The early morning light streamed through the train windows, casting soft, shifting beams across the quiet car. The city was still waking up, but for Itsuka, Denki, and Minoru, the weight of the day had already settled in. They were on their way to Uwabami's hero agency, hoping that Itsuka's mentor could help them identify the elusive purple-haired woman. The train swayed gently beneath them, but the subtle rhythm did little to calm their nerves.
Minoru sat slouched against his seat, headphones on, his music providing a distraction from the gnawing unease inside him. Every now and then, his eyes flicked nervously between his friends and the passing scenery outside, but he kept to himself, lost in his thoughts. The low hum of the train's engine mixed with the muffled sound of his music, creating a comforting cocoon of noise that helped stave off his growing anxiety.
Denki sat across from him, legs crossed tightly as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His brow was furrowed in deep thought, mind racing over the events that had led them here. His thoughts circled like a whirlwind: the purple-haired woman, Minoru's encounter, Itsuka's trauma, and Izuku's mysterious disappearance. He was trying to piece together the puzzle, but every time he felt close to a solution, another question seemed to surface. The frustration was palpable, but he kept it to himself, focusing on the task ahead. The only outward sign of his tension was the way he tapped his finger rhythmically against his knee, a small effort to calm himself.
Itsuka sat next to him, staring blankly out of the window across from them. Her reflection in the glass looked pale, haunted, her eyes distant. Though she was physically present, it was clear her mind was elsewhere—lost in memories she didn't want to relive. The thousand-yard stare she wore seemed to stretch beyond the city skyline, beyond the morning light, into some dark, unreachable place in her thoughts. Her body sat rigidly upright, her hands clenched into fists on her lap, and every now and then, a barely perceptible tremor would pass through her.
Denki noticed the way her knuckles were whitening and her shoulders tensed. Leaning slightly towards her, he spoke softly, careful not to startle her from whatever thoughts had taken hold. "Itsuka? You okay?"
Itsuka blinked, the fog in her eyes lifting slightly as she turned to him. She forced a small, strained smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah... just thinking," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. But there was a hollowness in her words, a weight she was carrying that she couldn't yet share.
Denki nodded, though concern lingered in his gaze. He didn't press her further, sensing that her mind was still too burdened by what had happened. He glanced back out the window, trying to focus on the looming task ahead: meeting Uwabami. They were relying on her insight to bring some clarity to their confusion, hoping she could shed light on the mysterious woman who had crossed their path.
Minoru, having pulled out one of his earbuds, broke the silence with a nervous question. "We're doing the right thing, right?"
Denki turned to him, his expression softening as he replied, though a trace of uncertainty edged his voice. "Yeah, Minoru. We are. We just have to keep moving forward."
The air was thick with tension as Minoru leaned in toward Denki, his voice low and strained. "Denki...what's the end game here? What are we really doing?"
Denki exhaled slowly, his mind replaying the events of the past few hours like a haunting reel. They had navigated through the late-night shadows of the city to meet with Hitoshi and the artist Yusuke at a dimly lit, undisclosed location. It had been a meeting filled with nervous anticipation, one where each word, each glance, carried the weight of unspoken fear.
Inside the cramped space, Yusuke's sharp eyes had studied Itsuka as she spoke, her voice trembling with the burden of recalling the details of her assailant. Each description seemed to rip open a wound she had tried to seal shut, but she pushed through with a determined strength. Her hands trembled in her lap, her voice hollow as she described the woman in purple—every detail of her haunting appearance etched into Itsuka's memory.
Yusuke's hand moved swiftly across the paper, the scratching of his pencil the only sound in the still room. With each stroke, the face of the woman emerged—cold, calculating, and terrifying. When Yusuke finally lifted his hand from the page and turned the sketch to face them, the likeness was so chillingly accurate that the air seemed to freeze.
Itsuka's reaction was visceral. Her face twisted with a sudden, sharp fury, and before anyone could react, she spat on the sketch, as if that simple act could purge the nightmare from her mind. Her hands clenched tightly at her sides, her body trembling with a mixture of anger and fear, but the sketch had done its job. They had the face of their enemy.
Denki had exchanged a glance with Minoru then, explaining as best as he could. "We're going to find this person," he had said, his voice resolute despite his own lingering doubts. "With help, we'll track down any leads that can take us to Izuku. That's our end game."
Now, in the quiet hum of the early morning, Minoru shifted in his seat on the train, his unease manifesting in nervous fidgeting. His mind was buzzing with worry. "What if it comes back to me?" Minoru whispered, anxiety tightening his voice. "What if someone finds out I was involved?"
Denki looked at him steadily, feeling the weight of his friend's fear but knowing they couldn't let it stop them. "I understand, Minoru. But right now, we need to focus on what matters most—finding Izuku. We'll cross that bridge when we get there. We have to deal with the immediate danger first."
The train began to slow, and with a soft hiss, it came to a stop at their destination. The doors slid open, and the trio stepped out into the cool night air. The station was quiet, the streets bathed in the amber glow of streetlights. The city around them seemed eerily still, as if holding its breath, waiting for what would come next.
As they walked up the stairs from the station, the night seemed to press in on them, heavy with unspoken fears and unresolved tension. The streets were nearly deserted at this late hour, and their footsteps echoed faintly against the pavement. Ahead of them, a few blocks away, Uwabami's hero agency loomed—its sleek silhouette standing tall against the urban backdrop like a beacon of hope in the darkness.
Denki's gaze flickered toward the building as they neared it, his mind racing with anticipation and doubt. "Whatever happens next," he said softly, breaking the silence that had stretched between them, "we stick together. No matter what."
Minoru nodded, though the knots in his stomach tightened with each step. The gravity of their actions, the possible consequences, weighed heavily on him. He couldn't stop thinking about the purple-haired woman, the danger she posed, and how close they were to being caught in something far beyond their control.
