

"You're late," the spider-legged man muttered to Black Spider.

"On the contrary, Redknee, I'm precisely on time," the other countered. Danny could feel the irritation, the grim determination of the experienced assassin. "And that's what it takes to do this kind of work—precision."

Danny heard Redknee's scoff. "Yeah, yeah. Where's Lox?"

"Waiting for us," Black Spider replied coolly. "Now, let's go."

Redknee suddenly flinched towards the door. "Wait. Someone's here!"

A sudden voice called out in Danny's mind; Tsukauchi's voice. "Musutafu Police! Show me your hands!"

Amid the echo of gunshots and flashing images of the ensuing struggle, Danny realized this was recent; not enough. He sharpened his focus, going deeper.

Another vision appeared. The American assassin stood atop a roof edge somewhere, a Japanese girl with long hair in double buns bouncing giddily beside him. "Come on, boss! When's the next one?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Lox" Black Spider said warningly. "There's no worse killer than overconfidence."

"Aw, don't worry about me, boss." The girl smiled, a sharp grin full of malicious glee. "I'll prove I've got the stuff for it!"

Black Spider snorted faintly, his annoyance flowing through Danny as if the assassin and he were one and the same. "We'll see. The next hit's at four o'clock sharp. The Oak Hotel. I'll make contact with Redknee on the south side and meet you at the rendezvous point. Mr. Hiroshi Echizen is gonna learn what happens when you follow journalistic instinct too far down the wrong rabbit hole."

Lox's giggle reverberated in Danny's mind. "All right, let's get 'im!"

The vision faded, and Iron Fist came back to the world. His expression was grave. "Do you know where the Oak Hotel is?" he asked, turning to Tsukauchi.

Caught off guard by the sudden question, the detective took a few seconds to answer. "Yeah, it's a few miles from here, by Rengeji-ike Park. Why?"

"That's where Black Spider and his two accomplices are going next. There's an investigative journalist staying there by the name of Hiroshi Echizen. He's their next target."

Tsukauchi's felt his chest tighten. "How do you know this?" he asked. While he doubted Iron Fist was telling a falsehood, he wanted to confirm.

"One of my newer techniques," the Living Weapon said curtly, extinguishing his burning hand. "But there's no time to get into it now. They're working on a schedule." He checked the time—3:27 P.M. "They're set for four o'clock. We've got just over half an hour before they make their move."

An icy feeling ran down Tsukauchi's spine, further questions about Iron Fist's startling power swept from his mind. The investigation had suddenly become a grim race against the clock. "You're right, we need to get going," he said as they both broke for the exit. "I'll call the station for backup. Do you need a ride?"

"I've got my own," the Living Weapon said, rushing through the door to where his motorcycle waited. "And just maybe I can get some extra backup too."

Tsukauchi nodded, his radio already in hand. "Then let's do this. Don't wait for me."

Danny didn't hesitate, already on his bike and taking off with a rev of the engine. All the information he and Tsukauchi had learned raced through his mind almost as quickly as his motorcycle did across the Musutafu streets. He clenched his teeth. Black Spider had cajoled two young Japanese residents into joining his deadly line of work, and now they were picking off innocent citizens. Eric Needham himself, Danny was sure he could take, but these two Quirk users were unknown factors. The prospect of going in blind against all three of them didn't sit well.

With that in mind, he hooked his phone into its holster compartment near the speedometer and ordered M.I.S.T. to send out a video call to a certain individual's number. With any luck, she'd be close enough to help.

Gathering gray clouds rolled overhead above Rengejiike Park. To the passersby, the air was tense and heavy, as if the universe itself knew something sinister was about to unfold. On a rooftop southwest of the park, Black Spider peered through his binoculars, overlooking the Oak Hotel. This wasn't Eric Needham's first mission, nor would it be his last, but it was one of the more significant ones. Hiroshi Echizen had dug too deep into matters that powerful figures wanted to remain buried. He'd become a problem for the wrong sort of people. Fortunately, there wasn't a problem in the world that couldn't be solved with enough money.

That's where Black Spider and his new associates came in. Redknee paced around on his four spidery limbs behind the older assassin, while Lox sat cross-legged on the ground beside him. Their fledgling Spider Society had only a few hits under their collective name so far, but in time and with more added members here and there, they would become the world's premier freelance assassins. Black Spider would see to that.

"Is it time yet?" Redknee asked, his four black-and-orange-striped spider legs twitching impatiently.

"Not yet," Black Spider replied, barely moving. Redknee's Quirk may have been a useful tool in battle and could help him scale buildings with ease, but his personality could use some grinding out. The young punk was too bloodthirsty. "He's due back at four on the dot. Don't be impulsive."

