Hello! Welcome back to the fic and its fourteenth chapter, the second installment of the Naruhata Crisis Arc.
After the frenetic action of the previous chapter, this one focuses on building relationships and character development. Not everything can be non-stop action, after all.
I know I mentioned switching to an M rating in the last chapter, but I realized it wasn't quite necessary yet. Rest assured, though, that it will happen in a future chapter of this arc.
I don't have much more to say, so I'll go ahead and respond to your reviews:
Ryuujin96: Hey, great to hear from you again! Thanks for the comments. Technically, Izuku did win his first real battle, as his main goal was always to protect Pop, not necessarily to defeat Number 6/Rokuro. And don't worry, as I've mentioned before, Izuku is not going to get One for All. The reasons are pretty clear: it would make him way too powerful and completely break the power scale.
Ojiro will definitely make an appearance after the end of this arc. I would have loved to include him earlier, but I felt that the main group was already more than complete (you'll see this group in chapter XVI). As for Koichi and Kazuho, they're definitely going to end up together—I love their dynamic and relationship. And of course, Koichi will become a hero, though not by going to U.A. I hope you enjoy the chapter, and I look forward to your review.
BoltSamIam: Hey, good to see you back, man. I was thinking of something more along the lines of Maul from *The Phantom Menace, since his goal is simply to cause chaos for his own reasons, which will be explored more in future chapters of this arc (if you've read the spin-off, you probably already have an idea). As for your other point, while it would be interesting to see Pop trained by someone Force-sensitive, Number 6 is already dangerous enough without also being a dark side user, haha. And don't worry, this is where the KazuhoxKoichi ship sets sail. I'm even starting to think that Hitoshi and Mei could make a fun couple just for the laughs. I hope you enjoy the chapter, and I look forward to your review.
PigeonKing: Hey, good to see you again, dude. Thanks for the congratulations—I'm thrilled to have reached the first month mark. Your theory is interesting, and on paper, it could work. However, the problem would be escaping that manipulation or the contradiction between training his mind to strengthen his Quirk while being weak enough to fall into his own mind control. It's like someone building immunity to poison while still being vulnerable to the same poison they resist. Plus, having the knowledge to fight like someone is one thing, but having the experience in those movements is another. Hitoshi's Quirk could achieve the former, but not the latter. For example, Hitoshi could use his Quirk on Mei and order her to memorize and copy Izuku's Form I, then have her fight Izuku. However, Mei would lose every time since she lacks the experience to execute those movements effectively. I hope you enjoy the chapter, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts!
Before I finish this, I would like to ask you to talk about and recommend this fic to your friends; it would make me very happy. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy it. Please leave a review, add it to your favorites, and follow the story.
See you at the end!
Disclaimer: You already know this; MHA is owned by Kohei Horikoshi. The Force and everything related to Star Wars are the intellectual property of George Lucas and the evil multi-billion-dollar company with the capital D.
The only thing that is mine is the computer from which this is written. Super Yay!
Underlined and italicized text = thoughts and/or internal dialogues.
Underlined, italicized, and bold text = Force ghosts dialogues.
Italicized and bold text = The Force dialogues.
Bold Text =Powerful characters dialogues (Like All-Might).
"All warfare is based on deception."
Chapter XIV: The Calm Before the Storm.
Number 6's new hideout was nothing more than an abandoned warehouse, tucked away in the industrial district of Naruhata. It was a place forgotten by time and the city's bustling life. The building's exterior was crumbling, with rusted metal beams protruding like skeletal fingers from the cracked concrete walls. Inside, it was a maze of darkened corridors, filled with the stench of mold and rot. Piles of discarded machinery littered the floor, their once shiny surfaces now corroded and covered in dust. The air was thick and heavy, almost suffocating, as if the walls themselves held the memories of all the illicit activities that had once taken place here.
In the center of this decrepit labyrinth, Number 6 had set up his command post. Flickering fluorescent lights barely illuminated the small area he had cleared, casting long, eerie shadows. A makeshift table was covered with maps, stolen police reports, and photographs of his targets: Koichi, Kazuho, and the new annoyance, Izuku. On one wall, a crude map of Naruhata was marked with red Xs, each one signifying a potential target or a site of past destruction. In the dim light, Number 6's eyes glinted with malevolence as he surveyed his plans. He was meticulous, obsessively going over every detail, every possible scenario.
He moved with the precision of a predator, his footsteps barely audible against the concrete floor. In the corner of his hideout, the faint morning light filtering through the broken windows barely illuminated his face, twisted with a mix of anger and grim satisfaction. He stood in front of a shattered mirror, his reflection barely visible, and the illusion of his master, O'Clock, appeared beside him. The specter wore a perpetual frown, his eyes cold and unyielding.
