Welcome to a new chapter of A Hero's Creed! We have a lot of talk and not a lot of action this time, but I think there's a lot of substance here. I look forward to what you all have to say about it.

ace200777: Looks like it's back now.

Gamelover41592: Thank you.

LEGOBRICK13: I also wanna dunk Bakugo. It's gonna be the highlight of the festival. Ah, and Bubble Girl, you left some unfinished business behind.

maxperseus130: I think we covered everything to be said in our PMs, but don't be afraid of your tinfoil hat.

Monkey D. Conan: To me, Bakugo is a stew simmering on low heat in the back while Gentle and La Brava are a pot of spaghetti ready to boil over... Mmm, spaghetti. I'm hungry now.

Monster King: Continue the story shall!

Pirohiko-Baltazar: Yes. Yes to both.

stevenpiskunov2: I have no plans for Gentle to interfere with the festival this go-round. As for Shadows, I understand the criticism it's getting. I hope it's good like Mirage was, but I don't want to get my hopes too high with Ubisoft's last few... choices.

Wizardwolf 1020: Yes, poor Izuku is becoming desensitized to the violence. He really needs someone to confide in, someone with an outside perspective.

Guest: Any Dexter vibes are coincidental since I've never seen the show. *Shrugs*

Chapter 63:

Emotional Conversations

Toshinori Yagi eyed the police station with trepidation; not for himself but for the reason he had been called here. Tsukauchi's message had been short, telling him there was information for his ears only, but Friday evening after classes had been the earliest he could make it. His friend's response had only further worried the Number One Hero.

'That's probably for the best.'

That worry had gnawed at his gut all day, distracting him from the Heroics courses he was in charge of. Luckily, the first-years were getting to the point where they rarely over- or underestimated their Quirks to the point where he needed to step in. Well, hesitation would not stop the meeting, so Toshinori stepped into the automatic doors' sensors, said doors opening with a vroom.

The inside of the Mutsutafu police station was clean and orderly as ever, the only exception being a pair of roughed-up officers with their hands on the arms of a cuffed Villain, the man's goo-like hair having been splattered on their uniforms in places, a trail of droplets marking their walk. Toshinori ignored them and walked over to a different receptionist.

"Excuse me, miss," he said, getting the woman's attention. "I'm here for a meeting with officer Tsukauchi."

"Mmm," she hummed, clicking a few buttons on her keyboard. "Yep, right here. They're in room four. Would you like an excor—?"

"No need, thank you," the man interrupted. "I think I can find it."

He excused himself with a nod, moving to the back hallway while watching his step to avoid the goo puddles. After 40 years of Hero work, Toshinori probably knew every police station far too well, so he walked straight to the aforementioned room. It was one of five that was closed, no one-way glass and or cameras. He stepped inside.

Within were two men, one of whom could be considered Toshinori's best friend. The other had purple hair in a short style that was quaffed to the right. His jaw and his glasses were both square, the former perched on a wide nose before brown eyes. Both stood, the man in the suit offering a large hand connected to broad shoulders.

"Yagi," Tsukauchi greeted. "This is Deru Kioku. Kioku, Toshinori Yagi."

"A pleasure to meet you," Kioku said in a low bass. "Although, I was expecting All Might. I suppose he's a busy man, but I thought he'd make time for this."

"I work for his agency—" the blond began.

"Yagi, close the door and have a seat," the officer said before the deflated pro could respond further. "I think I'd be for the best we get started."

Toshinori did so, his eyes narrowing slightly. He sat down heavily, wincing slightly as pain flared in his gut. He'd long since gotten use to the dull ache, but certain actions taken without caution could make his old wound feel like fire and ice at the same time.

"Are you ok?" Kioku asked.

"I'm fine," the scrawny man replied with a wave. "Old injuries. Anyway, what's this meeting about?"

"First, we need to clear some air to speak freely," Tsukauchi said. "Yagi, Kioku here is a lawyer representing Power and Price LLC."

"The one that specializes in pro Hero cases? Am I—?" He coughed. "I-Is the All Might Agency being sued?"

