Once they were well away from Toshinori's office, Shoko turned to Izuku.

"Well?" she asked. "Shall we have that conversation, then?"

Izuku nodded. "Seems like a good idea," he agreed. "And like I said—I know a place."

When he didn't speak further, Shoko raised an eyebrow. "Do I get to know where this place is?" she asked mildly.

In response, Izuku grinned, slow and easy; the grin of a man with ideas.

"It's not in the manor," he explained. "It's not too far—in Musutafu. A nice quiet spot I know."

Shoko nodded slowly. "Very well," she said; they were in the manor's lobby now, amidst arched ceilings and ornate chandeliers and all the symbols of wealth Izuku had never known. "I'll call the car—"

Izuku chuckled. His voice rumbled in the space as he tilted his head. Without warning, lightning leaked from the corners of his eyes.

He raised a hand, palm up, offering it to Shoko in the lobby of the manor. The very air crackled with power, making her eyes glow in the dark. It was a reminder of the kind of man Izuku Midoriya really was, when he decided to own up to it. The kind of man who could shatter armies with a flick of his fingers.

"Now why would we take a car?" he asked, light dancing on his face. "I can move a lot faster."

Shoko regarded his outstretched hand as another person might regard a venomous snake.

"And how, pray tell, will I go with you?" she asked acerbically.

Izuku's grin only widened. "Well, I was thinking that you could hold on very, very tight," he said.

Shoko's eyes narrowed. "What, exactly, would I be holding onto?" she demanded.

Izuku shrugged. "Up to you," he replied. "I'd suggest a princess carry, but I know that might be a little…"

Before he could even finish the sentence, Shoko was right up against him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as, without warning, she quite happily hopped into his arms.

Izuku's cocky, man-made-of-thunder grin briefly slipped, and he stared at Shoko in confusion. For her part, she gave him a sweet grin with more menace in it than an unsheathed knife.

"Do you know one of the lovely things about having a reputation?" she asked him as his hands supported her with ease, the rough skin of his burned hand on the back of her thighs.

Izuku met her gaze. "I don't believe I do," he replied.

Her lips got closer to his ear. "Every now and then," she said, "I can do things like this, secure in the knowledge that if you ever tried to brag that you carried Shoko Todoroki around like a princess, nobody would ever believe you."

Izuku, as always, just chuckled. "It seems you've gotten me wrong yet again, my lady," he said. "I don't brag. I just tell the truth."

Shoko laughed. "Do you now?" she asked. "Well, get me to this special place of yours, and perhaps later you might have a little more truth to tell."

She could have meant anything by that, Izuku knew. He suspected she was just having fun messing with him.

But that didn't stop him from bending his knees and shooting out of the front doors of the Yagi manor at an appreciable fraction of the speed of sound.

Just as Izuku had promised, they arrived at their destination in a fraction of the time it would have taken had they used a car.

Of course, that didn't help Shoko understand why their destination was a random stretch of beach on the edge of Musutafu. It was a pretty enough place, she supposed, particularly as they had arrived just as the sunset reached its peak, oranges and yellows and pinks sprawling outwards across the sky as golden light covered everything in sight.

Shoko followed Izuku out onto the sand, her eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"So, this is the place you wished to show me?" she asked.

Izuku nodded. Already, Shoko could see that there was something… different about him, in this place. He moved a little more freely, let his shoulders relax a little bit further. He still moved like a predator—with all the grace and menace of a prowling jaguar—but his bulk and his power had a little more room to flex here without overwhelming the space, and it made him feel a little less…well, titanic.

"Yeah," Izuku said. "This…this is Dagobah Beach."

Shoko frowned. He'd said that name as if it should have meant something to her. Clearly, it meant something to him. She tilted her head, gesturing for him to go on.

Izuku sighed. He tilted his head up, letting the breeze off the ocean catch his hair. For a moment, he looked…younger. Less intimidating. Still strong, still capable…but not Titan.

"I grew up…ten minutes or so from here," he said softly. "In a little one-room apartment, in a building so old it was built before quirks existed. It was all my mother could afford after my father died in a factory accident."

Shoko said nothing. She'd known the broad strokes of Izuku's life already, of course…but there was a difference between knowing something in the abstract and hearing it. So she let Izuku speak.

"That little apartment was pretty much my world," Izuku continued, eyes distant as they reflected the setting sun. "A world defined by the House of Yagi. I went to a Yagi school, worked odd jobs in Yagi factories on the weekends…never dreamed about anything more than becoming one of the Yagi soldiers who flirted with my mother at the second job she worked at the bar near their barracks. And whenever I had a few hours free, Bakugo and I came here. This place was a dump, back then. Trash everywhere. One day we got the bright idea to train for the House Guard physical by cleaning it up. So…we did."

Shoko cast an eye over the clean, flawless beach. "You did quite a good job," she said, mildly impressed.

Izuku cracked a grin. "Thanks," he said warmly. "Took us years. From the time we were about ten, we were here more or less every weekend. I was always the one doing most of the work. Bakugo's a good man, but he's always been more interested in making messes than cleaning them up."

Shoko raised an eyebrow. "Is this the same Bakugo who I met earlier?" she asked.

Izuku's grin grew sheepish. "Yep," he replied.

Shoko hummed. "Was he any less of an asshole back then?"

Izuku's expression sharpened, wry and amused. "He was probably worse," he admitted. "I beat some of it out of him over the years. Couldn't get the rest of it though. There's only so much you can do."

Shoko snorted. The way Izuku had said it was deeply affectionate; clearly, he and Katsuki Bakugo had the kind of bond that had been forged in blood. Almost certainly literally, in their case.

With some effort, she refocused her thoughts. "Why have you brought me here?" she asked.

Izuku's eyes grew distant again. "I was thinking about what we discussed at dinner last night," he said quietly. "About the different men I've been in my life. The different lives I've lived."

He spread his arms out, as if to encompass this golden beach at the edge of the world. "I am Heir to the House of Yagi," he said, managing to make the words boastful and humble all at once. "And I am Titan, too. I'm not ashamed of those parts of me. I own them. But before I was either…I was the boy who cleaned this beach as I chased a dream. I think part of me will always be that boy. Part of me will always live in that little apartment. Not a manor."

Shoko's face still gave nothing away. Though she didn't say a word, her thoughts were plain on her face: "And this concerns me how?"