"Your initial plan has failed," the hallucination of O'Clock said, his voice echoing through the empty space, as cold as the winter wind that howled outside. "Now you must find another way to accomplish your mission. But first, you need to eliminate all evidence of your actions and the villain factory."
Number 6's lips curled into a maniacal grin, his eyes narrowing with a dangerous glint. "A visit to the Naruhata police station should take care of that," he muttered, more to himself than to the phantom of his mind. His reflection in the broken glass twisted into a ghastly smile.
Without another word, he morphed his appearance into that of a nondescript woman. His skin rippled and shifted, his features molding into something ordinary and forgettable. In this guise, he would be able to move through the city unseen, just another face in the crowd. He slipped out of his hideout, moving like a shadow through the alleyways, his heart pounding with the thrill of what he was about to do.
The police station was a bustling center of activity, a hub for law enforcement that teemed with officers and staff. To Number 6, it was a den of complacency, filled with men and women who thought themselves untouchable behind their walls and badges. He stood outside for a moment, his eyes scanning the façade, noting the reinforced doors and the surveillance cameras. None of it mattered. He had prepared for this. With a deep breath, he stepped inside, assuming the guise of a tired woman in her mid-thirties, her face lined with the stress of a long day. He blended into the throng of people moving through the entrance, his steps unremarkable, his presence unnoticed.
Inside, the station was a hive of activity. Officers moved about, discussing cases, sipping coffee, and shuffling paperwork. The hum of chatter and the rustling of papers filled the air, a constant background noise that made the perfect cover for someone with ill intentions. Number 6 moved with purpose, his eyes scanning the room, cataloging every detail. He noted the positions of the security cameras, the locations of exits, and the flow of people. His target was the records room, tucked away at the back of the building.
He made his way through the corridors, his footsteps quiet and measured. The station's design was familiar to him; he had studied it in detail, memorizing every turn, every doorway. He passed by the busy offices and interrogation rooms, his heart beating steadily in his chest. As he approached the records room, he adjusted his posture, adopting the weary stance of a clerical worker on a mundane errand.
The door to the records room was ajar, and he slipped inside without hesitation. Rows upon rows of shelves stretched out before him, filled with files and folders, the accumulated knowledge of years of police work. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a single fluorescent bulb hanging from the ceiling. He moved quickly, his fingers brushing against the files as he scanned the labels. He found what he was looking for: the section dedicated to ongoing investigations. The files here were thick, filled with reports, witness statements, and evidence. He pulled out every document related to his operations, his movements swift and efficient.
His fingers brushed against a particularly thick file, and he pulled it out, his eyes gleaming with triumph. This was the evidence that could link him to the villain factory, to the chaos he had sown in Naruhata. As he flipped through the pages, his eyes narrowed, taking in the details. They knew more than he had anticipated. There were photographs, names, even connections he hadn't realized had been traced back to him.
"Almost there," he whispered, his voice a hiss in the quiet room. His fingers moved deftly, pulling more files, stuffing them into a large satchel he had brought along. The evidence had to be destroyed, every last trace of it.
As he continued his search, he noticed a lone document lying on an empty desk. His heart skipped a beat. This was it, the last piece of evidence. He reached for it, but a voice cut through the silence.
"Can I help you?" Detective Eizo Tanuma stood in the doorway, his sharp eyes narrowing with suspicion. His hand hovered near his hip, where his service weapon was holstered.
Number 6, maintaining his disguise, turned to face the detective. "I've been sent to collect this report," he said, his voice calm and feminine. "It's urgent."
Eizo's gaze didn't waver, his eyes narrowing further. He took a step into the room, his hand now resting on the butt of his gun. "I don't recognize you. What department are you from?"
The air in the room grew tense, the silence stretching like a taut wire. Number 6's mind raced. His disguise had failed to fool the detective, and he needed to act quickly. He let out a derisive laugh, a sound that echoed through the room, chilling the air.
Before the detective could react, Number 6 activated his Overclock Quirk. In an instant, everything around him slowed to a crawl. Eizo's eyes widened in surprise, his hand moving towards his weapon, but it was too late. Number 6 was already in motion. He moved with inhuman speed, crossing the room in the blink of an eye. His hand reached out, grabbing the detective by the throat, lifting him off the ground. The detective's eyes bulged with shock and fear as he struggled to breathe.
"You should have stayed out of my way," Number 6 hissed, his voice dripping with malice. He tightened his grip, feeling the life drain from the detective's body. Eizo's struggles grew weaker, his eyes rolling back in his head.
Satisfied that the detective was incapacitated, Number 6 released his grip, letting the detective's limp body drop to the floor. He turned his attention back to the documents, his fingers working quickly to gather them up. He knew he had only moments before someone would come looking for the detective. He had to move fast.