Itsuka, still silent, walked with her eyes fixed forward, though Denki knew her thoughts were elsewhere—still tethered to the nightmare she had so painfully relived just hours ago. Her face was drawn and pale, but there was a glimmer of determination beneath her haunted expression. She would see this through, no matter the cost.
As they moved through the dimly lit streets, the sound of the city felt distant, like a low hum beneath the tension that coiled tighter with each block they passed. The three of them pressed forward, bound by their shared mission and the uncertainties that lay ahead, knowing that whatever awaited them at Uwabami's agency could be the key to uncovering the truth about Izuku—and the dangerous woman who had slipped into their lives like a shadow in the night.
They arrived at Uwabami's agency just as the sun had fully risen, casting golden light across the building's sleek glass exterior. The agency exuded an aura of glamour and power, even from the outside, with large posters of Uwabami in dazzling poses displayed in the windows. Inside, the atmosphere was electric—full of movement and purpose. Even at this early hour, the place was alive with the hustle of assistants, photographers, and other staff scurrying about, the air filled with the faint buzz of conversation and the occasional ring of phones.
As Denki, Itsuka, and Minoru entered the lobby, the polished floors and modern decor added to the sense of high-profile professionalism. Everything gleamed under the lights, from the sleek furniture to the pristine glass tables decorated with magazines and brochures showcasing Uwabami's latest endeavors. They made their way to the receptionist's desk, where one of the staff—a woman with a sharp smile and a fashionable outfit—looked up and immediately recognized Itsuka.
"Oh, Itsuka!" she exclaimed, her tone warm and welcoming. "It's so good to see you again. Uwabami is expecting you. Please, make yourselves comfortable. She's in the middle of a photo shoot, but she'll be with you soon."
They offered their thanks and moved toward the plush seating area. The lobby was designed for comfort and style—large cushioned chairs in deep shades of blue and grey arranged around low tables with vases of fresh flowers. The walls were adorned with striking photographs of Uwabami, her presence dominating the room with her radiant beauty and heroic confidence. In every image, she was poised like a goddess—fearless and elegant.
Once they sat, the receptionist returned, asking if they would like any refreshments. Minoru, looking weary from the early morning, requested a cup of coffee, followed by Denki, who hoped a dose of caffeine would sharpen his focus. The smell of brewing coffee filled the air, mixing with the subtle scent of lavender wafting from the flower arrangements.
Itsuka, however, declined. She sat stiffly, her face etched with tension. "No, thank you. I just want to see my mentor," she replied quietly, her voice tinged with impatience.
The receptionist nodded with understanding, offering a kind smile. "Of course. Uwabami should be with you shortly."
As the receptionist left, Minoru excused himself to find the restroom, leaving Denki and Itsuka alone. Denki glanced at Itsuka, his eyes tracing her profile as she sat in rigid silence. Her gaze was fixed on a spot somewhere across the lobby, though her expression suggested she wasn't truly seeing anything. Her eyes held the hollow distance of someone lost in troubling thoughts—replaying painful memories or bracing for something even worse.
Denki shifted slightly in his seat, feeling the quiet weight of her distress, and scooted closer to her. He hesitated only for a second before gently wrapping his arm around her shoulder, hoping to offer her some sense of comfort. Itsuka didn't react at first, but then, without looking at him, she reached for his hand, her fingers lacing tightly through his. Her grip was strong, almost desperate, as if she was holding on to him for stability in a world that suddenly felt too unstable.
Denki felt her trembling, the small shivers running through her hand, though she made no sound. He squeezed her hand in return, a quiet, reassuring gesture. He didn't say anything—he didn't need to. Words wouldn't help right now. What she needed was someone to be there, someone she could rely on without explanation.
The two sat like that in silence, enveloped in a bubble of quiet understanding amidst the constant motion of the agency around them. Staff members moved quickly, the sound of heels clicking on the floor, the buzz of conversation occasionally drifting over them, but in that moment, none of it mattered. It was just the two of them, sharing a small moment of connection amid the chaos and uncertainty of everything that had led them here.
Denki watched Itsuka as she wiped away the tear clinging to her lashes, her expression tense and drawn. When he had quietly asked her if she was okay, the slight shake of her head had been enough to convey what words couldn't. She wasn't okay—far from it—and Denki could feel the weight of that truth pressing down between them.
Her grip on his hand tightened, almost painfully, as if she was clinging to him for some kind of stability in the midst of the emotional storm raging inside her. Then she spoke, her voice a strained whisper full of sorrow and regret. "I wanted Izuku to be my first man."
Denki didn't react outwardly, though her words settled heavily in his chest. He knew what she meant, knew the deep, personal longing behind those simple words. But he couldn't bring himself to respond—couldn't offer her the comforting words she might need. He considered telling her that it wasn't too late, that Izuku would never think less of her no matter what had happened, but he stopped himself. Denki couldn't lie to her, not when the truth was so uncertain. They didn't even know if Izuku was alive.
That thought loomed like a shadow, darker than he wanted to admit, but he shoved it down, unwilling to entertain it. Izuku is strong, he reminded himself. He's tougher than anyone gives him credit for. Denki wouldn't allow himself to believe otherwise. Izuku had faced countless obstacles before, and Denki believed that, wherever he was, he was still fighting. He had to be.
Denki wasn't particularly religious, but at that moment, he closed his eyes briefly and silently sent a prayer up to any deity who might be listening. He prayed for Izuku's safety, for strength, and for a way to bring him home. The prayer was wordless, a quiet plea from the depths of his heart, but he hoped it would reach the right ears.
