Yo!
Yeah, I know—it's been a while since I updated this. What can I say? Writer's block hit me like a brick, and no matter how I wrote this chapter, I just couldn't get it to feel right. But hey, that's on me more than anyone else.
Anyway.
A lot happens in this chapter. We continue with Izuku's conversations with his friends, the wheels of destiny keep turning, and the HPSC's plans keep unfolding.
I'll be answering the reviews at the end, so for those of you who take the time to review this fic—don't worry, I haven't forgotten about you!
Hope you all enjoy this chapter!
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.
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).
"A secret shared is a trust formed."
Chapter XXIII: Trust and Problem.
"Guys, there's something important I need to tell you. But first, I need to speak with Shiozaki in private."
Izuku's words hung in the air, plunging the room into an awkward silence. The pink-haired inventor froze mid-motion. Her fingers tightened reflexively around her tools before slowly releasing them, the motion almost as if she was trying to hold onto something, anything, to steady herself. Her normally vibrant eyes darted around Koichi's room, avoiding Izuku's gaze as if they could somehow avoid the tension in the air. Her lips trembled slightly, betraying the unspoken questions that swirled in her mind—why couldn't he confide in them first?
After what felt like an eternity of silence, Mei finally locked eyes with Izuku. In that fleeting moment, everything clicked.
Despite the absolute seriousness etched on his face, Mei saw through the mask. She knew Izuku far too well to be deceived. Beneath his determined expression, she saw the hesitation, the flicker of fear, and an unmistakable sense of regret. He wanted to talk to them first, she was sure of it, but something greater—something beyond his control—compelled him to speak to Shiozaki first. It was a duty she herself didn't seem to fully grasp.
She let out a soft sigh, feeling an unexpected weight lift from her chest. She felt foolish for her earlier reaction, for entertaining the fleeting thought that Izuku, the boy who had risked his life to save an entire city from a madman, could ever betray his friends. The idea was laughable, and she suppressed a small chuckle at her own momentary doubt.
When Mei shifted her gaze, her eyes met Hitoshi's. She could see it in his eyes—he had come to the same conclusion. A quiet understanding passed between them, unspoken but clear. With a nod and a faint smile, she signaled her trust in Izuku. She could wait. She trusted him, after all.
"Alright," she said softly, her voice laced with understanding. "But don't make us wait too long, okay?"
Hitoshi rolled his eyes and gave her a light nudge. Before closing the door, he shot Izuku a final glance and gave him a thumbs-up.
As the door clicked shut, Izuku swallowed hard. His heart raced, and the space between him and Ibara felt heavier with each passing second. How he could find the words to say what he'd never thought he would share with anyone, but his mother.
Ibara shifted uneasily, her fingers absently grazing the hem of her skirt as if trying to ground herself. Her gaze flitted between Izuku and the floor, her lips curling into a hesitant smile, as though she were unsure whether to trust her own emotions. The quiet admiration she'd felt for him since the day he'd saved her was difficult to conceal, but it made the moment all the more daunting. "So… um," she began softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "what did you want to talk about?"
Izuku nodded—too quickly, too awkwardly. "Yes, well… sort of," he stammered, a nervous laugh slipping past his lips before he could stop it. Come on, get it together, he scolded himself, feeling his cheeks heat up. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to ground the storm of emotions churning inside him.
"I know this might sound… strange. Maybe even unbelievable." His voice faltered, and he dropped his gaze, his fists clenching at his sides as if bracing for what came next. Ibara's "I don't really have a script for this," he admitted with a strained chuckle, before looking back up to meet her eyes.
"But there's something about us—about you and me—that I think you need to know."
Ibara blinked, her mind whirling as she tried to process Izuku's words. Her fingers tightened around the hem of her skirt again, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks. "Something about us?" The words echoed in her mind, a ripple of surprise jolting through her as her heart skipped a beat. She knew he didn't mean it the way her heart momentarily leapt to interpret it, but the unexpected intimacy of his words lingered. "Something about us?" she repeated softly, her voice calm even as her flushed cheeks betrayed her attempt at composure.