As he finished gathering the files, he started planting a series of timed charges throughout the room. He set them to go off in a matter of seconds, just enough time for him to slip out unnoticed. The small devices blinked with a faint red light, their timers counting down.
He slipped out of the records room, blending back into the throng of people moving through the station. He moved quickly, his eyes scanning the faces of the officers around him. None of them paid him any attention, their minds occupied with their own tasks. He made his way to the exit, his heart pounding with anticipation.
The blast was like a thunderclap, deafening and catastrophic. Flames roared to life, hungrily devouring everything in their path. Papers were incinerated, walls crumbled, and bodies were thrown like ragdolls by the force of the explosion. Blood splattered against the remaining walls, and the air was filled with the acrid stench of smoke and burning flesh. The shockwave shattered windows, sending shards of glass raining down like deadly hail. The destruction was total, the once-bustling station now a scene of carnage.
As the dust settled, Number 6 glanced around, his eyes cold and calculating, ensuring that all the documents were obliterated. A satisfied smirk played on his lips as he surveyed the chaos he had unleashed. The evidence was gone, reduced to ash and twisted metal.
He slipped into the shadows, his form blending seamlessly with the darkness. He made his way to a nearby alley, where he could regroup and plan his next move. The explosion had created the perfect distraction, drawing the attention of both heroes and civilians alike. Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder as emergency responders rushed to the scene.
In the safety of the shadows, the hallucination of O'Clock reappeared before him, its form flickering like a candle in the wind. The villain's eyes were wide with a manic, frenzied energy, his lips stretched into a grin that bordered on the deranged. The phantom hero's face was impassive, its voice echoing in the darkened alleyway.
"You did well, Number 6," the hallucination said, its tone as cold as the grave. "But this is only the beginning. You must remain vigilant and adaptable. Our enemies are cunning and resourceful."
The villain nodded fervently, his movements sharp and jittery, like a marionette on a string. "This is just the first step, master," he said, his voice trembling with excitement and malice. His eyes burned with malevolence, pupils dilated to pinpricks. "In three days, Koichi, Kazuho, and that annoying green-haired brat will be dead. This is my promise."
"Good," the specter of O'Clock said, his voice fading like smoke, wrapping around Number 6 like a dark mist. "You've already destroyed all the evidence that could lead back to us, like those files on the Tokyo Sky Egg incident. Now, you must focus on sowing chaos, on breaking their spirits. They need to feel that they have no hope."
Number 6 grinned, a twisted expression that revealed the depths of his insanity. "Yes, I have wiped my tracks clean. The files are gone, the witnesses silenced. There's nothing left to connect me to those events. Koichi and the others will never see what's coming."
The hallucination's voice grew colder, more insistent. "Koichi is resourceful, but he has weaknesses. Exploit them. Use his connections against him. He cares for those around him; use that to your advantage."
"Koichi thinks he's safe," The villain sneered, his voice filled with venom. "He believes he's protected his little circle of friends. But I've been watching, waiting. I'll strike when he least expects it, and I'll bring his whole world crashing down around him."
The hallucination of O'Clock seemed to nod approvingly, its presence growing fainter, yet its influence on Number 6's mind remained as strong as ever. "Forget using Pop Step directly. That might tip him off. You need to strike at their heart—the city itself. Break them physically, yes, but more importantly, break them spiritually. Make them question their purpose, their strength. Make them realize that they're not heroes, just powerless pretenders."
Number 6's eyes lit up with a dark, sadistic idea. "Yes... I'll unleash hell upon the city. I'll cause so much chaos, so much pain, that the heroes will be paralyzed by their own despair. They'll have to watch, helpless, as innocent lives are snuffed out one by one. I'll make them feel the true weight of their own uselessness."
He could already see it: civilians fleeing in terror, their screams echoing off the burning buildings. The heroes would arrive, frantic and desperate, only to find themselves outmatched, overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the destruction. They would scramble to save lives, only to fail again and again, their confidence shattered.
The villain's grin widened, his heart pounding with the thrill of his envisioned chaos. "This is just the beginning," he whispered to himself, his voice laced with a chilling resolve. "The city will burn, the heroes will break, and I will be the one standing over their ashes."
As the night enveloped Naruhata, Number 6 faded into the darkness like a phantom, a harbinger of the chaos to come. The countdown had begun, and with it, the final act of his twisted plan to break the spirits of the heroes and leave the city in ruins.
-THE FORCE AWAKENS–
The festival grounds in Naruhata were a vibrant tapestry of excitement and activity, alive with the pulse of the Annual Hero Convention. Stalls were adorned with colorful banners, food stands sizzled with mouthwatering aromas, and the air crackled with the sounds of laughter, chatter, and the occasional cheer. Children darted between attractions, their faces illuminated with pure joy, while adults meandered through booths displaying the latest in hero merchandise and support gear.