A few moments later, Minoru reappeared, slipping back into the waiting area with his usual hurried shuffle. But something about him was different. His movements were more erratic, his eyes darting nervously around the room like a cornered animal. He held his cup of coffee tightly in one hand, his fingers twitching with a nervous energy that didn't go unnoticed by Denki.
Denki's eyes narrowed in concern. What's going on with him? He thought, immediately sensing something wasn't right. But before he could voice his concerns or pull Minoru aside, the receptionist approached them once more with a professional smile.
"Uwabami is ready to see you now," she said, her tone crisp and polite.
Denki squeezed Itsuka's hand one last time before rising from his seat. Her grip softened reluctantly, but she let him go, standing up slowly beside him. Minoru trailed after them, still fidgeting, his face pale under the bright lobby lights. Denki cast him a sidelong glance, but Minoru only offered a shaky smile that didn't reach his eyes.
The receptionist led them down a sleek, polished corridor, the air thick with anticipation. Along the walls were larger-than-life photographs of Uwabami in various heroic poses—captured mid-battle or surrounded by adoring fans, her beauty and strength radiating from each carefully composed image. In the photos, she seemed like a goddess, invincible and untouchable, always in control of her surroundings. But today, they weren't here to admire her. They were here to find answers—to uncover the truth behind the woman in purple and her connection to Izuku's disappearance.
As they walked, the weight of the situation pressed harder on Denki. Each step echoed in the quiet hallway, building a sense of urgency that gnawed at his nerves. Whatever was going on with Minoru would have to wait—right now, all that mattered was getting closer to the truth. He hoped Uwabami's insight could finally give them the breakthrough they needed.
They arrived at a set of large, double doors that led into Uwabami's office. The receptionist paused for a moment, then opened the doors with a graceful sweep of her hand. The office beyond was grand, almost opulent. It was decorated with soft lighting, elegant furniture, and large windows that offered a stunning view of the city skyline. A massive desk sat near the far wall, and behind it, Uwabami stood, her presence as commanding as ever, even dressed in casual attire.
The three of them stepped into the office, feeling the weight of her gaze fall upon them. Denki squared his shoulders, bracing himself for what was to come. This wasn't just another meeting—this was the moment that could determine their next move in the search for Izuku. All they could do now was hope that the answers were finally within their grasp.
Meanwhile….
Shouta woke up on the cot, his body stiff and aching from the restless night. His back throbbed as he sat up, stretching slightly before rubbing his tired eyes. The dim light of the office barely illuminated the computer screen across the room, which still displayed the same footage from the night before. His eyes drifted over to Nemuri's empty cot, and he realized she had likely already left to prepare lesson plans for the substitutes covering their classes.
With a weary sigh, Aizawa grabbed his overnight bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he made his way down the quiet hallway towards the restroom. The air was cool, the building eerily still at this early hour. The sound of his footsteps echoed softly off the walls, the silence only broken by the occasional creak of the old floorboards beneath him.
Reaching the restroom, he dropped his bag by the sink and turned on the faucet, letting the cold water run as he leaned over the sink and splashed his face. The icy water shocked his senses, cutting through the lingering fog of sleep. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror—his face was haggard, with dark circles under his eyes and stubble growing unevenly across his jaw.
Grabbing his shaving cream, he lathered it across his face, the cool foam offering a brief moment of comfort. As he worked the razor over his skin, he couldn't help but let his thoughts wander to the day ahead. Today was crucial. He had to speak with Nezu about Yui Kodai and Itsuka Kendou. They might hold the missing pieces to the puzzle of Izuku's disappearance. It was a slim lead, but it was all they had, and Aizawa clung to it like a lifeline.
As he dragged the razor across his face, he muttered under his breath, "I just hope Nezu doesn't have anything else up his sleeve…" He paused, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "…or up his ass."
After rinsing his face, Aizawa dried himself off and looked back into the mirror. The exhaustion was still there, deeply etched into his features, but at least he felt a bit more human. He pulled on a fresh shirt from his bag and adjusted his collar before gathering his things. The weight of the investigation pressed heavily on his mind, but he was used to the pressure. He knew he had to stay sharp—especially today.
Taking a deep breath, Aizawa steeled himself for what was ahead. The morning was only just beginning, but he could feel the tension building in his chest, a mixture of determination and unease. The clock was ticking, and they were running out of time to find Izuku. As he left the restroom, his steps felt a little lighter, his resolve a bit stronger. Today, with luck, they would get one step closer to the truth.
After cleaning himself up, Shouta returned to the office only to find Nemuri already there, standing by the door. She wasn't wearing her usual revealing hero uniform, but instead sported a sleek business suit and glasses. It was a jarring change from her typical appearance, and Shouta immediately sensed that something was off.
He raised an eyebrow and asked, "What's going on?"
Nemuri straightened up, looking more serious than usual. "Nezu called us. We've been requested by the Hero Commission for a meeting. Immediately."
Shouta frowned, his mind racing. "What about the interviews with Kodai and Kendou? We need to follow through on that."
Nemuri reached for her phone and opened up a news site. "This," she said quietly, showing him her screen, "is why."
Shouta leaned closer and watched the morning news broadcast. The screen displayed a press conference. Inko Midoriya stood at the podium, her expression filled with grief and frustration. Beside her was Toshinori Yagi, looking stoic yet somber. Standing at her other side was a man who introduced himself as her attorney.
The attorney addressed the gathered media, his voice sharp and direct. "It has been over a week since Izuku Midoriya's disappearance, and we have received nothing from UA but evasions and empty promises. The school has failed to protect him and is now providing nothing but a runaround. I have already spoken with both the Hero Commission and the police commissioner. As of today, we are filing a lawsuit against UA for gross negligence."
Shouta felt a chill run down his spine as he watched the footage. This was a nightmare coming to life—public scrutiny on UA, involving the media, the Hero Commission, and legal action. He could practically feel the noose tightening around the school's neck.