"Listen to the boss, stripey," the twenty-year-old Lox scolded Redknee. She aimed a grin full of admiration at their leader. "He always knows the best."

Black Spider ignored Lox's look, his cold expression hidden by his mask. Her Spider Silk Quirk let her shoot powerful web fluid from her mouth, allowing her to naturally produce what the older assassin needed technology to replicate. It made her a begrudgingly valuable asset. As for her immediately noticeable infatuation with him, the assassin hardly cared. He had neither the time nor patience for drama. Still, it made her easy to manipulate, and she was an even better shot than Redknee. She might even have some potential with enough time and training.

"You know the routine," Black Spider said. "Take out the cameras and let gravity do the job for you. These all need to look like unfortunate accidents."

"You got it, boss," Lox chirped, hopping up onto her feet.

Black Spider holstered his binoculars, checking the time: 3:50 P.M. The target would be on his way soon enough. It was time to move. "You better not mess this up," Black Spider told Redknee, giving his accomplice a narrow look.

"I've got it," Redknee muttered indignantly.

A sharp rap against the rooftop suddenly drew the three villains' attention. Several yards away, at the midpoint of the rooftop, a rock rolled to a stop on the hard floor. Black Spider's gaze sharpened behind his mask. He held his position, his hand touching the butt of his pistol as he threw a glance around the flat roof. It looked ordinary enough, but rocks didn't just magically fall out of the sky like that.

Less cautious than her leader, Lox walked over to the rock and picked it up. She turned it over in her hand, frowning. "What's this?"

"A distraction." The new voice was preceded by a hard left punch that cracked Redknee across the jaw, sending the spider-legged villain skidding across the roof.

With instinct born of years of training and experience, Black Spider twisted and lashed out with a kick at the figure that had suddenly appeared in their midst. A taped forearm blocked it, and orange lenses met the irisless whites of a yellow half-mask. Eric Needham recognized his opponent instantly, his mind going from surprised to deadly serious in the space between heartbeats. He knew better than to underestimate this one.

Knocking Iron Fist's counterpunch aside with an elbow, Black Spider followed with a rapid flurry of hooks and crosses. The Living Weapon parried the strikes with fluid ease. He ducked a roundhouse kick from his opponent, then sidestepped Black Spider's next punch, snaring his opponent's arm. A seoi nage took Eric Needham off his feet, slamming his back to the hard concrete. The assassin countered with a leg sweep that Iron Fist leaped over, landing behind him. A knife filled Black Spider's hand and would have opened the back of Iron Fist's neck if he hadn't ducked. A stab for the back was narrowly dodged; the dragon caught the spider's hand in a grip as iron as his namesake. The elbow that cracked into Eric Needham's chin almost made him forget where he was. Twisting the assassin's hand, Iron Fist loosed his older opponent's grip on the knife. One more hard kick to the midsection and he joined his new disciple on the floor.

An odd sound from his right made Danny instinctively leap backwards, away from the white spray of webbing spewed by Lox. A backwards somersault through the air carried him away from the second red blast of sticky fluid fired from a wrist-mounted shooter.

Black Spider regained his footing, staring down the K'un Lun champion coldly. "You're a long way from home, Iron Fist."

"I'm getting that a lot lately." The hero left the ground again, jumping over the next set of web blasts with a practiced grace.

Black Spider kept up the pressure, a calculating glare hidden behind his mask, his eyes never leaving Iron Fist. He drew his silenced pistol, shooting bullets and web blasts in equal measure. Lox continued the joint attack too, launching her own spider silk in tandem with her boss to try and pin their foe down.

Danny had to break out his namesake, chopping away, gliding around, and flipping over the projectiles. Redknee, finally recovered and quite incensed, leaped in to attack the hero up close. Danny resisted the urge to smirk. Dodging and deflecting the strikes of the spider legs, he slipped under Redknee and kicked out one of the insectoid limbs, bringing the spidery young man down to the floor. Another twisting kick struck the back of Redknee's head, and the Mutant went sprawling again.

"Keep your distance, idiot!" Black Spider shouted, continuing to shoot when the way was clear. The story of Danny Rand's recent and infamous duel that had reached all corners of the underground fighting world flooded fresh into his consciousness. Especially for a neophyte like Redknee, going hand-to-hand against the Iron Fist was a fool's errand.

Continuing to duck, weave and chop through another set of web blasts, Danny almost closed the distance between himself and Lox, but had to veer off at the last second, cartwheeling around another set of gunshots from Black Spider. Sliding back and coming to a rest, the dragon fixed the assassin with a scornful glare. "You give spiders a bad name."