In the heart of this bustling carnival, Izuku, Mei, and Hitoshi found themselves amidst the sea of festival-goers. The trio had managed to find each other near a booth showcasing the newest innovations in hero support equipment. Mei's pink hair bobbed animatedly as she scanned the crowd, her eyes catching sight of Izuku. She rushed over, her voice, full of exasperated cheerfulness, cutting through the festival's din with a blend of relief and annoyance. "Iruku!" she called out, her face brightening with both excitement and frustration. "Where were you yesterday? I had a groundbreaking new invention to show you!"
Hitoshi, standing beside Mei with a casual but observant stance, had his hands in his pockets. He wore an unamused expression, his brows furrowed in concern. "You didn't answer any of our calls or messages. What happened?" His voice was calm, yet it carried a note of genuine worry.
Izuku scratched the back of his head, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "I'm really sorry, guys. I got caught up in something… unexpected." His expression grew serious as he began to recount the previous afternoon's events. "I had this weird feeling that something was off, so I followed it. I ended up trailing a suspicious figure to an abandoned building. It turns out the guy was a villain planning something big."
Mei's eyes widened with curiosity. "So you were fighting to save someone?"
Izuku nodded. The festival's vibrant colors seemed to dim slightly as he continued. "Yes, but it was a bit more complicated. The villain had a twisted plan involving a girl named Kazuho. I didn't know her name at the time, but he made it clear he wanted to use her as a means to an end. During our fight, he said he needed to silence her, and he tried to kill her. I managed to stop him from doing that, but he escaped into the building."
Hitoshi's expression shifted from concern to intense interest. "He was targeting her specifically?"
Izuku's eyes narrowed as he recalled the battle. "Yeah. I don't know what his full plan was with her, but he seemed intent on causing as much chaos and confusion as possible. After I stopped him from killing Kazuho, he fled, and I spent the rest of the night with the Crawler, a local vigilante, discussing the threat and then we ended talking about All-Might."
Mei's eyes widened, her excitement and disbelief almost palpable. "Wait, you mean you were talking about All Might with a Brawler? An actual Brawler?"
Hitoshi shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "So you went from fighting a dangerous villain to discussing hero lore with a vigilante who's practically a fanboy? That's quite the detour."
Izuku scratched the back of his head, chuckling nervously. "Yeah, it sounds kind of crazy when you put it that way. We started off serious, but talking with someone who's as passionate about heroes as he is—it kind of just shifted into a conversation about All Might."
Mei raised an eyebrow, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You went from 'almost getting a girl killed' to 'talking hero fan theories'? What kind of conversation is that?"
Hitoshi folded his arms, trying to suppress a grin. "So, you're telling me that in the middle of a high-stakes situation, you end up bonding over All Might with a guy who, let's be honest, sounds like a hero geek?"
Izuku nodded, a sheepish smile on his face. "Pretty much. It was intense, but also kind of refreshing. The Crawler and I ended up discussing All Might's legacy and what it means to be a hero. It was like meeting another superfan who's also wants to be a hero."
Mei's expression softened, though she still looked skeptical. "And the girl? Is she okay?"
Izuku's tone became serious again. "Yeah, she's alright. I made sure she was safe before leaving. But the villain's actions have me worried. He's clearly planning something big, and I can't shake this suspicious feeling."
Hitoshi nodded in agreement, a hint of concern in his voice. "We'll stay vigilant. Just try to keep us updated and don't let us get caught off guard again."
Mei clapped her hands together, her face brightening with determination. "Exactly! And for now, let's enjoy the festival. We could use a bit of normalcy after all this."
As they strolled deeper into the festival grounds, the vibrant atmosphere enveloped them—musical performances filled the air with upbeat tunes, game booths rang with the sounds of excitement, and the cheerful murmur of festival-goers created a lively backdrop. Unseen by the bustling crowd, the Force ghosts of Luke Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Leia Organa and Yoda floated gently through the scene, their ethereal forms casting faint glows.
Luke's gaze swept over the colorful chaos, his expression a mix of nostalgia and bemusement. "I still can't quite get used to this. Being here but not really being here—it's a strange feeling."
Obi-Wan, arms crossed and brows furrowed in contemplation, glanced at his former padawan with a hint of disapproval. "It appears your reckless tendencies have influenced Izuku more than you realize."
Anakin shrugged nonchalantly, a wry smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "He saved the girl and managed to win the fight. Isn't that what truly matters?"
Leia, her presence exuding a blend of authority and compassion, added thoughtfully, "Sometimes the immediate victory isn't the only thing that counts. Leadership also involves guiding others through the aftermath and helping them learn from their experiences."