"No, you're safe there," the officer waved off.

"I am one of the most trusted lawyers at the firm," the man commented. "It is thanks to my Quirk: Perfect Forgetfulness. I can selectively lock away my own memories until such time as someone who was there reminds me of the event." He offered a smile. "I don't have to relive my embarrassing moments from high school until the reunions."

"Must be nice," Toshinori chuckled. "Ah, I see. You're able to meet with clients whose identities are secret and forget the meeting afterward until they need you to remember something."

"Correct. I was under the impression I would learn All Might's real name today and then have to forget later."

"I'm afraid we'll need to ask that you forget a lot more than that," Tsukauchi commented. "Yagi?"

Toshinori sighed before he suddenly bulked up, flexing his suddenly-muscular arms as the chair below him protested. Kioku's eyes boggled even as the man across the table was engulfed in steam, shrinking back to his smaller form.

"W-Well," Toshinori coughed. "I am All Might. An injury cost me my stomach several years ago and this is the result. It's why my active Hero time has been decreasing."

"…Oh," Kioku breathed. He looked away and sucked in a breath, getting his wits about him once more. He didn't need to pry or question anything seeing as he would not remember the meeting by the end of the day. "I-I see. Well, All Might—"

"You can just call me Yagi," the blond interrupted.

"Right, Mr. Yagi. Well, I represent Power and Price, and I am here to read the last will and testament of one Mirai Sasaki, the pro Hero Sir Nighteye."

"What‽" Toshinori demanded, bulking up as he jumped to his feet. "What do you mean his last will?"

"I'm sorry, Yagi," Tsukauchi muttered. "I didn't want to get you involved because I know how emotional you get, but Sir Nighteye and his two Sidekicks have been missing since last Friday night as far as we can tell. Centipeder was reported missing when he missed an outing with his father on Monday and failed to answer any calls or messages the following day. Investigation into the matter found none of the three and, further, everything in the Nighteye Agency's systems had been corrupted by a virus."

"According to Mr. Sasaki's will, it is to be implemented approximately one week after his death or disappearance," Kioku put in, pulling out a simple manilla folder. His instructions were to have you, All Might, given the first meeting in private, then a second with his Sidekicks, his cousin Saito Tatchi, and one Mirio Togata. Unfortunately, his Sidekicks are missing as well and his cousin was found dead of an accident dated to that same Friday."

"Doesn't sound like an accident," Toshinori muttered, slowly deflating again. "Sorry, I'm just… What does the will say?"

Kioku reached forward, bending the tabs to open the folder before pulling out five sheets of paper.

"I could give you all the legalese," the lawyer said, "but I figure you'd rather hear the layman's instead?"

"Please," the pro Hero nodded. "Mirai always cared more about the details."

"That's why he made a list to be read to you. Ahem. 'To my mentor and friend, I will the entirety of my collection of All Might collectables and merchandise to be saved, sold, or donated as desired.'"

Toshinori couldn't hold back the snort that made its way from him. Of course, Mirai would not only keep a collection but would also make him the designee if anything happened.

"Is that all?"

"Well, no," Kioku answered. "There was a clause that said anything left unclaimed would be left to you as well, with the exception of the Nighteye Agency which would be passed down in a priority chain of Centipeder, Bubble Girl, then Mr. Togata upon his graduation. To Mr. Togata is also willed the entirety of Mr. Sasaki's private accounts, vacation home, and private vehicle."

"It's all pretty straight forward," Tsukauchi said, having been told the gist before his friend's arrival. "He wanted to set up his protégé for success in the worst-case scenario. With his cousin's death, you'll also receive a collection of rare and expensive alcohols, for all the good it'll do you."

"I understand this is a lot to take in," Kioku said. He slid a paper and pen across the table. "Officer Tsukauchi says there's more, but there's no point in me staying for something I'll just forget later. Please, sign these and I'll go finish filing the necessary paperwork."