Izuku turned to her. "I want you to know that, Lady Shoko," he said, in a voice that flowed like a river—deep and strong beneath a placid veneer. "I am not going to pretend to be something I'm not. I want you to know who I am, before you decide. I am not the kind of man who thinks of life as balls and parties. I don't play games with people's reputations or manipulate their relationships. I'll never be that man. I have fought, and killed. I am not cuddly."

Shoko chuckled. "Tell me something I don't know, Lord Izuku," she murmured. "I saw what you did to Neito Monoma. That was the work of a killer, to be sure. I suppose we're all lucky you know how to keep that man on a leash."

Izuku smiled lazily. The kind of smile a shark would wear when it was sated—for the moment. He did not deny it. After all, Titan was as much a part of him as the boy from Musutafu. He'd learned to accept that years ago—to compartmentalize the part of him that enjoyed cleaning beaches and thinking of home away from the man who could kill hundreds on the battlefield without flinching. It was a strange bit of psychology that was, alas, as natural to the human condition as breathing.

Then, he spoke again. "I suppose we should talk, like my father suggested," he sighed. "So…are you sure about this, Shoko? Are you sure you want to marry me?"

Shoko turned to fix him with her twin-eyed glare. As always, it was withering in a way that would have sent a lesser man crumpling to his knees.

"Do you really believe you would have survived carrying me here in the way you did otherwise?" she asked dryly.

Izuku frowned. "I'm serious, Shoko," he said.

Shoko's eyebrow arched. "So am I."

For a moment, Izuku had no idea how to respond. The silence stretched between them, not natural, but not unnatural, either.

"I never expected to love the man I married," Shoko finally said, turning to stare out into the sunset, wind whipping at her hair. "Most noblewomen don't. Some of us foolishly dream of fairytale romances, dashing men sweeping us off our feet. I didn't. All I ever wanted in a husband was for him to not be a drunk, not be too old or ugly, and for him to never do to me what my father did to my mother. Yes, I had other criteria, other desires, other things I wanted…but if I had no other options, if I had to choose, that was all I truly wanted."

Izuku said nothing. Now, his silence was the warm, steady kind, the kind borne of supreme self-confidence rather than a lack of anything to say.

Shoko found herself appreciating it. "Really," she continued, "I don't know if I've ever really loved anybody. I hate my father, even as I respect him. I haven't seen my mother in years—she was sent to an asylum for what she did to me. I don't know what happened to her after. I don't think I want to know. My siblings are strangers to me—the ones who aren't dead."

Izuku still said nothing. He seemed to be waiting.

Shoko turned back to him. Her eyes bored into his very soul, one blue, one gray. Searching for weakness. Picking him apart. Searing his flesh.

"I do not love you, Izuku Midoriya," she told him, her lip curled and her eyes like steel. "I am not a fool who hurls herself headlong into unfamiliar territory. I like you. I am intrigued by you. You have gotten closer to me, seen through more of my mask, than any other person in the world. And still, I don't love you. But I might come to. All that I am, all the power at my fingertips, the armies that follow my orders…and you have gotten beneath my armor. You cracked my mask. You got your hooks into me, the one thing I have fought my entire life to avoid. And that, Izuku…that might be proof that you really are the most dangerous man in the world. It's why I'm going to marry you. Because you aren't that boy on the beach. Not anymore. Now…now you are my equal. The only man I've ever met who deserves that title."

Izuku didn't seem to wilt at Shoko's admission, or puff up at her praise. Instead, he simply folded his arms behind his back. "You didn't answer the question," he noted.

Shoko snorted. "That's because it was a stupid question," she replied. "Like I said, if I didn't intend on marrying you, you would be dead for the things you've done to me. The secrets you've pulled from my heart."

Izuku just chuckled. Even after so many years and so many brushes with death, the tone of Shoko's words made the hair on the back of his neck rise, just a little. That, and the fact that he couldn't tell if she was joking.

Yet again, though, Shoko seemed unwilling to end the conversation. She tossed her head, brushing aside windblown hair as she and Izuku stared out at the sunset.

"There is something else we need to discuss," she said darkly. "Lord Izuku. Why are you willing to go to war?"

Izuku blinked at the change of subject. "Excuse me?" he asked.

Shoko's eyes blazed. "You heard the question," she said sharply. "What about this world—the Japan you left behind so long ago—do you actually want to protect? The arrogant aristocrats who get fat off their control of other people's labor? The foppish, weak, sheltered fools in their lavish homes built on the backs of people who are slowly forgetting what it was like to be free?"

Izuku's eyes darkened. In the grit of his jaw, Shoko saw she was on the money—beneath it all, he detested the nobility, as only a man who had grown up outside their soft, cushioned existence could.

"I've seen how you look at men like Neito Monoma," she pressed. "I find it hard to believe that you truly want to preserve the structure that protects him."

Izuku snorted. "Tell me how you really feel," he muttered.

Shoko crossed her arms. "I just did," she replied bluntly. "I have, for once, been honest with you. I know what the nobility is. I've always known."

Izuku turned to her then, a hint of surprise on his face, perhaps at hearing the Ice Queen of Japan, the supreme example of a noblewoman sealed away from the rest of the world in her own glamorous bubble, speaking like this.

Shoko still kept her arms crossed. "Japan is a lot more like America than you think," she said. "We didn't escape the curse of Quirked warlords carving up the nation into fiefdoms. We just gave them fancy titles. That's what the nobility are. We're glorified tyrants, the same as China or Russia or even America has. Petty gangsters who rule our little pocket kingdoms through fear and blood. The only difference is that we have better PR. And we're more delusional."

Izuku raised an eyebrow. "The tank divisions and air forces help too," he pointed out.

Shoko snorted. "I suppose," she conceded. "But if you want a lecture on post-quirk geopolitics, we can do that on our wedding night—it sounds like excellent foreplay. For now…I've been honest with you, as I said. Now it's your turn to be honest with me."

Izuku's eyes darkened again. "What makes you think I'm hiding my thoughts from you?"

"Please," Shoko scoffed, head tilting and mismatched eyes honed to a razor's edge. "You're a man. I know you have a hundred opinions. Normally I wouldn't mind you keeping them to yourself. But the thing is, I care about what you think, believe it or not. You're quite possibly the most dangerous man alive. If anyone has the right to speak up, it's you."

Izuku hummed to himself. It was a low, deep sound in the back of his throat, a rumble that made Shoko wonder what it would feel like to have her teeth against his throat. "Maybe there's a reason I don't," he said darkly. "Maybe the measure of a man isn't in how loud he can shout."

Shoko raised an eyebrow. "Maybe," she agreed. "Or maybe you're still letting that timid commoner boy rule you."

"And?" Izuku asked.