Yoda, tapping his cane with thoughtful deliberation, offered his perspective with his characteristic wisdom. "Innate, this quality is in Young Midoriya. Even if another had trained him, the same he would act. Suppressing it, the worst we could do. The Jedi Order, bound by tedious procedures, was. A reason for its fall, that was."
Izuku, sensing their presence and the gravity of their discussion, paused momentarily. He sent a mental apology, his voice filled with sincerity. "I'm sorry, Masters. I'll be more cautious."
Luke's spectral form shimmered with a soft glow of understanding. "It's not about erasing your instincts, Izuku. It's about balancing them with wisdom."
Obi-Wan's gaze softened, though his tone remained firm. "And ensuring that your actions don't lead to unnecessary risks. Being a hero means not only acting but also thinking ahead."
Anakin, his demeanor a mix of encouragement and nonchalance, added, " You've got the heart of a hero. Just remember, sometimes playing it smart can make all the difference."
Leia's voice took on a tone of practical advice. "Every action you take sends ripples through the world around you. It's important to recognize the impact of your decisions and to plan for both the expected and unexpected outcomes."
Yoda's eyes, ancient and wise, locked onto Izuku with a profound intensity. "Suppressing what you are, not wise it is. Each person, their path must walk, their nature embrace. Izuku, like the Force, a balance must find. Deny his true self, he could not. Strength and flaw, part of his journey they are. Suppress him, like stifling a flame it is. Only in embracing who you are, truly grow can you."
Leia nodded in agreement, her presence carrying the weight of her leadership experience. "Embrace your strengths and weaknesses. Learn from them, and use them to guide you. True leadership is about understanding and adapting, not just commanding or controlling."
Izuku absorbed their guidance, the weight of their words mingling with the vibrant festival around him. As they continued their walk through the festival, the lively ambiance contrasted sharply with the profound lessons being imparted. The festival's energy, filled with laughter and celebration, served as a bright backdrop to the wisdom of the Force ghosts, highlighting the balance Izuku needed to find between action and contemplation in his journey.
The scent of sizzling food mingled with the lively chatter and music that permeated the festival grounds, creating an atmosphere of pure joy. They stumbled upon Koichi and Kazuho near a bustling food stall. The vigilante's face lit up as he saw Izuku. "Hey, Midoriya! Fancy seeing you here!"
Izuku's face broke into a broad smile, feeling a surge of camaraderie. "Koichi! Haneyama! These are my friends Mei and Shinso."
Mei gave a cheerful wave. "Nice to meet you! Are you guys having fun? This place is amazing!"
Kazuho nodded, her eyes crinkling with a smile. "Yeah, we were just about to try some of the takoyaki here. Want to join us?"
"Absolutely!" Izuku said, already feeling his stomach rumble at the delicious smells wafting from the stall. "I've heard it's the best in the whole festival."
The introductions were casual yet heartfelt, as the group naturally fell into an easy rhythm. There was something about the festival's atmosphere that stripped away formalities and allowed connections to form quickly. As they wandered together, trying their hand at various games, their laughter echoed through the lively streets.
"Come on, Koichi! I've seen you in action; you've got to be able to knock over those bottles!" Kazuho teased, pointing at a booth with a pile of plushies as prizes.
Koichi rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Heh, you'd think, right? Let's see what I can do." He threw the ball, only for it to bounce off the bottles without even wobbling them. The group burst into laughter, Koichi joining in with a shrug. "Guess I'm better at hero work than carnival games."
The joy of shared experiences was palpable, as they teased each other over failed attempts at winning plushies and sampled the diverse array of food stalls that lined the path.
Mei marveled at the mechanical workings of some of the game booths, her eyes sparkling with ideas. "These are so cool! I bet I could improve the shooting mechanisms to make them more precise," she mused aloud.
Hitoshi chuckled "Leave it to Hatsume to find a way to make carnival games even more high-tech."
Mei grinned, not one to deny her passion. "Hey, everything can use a little upgrade! Imagine a plushie-shooting game where the targets move in complex patterns, keeping everyone on their toes."
Izuku, clearly enjoying himself, added, "And you'd probably add some kind of laser tracking, right? To make sure the aim is perfect."
"Exactly!" Mei clapped her hands together. "You get me, Iruku!"
From their ethereal plane, Anakin Skywalker, who had been quietly observing, couldn't help but laugh. "Modifying carnival games to be more challenging? Now that's my kind of thinking! She's got the right idea. Who wants things to be easy anyway?"
Obi-Wan Kenobi glanced at him, a mix of amusement and exasperation on his face. "Anakin, not everything needs to be turned into a test of skill and reflex. Sometimes, simplicity and enjoyment are enough."
Anakin shrugged with a smirk. "Maybe, but where's the fun in that? I'd take on a challenge over a simple game any day. Mei's got the right spirit—always looking to make things more interesting."