Nemuri turned off her phone and tucked it back into her suit pocket. She looked him over, taking in his casual attire. "You're going to need something a little more formal," she said, her tone pragmatic but not unkind. "I'll grab you a blazer on our way to the commission meeting."
Shouta's mind raced. The Hero Commission getting involved meant a whole new level of complications, and it could drag the school through endless investigations and public scandals. The commission wasn't known for leniency—they demanded results and held the heroes accountable to the highest standards, especially when it came to something like a student's safety. This was no longer just a school issue; it was a matter of national concern.
As Nemuri picked up her bag and started for the door, Shouta lingered for a moment, the weight of the situation sinking in. His usual calm resolve was shaken. He knew that once the Hero Commission was involved, the pressure would increase tenfold. Their investigation into Izuku's disappearance would be put under a microscope, and every action they'd taken—or hadn't taken—would be questioned.
He followed Nemuri out of the office, his mind racing as they headed for the commission meeting. This was a situation that could spiral out of control fast, and he had to make sure that he, Nemuri, and UA were prepared to face it head-on. As much as Shouta hated bureaucracy and politics, this was now a fight for more than just Izuku's safe return—it was a fight to protect UA's reputation, the integrity of the heroes, and the trust of the public.
As they walked briskly down the hallway, the tension between Shouta and Nemuri was palpable. Shouta glanced at her, trying to gauge how things were going with Nezu. "How's Nezu taking all of this?" he asked, his voice low but edged with curiosity.
Nemuri didn't mince words. "He's pissed. He didn't expect Inko to actually go through with her threats."
Shouta let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I felt like I was onto something, Nemuri. I found some information that could lead us to Izuku's whereabouts." His voice carried both frustration and urgency, feeling the weight of being so close yet so far from a breakthrough.
Nemuri stopped in her tracks and turned to face him, her expression serious yet sympathetic. "I believe you, Shouta. But speculation alone won't cut it. You know how this works—once the Hero Commission gets involved, it's no longer just about finding Izuku. Our reputations, our jobs—they're all on the line now."
Shouta clenched his fists, feeling the pressure mounting even further. "But we're this close! We just need to talk to the girls. They could give us the answers we need!"
Nemuri shook her head regretfully. "I know, but it doesn't matter right now. The Hero Commission is taking the reins. Whatever we've found, whatever leads we have, they're going to be put on hold. And honestly..." she hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I'm worried it won't matter what we have. Once the commission steps in, they'll do things their way. We might not even get a chance to present our findings."
"Shit!" Shouta cursed loudly, the frustration boiling over. He felt like the rug was being pulled out from under him, just as they were on the brink of something important.
Nemuri stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. "Don't get flustered, Shouta. I know it feels like we're losing control, but we need to stay composed. If we let this get to us now, we're done."
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down despite the tension bubbling inside him. She was right. Losing his cool wasn't going to help them, not in front of the Hero Commission.
Nemuri glanced at her watch and nudged him forward. "Come on, we're running late. We need to focus on what's ahead."
Reluctantly, Shouta nodded and followed her as they hurried down the hall. The feeling of being on the cusp of a breakthrough nagged at him, but there was no denying that the situation had shifted drastically. The stakes had escalated, and it was no longer just about Izuku—it was about the future of UA, their roles as heroes, and the trust of everyone they had sworn to protect.
Shouta felt the crushing weight of the situation as he looked skyward, overwhelmed by everything that had spiraled out of control. Being a member of the Hero Commission only compounded his stress. He knew all too well how ruthless the Commission could be when investigating hero negligence. His position didn't protect him—it made everything worse.
A few minutes later….
Stepping outside into the crisp air, Shouta spotted Hizashi walking toward the courtyard. Their eyes locked, and Shouta immediately sensed that his best friend was fully aware of the circumstances. Hizashi's usually bright and animated demeanor was subdued, his eyes heavy with concern.
Shouta muttered a quick excuse to Nemuri before making his way over to Hizashi, who offered a sympathetic smile as they approached each other.
"Shouta," Hizashi said, his voice softer than usual, lacking his typical energy. "I know what's going on. I'm really sorry about all of this. It's a mess."
Shouta let out a long, tired breath. "I need a favor," he said directly, his voice low but resolute. He knew Hizashi well enough that he didn't need to dance around the subject. "Can you reach out to Kodai and Kendou for me? I need to talk to them—now more than ever. I can't do it myself with everything going on."
Hizashi's expression grew tense, and he glanced around, knowing the implications of what Shouta was asking. Being a fellow member of the Hero Commission himself, Hizashi understood the risk of getting involved outside of the official investigation. "Shouta, I don't want to get into trouble with the Commission. You know how strict they are…"
Shouta stepped closer, his voice turning more personal, almost pleading. "I'm not asking as a hero," he said quietly, the weight of the words pulling at both of them. "I'm asking as a friend."
Hizashi's resistance wavered, and his features softened. The bond between them went back years—long before the Hero Commission, before UA, before everything. Hizashi looked Shouta in the eyes, seeing the desperation beneath his usual stoic demeanor. After a long pause, he relented with a firm nod. "Alright. I'll do it. I'll reach out to them. But, Shouta…" His voice dropped lower, filled with caution. "Be careful. Don't let this get out of hand."
Relief washed over Shouta, even though the situation was far from resolved. "Thank you," he said, his gratitude clear. "Just hurry. I don't have much time." Shouta reached over and embraced his best friend.
With a final nod from Hizashi, Shouta turned and hurried back toward Nemuri, who was still waiting for him. His heart raced, the urgency of their situation pressing down on him harder than ever. Hizashi's help was a much-needed step forward, but with the Hero Commission looming and Inko's lawsuit hanging over their heads, every second mattered.