Shoko took a step forwards, laying her palm against Izuku's chest. "It's like you said yourself," she murmured, heat lancing through both of them at the slightest touch. "You're not just that boy. You are Heir to the House of Yagi. You are Titan. And whatever comes next, you are going to war. I am going to war. The only question is…what are you fighting for?"

Izuku looked her in the eye. "To protect my family," he answered.

Shoko smiled, and there was a danger to it that Izuku recognized well. "A lovely, straightforward answer," she said sweetly. "And tell me, when you have slaughtered your way through a dozen noble houses, when you stand atop the burning husk of Japan with all your enemies dead at your feet, when there is no longer any man or woman that could defy you and hope to live…will you speak of "family" when they place the crown on your head?"

At the word "crown," Izuku went stiff. Stretching upwards, Shoko pressed her lips to the corner of his jaw.

"What will you do with supreme power?" she whispered. "We're in this together now. Whatever happens to us, whatever we become—on the other side of this war, we will either be dead, or the two most powerful people in Japan. There is no longer any in-between."

Izuku's jaw set. "I don't want supreme power," he muttered. "Sounds like more trouble than it's worth."

Shoko just chuckled. "I'm afraid you can't run from it any longer, love," she whispered to him. "War has come-and not a minor House War, a skirmish for turf or prestige. All the Great Houses intend to destroy any who might pose a threat to them-and everyone is a potential threat, in this world. This war will be existential-and with it the old ways are gone forever. When the dust settles, someone will rule Japan, and everyone else will be dead. If it's us standing at the end...a whole nation will look to us to lead. You have to start thinking about these questions-the questions of a ruler. Will you change things? How? Do you rule for the people, or for yourself? You're in the Great Game now, Izuku. Politics is no longer something you can avoid. It's the only way you'll ever win. You and I won't be able to sit quietly on the sidelines anymore."

At last, Shoko pulled back from her fiancé, her fingers seeming to leave trails of fire wherever they touched. She half-turned as if to leave, making sure Izuku's eyes followed her.

"Our voices will shape this country," she said, staring not out into the infinite expanse of the empty sea, but at the city at its edge—the expanse of concrete and steel, the human world with its tens of millions of twinkling souls, all teetering precariously above the abyss. She turned back to Izuku. "It's time you find yours."

Izuku said nothing for a very long time. Then as Shoko made to begin walking away from the beach, he finally spoke.

"What would you do with supreme power, Shoko?" he asked.

She paused mid-step. When she turned to look at him again, a flawless little half-smile was stretched across her face, mysterious and unreadable, giving nothing away.

"An intriguing prospect," she mused. "But you know, with how many secrets you've pulled out of me lately, I think I'll keep that one to myself."

Izuku raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Then, Shoko smirked.

"Of course," she added, "Maybe you'll get to see for yourself someday. Until then…why don't we go tell your father the good news?"

Izuku sighed. "I assume the "good news" is that you've decided to marry me?" he guessed.

Shoko smiled wider. "Actually, I decided to marry you when I watched you turn Neito Monoma into paste," she said sweetly. "Everything since then has just been me making you dance for my amusement."

If Izuku believed that, he did an admirable job of not showing it. Instead, he simply crossed the sand, gathered Shoko into his arms, and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

And if Shoko finally let her guard down and returned the very enjoyable kiss as the sun went down behind her new betrothed's head, well, that was her business, wasn't it?

One Day Later

When the most earth-shattering news of the era arrived, Denki Kaminari was, alas, indisposed.

At least, that was the polite way of putting it. A more accurate way of describing his situation at the moment the butler knocked on the door to his chambers was "pinned to the bed by his half-naked bodyguard."

At the sound of the rapid, aggressive knocking, Kyoka jerked her head up, away from the lips of the man she was supposed to be protecting. Her flushed face darkened into a scowl.

"For fuck's sake," she hissed. "I swear, I'm going to kill that stupid butler—"

Beneath her, Denki sighed regretfully. As much as he did enjoy the sight of Kyoka's bare torso above him, he managed to fight down his desire and instead say, "I'm afraid I can't let you do that, my love. Do you know how hard it is to find good help nowadays?"

Kyoka looked thoroughly unimpressed with his humor, but she—reluctantly—allowed him to rise. For as cool and uninterested as she always acted around him, she got possessive once her blood was up. It was one of the many things he loved about her.

Denki strode over to the mirror to begin straightening his rumpled clothing, just enough to be presentable, while Kyoka scrounged for her own shirt and blazer.

Denki hated having to skulk around like this. He hated having to pretend in public that Kyoka was nothing more than his bodyguard, nothing more than a talented soldier who'd distinguished herself enough to be rewarded with the job of guarding the hapless, foolish heir to House Kaminari. He'd much prefer to be able to have Kyoka on his arm at every ball, to watch arrogant lords and ladies forced to bow and curtsy and call her Lady while they ground their teeth together, for fear of offending him. He'd much prefer to introduce Kyoka to his own mother not as a foolish fling or childish dalliance, but as the future of the house they both shared.

If only Kyoka would let him.

Once he was reasonably sure that they wouldn't cause too much of a scandal, Denki strode over to the door, mentally preparing himself for some lecture or other. For all that he'd done to at least appear to be a serviceable heir to the House, his mother never did quite seem to approve of his quite calculated mediocrity. To her, such acting talents, mental faculties and intelligence-gathering skills as her erstwhile offspring possessed were not things to be wasted. Denki, of course, preferred the term "sparingly used."

Instead of a lecture, though, the butler thrust a monogrammed letter into his hands—a card bearing the sigil of House Yagi. The kind of card a Great House sent to all its peers to announce a major event; a birth, a death…or a marriage.

Denki opened it slowly. His eyes scanned the perfectly stenciled words inside.

To all the Great Houses of Japan,

It is with immense pleasure that I announce the betrothal of my son and heir Izuku to Lady Shoko of the House of Todoroki. May their union be long and fruitful, and may the enemies of our Houses tremble at our alliance.

—Lord Toshinori Yagi

Denki glanced up from the card to find that the butler had already vanished—doubtless to carry a second copy of the missive to Denki's mother.

Well, there was really only one response Denki could give to a message like that. "Holy shit."

Kyoka's head jerked up again from her position on the bed. "What's that all about?" she asked, hopping to her feet and padding over, her blazer thrown on over bare skin for some semblance of modesty—not that it mattered, with the butler gone.