Toshinori did, marking the line reading 'Name or Hero Alias'. Kioku nodded and collected everything, thanking the pro with a final handshake. The blond puffed up as the lawyer closed his eyes, activating his own Quirk. When he opened them, there was something like a spinning loading animation going through his irises clockwise before they flashed red. He checked his watch.

"I presume this has been a rough meeting, All Might," he said. "I'm sorry for your loss. If you have any questions, please visit me and I'll unlock my own memory of the event. Good day."

The door closed behind the man with a soft click, leaving Tsukauchi alone with the deflating Toshinori. The officer reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, white envelope. "There's one more thing. Search team found this hidden under the computer harddrive in his office. It's for you."

Toshinori took it, his willpower alone keeping his hands from shaking. He recognized the handwriting with a single glance, 'All Might' written in Mirai's tiny, slanted, methodic script with blue ink. It was still sealed.

"Shouldn't this have been in evidence?" he asked.

"I checked the contents with the XP," Tsukauchi explained, refencing the machine the police had that could look through paper to scan unopened letters and the like. It wasn't used often, but this was one of the rare occurrences that permitted its use. "It all but confirmed what we feared, but the information was sensitive enough that I was able to keep the bigwigs out of it to keep them away from your secrets. I just skimmed it and did my best to ignore what looked like the more personal parts. I figured you'd rather wait until we were alone."

"Thank you, Tsukauchi." The blond wiggled his finger under the sticker holding the envelope closed, pulling it off. The letter was a couple pages in Mirai's tiny handwriting.

Toshinori,

Please excuse my informality, but if you're reading this, then I am already dead. I should have trusted my gut more and walked into a trap as a result. Luckily, someone found this and gave it to you, but I also fear the ramifications. Still, if tonight takes a turn for the worst, this will be my final attempt to prevent what I saw that day.

First of all, I want to apologize. You were right; I had no right to use my Quirk on you. I have regretted that choice and what it cost me every day. Our friendship was everything to me, but every time we were together, both before and after, words always failed me. I wrote countless emails and letters —worst-case letters like this one— but I never had the nerve for them to reach you. You know I was always better with pen and paper.

If you are reading this, then most of my assets will be divided between you and a student named Mirio Togata. He is a third-year student at UA who has interned with me since his first year. I have not told him any of your secrets, but I believe him ready to accept One for All. I have trained him to be strong, capable, dependable, clever, and above all uplifting. At this point, giving you his name is all I can do, but please watch over him for me. I know he can be a great Hero, with or without One for All.

Below, you will find a covered section. Under it is a description of my vision that day; what I saw when I used my Quirk on you and ruined our friendship. I would understand if you never uncover it, but every argument we had, every unspoken boundary I crossed, it was all in the hope that I could change that future. Never has my Foresight failed to come true, no matter how hard I tried. With my death, this letter is my final Hail Mary.

I shall now explain what led me to this point for it would help clarify my vision. I had been tracking a self-proclaimed Yakuza group called the Shie Hassaikai. Before I could find anything concrete enough for a raid, their headquarters burned down, the remains of most of their members found within by first responders and fire rescue. Officially, the fire was deemed an accident and the deaths connected, but I was able to view the coroner reports that showed the bodies were killed prior to the fire. I had Centipeder purchase the lot, then called for the aid of my cousin Saito Tatchi. If you meet him, please excuse any drunkenness.

Saito's Quirk is Hindsight, a near-perfect opposite of mine. It allows him to view the events of an area as far back as six months. With his help, we watched the attack that killed most of the Shie Hassaikai, something the police tried to cover up or ignore. There were six individuals, each dressed in robes of a different color, four men and two women, one of whom had a mimicry Quirk of some kind and had infiltrated the compound. Upon entrance, they split into three pairs and methodically killed each member of the Shie Hassaikai they came across using blades, throwing knives, and pistols taken from the guards.

During the events we saw, the Shie Hassaikai were visited by the pro Hero Death Arms. We could not hear what was said but was clear he was a guest of some sort. He was escorted to the boss, one Kai Chisaki calling himself Overhaul. I will spare most of the details —Saito should be able to fill you in— but the robed figures rescued a little girl, one of them dying in the process, and Death Arms was killed by Overhaul who seemingly escaped with his second.