Koichi and Kazuho, comfortable in each other's presence, found themselves gradually opening up to their new friends, their barriers lowering with every shared joke and playful nudge.
As dusk approached, the festival's vibrant lights bathed them in a warm, enchanting glow, heightening the magic of the evening. The sight of the festival under the setting sun, with lanterns beginning to flicker on and the sky awash in purples and oranges, was nothing short of mesmerizing. It was in this serene moment that Izuku's eyes caught a poster announcing that several heroes would be making an appearance on the fifth day of the festival. "Look, guys! We should definitely be here for that."
The idea sparked immediate interest. Mei's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Absolutely! Meeting some of them would be amazing!" she exclaimed, practically bouncing on her toes.
"Maybe we could even get some tips," Koichi added, thinking about his own journey as a hero.
"Or at least some autographs," Kazuho said with a shy smile, her fingers tracing the edges of her camera. "I'd love to get some photos."
Izuku, always observant, couldn't help but notice the way Kazuho occasionally stole glances at Koichi. Her expression was a mix of longing and apprehension, as if she was wrestling with something deep inside. During a moment when they were slightly apart from the others, Izuku leaned in and whispered to her, "Have you told Koichi how you feel yet?"
Kazuho's face flushed a deep red, and she lightly smacked him on the head. "Midoriya! That's none of your business!" she hissed, her embarrassment all too evident.
Izuku chuckled, not unkindly. "I'm just saying… He's a good guy, and you deserve to be happy."
Leia, watching from her ethereal vantage, shook her head with a gentle smile. "You have much to learn about subtlety, young one," she murmured, her voice carrying wisdom and amusement.
As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden hue over the festival grounds, the group found a spot to sit and watch a live performance. The music was lively, and the performers dazzled the audience with their talents, their energy infectious. Izuku couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude as he looked around at his friends. There was something deeply comforting about these moments—moments filled with laughter, shared excitement, and the simple joy of being together. It reminded him of why he fought so hard, not just for himself, but for the people he cared about and the world he wanted to protect.
The festival lights began to twinkle as night fully descended, adding an extra touch of enchantment to the evening. Izuku, Mei, Hitoshi, Koichi, and Kazuho sat together, their earlier laughter giving way to a comfortable silence as they watched the performance. The shared experience of the day had forged a bond between them, one that felt natural and unforced, as if they had known each other far longer than just an evening.
Izuku glanced at Kazuho, who was still blushing slightly from his earlier comment. He offered her an encouraging smile, hoping she would find the courage to speak her heart. Kazuho caught his supportive look and sighed softly, her resolve wavering but not yet broken. Maybe, just maybe, she would muster the nerve to talk to Koichi soon. For now, she was content to enjoy the moment, surrounded by friends and the joyous energy of the festival.
As the performers took the stage for the final act, the group cheered and clapped, fully immersed in the festive spirit. Izuku couldn't shake the feeling that this was the calm before the storm, but he pushed the thought aside, determined to savor the time he had with his friends. The music and the collective cheer of the crowd created a moment of peace that felt both precious and fleeting.
"Hey, we should do this more often," Koichi said suddenly, his voice carrying a note of sincerity. "Hanging out like this… it's nice. Reminds me that there's more to life than just fighting villains."
"Agreed," Hitoshi said, his voice steady. "It's good to remember what we're training for."
Mei nodded enthusiastically. "Next time, let's have a picnic! I'll bring gadgets and we can test out new hero tech."
"Count me in," Kazuho said softly, glancing at Koichi, her earlier tension melting away in the warmth of the moment.
Izuku smiled, feeling the weight of the Force ghost's words. These bonds, the friendships they were building, would indeed be their strength. In this moment, surrounded by friends and the festive lights, he felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
In the ethereal plane, the Force ghosts exchanged knowing glances. Yoda, with his infinite wisdom, sensed the turbulent times ahead. "Enjoy these moments, they must. Strength from them, they will draw."
Leia's gaze softened as she added, "These bonds are more than they appear. They will be a beacon in the dark times to come."
As the night wore on and the festival reached its peak, the group decided to head back, their spirits high and their hearts full. They made plans to meet again the next day, eager to continue their adventures together. The festival lights flickered softly behind them, casting a warm glow on the departing friends. Their laughter and chatter mingled with the fading echoes of the festival, marking the end of a day filled with joy and the promise of future challenges.
In that shared moment, amidst the festive lights and the lively music, the foundation of a deep and enduring friendship was laid. The connections forged on this magical evening would stand strong against the trials that lay ahead, providing each of them with the strength and support they would need in the battle to come.
-THE FORCE AWAKENS–
The warehouse was a sprawling expanse of shadow and disarray, its dim lighting casting eerie shapes across the cluttered interior. The air was thick with the pungent smell of old oil and rust, mingling with the dust that danced in the rare beams of moonlight that penetrated the cracked, grimy windows. The metal shelves, bowed under the weight of forgotten tools and boxes, were coated in a layer of dust and grime, their surfaces marked with years of neglect.