Wordlessly, Denki showed her the message. Kyoka's jaw dropped. "Oh fuck," she muttered. She may not have had the political knowledge of a high lord, but she had a truly incredible grasp of people and how they worked. Her quirk was quite useful in that regard—heartbeat sensing worked as a fantastic lie detector, at least for those who didn't know how to control their heart rates.

Not that she even needed that much to instantly grasp how earth-shattering a marriage alliance between the two greatest houses in Japan was. "Lord Izuku and Lady Shoko? You've got to be kidding me!"

Denki hummed. "I do wonder who came up with that idea," he mused. "And also which one of them I would want to piss off less."

Kyoka shot him a glance. She'd told him quite a lot about Titan—little of it willingly. She'd felt that being informed about just how capable a man had entered the playing field would "make you do something stupid, you zap-brained moron." She'd probably been right, too, but unfortunately, Denki knew exactly how to convince her to talk—specifically, with very particular applications of his quirk. Kyoka always became quite chatty when it came to pillow talk.

Eventually, she declared, "Well, I wouldn't want to start a war now. Not with those two allied. Maybe I owe Titan an apology. Seems like he might make my job a little easier, if people are too scared to start shit that might bring him down on them."

Denki shot her an amused look. "Do you ever plan on offering Lord Izuku that apology?" he asked.

Kyoka just huffed, rolling her eyes. That was answer enough for him.

A moment later, though, as Denki closed the door again, his lover's gaze darkened once more.

"That reminds me," she said. "Denki, you need to talk to Lady Ibara."

Denki's face chilled. "Why would I do that?" he asked slowly. "House Ibara has retreated to their defensive positions, as have we. Nobody is thinking of weddings right now."

Kyoka raised an eyebrow, glancing at the card in Denki's hand. "Someone is," her expression said. Her point made, she continued, "Still. You're betrothed to her, Denki. You shouldn't be treating her like this."

Denki's expression soured even more. "You know my opinion on that betrothal," he said. The two of them drifted back towards the bed now; it was their most familiar space, the place they'd first connected after a training spar turned into something steamier, Kyoka discovering something in herself that hungered for the part of Denki that had awakened that day—the part that he simply couldn't live without anymore.

Kyoka's expression was stern. "Like it or not, she's going to be your wife someday soon, Denki," she murmured. "You can't ignore her, treat her like dirt, and expect that to end well for you."

Denki scoffed. "Unless I marry you instead," he said, eyes glimmering in the nighttime dark. "Unless you say yes."

Kyoka's expression slammed shut. "Yeah, well, I didn't," she shot back. "I didn't then, and I won't now."

Denki rose to his feet, while Kyoka stayed seated. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, nestled into her hair, his arm around her. She closed her eyes, the tension draining from her shoulders.

"I wish you'd tell me why," he murmured. "You know how I feel about this, love. Say the word, Kyoka. Just the one. Say it, and I will move heaven and earth. Say you want to marry me, and I will make it happen. No matter the cost."

Kyoka's eyes flashed. "That's why, Denki," she sighed. "The cost you'd pay…it's not worth it."

Denki's face grew somber. "Do you mean you're not worth it?" he demanded. The look on his face suggested he found the very thought offensive.

Kyoka snorted. "I'm not," she said bluntly. "I mean, come on, Denki! You'd insult House Ibara, make enemies for life, give all your rivals something to use against you? Weaken your own House for generations to come?"

Denki met her eyes. Wordlessly, he reached for her hand. He lifted it to his lips, and kissed it, gaze still locked on hers.

"Without hesitation," he said, dead serious.

Kyoka's eyes softened, though she still sounded scornful as she sighed, "My job is to protect you, Denki. Including from your own idiotic ideas. It would be foolish."

Denki smiled. "Perhaps," he admitted. "But I know we both agree that I am a magnificent fool."

Kyoka's lips twitched, just for a second. "We do," she said. "But seriously, Denki. There's a war now. Your house needs allies. Not liabilities like me. I love you. But I can't marry you."

Denki said nothing. He simply glanced at the card now sitting on his bedside table. Then, he sighed.

"I will…speak to Lady Ibara," he murmured. "Eventually. But not tonight."

Kyoka nodded slowly. "It's late," she agreed, eyebrows starting to arch suggestively. "Now, if you aren't expecting any other world-altering events tonight, perhaps we could get back to what we were doing?"

Denki laughed. He leaned in close, slipping Kyoka's hastily-buttoned blazer back open. "I can think of nothing better, my dear," he said.

Kyoka took that as the invitation it was. She hurled herself against him, her lips claiming his. Even as she pounced on him, her strong arms and agile ear jacks pinning him down, though, Denki's mind was still on that card, and everything it could mean.

"Allies, eh?" he thought. "Now that's an idea."

He'd have to start making plans for a personal visit to the Yagi estate. But not tonight. Tonight was for more…pleasant things.

For all that Kai Chisaki was, he was not a particularly patient man.

He could certainly make a good show of being patient, and was more than capable of accepting delays and the inevitable passage of time necessary for any sort of work to take place. But neither of these things came naturally to him; they were the result of years of practice, and thus sometimes failed him.

They were dangerously close to failing him now, as he sat in his office in the Chisaki manor, glaring at the trembling form of Nemoto Shin, one of his Guard commanders.

"The last time I checked, it is very hard for a seven-foot-tall, six-limbed man to go missing," he growled. "And yet you're telling me that you've been unable to track down our vanished soldier?"

Nemoto wrung his hands nervously. "Yes, Lord Chisaki," he admitted. "I…I simply have no idea where he could have gone!"

Chisaki stood from his desk. Nemoto stiffened as his Lord placed a gloved hand on his shoulder.

"We are less than forty-eight hours from the next planned assault, Nemoto," Chisaki said in a low, deadly voice. "Having a lieutenant in my House Guard mysteriously vanish immediately after receiving his orders is not the kind of thing I can ignore. The man is either a coward—which I know he is not—or he was a spy for another House all along, in which case he needs to die before he can get all our plans to his handlers. The fate of this House depends on you finding him. Quickly."

To his credit, Nemoto's back straightened even under Chisaki's grip. "I won't fail you again, my lord," he vowed.

Chisaki did not smile. He rarely did. Neither did he obliterate the groveling worm with a single thought, as he was tempted to. He prided himself on his control and his cool-headed rationality. He controlled the fire, controlled the venom, controlled the hate. He'd done it all his life. He could manage just a little longer.

"See that you don't," he said flatly. Nemoto scurried from the room the instant Chisaki lifted his hand.

When he was finally alone again, Chisaki let out a long-suffering sigh as he strode back to his desk, and the pile of papers and missives awaiting him on top of it.