As Shouta rejoined Nemuri, he couldn't shake the growing anxiety gnawing at him. They were caught in a tightening vice of public scrutiny, legal action, and the relentless demands of the Commission. Hizashi's friendship was a lifeline—but Shouta knew it might not be enough to solve everything. Still, it was something, and in a situation like this, even a glimmer of hope could be the difference between success and failure.
Back to Denki and the others….
Uwabami welcomed them into her office with the same elegance and warmth she was known for. She immediately reached out to Itsuka, her arms wrapping around her mentee in a comforting embrace. But as Uwabami pulled back, her brow furrowed with concern. The lively spark she had come to associate with Itsuka was missing, replaced by a heavy, distant sadness.
"I'm happy to see you, Itsuka," Uwabami said softly, her fingers gently brushing Itsuka's arm. "But you don't seem yourself… what's wrong?"
Itsuka said nothing, her lips pressing together as though the words were stuck in her throat. Denki stepped forward, sensing her unease and trying to fill the silence. "Please excuse her, Uwabami," he explained, offering a tight, awkward smile. "The last few days have been... difficult."
Uwabami's sharp eyes flickered with understanding as she offered Denki a small nod. She moved toward him with her characteristic grace and greeted him with a light peck on the cheek, her perfume leaving a faint trace of jasmine in the air. When she turned to Minoru, she gave him a polite nod before stepping back behind her desk, her demeanor shifting into something more serious, more professional.
"Please, sit down," Uwabami said, gesturing toward the chairs in front of her large, elegant desk. The trio obliged, sinking into the plush seating. The tension in the room felt palpable, hanging heavy over their heads.
Once they were seated, Uwabami leaned forward slightly, her fingers steepled as she rested her elbows on the desk. Her expression had softened, but her tone carried a note of urgency. "I have a feeling this isn't just a social visit," she said, her voice low and calm but probing. Her gaze shifted to Itsuka, studying her with a mix of concern and intuition. "Is there something you need to tell me? Something urgent?"
Itsuka remained quiet, her hands trembling in her lap as she reached into her bag and pulled out a simple folder. She passed it to Uwabami without a word, her eyes downcast as if even looking at the photo inside would be too painful. Uwabami accepted the folder, curiosity etched into her face as she reached for her reading glasses and slid them onto her nose. She opened the folder carefully, pulling out a photograph and lifting it closer to inspect.
As Uwabami's gaze fell upon the image, her expression shifted almost immediately. The warmth drained from her face, replaced by a look of deep concern and recognition. She held the photo between her fingers as though it were something toxic, her eyes narrowing as she absorbed the details. There was a palpable shift in the atmosphere—whatever familiarity Uwabami had with the woman in the photo, it wasn't good.
"What do you want to know about her?" Uwabami asked after a moment, her voice quiet but tinged with gravity. The question hung heavily in the air as she placed the photo carefully on the desk in front of her.
Denki hesitated before speaking. He knew they had to be careful with what they revealed, but there was no avoiding it now. "She's done some… bad things," he said cautiously, his eyes flickering toward Itsuka before returning to Uwabami. "We're trying to find out who she is and what she's planning."
Uwabami's lips pressed into a thin line as she processed his words. After a brief moment, she reached for her phone, her expression now entirely businesslike. "Cancel all my appointments for the rest of the day," she said into the receiver, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Without another word, Uwabami stood up and crossed the room with a fluid grace. She moved to the door and, with a quiet click, locked it, ensuring they would not be disturbed. The sound of the lock turning was almost ominous in the silence that followed, the weight of the situation becoming more palpable by the second.
Uwabami returned to her desk, but now there was a heaviness in her steps, a shadow over her otherwise graceful demeanor. She sighed softly as she lowered herself back into her chair, her eyes drifting toward Itsuka. There was something tender and maternal in her gaze, though it was tinged with sorrow, as though she had already begun to piece together the terrible truth without needing to hear the details.
"Tell me, Itsuka," Uwabami began gently, her voice now soft and comforting, yet filled with quiet intensity. "Did this woman hurt you?"
Itsuka's hands tightened into fists in her lap, and for a moment, it seemed like she might not answer. But then, with a small, almost imperceptible nod, she acknowledged the painful truth. Tears welled in her eyes, but she held them back, her voice barely a whisper. "Yes."
Uwabami's expression hardened. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if gathering her thoughts, before speaking again. "This woman…" she began slowly, her voice quiet but firm, "I've crossed paths with her before. She's dangerous—far more dangerous than you realize. If she's involved in something like this, then we're dealing with a much larger threat than you might have anticipated."
Denki and Minoru exchanged a glance, their stomachs tightening with dread. They had feared this all along, but now it was real. Uwabami's confirmation of the woman's danger made everything feel more immediate, more perilous.
"Who is she?" Denki asked, his voice stronger now, the desperation breaking through his careful restraint. "What do you know about her?"
The Pro Heroine paused, her eyes dark with memory. "She's a manipulator," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "A master at weaving webs of lies and deceit. She's been involved with some dangerous circles, both in the underground and within places you'd least expect. If she's crossed your path, then she has a plan, and it won't be simple."
The room fell into a tense silence as Uwabami's words settled over them like a heavy blanket. They had come for answers, and while they were beginning to get them, the full picture was only just beginning to form. There was more to this woman than they had realized, and the danger surrounding Izuku's disappearance suddenly felt far more overwhelming.
Denki leaned forward slightly, the tension in the room thickening as his curiosity mixed with a growing sense of unease. He needed to know more about the woman they were dealing with. Itsuka was hurting, and Izuku was still missing. They needed answers—more than just fragments of the truth. He glanced at Uwabami, his expression resolute. "Who is she, Uwabami? What do you know about this woman?"