I have not been able to track the robed figures nor identify their group, but the meeting and potential trap I will go to tonight will give me answers. If you're reading this, Toshinori, then those answers killed me, just as I knew they could. This is why I was so desperate for them.

The next part of the letter was covered in a layer of sticky paper, a tab sticking up from one corner. The blond recognized this as the description of Mirai's vision. He reached for it but hesitated. As his late friend —even if those last several years had strained their relationship— had said, none of his visions had failed to come true. Would reading it change anything or only make him paranoid about everything remotely similar? He decided to pass over it for now.

Finally, whether you read my vision or not, I still want to warn you. Toshinori, the robed individuals we saw are organized and dangerous. We were able to use context clues to identify two of them and I doubt you will like the implications.

One is Chizome Akaguro, the Hero Killer. He seemed to work closely with a teenage girl, possibly a protégé or student, as dangerous as the idea is. It seems the rumors of him working as a member of a group are true, but I doubt he is the leader like they claim. His student is the one with the mimicry Quirk. Do not get on his bad side; all your power is nothing if they catch you off-guard.

Another is Shota Aizawa, the Underground Hero Eraserhead and your fellow teacher at UA. I understand this may come as a shock to you, but we were able to identify him by a combination of his Quirk and capture scarf. Knowing what I know of Principal Nezu, I cannot fathom how he had slipped this past him, if he has. If Nezu knows, that holds further mysteries of why he maintains the man's job.

The fact that this organization holds the loyalty of known Villains and Heroes alike —most likely a fair number of them throughout the country— causes me to question everything I thought I knew about society. What made the Shie Hassaikai so special that they warranted such elimination rather than a standard police raid? What is the purpose of this group and how extensive is it? What has become of the little girl they rescued and why did the Shie Hassaikai have her to begin with? Perhaps I died knowing these answers, perhaps I was killed before a single word was exchanged.

My final words about this topic to you, Toshinori, are these. If you ever see a figure cloaked in a robe, run. Run and do not look back. Let another Hero handle it. Better yet, pass on your Quirk and retire. Get out of the game completely, for your own sake.

Goodbye, my friend. I only wish I could have told you in person.

Mirai Sasaki

A teardrop fell on the page, Toshinori only then realizing his vision had gone blurry. He set the letter on the table and pulled away, his hand coming up to his face as the tears started rolling down his cheeks. He sniffed, trying to wipe his eyes. It took him another minute to realize Tsukauchi was staring at him.

"Tsukauchi," he coughed. "Do you know if the search team found anything in Mirai's office about a group called the Shie Hassaikai?"

"Nothing," the detective replied. "They said the place was spotless. Even the corkboard was empty."

"Then someone cleared everything after their disappearance." He looked back at the letter. "What about robed Villains or Vigilantes like the Hero Killer?"

"Nothing there either that I recall. Why?" Toshinori folded the letter and passed it to the officer. Tsukauchi took a moment to read its contents, his head shooting up near the end. "Yagi, we need to do something about this."

"I fully intend to," the blond grunted. "That said, I don't think anything full-scale will work here."

"One of your coworkers could be a murderer."

"I've had to kill Villains before," Toshinori rebuffed. "I was never as proactive, much to my detriment in some cases," —The last part was muttered, but Tsukauchi knew enough to catch it and understand his meaning— "but we don't know anything like what Mirai found. He said even the police tried to cover up the Shie Hassaikai's deaths as accidental." He sighed, his head falling into a hand. "First we find All for One dead and his Quirk stolen, then we hear about Shigaraki getting killed by the Hero Killer while attacking a casino, and finally this, the Hero Killer a member of some group. It's all too confusing. Where do they stand on anything? I just can't see how it all fits together and how much is coincidence." He paused. "I need to talk to Aizawa."

"Are you sure that is wise?"

"No, but what else can I do? If Mirai was right and he's a murderer, we can't have him around our students any longer than necessary."