"If you could see me now, Pops," he thought darkly, lips twisting. "You always told me I'd hate this chair. Too much responsibility. Too much politics. Too much goddamned paperwork. And you were almost right. But not quite."

He put aside the thoughts of his foster father—the man who'd given him everything, except for what Kai had taken for himself—and settled back into his chair. He reached for the first missive on the pile—an ornate card bearing the seal of House Yagi. He flipped it open.

A few moments later, Chisaki's eyebrows were raised as high as they would go. His jaw was not hanging open—but only barely.

When he was done reading, Chisaki set the letter back down, making sure to not allow his hands to tremble.

"Well," he thought. "It seems Lord Yagi's made his move. How...characteristically brilliant of him."

Chisaki had never had a particularly high opinion of Lady Shoko Todoroki. Oh, to be sure, she was cunning, and dangerous, and a brilliant political mind. But in the end, she was just like all the other nobles—deluded, out of touch. All she had ever known was a secluded, controlled life of leisure and plenty. She had never faced true hardship, the kind that left you forever changed.

Chisaki did not have that blind spot. Neither, he believed, did Lord Izuku Midoriya.

That made their apparent union all the more dangerous, given Chisaki's intentions. But perhaps it provided opportunities, as well.

A knock on his office door stirred Chisaki from his thoughts. His eyes narrowed at the sound—it was timid, soft, but a distraction nonetheless. Chisaki hated distractions.

Without him saying a word, the door eased open, slowly, shyly. Chisaki's gaze darkened further.

And then he saw who it was.

A single gleaming horn peeked from long, silvery white hair belonging to a young girl. Though she was fifteen years old, just taking the first steps into adulthood, her slight stature and the timid way she carried herself made her seem younger, as did her simple white dress woven with flowers.

"Father?" Eri, Chisaki's adopted daughter and heir, asked shyly. "Am I interrupting?"

Chisaki's gaze softened— slightly. "A little bit," he admitted. His lips were set sternly, and he saw Eri wilt a little.

He wondered, sometimes, what he'd been thinking, taking the girl in. Chisaki was no father. He had no interest in children, no desire to marry, even for alliance or political gain. He knew where his talents lay, and none of them were in the realm of child rearing.

And yet, he also knew what it was to be a child alone in the world, without anyone to care for you, any protection from the cruel, hateful world. And for all that Chisaki was a cold, calculating man who did terrible, monstrous things without the slightest hint of guilt, he still had his private foibles. One of them was this girl, who he had never quite been able to cut from his heart.

Part of that was Eri herself; she was a shy, sweet slip of a girl, adorably earnest, for all that she continually struggled to comport herself has the heiress to a Great House should. She was hard not to love.

She proved it again as her downcast eyes fluttered. "I see," she said somberly. "I…I won't bother you again, Father."

Chisaki raised an eyebrow as Eri started to close the door again.

"That is no way for a Lady of House Chisaki to speak, daughter," he said mildly. "You would not have knocked on my door if you did not want to speak with me. So speak."

Eri's eyes widened. Her back straightened a little, and Chisaki noted with approval that Eri's red eyes met his without trembling this time.

She had steel in her soul, this girl, down there somewhere. He just had to help her draw it out.

He would have to find her a husband, once this war was over and done with. A boy her age—Chisaki detested the idea of letting one of those decrepit old noble lechers anywhere close to his daughter—a sweet, kind boy who she could have a long betrothal with, someone to grow alongside. Someone who she could come to trust and love long before they married.

Or, perhaps, if he did his work well, she would be free of all these damn noble chains and could choose for herself.

Chisaki devoted his attention back to Eri. Primly, the girl asked, "I was…wondering if you would like to come to my piano lesson today? The tutor says I'm really improving, and…"

Eri trailed off again as Chisaki glanced thoughtfully at the pile of papers on his desk. "I…I understand if you're too busy…" she said weakly.

Chisaki remained silent, thinking. Japan was descending into full-on war. Houses were being wiped off the face of the Earth. He was engaged in secret dealings of every kind imaginable, maintaining a delicate balancing act of funding and resources and political support, all of which required his constant attention.

And yet…what was the point of all this fighting and plotting, if it stole away opportunities like this? The quiet moments with family, the chance to spend time with his adopted daughter.

Eri's head snapped up again at the creak of Chisaki rising from his chair, placing a paperweight atop the embossed card for later. Chisaki regarded her with those same steely cold eyes.

"I am busy," he allowed, "But I would quite like to sit in on your piano lesson. Shall we?"

The smile on Eri's face could have relit the sun itself. She whirled on her feet, practically skipping out into the hall as Chisaki followed behind, an odd little half-smile on his face.

It really was quite funny, the twists and turns fate so often took, he found himself musing. Who could have known that disposing of Eri's parents all those years ago would turn out to be the best decision he ever made?

Castle Kirishima was not like other noble estates.

For one thing, it earned its Castle title honestly; the place was a true and genuine fortress, set atop a mountaintop accessible only by helicopter and by a winding, treacherous footpath that had been there since at least the Sengoku Jidai. Indeed, the Castle itself had just as storied a history; some kind of defensive structure had stood on this mountaintop outside Kyoto since at least that mythic era of samurai and shoguns, and almost certainly much, much longer, back into the hazy days of deep time. The deepness of that past, once so glorious, was now visible only in fragments and glimpses that left one feeling small before the vastness of human existence. There were old, deep memories here, written in the worn-smooth steps and time-darkened wood of the old castle, which now served as House Kirishima's redoubt as Japan slipped towards the kind of war the daimyo of old Japan would have recognized well.

Or perhaps that wasn't quite accurate. In truth, the old castle was a showpiece, the site of House Kirishima's Great Hall and private quarters for the House's members as well as guests, but little more; any defensive utility the rice-paper, mortared stone, and timber-frame architectural masterpiece offered in this era of guided missiles and two-thousand-pound bombs was, to put it mildly, rather limited. The true Castle Kirishima was the mountain itself, which had been honeycombed over the centuries of House Kirishima's existence with bunkers and galleries and storage depots, with dozens of hidden entrances and enough twists and turns to leave any attacker lost and helpless.

Mina Ashido—soon, if she had her way, to be Mina Kirishima—loved the place, in both its forms. She loved the old castle atop the snow-covered mountain, the one that made her inner romantic swoon and fill with visions of an imagined past. She loved the strong, solid walls of the new castle, built to take a direct hit from anything shy of a full-scale nuclear bombardment and shrug it off.