Eric Needham's eyes narrowed behind his goggles. "Spare me your sanctimony." Without taking his eyes off his enemy, he spoke up to Redknee. "The job's our priority. Lox and I will hold him off. Get up and earn your keep."

"Right…" Shaking his head, Redknee started to rise. That much, he could do.

Iron Fist tried to blitz forward to stop him, but combined fired projectiles from Lox and Black Spider broke off his attempt, keeping him at a distance.

"Aim for the legs," Black Spider ordered Lox. She obeyed and the two shifted, firing their web blasts at Iron Fist's legs at different angles. A few of the blasts missed by the thinnest of margins. The older assassin smirked. They couldn't take the Living Weapon lightly, but their numbers and ranged weapons gave them an edge. All they had to do was keep the hero occupied and wear him down.

"You live up to your reputation, Fist," Black Spider said. "I can see how you went toe-to-toe with Shiva. But you're outnumbered. You won't stop us."

Iron Fist made eye contact with the assassin, a smirk of his own forming. "Oh, I'm not trying to stop you. I'm just distraction number two."

As alarm filled Black Spider's, the unspoken question was answered by a flash of steel across his back. The container for his web fluid was sliced open, the cement-like substance spilling out and quickly spreading over him. The assassin jerked in shock, struggling amid instinctive shouts of protest, but the words were wasted as the binding agent solidified into a red cocoon around every part of him but his head, trapping the assassin.

Lox whirled towards her leader. "Boss!" The word had barely left her lips when a kick to the jaw sent her sliding backward.

Iron Fist flicked his gaze to the new figure that appeared swiftly to his side. "Nice one, Katana."

Unsurprisingly, the stolid samurai heroine didn't' reply. She only turned towards the two remaining villains, lifting her sword at a defensive angle.

"You bitch!" Lox reacted on pure emotion, drawing her own handgun and opening fire, but mere bullets were little threat to Katana. Stepping in front of her ally, Soultaker came alive in her hand, the blade singing as she masterfully deflected every shot that came her way.

Trusting Katana to take care of the girl, and subtly borrowing something from her hip, Iron Fist occupied himself with handling the renewed assault from Redknee. "Hey, question for you," he asked the Mutant between his dodging and parrying of the spider legs. "Do those things grow back?"

A growl formed in Redknee's throat as he glared. "Of course they do!"

"Good to know." Vaulting over Redknee to avoid his next sweep, Iron Fist twisted in midair and drew the borrowed wakizashi from its sheath, fluidly cutting off all four of Redknee's spider legs before landing with an easy grace.

Redknee's eyes flew wide, appalled as he dropped to his knees, staring at the severed stumps. "You bastard!" he snarled out, looking up at Iron Fist. "You took off my legs!"

Iron Fist mildly shrugged. "You said they grow back."

There was a hard thud as the butt of Katana's sword smacked into Lox's temple, the samurai having closed the distance and scored a final decisive hit needed to render the heroes' final enemy unconscious.

Black Spider just groaned in anger and resignation. So much for the Spider Society…

By the time Tsukauchi exited his vehicle, the sirens of four squad cars worth of reinforcements from the Musutafu PD arriving with him, the situation had been tidied up well. He was pleasantly surprised to see Iron Fist waiting for him on the sidewalk. A man he assumed was Black Spider, was almost totally encased in a hardened shell of the same red fluid Tsukauchi himself had been trapped in. The two Japanese villains were on the ground. They were conscious, eyes and heads swiveling around, but it was like they'd lost all major motor functions.

"Iron Fist," Tsukauchi greeted crisply as he approached.

"Tsukauchi," the Living Weapon said in kind. "We're pretty much wrapped up here."

The detective uttered a soft thanks under his breath. He took a moment to look between the two Japanese youngsters, ignoring their glares and muttered curses. "What did you do to them?" he asked Iron Fist.

"Pressure points," the other told him. "They won't be moving anything below the neck for a few hours. That should be plenty of time for you to get them hauled away."

Tsukauchi's brows lifted. He looked between the young criminals and Iron Fist again. He'd paralyzed them? Was that a feature of his unusual Quirk? "And you're sure it isn't permanent?"

"Quite," Iron Fist said, his voice lowering in pitch.

Tsukauchi shifted slightly, not missing the mildly offended tone. Ultimately, he decided to accept that things were under control. "Good. It'll make our job easier. One of the squads has already gone to secure Mr. Echizen. With these criminals off the streets, that'll hopefully put an end to things."

"Hopefully."

Tsukauchi's brow twitched. Something about the way Iron Fist said that made him hesitate. The American looked like he was thinking about something. "You took care of them without issue?" he asked instead.