"We could bring him into the station."

"And risk him running?"

Tsukauchi paused. "…Perhaps you should discuss this with Nezu first," he suggested. "Frankly, he's smarter than the rest of us combined. Whatever this is, we can't charge into it."

"I hate that you're right," Toshinori muttered. "Mirai was always better than me at this kind of stuff. And now David and Melissa are gone, too. I don't know what Nana would do in this situation… I guess Nezu will be our best bet."

"I'll see what I can find from this side," Tsukauchi promised. "Believe me, Yagi. We will get to the bottom of this, and we will get the truth."

-AHC-

"You are a fool, Ten T!" Dr. Viral laughed. "Foolish and predictable! You have fallen into my trap! And with that Vigilante out of the way, there is no one to stop my plot!"

Ten T struggled against the mechanical bonds holding her aloft, our valiant and beautiful Heroine unable to make the momentum necessary to activate her Unstoppable. The most she could do was shake her mountainous chest to and fro, but it was all too little.

"You'll never get away with this!" she swore. "Even if you take Japan, the rest of the world won't wait!"

"And they, too, will fall in time," the mad scientist rebuffed, lifting the petri dish from his desk. He held it to the light. "Between the ultra-virus and my own Animation Quirk, no Hero, Vigilante, or Villain will stand against me for long. Soon enough, I will puppet every human and animal across the world. Muwaha! Muwahahaha!"

Ten T grit her teeth, fruitlessly pulling at the Animated arms holding her aloft. Dr. Viral walked over to his rocket, sliding open the tiny compartment in the center. He sucked in a breath before blowing into the dish, activating his Animation Quirk on the virus within. Slowly, carefully, he slid the crux of his evil plan into the rocket.

"I would say goodbye, Ten T," he mocked, "but soon enough, you will be like all the other Heroes; nothing more than another body under my control." He turned away, his twirly, sexy mustache outlined in the evening light as the sunroof opened. He spread his arms.

"To my victory over this rotten world! Ten! Nine! Eight!"

Suddenly, the evening light turned hazy, the reddening sky covered in a layer of white tinted pink by the sunset. Dr. Viral whirled around.

"Who's there?" he demanded. "Show yourself!"

"Now, why would I do that?" the accented voice purred, his fog spilling into the lair. Ten T felt her breath hitch and her chest tighten, her eyes barely picking out the gray shadow slinking in the mist. "After all, I quite like things the way they are."

"You!" Dr. Viral hissed. "You can't be here! You were to be on a plane to America by now!"

"I know." Ten T could hear that mocking, thrice-damned, sexy smirk in those two words, the same ones he'd used on her so often. "Thing is, I reconsidered your offer and decided I didn't like it."

"You fool! You could have had everything you ever wanted!"

The fog had engulfed the rocket, Ten T's trained vision seeing how the whiteness thickened while Dr. Viral was distracted, the fog condensing to take the machine apart piece by piece.

"I don't think Ten T would be near as fun without her moralistic banter," the rough voice of Baywatch replied, the sound of his west-coast American surfer sending unwanted flutters through the Japanese Hero.

"Then die, American! Animations, get him!"

A number of Dr. Viral's mannikins and scrap creations rushed into the fog, spreading out to find the Vigilante foreigner, but they never reached him as his fog thickened again, crushing or crippling the Animated inanimate objects, returning them to their previous states. Ten T watched the fog-controller slip behind the now-panicking Villain.

"Nighty-night, Doc."

Dr. Viral crumpled, the American's baseball bat knocking the consciousness from him. The fog slowly cleared, leaving only Baywatch in his grey, skintight leather surrounded by the crushed remains of Dr. Viral's inhuman army. He smirked that stupid, sexy smirk.

"Sup, T," he said. "How nice of you to hang around for me."

"Baywatch!" The Vigilante strutted forward, his steps reminding her so much like the cats the American tried so hard to emulate. "Get me down from here!"

"Oh?" he grinned, perfect teeth flashing. "Why would I do that when Dr. V has set you before me like a delicious meal?"