But most of all, she loved the man who had been the one to show it all to her, his face alight with that fascinating blend of deep-rooted humility and utter confidence in who he was that seemed to characterize his entire family.

Mina had been raised as a highly capable political player, as all noblewomen were; she had earned the dubious honor of Lady Shoko Todoroki's respect from a young age for her intelligence and ability to flit in and out of conversations like a butterfly, pinpointing vulnerabilities, identifying weaknesses, steering people towards conclusions and decisions without them ever knowing what they were agreeing to. She'd gotten so good at it, she'd once even tried her skills on Shoko herself.

Six weeks of social ostracism and complete public humiliation, plus one very sharp icicle less than an inch from her throat, had taught her a valuable lesson on that front, but Mina remained quite sure of her status as one of the cleverest people of her generation of the Japanese aristocracy.

Perhaps that was why she found herself so frustrated as she stood in the War Room of House Kirishima, watching her father and her soon-to-be father-in-law argue over an ever-shifting 3D map of Japan, replete with data on force concentrations and troop dispositions of every House Guard of every noble family still alive. The map was littered with little toy soldiers, ringed around manor houses like bison with their horns turned outwards to face the circling predators.

"We need to move on House Monoma before they strike again!" Lord Ashido, Mina's father, urged in a fiery voice. His long, twisting horns branched from his head as he slammed a fist on the table.

Lord Kirishima scoffed. Much like his son, the only outward sign of his own Quirk was jagged, razor-sharp teeth. Where Ejiro preferred to dye his hair a striking red, though, his father looked like a daimyo of old with his long black hair and pointed goatee. "Move on them how, exactly?" he asked. "The Monomas have withdrawn to their own redoubt on Hokkaido. They're fortified well enough that even a joint assault would take unacceptable losses. Even if we won, we'd be so weak that the other Great Houses could tear us apart."

Lord Ashido scowled, but he was no fool; his shoulders slumped, and he grumbled, "Damn, but you're right, Lord Kirishima. Still, I don't like sitting here waiting for someone to attack us. It goes against my instincts."

Lord Kirishima made an understanding noise. House Kirishima, of course, was perfectly exemplified in both him and in Ejiro—solid, defensive-minded men whose first thought was always to draw back into their redoubt in times of peril and wait for their enemies to come to them. House Ashido had no such luxury, Mina knew; where the Kirishimas' finances were based in dependable mining interests, the Ashido fortune had been made in tempestuous commodities markets and international imports—the kind of business that dried up quickly when bullets started flying.

A shift from the chair next to Mina's brought her attention back to the present. Ejiro, heir to House Kirishima and Mina's betrothed, had risen to his feet.

"The way I see it, Lord Ashido," he said, "Our problem right now is that we're runnin' around in the dark jumpin' at shadows. We think somebody's out to get us, but we aren't totally sure who, and we're seeing enemies where there might not be any. We make a move right now, we risk exposing ourselves to a counterattack."

The heads of generals and military men bobbed around the table. Lord Kirishima gave his heir an approving look. "Well put, son," he said. Though he remained stoic and lordly as he sat back down, Ejiro beamed slightly once he was seated and glancing at Mina. She smiled back, the fond, tender grin of a woman who had long since accepted that she was head over heels in love; her hand found his, squeezing affectionately as the lords continued to discuss.

Lord Ashido gestured at the largest, densest concentration of forces on the map table, rows upon rows of dark-clad markers near Musutafu, facing off against a nearly-equal number of red-clad markers further to the east, which bore the heraldry of House Todoroki. "I'll tell you what really worries me," he declared. "We're more than a full day into this, and we've heard nothing from Toshinori Yagi. The Yagi Guard haven't moved. He's made no public statements, sent no messages, made no threats. Even when the Yaoyorozus were exterminated, he did nothing. Either he's gone senile with age, or he's planning something."

The mere mention of Toshinori Yagi's name sent nervous glances through the room. These men knew firsthand what Yagi was capable of. Many of them had served in the war against the Chinese warlord's invasion thirty years earlier.

Lord Kirishima made a thoughtful noise. "Or," he suggested darkly, "This war was his plan."

Ejiro and Mina's eyes widened. So did Lord Ashido's. "What are you implying?" he asked.

Lord Kirishima began to pace around the enormous map table. "I speak only of dark speculation," he replied. "But…what if Lord Yagi has decided to make a play for something greater than a mere Great House? He is the wealthiest man in Japan, and commands an army greater than even the old Self-Defense Forces; the cities under his protection flourish, while the old urban centers decay into poverty. The population reveres him as the man who saved them from the warlords of the mainland. They respect him more than whatever's left of the National Diet, that's for sure. A man like that…perhaps he's decided to finally fashion himself a crown."

That sent ripples of unease through the room, and through Mina, too. The thought of House Yagi demanding submission from all other Houses was all too believable.

Lord Ashido was no exception. "If that's what Yagi is after," he realized, "The only thing that could stop him would be an alliance of all the Great Houses against it."

Ejiro nodded. "But we're divided now," he murmured. "Half of us are preparing to rip the other half apart. Almost none of us can trust any of the others. House Yaoyorozu is already dead. We'll expend our forces fighting each other…"

"And Lord Yagi will clean up the rubble," Mina whispered. Instantly, every head in the room whipped to look at her. She didn't wilt; she'd controlled rooms like this before, in happier times. Now, though, she wove terrible, dark words. "It's…if it's really what he's done, Toshinori Yagi is brilliant. With a few knives in the dark, he's completely destroyed any chance of a unified front among the Great Houses, and ensured that he'll be the savior of Japan yet again in the eyes of the common folk. He'll step in reluctantly in Japan's darkest hour, with the economy in ruins, our cities destroyed by the senseless violence of greedy Houses squabbling amongst themselves. He'll promise to rein us in, to provide a strong guiding hand to ensure that all will be safe and orderly. The population will cheer for him. There would be no resistance at all."

A hush fully enveloped the room. Laid out before them, every one of them could see the shape of what could happen in the next few weeks. A new Shogunate, an all-powerful man at the head of Japan for the first time in centuries.

Mina stood from her seat, leaning over the table, finger tracing routes and armies and targets. "The only possible threat to the Yagis at this point, if that's really what they're planning…" she mused, "Is here."

Her finger jabbed at the ranks of simulated soldiers to the northeast of Tokyo, representing House Todoroki.