The blonde Pro Heroine's expression darkened as she glanced at the sketch once more, her fingers tracing the edge of the image. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she spoke, her voice measured and calm, but carrying the weight of deep knowledge. "Her name is Lady Nagant," she began, her tone filled with caution. "She was once a Pro Hero, much like myself. But her history is… complicated. She was a top operative for the Hero Public Safety Commission, tasked with handling matters in the shadows. Assassinations, covert operations—things most people wouldn't associate with heroes."
Denki's eyes widened slightly, and Minoru shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The revelation sent a cold chill down their spines. This wasn't just some rogue villain—they were dealing with someone who had been deeply embedded in the system, someone with the skillset of a hero but the ethics of a killer.
Uwabami continued, her eyes reflecting a deep unease. "She's a sick individual, both mentally and physically. The things she's done, the lives she's taken—it didn't matter to her. Age, race, gender, status—none of it mattered. If she deemed you a threat or a target, she wouldn't hesitate to eliminate you."
Denki swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation growing heavier by the second. "But why?" he asked, his voice quieter now. "Why would she be involved with this? What does she want?"
Uwabami leaned back in her chair, sighing deeply as she looked at the sketch once again, as if hoping to find more answers within the image. "If I had to guess," she said slowly, "it has something to do with her warped sense of justice. Lady Nagant has a way of getting involved when people challenge the system. She's a manipulator—skilled at twisting people's fears and desires to her advantage. Her methods are ruthless. Whatever her plans are, it's not something amateurs like you should be involved with."
She looked pointedly at Denki, Minoru, and especially Itsuka. "This is far beyond your capabilities. You need to leave this to the professionals."
There was a brief, tense silence before Uwabami's gaze softened just slightly as she looked at Itsuka again. "How did you get mixed up with someone like Lady Nagant?"
Itsuka clenched her fists in her lap, her voice strained with emotion as she answered. "It's because of my involvement with Izuku. She came after us—after me and Yui—and… she hurt us. She was trying to get information about Izuku."
Uwabami's eyes flashed with recognition. "Izuku Midoriya? The missing boy?" She sounded both surprised and deeply concerned.
All three of them nodded solemnly. Denki could see Uwabami's expression shift from concern to something deeper—something more troubled, as if she were beginning to piece together the bigger picture. She picked up the photo again, examining it closely, as if to make sure this truly was Lady Nagant. Her frown deepened.
After a few moments, Uwabami set the photo down with a decisive thud, her expression turning stern. "Listen to me," she said firmly, her eyes locking onto each of them in turn. "This shouldn't be in your hands. Lady Nagant is far too dangerous for you to handle. You need to let the professionals deal with her. If you pursue this, you'll only get yourselves hurt—or worse."
Denki's heart sank as he heard her words. He understood the danger, but the idea of stepping aside didn't sit well with him. They couldn't just walk away. Izuku was still out there, possibly in danger. "But we need to find Izuku," Denki said, desperation seeping into his voice. "We need more insight into her plans. We can't just—"
Uwabami cut him off, her voice sharp but not unkind. "I understand how you feel, but this is not something you can solve on your own. You've already been hurt enough. Izuku's disappearance is tragic, but if you keep pursuing Lady Nagant, you'll only add to the tragedy."
She picked up her phone and quickly made a call. "Please send a car for my guests," she instructed, her voice brisk. She looked back at the group with a mixture of sympathy and authority. "I'm having a car sent to take you home. This is over. Let us handle it."
Denki's chest tightened with frustration, but he saw the finality in Uwabami's expression. She wasn't going to let them go any further down this path. Minoru remained quiet, though his eyes were filled with tension. Itsuka, her shoulders slumped in defeat, didn't say anything either.
Uwabami stood up and walked around the desk again, resting a hand on Itsuka's shoulder. "If you need anything, Itsuka, you can call me. But this is where your involvement ends. You all need to focus on healing and staying safe. Leave Lady Nagant to the heroes."
The message was clear. Despite their desire to press on, Uwabami was drawing a line. Denki clenched his fists but nodded reluctantly, knowing that arguing further wouldn't change anything.
As the trio left Uwabami's office, the tension was thick in the air. Denki's mind raced with frustration, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Sure, they had finally gotten a name—Lady Nagant—but it wasn't enough. They were still no closer to finding Izuku, and Uwabami's insistence on leaving it to the professionals stung. Itsuka walked ahead of them, her silence heavy with unspoken disappointment. Her shoulders were tense, her steps quick and determined as if walking faster could somehow lead her away from the emotional weight of the situation.
Minoru, meanwhile, kept close to Denki, glancing at him with concern. He could feel the unease growing within them all. "What now?" Minoru asked quietly, the uncertainty in his voice evident. "What are we supposed to do?"
Denki exhaled slowly, the question swirling in his mind. He didn't have an answer—at least not one that felt satisfying. He was glad to have a name to match the haunting face in the photo, but it still left them with more questions than answers. "I'm going to do some research when we get home," he said, trying to keep his tone confident, though the uncertainty gnawed at him. "Maybe we can find out more about Lady Nagant, see if there's anything that might give us a clue about what she's planning."
They stepped into the elevator, descending toward the main lobby. The quiet hum of the elevator was a sharp contrast to the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in Denki's mind. Beside him, Minoru nodded, trying to take comfort in the idea that research might give them a direction. Itsuka remained silent, staring blankly at the elevator doors as they descended, her mind clearly far from the conversation around her.
As they stepped out of the elevator into the bustling lobby, the vibrant energy of the agency clashed with the heaviness they carried. Staff members hurried by, phones rang, and the air was alive with the hum of work. Denki and Minoru continued talking quietly about what they might find in their research, Denki theorizing about Lady Nagant's possible motives when, suddenly, Denki brushed shoulders with someone walking past.