He reached up, causing the Heroine to flush as his rough hands trailed over her weapons. Her mind rushed with all the terrible, unethical, horrible, sexy things the American could do to her suspended, vulnerable, nubile body.

"Wait!" the sweet voice of our Heroine squeaked. "Not here! Baywatch~!"

Emi chewed on her lower lip, unable to take her eyes off the manuscript before her. She'd known her friend had had a pretty dirty mind for a while —they had first met in a bookstore perusing the so-called 'Lady's Nightstand' section, after all— but her descriptions had come a long way since the first draft of the novel she'd been trying to write. Kaoruko had always wanted to write a book to put the ones she read to shame, under a penname of course, and Emi could say she'd certainly succeeded.

Mmm, she'll have to try that one with Shota pretty soon. He didn't have fog, but he could make her feel just as powerless~

"Emi, what are you reading?"

She very nearly screamed, almost flinging the binder and manuscript into the ceiling as she whirled around. Shota stood behind her, dressed in casual clothing. Dark colors, of course.

"N-Nothing!" she squeaked, the binder thankfully landing on their couch. Had it landed anywhere else, the impact may have woken Eri. And as much as she'd come to love the little girl as if she were her own, helping to take care of her had delayed the proofreading she'd promised Kaoruko she'd do. It was Saturday now and she needed to get it back by Monday. "J-Just an, uh, unpublished book. You wouldn't like it." Shota reached for the binder. "W-Wait!"

He was too close and too fast, Emi still worried about the amount of noise she could make. He snatched the binder and flipped it to the first page.

"Ten T and the Fog of Love by Karuko Aowata," he read, the lines on his face suddenly deepening. "Emi, you haven't listened to the news today, have you?"

"No?" the female Hero questioned, suddenly concerned about the way he'd said that. "I spent the day here with Eri and the news is always so depressing. I don't want her exposed to that."

He sighed and set aside the binder. He sat heavily in his chair and beckoned her over.

Emi hesitated. It wasn't often Shota did something like this, offering to be physically close, even if it had been more frequent since he'd come out about his second life as an Assassin. Usually, when he silently called for her in his chair, though, it was usually something she needed to be comforted over.

She straddled him, resting her head in the crook of his neck as his arms wrapped around her. Dread went down her spine like cold water. He only hugged her if something was really bad.

"The news came out today," he started, the vibrations of his voice palpable due to her proximity to his throat. "Sir Nighteye and his Sidekicks have gone missing. They're presumed dead."

"What?" Emi tried to push away but his arms held firm, keeping her pressed against his chest. She trembled at the news fully computed. "No. No, you're lying. That's a really mean prank, Sho. I'm not laughing."

"I'm not lying," he muttered. She felt his arms tense. "It wasn't us, but we don't know who it was since the Templars didn't have anything against him. It could have been some random Villain, but that probably would have been more public. That unknown scares me."

"How…" Emi chewed on her lip, tears already coming to her eyes. "How long have they been gone?"

"…Eight days," he answered.

"No... No! That can't be! I just saw Kao—"

"Last week," the man interrupted. "You saw her last week, before the work-studies ended. Mirai Sasaki, Juzo Moashi, and Kaoruko Awata were last seen last Friday. No one has seen or heard from them since."

Emi started to cry, her tears soaking into Shota's shirt. He just held her. Death was something he was much more used to, but he also knew how hard it was to lose friends unexpectedly. It was better to hear the news in private, to hear it from someone else, and mourn then rather than from impartial news or a lawyer. So, he held her, staring at the ceiling.

He didn't have any of the information he wanted; he just knew the winds of change were starting to blow harder, and they sent a chill down his spine in the worst way. It was time to up his students' training.

One doorway away, Eri covered her mouth, similar tears flowing down her own cheeks. She didn't know who it was that was gone, but she understood far too well the pain the woman was going through. It was the same pain she felt every time she saw Satsuki and her family and remembered that their dad was gone because of her. Eri's mind drummed up a new situation, one where it was Shota or Emi were the one missing, and it squeezed her heart.