"Lord Enji will never stand for a Yagi kingship," Lord Kirishima agreed, glancing between Mina and Kirishima. He'd always approved of the match, moreso than Mina's own parents; he seemed to have an appreciative eye for how Mina and Ejiro worked together. "The mere possibility of such a thing might lead him to attack Musutafu."

Lord Ashido hummed thoughtfully. "God, imagine the bloodbath," he said. "The two largest armies in Japan, going toe-to-toe in the middle of the most fortified city in the country."

Mina's stomach turned just thinking of the slaughter that would occur if that ever came to pass. Ejiro stepped up beside her, and for a second, she wanted nothing more than for him to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her close. But he couldn't. Not in a war council.

"Perhaps we should reach out to House Todoroki," Ejiro suggested. "Surely, our interests align, if Lord Yagi really is aiming to declare himself King."

Ejiro's father stroked his beard thoughtfully. Mina, for her part, heard "Todoroki" and suddenly found her mind filled with dark, unsettling memories. She glanced at Ejiro, and recalled just what she'd had to do to earn him.

"You belong to me now, Lady Ashido," she heard in her mind, in the silvery dulcet tones of Shoko Todoroki's voice. "You've made the deal. There's no going back now. You get your beloved, and I get your loyalty. Forever."

Mina would never forget the look in Shoko's eye in that moment. The look of a woman so utterly in control that she left Mina, the heiress of one of the greatest Houses in Japan, kneeling on the floor in sheer terror. The gleaming grin on her lips, the pleasure she'd taken in making Mina beg for her help, the way she'd barely even haggled, had simply laid out the bargain: Mina's soul for the only man she'd ever wanted to marry.

She remembered, too, how willing she had been to make that deal. She had originally been informed that she would be betrothed to Fumikage Tokoyami, a pleasant enough young man to be sure, but not Ejiro. Not the man Mina had been quietly sharing flirtatious gazes and increasingly familiar wine-soaked words with for years now. Not the man she'd been yearning for since her first debut ball at the age of sixteen, when he'd been the first to offer her a dance.

In her frantic effort to change her fate, she'd made a deal with the devil. Shoko had agreed to help—with her skills in manipulating people, it hadn't even been hard for her to sway Mina's parents into offering her hand to Ejiro instead of Tokoyami. And the price had been simple: if Shoko ever gave her an order, if she ever told Mina to convince Ejiro of something or enact a policy within her own House, Mina would do it. She had to do it. Or else Shoko would come for her personally.

Perhaps if Mina could align all their Houses together without Shoko needing to call in an order to do so, she could convince Shoko not to force her into a choice between the House she'd been loyal to all her life and an oath she'd sworn out of lovesick desperation. Perhaps she could avoid the consequences of her actions.

And that— the exact moment that Mina began to believe that perhaps she could navigate a way out of this horribly tangled mess—was the moment that a courier burst into the room, bearing a single envelope with the seal of House Yagi.

The courier did not speak as he handed the sealed message to Lord Kirishima; he was utterly out of breath, panting desperately, having clearly run the length of the fortified mountain to reach them. Lord Kirishima took the letter deftly, allowing the courier to finally slump to the ground. He opened it with steady fingers, his nails briefly sharpening and hardening from the quirk he shared with his son as he slit the envelope.

A few seconds later, Mina watched Lord Keitaro Kirishima, one of the greatest men in Japan, go deathly pale as his knees gave way beneath him. He collapsed into his chair, utterly shaken.

Lord Ashido and Ejiro both rushed to Lord Kirishima's side, though for very different reasons. Ejiro grasped his father's shoulder, worried for his health, while Lord Ashido took the letter from where it had fallen on the table. He held it up. Mina watched his jaw drop.

In a shaky voice, Mina's father read out the letter announcing the betrothal of Lady Shoko Todoroki and Lord Izuku Midoriya to the assembled generals and spymasters, men who had risen to the top of their respective hierarchies on competence and stoicism and sheer stubbornness.

When Lord Ashido's voice fell silent at last, it joined a chorus of stunned quiet that no man seemed able to break. Nobody seemed able to believe it.

How could they? The rivalry between the upstart Lord Todoroki and the established power of Lord Yagi was a foundational part of noble society. It had defined the political landscape of Japan for nigh on thirty years. The two men hated each other—or at least competed so sharply and viciously that they convinced everyone else that they did. They battled over business ventures, competed for quality House Guard recruits, sparred over influence in the National Diet, fenced in every political arena the nobility knew. The Great Houses could play them off one another, using one to counterbalance the other, at least to an extent.

And now, in a single paragraph, it had all come tumbling down.

A voice finally broke the silence. To Mina's shock, it was hers.

"My God," she whispered.

She'd known Shoko Todoroki all her life. She'd long since realized that whatever man married her stood a better-than-even chance of being skinned alive sooner or later. Shoko was not the sort of woman to suffer fools, and she was also the sort to consider just about everyone beside herself a fool. Frankly, Mina had begun to wonder if Shoko would never marry.

Mina would've preferred that she hadn't. She'd seen what Lord Izuku was capable of, back when he'd reduced Neito Monoma to paste in that dueling arena. The thought of all that strength, all that combat skill, all that power, allied with the mind that had brought down Houses Shindo and Shishikura…

Before, Mina hadn't really believed that Lord Yagi was making a play to crown himself King. Honestly, even this wasn't ironclad evidence. But in terms of the sheer, awe-inspiring strength now at his command…the lack of a crown on his head was a minor formality. If Lord Enji had been convinced to work with House Yagi, the two largest and most professional House Guards in the country were now facing down a disjointed, mutually distrustful array of Great Houses utterly incapable of coordinating their forces well enough to stop the Yagi-Todoroki alliance from picking them off one by one.

Such an alliance could be made for only one of two purposes. To keep the peace…or forever break it.

But for Mina herself, it might actually be worse.

She still owed Shoko that singular, terrible debt. She was still, for all intents and purposes, Shoko's agent—and Ejiro didn't know. Mina couldn't bring herself to tell him. Mina did not supply Shoko with information or act on her behalf— yet. But if Shoko truly was working to make House Yagi the rulers of Japan—and, once Toshinori and Enji passed, herself and Lord Izuku—then the idea of forcing Mina, as the heir of one Great House and the betrothed of another, to swear loyalty to the new Kings of Japan would be deeply tempting.

All it would take was one message, one command, one order. And then Mina would have a choice to make: honor her deal, or seal her fate.

If Shoko called in her debt, Mina knew, she would be in a terrible position. Either she betrayed her House and the man she was set to marry, or Shoko Todoroki would devise a fate for her so unthinkable that Mina Ashido would be used as a cautionary tale for the next two hundred years about what happened when one disobeyed the Royal House of Yagi, rulers of all Japan.