"Watcha goin', kid?" a deep voice grumbled.
Denki turned and found himself face-to-face with a stern-looking Pro Hero with dark brown skin and dreadlocks tied back tightly. His eyes were sharp, filled with both irritation and experience. Denki quickly apologized, his eyes flicking up to meet the hero's gaze.
The man gave Denki a scrutinizing look, his expression set in a permanent frown. After a brief moment, Rock Lock continued walking without another word, his boots thudding against the polished floor as he disappeared into the crowd of busy staff.
The receptionist, seeing Denki's slightly rattled expression, offered him a reassuring smile. "Don't mind Rock Lock," she said warmly. "He can be a bit stubborn, but he's good at heart."
Denki nodded, though his gaze lingered on Rock Lock's retreating form for a moment longer. There was something about the way their eyes had locked—something that felt almost like recognition or understanding. But before Denki could dwell on it further, Minoru nudged him gently.
"Let's go," Minoru said, his voice quiet but firm. "We've got work to do."
Denki nodded in agreement, pulling himself out of his thoughts. They walked toward the exit, where a car awaited them, the weight of the day pressing down on their shoulders. Even though they had left Uwabami's office behind, the questions—and the danger—still lingered like a dark cloud over their heads.
As they slid into the backseat of the car, Denki glanced at Itsuka, who was still quiet and withdrawn. He knew they were all feeling the pressure, but they couldn't afford to give up now. They had a name. And while it wasn't much, it was a start. As the car pulled away from the agency, Denki silently vowed that they would find a way to use that name to get closer to Izuku, no matter what it took.
They were far from finished.
Meanwhile….
As Kaina spotted the signs for Kurosaki, a small wave of relief washed over her, though it barely loosened the tight knot of tension in her chest. They were nearing the secluded coastal city, far from Musutafu, where few people would think to search for them. It was exactly the kind of place they needed—a hideaway tucked deep enough to offer temporary security, at least for now.
Dabi sat slumped in the passenger seat, half-asleep, his chin resting against his chest. His arms were crossed, and his face, marked by irritation even in his sleep, showed no trace of the weariness Kaina felt creeping into her bones. Toga, on the other hand, was very much awake. She sat in the back of the van, her eyes wide and glittering with an eerie fascination as she stared at Izuku's unconscious form. His chest rose and fell steadily with each shallow breath, the drugs still keeping him locked in a deep, heavy sleep. Kaina felt the weight of Toga's unsettling gaze but said nothing.
"Wake up, Dabi," Kaina said, her voice clipped as they rounded the bend leading into the cul-de-sac. Dabi stirred, rubbing his eyes and shifting irritably in his seat. He blinked lazily at the dim lights of the old neighborhood that began to appear before them.
The cul-de-sac was eerily quiet, illuminated only by a few weak streetlights. At the end stood an old, decrepit house. The once-white paint had long since faded and chipped away, revealing patches of worn wood underneath. The roof sagged, and the overgrown bushes clawed their way up the sides of the house like twisted fingers. It looked abandoned, desolate even—but Kaina knew better. She had learned long ago that appearances could be deceiving, especially when it came to Tomura Shigaraki. He was nothing if not resourceful, and this old house was no exception.
She eased the van into the driveway, its headlights slicing through the gloom. The gravel crunched under the tires as she parked, careful to position the vehicle facing the street for a quick getaway if necessary. The night was still and heavy, save for the occasional rustling of leaves carried on the faint breeze. The oppressive quiet weighed on her nerves, but Kaina forced herself to stay focused. She couldn't afford to let her guard down now.
"Let's move," Kaina ordered, her voice sharp as she exited the van and slammed the door shut with a dull thud. Her boots hit the ground with purpose as she rounded to the back and flung the van's rear doors open. Izuku lay there motionless, his body limp as she hooked her arms beneath him. She lifted him with a practiced ease, cradling him in a bridal carry. His head lolled against her shoulder, and for a brief moment, she looked down at his face, serene in unconsciousness.
"Dead weight," Dabi muttered as he stretched lazily, trailing after her. His hands stuffed in his pockets, he glanced around the darkened street. He never liked doing the heavy lifting, but this was a necessary evil. He'd be paid soon enough.
Toga bounced out of the van, her giggles cutting through the silence like the sharp edge of a knife. She clutched a small bundle of Kaina's things, her eyes sparkling with dark amusement. She moved with a twisted grace, almost as if the dangerous situation thrilled her. Her gaze flickered once again to Izuku as she sauntered up beside Kaina. "He's still sleeping," she cooed softly, her voice dripping with a mixture of sweetness and obsession. "Our little prince is so peaceful like this."
Kaina shot her a sharp look. "Leave him alone, Toga. We need him alive and stable, not your plaything."
Toga pouted but quickly shrugged it off, her mood light and playful. "Fine, fine," she chimed, her voice still light as air. "For now."
Kaina carried Izuku to the front door, her muscles taut with the weight of him, though she hardly noticed. She fumbled briefly with a key Tomura had provided her, the rusty lock protesting as she turned it. The door creaked open, revealing the interior of the house, which was just as dilapidated as the outside. The smell of dust and stale air hit her immediately. The floorboards creaked under her boots as she stepped inside, the dim light from outside barely illuminating the sparse, shadowy space.
The living room was sparsely furnished, with a threadbare couch sitting against one wall and a wooden table littered with old papers and debris. The walls were cracked and peeling, and the windows were covered in layers of grime, letting in only the faintest slivers of moonlight. The place looked like it hadn't been lived in for years, but Kaina knew it was secure. That's all that mattered for now.
She laid Izuku down carefully on the couch, his body sinking into the worn cushions. For a brief moment, she hovered over him, her hand brushing his cheek before she pulled away.