The walls were a chaotic canvas of scribbled maps and hastily drawn diagrams, the centerpiece being a large, tattered map of Naruhata. Pins and strings crisscrossed the map, tracing the erratic movements of Number 6 and documenting the upheaval that had gripped the city. It was a stark representation of the mounting chaos and danger.
Soga Kugisaki leaned against a stack of crates, his amber eyes scanning the room with a mixture of curiosity and impatience. His tousled turquoise hair fell over his forehead, and the scar on his left cheek added a rugged edge to his otherwise youthful appearance. Dressed in a weathered leather jacket, Soga exuded both confidence and a weariness that suggested a long history of battles and struggles.
Beside him stood Rapt and Moyuru, each contributing their own unique energy to the scene. Rapt Tokage, short and lean with a wiry build, was a figure with a quirk that gave him a reptilian appearance. His dark green skin and scaled texture resembled that of a lizard, and his sharp, yellow eyes gleamed with a predatory focus. Clad in a form-fitting combat suit that accommodated his quirk, Rapt worked with a high-tech gadget, his hands moving with practiced precision. His role as the tech specialist was crucial, and his ability to handle intricate devices made him a valuable asset to the team.
Moyuru, on the other hand, was taller and sturdier, with a muscular build that complemented his quirk. His most distinctive feature was the flame that constantly flickered from the top of his head, casting a warm glow that contrasted with the cold, dusty surroundings. His dark hair was styled short, practical for his active role. Dressed in reinforced combat gear, Moyuru's presence was marked by his intense, focused expression and the controlled blaze that crowned his head. His quirk made him a formidable fighter, and his dedication to the team was evident in his unwavering readiness.
As they worked, the sound of Moyuru's low chuckle cut through the silence. "You know, Soga," he said, his voice carrying a rough edge, "this place feels like it's straight out of a horror movie. Any second now, I expect a zombie to pop out from behind one of these shelves."
Soga smirked, glancing over at his longtime friend. "If a zombie did show up, I'm pretty sure you'd fry it before it got within five feet of us. I'd be more worried about Rapt—he might try to keep it as a pet."
Rapt snorted, not looking up from the gadget he was tinkering with. "Very funny, Soga. But in all seriousness, if there were zombies, they'd probably get bored and leave. Not much excitement going on in here," he said, casting a pointed look at the dusty surroundings. "Besides, I'm more interested in things that don't want to eat my brains."
Moyuru laughed, the flame on his head flickering with the motion. "Well, whatever happens, at least we know we've got each other's backs. It's been a while since we've had a night off to just chill and talk. Feels...normal, you know?"
The reptile looking young adult nodded, his eyes still focused on his device but clearly listening. "Yeah, sometimes it's good to just… be. We're always on high alert, always fighting. But nights like these remind me why we do it. For these moments."
Soga chuckled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "You're getting sentimental, Rapt. But I get it. We've been through a lot together. Sometimes, it's hard to believe we've made it this far."
The silence that followed was comfortable, filled with the unspoken bond they shared. Despite the chaos outside and the threats that loomed over Naruhata, here, in this rundown warehouse, they found a sense of belonging.
The heavy metal door creaked open, interrupting the silence, and Knuckleduster entered with an imposing presence. His combat-worn attire—a sleeveless vest and reinforced pants—highlighted his formidable frame. The missing eye covered by a patch and the numerous scars etched into his skin told the story of a brutal past. Knuckleduster's limp was a tangible reminder of the injuries he sustained in a fierce battle with Number 6 years ago, following the tragic events at Tokyo Sky Egg. This confrontation had left him physically scarred, but his resolute stride and commanding aura spoke of his enduring strength and experience.
Soga looked up, surprise and curiosity mixing in his gaze. "You're back," he said, his voice steady. "We thought you were done, old man."
The grizzled vigilante grunted, a grim smile curling his lips. His good eye scanning the room before landing on the tattered map. "Figured I'd check in. Make sure you kids aren't getting in over your heads."
Moyuru extinguished the flame on his head with a thought, respecting the serious mood Knuckleduster brought with him. "We've been careful," he said, crossing his arms. "But it's getting harder to track the villain's movements. He's… erratic."
Rapt nodded in agreement, his reptilian eyes flickering over to the older man. "We're doing what we can. But if you've got any insight, we're all ears."
Knuckleduster grunted again, a sound that carried both approval and a subtle warning. "I've been dealing with scum like him longer than you've been alive," he said, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "He's not just erratic. He's desperate. Desperate men do dangerous things."