The next person to speak was Ejiro. Strong, resolute, perfect Ejiro, the man Mina loved more than anything in the world.

"What do we do now?" he asked. Mina realized he was looking at her.

She didn't speak, though. Lord Kirishima did. Regaining his feet—though wobbling unsteadily—he looked over the map one last time. At the tap of a button, the ranks of the Yagi and Todoroki House Guards, once arrayed facing each other, now interlocked into a single vast force spreading outwards across Japan, an irresistible tide that would consume them all. Then, he glanced at Lord Ashido, who had set his jaw. The two Great Lords nodded as one.

Lord Kirishima turned back to his heir and his future daughter-in-law.

"The only thing we can do," he said somberly. "We make a move of our own."

Mina wound her fingers into the fabric of her dress, and didn't dare to breathe. All she could think of were those terrible, burning mismatched eyes. They were laughing at her.

The next day in a run-down warehouse outside of Tokyo, men shifted nervously, fingering new, shiny guns as unease filled the air around them.

The laughter had been going on for hours now. Deranged, howling, crackling like static from the boss's private room on the upper floor. It sounded like a man coming apart at the seams.

Finally, one person had had enough. Kaina had been trying to sleep—like any good soldier, a good mercenary could get shut-eye more or less anywhere. But not with that fucking cackling going on.

She stalked past spooked thugs, glancing over at where Miruko and Rappa were playing cards. Neither of them seemed to care about the boss losing his shit upstairs.

Well, Kaina cared. She stomped upstairs, past the locked room where some minor noble was currently languishing while they debated where to dump his body once they'd gotten all the information they could out of him. Obtaining that information was a task Kaina was glad to leave to others. Finally, she reached the door to Dabi's personal room.

She slammed her fist against it. The laughter didn't stop.

"Open this fucking door, asshole!" Kaina shouted. "Don't make me shoot out the lock!"

A moment passed. Then, the door clicked and opened, revealing…

Kaina's eyes went wide. "Fucking hell," she muttered. "Boss, you alright?"

Dabi's lips twisted wider, into a grin so wide it looked like it hurt. Not as much as the blood pouring from around his eyes where stitches and seams between skin grafts had ripped, though. The blood tracked down his face, running like tears.

"Never better," he said, shoulders shaking with more laughter. "Hey, Nagant, you hear the news?"

Kaina frowned. "No," she said slowly.

Dabi turned and headed back into his room. Kaina didn't glance too far inside—she saw no reason to. Whatever the man did in private was something she intended to spend as little of her precious time thinking about as possible.

She did, however, notice the small framed picture sitting on the crowded desk. The picture itself had been burned badly before being framed; only two faces were visible. A white-haired boy with blue eyes who couldn't have been older than twelve, and a little girl, no older than four, with half red and half white hair, her eyes similarly mismatched. There were other people in what remained of the photo, but none of their faces had escaped the flames.

Dabi ignored Kaina's questioning stare. Instead, he crossed the room to pick up a monogrammed card, which he pinched between two fingers.

"Turns out Titan's getting hitched," he said, flicking the card over to Kaina, who caught it with a frown on her face. "And to think, we didn't even get him a wedding present."

Kaina didn't open the card. Instead, she said, "Odd time to be getting married. They're in an all-out war now."

Dabi chuckled. "Since when has that ever stopped their little games?" he asked. "Besides, the war's probably why they've announced it to everyone, even our guest in the other room. Make sure everyone knows what kind of alliance they're attacking."

Kaina finally opened the card, scanning through it with disinterested eyes. Finally, she saw the name, and let out a low whistle. "Hell of an alliance," she declared. "That's the two strongest Houses in Japan."

"Indeed it is," Dabi said, blood still flowing from his torn stitches. He didn't even seem to notice. "And mortal enemies, too. Lord Todoroki must be seething right now."

Kaina's eyes darkened. Her gaze flicked over to the picture frame again. The one with the white-haired boy who wasn't smiling, wearing a finely tailored formal suit. The one whose eyes were the same searing blue as the deadly mercenary in front of her.

Dabi had turned his back to her, but he'd clearly noticed Kaina's gaze. As Kaina's head flicked back and forth between him and the photo, Dabi let out another dark, bubbling laugh, oozing from his lips like the blood on his skin.

"Tell me, Nagant," he said, preempting Kaina's own question by seconds, "Which House did you work for, again? Before you killed its Lord, that is."

Kaina froze, ice flashing through her veins, right down to the bone. Nobody knew that story. Nobody was left alive to know it.

She looked down, and for a second, there was blood on her hands. Blood on the floor. Blood on the barrel of her gun.

Blood on the face of a little girl whose Daddy she'd killed.

"How do you—" she began, only to growl, refusing to let herself be distracted. "What do you want, Dabi? Is all of this just a game to you?"

Dabi scoffed. "Please, I'm not like them," he snorted. "This ain't a game for me. Is it personal? Yeah, maybe. But it's business, first and foremost. I thought you'd understand that."

Kaina's eyes stayed dark. "I'm not a toy soldier for you to march around, Dabi," she hissed.

Dabi chuckled again. "No," he agreed. "You're a heavily armed lunatic with a grudge against the Houses. You don't want money. You don't want glory. All that's left that you care about is absolution. Well, there ain't any such thing as absolution. Unless you do what I say. Am I clear?"

Kaina glanced at the photo one last time. Funny, it reminded her of a different time, too. A time where blood and death were foreign to her. A time where she still believed there were things worth protecting in this world.

"As crystal," she hissed through gritted teeth.

Then, she turned and fled the room, before the memories could come for her again.

When the sniper was gone, Dabi leaned back in his chair, still laughing to himself. On a whim, he fished out one of the cigars he'd been smoking ever since he got to America. Funny, he'd hated so many things about that damn country, but even he had to admit, they'd mastered tobacco.

A shame that the habit would probably kill him someday. If he somehow outlived all the other things that would kill him first.

A flick of his fingers set the end of the cigar to glowing blue—far hotter than it was meant to, so hot it nearly carbonized the whole thing as it smoldered. Dabi felt the scorching heat at the end of the thick roll, and grinned, leaning back as he glanced over at the picture on his desk.

"Well, well, well," he muttered to himself, still laughing as he craned his neck to look at the burned photo. "Life sure is a funny bitch sometimes. Ain't that right, sis?"

He started to laugh again. Really, it was the only thing to do.

After all, how often did you get a stroke of luck like this?