She wouldn't let anyone take her new parents, no matter what.

-AHC-

Danjuro Tobita —or as he liked to think of himself, Gentle Criminal— hummed as he walked down the hallway of his apartment building. He wore a scarf and a pair of sunglasses, the former of which was not questioned since the pre-winter chill was starting to set in, and grocery bags hung from his free hand.

He was feeling sentimental, he supposed. It happened regularly this time of year, the fog in his breath and the nip in the air reminding him of that week when his life changed so completely.

He had been returning from his father's funeral. It was nighttime, the air colder than it was now on account of sundown—not so much that one required a jacket but certainly enough that one was usually appreciated. He had taken a detour into a park to try to take his mind off of the sad state of the world. His world, at any rate.

Danju Tobita had been a gambler in his last years. Danjuro never knew what it was that drove him to it, whether it was his mother's passing along with the little sister who didn't live long enough to be named or it was his grandfather's declaration that he'd been unfit for whatever family business had made them rich in the first place. By the end of his life, the only thing Danju Tobita had to will to his only son was the house in which they had both grown up and not enough money to keep it. Logically, Danjuro knew selling it was the right answer —the profits alone could keep him comfortable for the next few decades if he was frugal— but that did not make parting with the house any easier a pill to swallow.

It was this childhood home that Danjuro was thinking about when he caught the flash of red in the corner of his vision. He glanced over, expecting to find a late-blooming flower of some sort, but instead found a bench. His eyebrows raised at he took in the scene, the green, metal bench taken up by a small figure mostly covered in newspaper. The red he had seen was attributed to the individual's hair seemingly wrapped around the owner's nose and mouth to try to ward off the evening chill. It would be getting quite a bit colder tonight, the man suspecting the hair and newspapers would do little on the night when they had their first chance of snow for the latter part of the year.

He stepped forward, kneeling before the figure. She was a girl, a part of her dark pink outfit bundled under her head as a makeshift pillow and her small size promised little personal body heat to combat the coming cold. What caught Danjuro's attention, however, were the tear tracks all but carved into her cheeks. He moved without thinking, pulling the handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbing away the moistness of her cheeks. She unconsciously leaned into the warmth of his hand, her own skin cold and clammy.

"Tamerai," she sniffed. "Minayu. Don't… Don't go… Don't leave me alone…"

Pity welled in his heart for the poor girl. Clearly, something had happened to her, probably costing her family. And if she was here, risking the cold rather than going to the police, it was probably something that could not be trusted to official authorities.

"Look at us," Danjuro muttered to himself. "Two lone souls tossed to the world." He offered a small smile. "Come now, let's get you out of the cold."

Careful as he could, he bundled up the redhead into his arms, the girl curling into him as she slowly relaxed. Danjuro continued on his way.

He chuckled at the memory. She had had a few choice words for him when she woke up, accusing him of many slanderous things. He had assured her that while what he did technically counted as kidnapping, he had been sure to treat her with utmost respect and care. He was no rough Villain, but rather a gentle criminal. When she later said she had no one and no reason to return anywhere, he had offered for her stay with him with a new name. Thus, La Brava and Gentle Criminal became inseparable, even if it would cut his buffer budget in half.

She never did tell him who Tamerai or Minayu were, nor did he believe it was his place to pry into what was clearly a painful past, even if he had his suspicions.

"—out! Out now! I don't want you anywhere near my Gentle!"

Gentle stopped, surprised. That had been La Brava's voice, but he had never heard such vitriol in it before. She was practically screaming.

"Now, now, La Brava," he heard Mr. Compress reply. "That's no way to treat a guest. What of the neighbors?"

"You're no guest of mine, Compress," La Brava snarled. "And we don't have neighbors. I paid off the landlord to ensure that. Now, I don't know who you are, but I know who you work for. You're going to get Gentle killed."

"Not if he is strong enough to carve his name into history." Compress' voice sounded almost mocking. "Ah, could it be you don't think Gentle can do it? You don't trust him."

"Shut up."

"That's it, isn't it? That's why you've been lying to him."