"With a little help." The dragon gestured to the sword-wielding woman at his right. "You might know Katana. She's an acquaintance of mine."

Tsukauchi started slightly. He almost hadn't noticed the other hero, even as she was standing right there. But he recognized Tatsu Yamashiro instantly, a professional smile replacing his look of surprise. "I know the name. It's nice to officially meet you, Katana."

With her usual stoicism, Katana simply gave a respectful bob of her head.

Returning his attention to the situation at hand, Tsukauchi made a simple gesture as another pair of officers approached. Each of them gave the American varying looks. As the villains were taken into custody, Tsukauchi asked Iron Fist another question. "Did they confess who hired them?"

"Black Spider's the only one who knew." The dragon shook his head. "He wouldn't talk. Hopefully you guys will have better luck. If you do, could you let me know? Black Spider's a pro. Someone going so far as to hire him to knock off prying eyes and ears is sure to have something worth hiding, and might be determined enough to try again."

Tsukauchi felt that tight feeling in his chest returning at the possibility, but still nodded. Iron Fist didn't seem like the type to let things go when it came to evil people. Tsukauchi could appreciate that. "I will. Thank you for what you've done. You've probably saved a lot more than one life today."

"All in a day's work," said Iron Fist. "Just trying to do the right thing."

Tsukauchi gazed at him, regarding his American ally with new eyes. He'd been wary of the unlicensed foreigner before, but this whole situation had given him a new perspective. The Iron Fist was skilled, honorable and devoted. He had the trust of capable heroes like Katana and All Might. More personally, he'd helped Tsukauchi in his time of need without hesitation. Maybe he'd been too quick to judge Danny Rand…

"Hey, Tsukauchi!" The call of a female from behind drew the detective's attention. Two pro heroes, presumably responding to Tsukauchi's earlier request for backup, approached the scene.

The first was Hana Yatsudoki. Hero name: Toy-Toy. She was a young woman in her early twenties with a tubular build, and long, light brown hair. Her costume consisted of a fluffy, pink vest, gloves, and boots combination, with a similarly designed hat in the shape of a bug-eyed, dog-shaped doll to complete the look. Tsukauchi knew her name, but not much of her personality.

The second, he knew quite well. Issho Abare. The Repulse Hero: Sekiryoku. Standing six-foot-one, his hair was a dark shade of green. He wore camo print pants with military-esque boots, with a tight, long-sleeved black shirt that did nothing to hide the thick muscles beneath. His sharp face was sharp and angular, and he carried a sense of severity with every step. Even Tsukauchi couldn't help but stand straighter as he drew near.

"We missed things?" Toy-Toy asked.

"You missed a lot," Tsukauchi said, turning to her. "But it's okay, the three assassins are all in custody. Katana and Iron Fist had things well in hand."

The two pros turned their attention to the mentioned pair. Toy-Toy tilted her head, looking curious. Sekiryoku, by contrast, grew even sterner. "Iron Fist, eh?" He fixed his eyes on the American, striding forward.

Danny felt his muscles tighten. He knew that look, that tone. He'd been getting them ever since he got to Japan…

Katana also caught it. Falling in at Iron Fist's side, she narrowed her eyes at the approaching Sekiryoku, laying her hand on the hilt of her sword.

The older pro paused mid-stride, surprise showing in his features. The warning in Katana's stance was clear: tread lightly. But even with that quiet warning, he turned another hard look on Iron Fist. The Repulse Hero would have been happy to take the man in personal, but he'd learned of the foreigner's apparent arrangement with the Public Safety Commission through the Hero Network. Still, that wouldn't stop him from taking the foreigner's measure. "What's a foreign vigilante like you doing passing yourself off as a proper hero?" he questioned Iron Fist roughly.

Toy-Toy hung back, staying out of it, but her neutral air vanished once the word "vigilante" left the Repulse Hero's mouth, replaced by a hostile edge.

Ever grateful to once again have Katana at his side, Danny paused briefly before answering. "Following up on a potential issue. Criminals from my country made contact with some from yours. Those new guys calling themselves the League of Villains?"

Sekiryoku's expression wavered at the information. The name gave him pause. "League of Villains…" he repeated, half to himself. Then his gaze solidified once more, his tone again going flat. "And what business are they to an outsider like you?"

It was, admittedly, a valid question. But Danny had to expend some effort to keep his own tone even. "If I'm right, they might be all of our business soon."