Dabi entered the house lazily, glancing around with disinterest. "Could use a little sprucing up," he muttered under his breath. "But it'll do."
Toga twirled around the room, arms spread wide as if she were dancing in some strange, morbid celebration. "I like it," she said with a playful grin. "It has character."
Kaina ignored her, too tired to indulge Toga's odd whims. She paced over to the window, her sharp eyes scanning the dark street outside. She had to be sure no one had followed them, no one had noticed their movement through the city.
"We'll be safe here for a while," Kaina muttered, more to herself than to her companions.
Outside, the house stood like a silent sentinel, its old and crumbling facade hiding the danger and chaos inside. For now, it was their sanctuary, but Kaina knew it wouldn't last forever. Their enemies wouldn't stop searching for Izuku, and time was never on their side.
Kaina surveyed the dilapidated surroundings with disdain, her gaze sweeping over the cracked walls, cobwebs that clung to the corners, and the musty, stale air that filled the house. The scent of rot and decay seemed to seep into everything. It felt abandoned, like a relic left to crumble in obscurity. "This bastard better do some up-keeping," she muttered under her breath, her frustration bubbling to the surface as her eyes settled on the peeling wallpaper and the creaky, uneven floorboards beneath her boots.
Dabi, unfazed by the state of the place, leaned casually against a wall, his arms crossed, exuding indifference. He wore a smug smirk, clearly finding the situation far less troubling than Kaina did. "It's just another destination," he remarked with a dry tone. "Another pit stop until you get tired of your boy toy."
Kaina's sharp gaze snapped toward him, narrowing in suspicion. "What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, her voice cold and biting.
"Forget it!" Dabi shrugged with a lazy motion, his expression unreadable. "Forget I said anything." He knew better than to delve deeper into that conversation, not when Kaina's temper was so volatile.
But Toga, always eager to poke at the edges of others' patience, giggled in her usual unsettling way. She twirled a strand of her hair between her fingers, her voice filled with mischief. "Oh, come on, Kaina," she teased, her gaze darting toward Izuku's limp form on the couch. "You know you'll get bored of the sleeping prince eventually and move on to someone else. It's your M.O."
The air grew tense as Kaina's eyes darkened, her jaw tightening. "Shut the hell up," she snapped, venom dripping from her words. The insinuation that she could ever grow tired of Izuku, that she would discard him like some toy, made her blood boil. The thought of losing him, or worse, letting him go, was an impossibility. He wasn't a fleeting interest—he was hers.
To put an end to the conversation, Kaina reached into her coat pocket, her fingers brushing against the cool paper of two envelopes. She pulled them out and tossed one each to Dabi and Toga. The crisp envelopes landed in their hands with a soft thud, the weight of payment tangible in the still air. "Here's your money. Now get out of here," she commanded, her voice sharp with finality.
Toga pouted in her typical childish manner, her lips curling in exaggerated disappointment. "But I wanted to stay a little longer," she whined, her gaze flitting longingly back to Izuku, a strange glint in her eyes as though she was fascinated by the very idea of him lying there so defenseless.
"Enough, Toga," Dabi cut in, his voice low and firm. He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her toward the door with a sigh of exasperation. "We're done here."
Kaina stood still as a statue, watching them as they exited the house. She heard the crunch of gravel beneath their feet, the muffled sounds of their voices fading into the night air. The headlights of their vehicle flickered on, casting brief, ghostly shadows along the walls before the engine roared to life. The sound grew distant, leaving the night heavy with silence once more.
For the first time since their arrival, Kaina was truly alone with Izuku. The house seemed to exhale a breath it had been holding, leaving the atmosphere thick with an eerie quiet. The furniture, worn and barely functional, loomed around them like forgotten sentinels of a time long past. The wallpaper, faded and torn, peeled away from the walls as though it had long given up on clinging to life. Dust danced in the slivers of moonlight that filtered through the grimy windows, casting everything in a muted, ethereal glow.
Kaina turned her gaze toward Izuku, his figure still and lifeless, except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He looked so peaceful, so vulnerable in the pale light. A surge of possessiveness washed over her, mingling with the exhaustion that weighed down her bones. The house may have been in disrepair, but it was secure enough for now. The thought of cleaning this place, setting it right, was a burden she didn't have the energy to bear at the moment.
Instead, Kaina slowly began to peel off her clothing, one layer at a time, the fabric whispering as it fell to the floor. The cool air kissed her skin, but she barely felt it. All that mattered was being close to him, to the person who made her feel like she had a purpose. Her bare feet padded softly across the creaky floorboards as she approached the couch, where Izuku lay in a drugged stupor.
She climbed onto the worn cushions beside him, her body molding itself against his, seeking warmth and contact. She slipped her arms around his unconscious form, pulling him close as though he might slip away if she loosened her grip. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, feeling the steady pulse of his heartbeat beneath her skin. His warmth seeped into her, offering a fleeting sense of comfort and security.
In the oppressive stillness of the house, her lips brushed his ear, and she whispered with an unsettling softness, "You're forever mine." The words carried a quiet intensity, a dark promise of her undying commitment to him. "I'm never setting you free. Even if it means taking your life... and mine."
The weight of her words lingered in the air like a specter, hanging over them both. Her grip on him tightened, as though the mere thought of losing him made her heart constrict with a fear she couldn't fully understand. But in her twisted mind, she believed her love was something eternal, something worth any sacrifice. She would keep him close, even if it meant dragging him—and herself—into the depths of oblivion.
The house around them remained silent, the walls bearing witness to Kaina's obsessive devotion. As the night deepened and the world outside faded into quiet slumber, Kaina held Izuku tightly, her eyes closing as she allowed herself to drift into a sleep that was both peaceful and laden with the weight of her dark, unwavering vow.
To be continued….