There was a moment of silence as the weight of the grizzled vigilante's words settled over the room. The only sound was the distant hum of the city outside and the faint rustle of paper from the map on the wall.
"And by the way, I've got something for you." With a swift motion, Knuckleduster pulled out a photograph from his pocket and slid it across the table. The image showed a fierce battle between Izuku and Number 6, their figures locked in a high-stakes fight amidst the street's chaos. Izuku's determined face was a stark contrast to Number 6's menacing presence. His remaining eye was focused, showing a mix of admiration and intrigue.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Knuckleduster said, his voice laced with admiration. "A high school kid taking on that psycho and coming out on top. I'm curious how he managed to pull it off."
Soga glanced at the photo, his eyes widening slightly. "So, that bastard is back. And you've seen him in action?"
The grizzled vigilante nodded grimly. "Yeah, and it's not just that. There's been an explosion at the police station. I've seen the aftermath on the news."
The former villain's gaze shifted to his phone, his face contorted with concern. The screen displayed images of the devastation at the police station: shattered windows, smoke billowing from the wreckage, and emergency responders working frantically. "The damage is extensive. This guy's really causing chaos."
A dark grin spread across Knuckleduster's face, revealing a mix of grim satisfaction and anticipation. "Perfect. It's time to bring the team back together. I'm not letting this slip through my fingers. We need to get the old gear out, rally the gang, and prepare for one final mission."
He moved to a concealed corner of the warehouse where a heavy, dusty chest lay hidden. Covered in grime and showing signs of wear and tear from years of disuse, the chest was opened with a grunt. Inside lay several pieces of old combat gear and tactical equipment, each bearing the scars of previous battles. Knuckleduster picked up a battered helmet and reinforced gloves, their surfaces worn from years of use. Handling them with reverence, he reconnected with the tools of his past.
Soga and his team exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of anticipation and resolve. The older vigilante's return was a clear signal that the threat they faced was imminent and severe. Soga had been managing Knuckleduster's responsibilities during his absence, including caring for his teenage daughter. This role had deepened the bond between Soga and his team, reinforcing his position as their leader.
A shadow of a smile tugged at the grizzled man's lips, the closest thing to approval he ever showed. "I know you've been watching out for Tamao, Soga. And I appreciate it. But you need to understand, that bastard isn't just another villain. He's a goddamn menace. He's the kind of threat that can tear this city apart if we don't stop him."
The group nodded, their resolve firm. Rapt and Moyuru moved closer, setting aside their previous tasks to focus on the impending mission. Their solidarity was evident in the way they coordinated seamlessly with Soga, ready to follow his lead.
Rapt cleared his throat, his voice steady. "What's the plan then?"
Knuckleduster, now equipped with the helmet, looked at the assembled group. "We're heading out. There's work to be done, and we need all hands on deck."
Moyuru nodded, his eyes filled with determination. "Let's get to it."
As Knuckleduster, Soga, and his friends prepared to leave, Soga took a crumpled envelope from a nearby table. It was stained and battered, showing signs of age. The envelope was marked with the name "Koichi" scrawled in a hasty but deliberate hand. Soga's fingers brushed over the worn paper before handing it to Knuckleduster.
"Here," He said, his voice steady but firm. "I think it's better if you give this to that idiot yourself. Whatever's inside, it's something he should hear from you in person."
Knuckleduster took the envelope with a reluctant frown and sighed, tucking it into his jacket. "Alright, alright. We'll focus on the threat for now. Maybe after all this is over, I'll have a chance to deliver it myself."
With a final glance around the warehouse, the grizzled vigilante led the way out, followed closely by Soga, Rapt, and Moyuru. The door creaked ominously as they left the darkened space behind, stepping into the uncertainty of the night. The weight of their mission hung heavy, the promise of conflict and resolution ahead.
As they disappeared into the darkness, the warehouse seemed to sigh with a sense of finality, a relic of a bygone era now left behind. The city outside waited, a battleground where the threads of fate and heroism would soon intertwine once more.
And there you have it. New players are joining the board, and the Izukusquad is meeting up with the Naruhata vigilantes (except for a certain old man who's busy gathering his own group). On the other hand, we get a closer look at Number 6's fractured mind, his vow to destroy Naruhata, and some of the chaos he causes by destroying the police station and erasing all evidence of his existence.
Izuku shipping Pop and Koichi is probably the funniest thing I've written so far, not to mention the Force ghosts' reactions when Mei showed up.
Meanwhile, Knuckleduster is back in town and hot on Number 6's trail—turns out he was watching the fight all along.
But what do you think? Did you enjoy the chapter? Let me know your thoughts. As always, I'm eager to read you. Please drop your opinions in the review box.
Thank you for taking the time to read this chapter. Your support and feedback mean a lot to me. Stay tuned for the next chapter, and may the Force be with you!
Until next time,
—FarXs.