"Shut up! You don't know a thing about us! I know what that war does to people and I refuse to let that happen to my Gentle Criminal!"

"The biggest story in the world and you're sitting on it."

"We don't talk about it!" La Brava's voice was a hiss. "Are you trying to rip the world apart?"

"Of course not," Compress said. "I'd gladly settle for yours, however. You and your sisters did, after all, murder my father and brother, Minami Aiba."

Gentle's eyes widened at that information, La Brava's gasp coming just after a rustle of cloth. As he tried to comprehend the La Brava he knew with this allegation of murder, the young woman herself seemed to come to a different realization.

"You." Had La Brava been in possession of an ice Quirk, frost would have spread from her voice.

"Yes, me," Compress confirmed. "You should commend me, Minami Aiba. You do not know the sheer willpower I needed to not kill you the moment I saw you emerge from that room."

"I'd like to see you try," La Brava— No, Gentle mentally corrected. This voice was not the La Brava he knew. This must have been who she was before they met. This must be Minami Aiba.

"Come off it, girl. You and your damned sisters attacked my father and brother two years ago and it cost their lives. What were their names? Ah yes, Tamerai and Mi—"

"You have no right to say their names so casually! Not at all! They died trying to make the world a better place from filth like your family!"

"And yet you're here, honoring them so well, deserter."

Minami didn't say anything and Gentle couldn't fathom what she looked like. He'd seen her angry and annoyed in their years of cohabitation, but never had he heard her like this. Finally, she spoke, teeth audibly grinding with every word.

"…What do you want with Gentle?"

"Oh, dear Tobita? His family has need for his skills."

"Gentle's family is gone. His father died just before we met."

"Indeed. Such a shame what happened to poor Danju, but his son seems more—what's an appropriate word? Ah, bouncy, perhaps? Resilient. Yes, I'm sure he can recover from most anything; the only question is which way he rebounds."

"And you want to drive him into your sick cult."

"Now, isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?" Compress mocked. Gentle could practically hear an eyeroll. "Aye, Danjuro doesn't seem to have the guts for the full life like you or I do. Or did, in your case. But no, that's not what we would ask of him. We have need of his infiltration and information gathering. So, I'll ask you this, will you stand in our way or do I need to expose your secrets, Minami Aiba?"

"I'll never give you the chance," Minami hissed. "I'd rather Gentle be safe and see me for the killer I am than let you have your way with him, bastard."

"Then have at thee, coward."

Gentle heard something shatter just before he knocked hard, shoving his key into the door.

"La Brava, I'm back!" he called, turning toward the kitchette where he thought he'd heard the voices. He blinked. Mr. Compress was seated at their tiny table, a teacup steaming in his hand despite the mask firmly over his face. La Brava, in contrast, stood with a broom, sweeping up the shattered remains of a heart-covered teacup. Between the two of them, they were the picture of perfect civility.

"Gentle!" the woman called, none of the vitriol she'd had a moment ago to be heard. She shifted slightly, one of her ponytails hiding the flash of a knife sitting on the counter behind her. "Sorry for the mess! Compress snuck through the window and spooked me!"

"Yes, I admit it was impolite," the masked man agreed. He swirled the tea in his cup. "It seems a bit of your showman's flair may have rubbed off on me. Coming through the door seemed so… drab."

"I, yes, I can understand that." Gentle forced a smile. He only hoped his scarf served to hide its insincerity. He held up the grocery bag. "La Brava, the store had a special 2-for-1 on those pastries you so adore."

The young woman's eyes lit up, but there was the shadow that hide within. Such treats always made her melancholic for a reason she had yet to say. He could not see what facial expression Mr. Compress had, but the tilt of his head said something. After what he'd just heard, Gentle didn't know what to think of either of these people. He did know one thing, however.

Both of them had their secrets, and it suddenly felt very important for his continued living that he learn them sooner rather than later.

End of Chapter 63

Well, that was a lot of information! I wonder how learning some of that is going to affect their choices in the future.

Read and Review!

-SwordOfTheGods