Sekiryoku blinked once, but his face and stance didn't soften. The veteran pro's sharp eyes continued to scrutinize the martial artist. Danny's steady outside appearance belied his growing stiffness. The tension in the air continued to build…

"Sekiryoku." The call snapped Sekiryoku out of the staredown. His attention shifted over to the source: Tsukauchi. "You don't need to be interrogating Iron Fist like this," the detective said, his voice respectful, but with surprising firmness. "He hasn't done anything wrong, and he's proven himself a capable hero with his actions today."

Something unclenched from inside Danny. He felt almost as surprised by the intervention as his Japanese counterpart looked.

Sekiryoku's lip compressed, turning from Tsukauchi back to Iron Fist, a low hum in his throat. After a long moment, he gave a fractional nod. "Very well." He studied the vigilante for three heartbeats longer, then spoke again. "I don't know what other intentions you have in our country, but know this: we'll be watching you."

The fingers of Danny's right hand curled and uncurled. "My intention is to do a hero's job, nothing more."

For another even longer moment, Sekiryoku's gaze stayed fixed on the martial artist. The reassurance did little to allay his suspicions, but making his point to the American seemed enough for now. "We'll see." With that final utterance, he turned and walked away with Toy-Toy following along.

Tsukauchi sighed as the two pros left. He didn't necessarily blame Sekiryoku for being skeptical, but the Repulse Hero could have shown their visitor a little more tact. He turned to Iron Fist, an apologetic look in his eye. "Sorry about that."

"It's fine," Danny told him, inclining his head. "Thank you."

Tsukauchi smiled and returned the gesture. "No problem. You proved yourself today. You don't deserve to get jumped on like that." He paused briefly, considering the hero. "Sekiryoku's a strong pro, but he's a little… intense at times. You handled that well."

"I don't think I can afford not in an environment like this," Iron Fist replied dryly. "Getting into fights with locals isn't gonna do me any favors."

The detective chuckled, a little ruefully. "I suppose not… Sorry if I gave you a bit of the cold shoulder myself, by the way."

The sentiment made Danny feel just a little bit lighter. "It's all right. I was happy to help."

"It's appreciated," Tsukauchi said earnestly. "I'll do what I can to make sure the others don't give you a hard time going forward. Thanks again for all your help, Mr. Rand." With that last exchange, the detective left to join the rest of the Musutafu police in the wrap-up.

As Danny watched him go, he caught the green and pink dots out of the corner of his eye. He turned and noticed Toy-Toy and Sekiryoku still hovering around the periphery, talking to other police officers. His lip twisted, a hint of bitterness rising in his chest. There was an adage he remembered reading from a book some time ago: the good doesn't wash out the bad. All Might may have been in his corner, and Tsukauchi had started to accept him, but it felt like the number of hostile pros he kept encountering far outstripped the friendly faces.

Danny's shoulders lowered slightly, his eyes flicking to the floor. Was this all he had to look forward to? Was this what he was consigned to be? The black sheep of Japan? Simply for being what he was?

A touch on his shoulder brought him out of his sinking thoughts. He turned to see the masked face of his ally.

Katana's usually impassive face held a soft hint of compassion. Even as quiet as she was, the disappointment and resignation in her comrade's body language spurred her to act. The samurai wasn't the type of person to voice every thought she had, but seeing her ally so downtrodden, this time, she did. "You're not alone."

A comfortable warmth spread through Danny, his body stance relaxing as he smiled slightly. This was the second time in a few days Katana had been there when he'd needed a helping hand. His gratitude was palpable. "Thank you, Yamashiro-san."

Katana withdrew her hand, but returned the small smile. "Call me Tatsu."

Their eyes hung on each other, the two warriors sharing a silent moment of camaraderie. Danny then turned his gaze to the horizon. The good didn't wash out the bad, but nor did the bad the good. Life wasn't a simple tale of black and white. Some wouldn't appreciate or accept it, but he had done good work today. He couldn't let the complexities of this cultural clash or personal gripes stop him from fighting to save lives. Especially not with the League of Villains waiting in the background. Gathering himself, he exchanged another farewell with Katana and strode off.

The never-ending battle would continue.

And that right there is where we'll call it. Taking the good with the bad sure defines Danny boy's Japan excursion as of right now, slowly making some positive headway while still dealing with a lot of opposition. Progress? And we also have our first check in with the U.A. kids. Stay tuned in, there's more to come. The next chapter will be an especially exciting one… Maybe when that particular juncture is out of the way, I'll have enough inspiration to touch the other Iron Fist Chronicles stuff lol. MHA being at its tail end is probably what has me focusing here, but I'll get to it.

And for certain new watchers, please don't fill up my review sections with essays of your own personal teams and and fic ideas. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but that's not quite the feedback I'm looking for. Whatever helps me make the stories better.

-SSD