Izuku's breath caught in his throat, belatedly realizing how his words might have come across. His hands shot up, waving frantically as a light blush crept across his face. "N-No! Not like that!" he exclaimed, his voice louder than he intended. "I mean something that connects us—not in that way! I mean… uh… okay, let me start over."
Ibara's lips quirked upward, a faint smile playing on her face as she watched him struggle to find his words. Watching him flustered, struggling to untangle his words, eased her own embarrassment. It made him seem more human—more approachable. "Take your time," she murmured gently, her tone encouraging despite the warmth still dusting her cheeks.
Izuku exhaled slowly, pressing his palms together in a futile attempt to steady his racing thoughts. "Alright," he said, his voice steadier now. "What I'm trying to say is… there's something special about you. About me. About us. It's something I think you might have felt before, even if you didn't understand it."
Ibara's eyes widened in surprise, her expression shifting as she processed the unexpected weight of his words. Her breath caught, and her lips parted slightly as if to respond, but no words came. A wave of recognition coursed through her, subtle yet undeniable. It was like the faint strains of a forgotten melody, one that tugged at something deep within her, an echo of a long-lost memory.
Now that he mentioned it, it had been there all along—that inexplicable sensation she had dismissed as nerves or adrenaline. She had felt it before, fleetingly, in moments of quiet reflection or prayer. But never as vividly as she had that night at the hospital. Then, amidst the chaos and terror, it had been different: sharper, clearer, undeniable. It had felt as though she were tethered to something greater than herself.
Izuku, oblivious to the storm of realization brewing within her, pressed on. His voice carried an edge of nervous urgency. "During the attack… when I helped you and that family trapped in the rubble…" He hesitated, his eyes darting to the floor before meeting hers again. "Did you feel anything… out of place? Like a connection? Or… or maybe something familiar, even if it didn't make sense?"
Ibara's fists clenched slightly as her heart raced. It hadn't just been that moment in the rubble. No, it had been there even before, when the villain's chaos seemed unstoppable, and all hope felt lost. She had been praying then—praying desperately for deliverance, for a miracle. And when he appeared, it hadn't just been relief she felt. It was something deeper, something that resonated in her soul, as though her prayers had been answered not by chance, but by design.
It had to be God's work. There was no other explanation. Her faith, the foundation of her life, gave her the clarity she needed. In that darkest hour, she had whispered her plea to the heavens, and Izuku had appeared—not just as a hero, but as an answer.
Her hands instinctively clasped together, trembling ever so slightly as if trying to hold onto the clarity that eluded her. Her wide eyes searched Izuku's face as though seeking a divine spark, proof that he was more than just a man. Gratitude, awe, and confusion surged within her, her heart thundering in her chest.
It had to be it.
Taking a hesitant step forward, she whispered, "It… it must have been Him." Her gaze flickered downward, almost afraid to meet his. "Your arrival, your actions—it was too perfect, too timely to be anything else." Her fingers tightened, trembling as she held onto her faith like a lifeline. "You were sent. I know it. God heard me, and He sent you to save us."
Izuku froze, his expression shifting from tentative to alarmed. His hands shot up instinctively in a placating gesture, his awkwardness clear as he stumbled over his words. "I—uh—wait, hold on a second!" he blurted, his voice pitching slightly higher. "I'm not—I mean, I'm really glad I could help, but I'm not… you know, sent by anyone. It wasn't divine intervention or anything like that."
Ibara's eyes snapped to his, confusion and disbelief etched across her features. "But how else could it be explained?" she asked, her voice trembling with emotion. "How could you appear so suddenly, so precisely, and accomplish something no one else could? The timing, the strength—it was providence."
Izuku rubbed the back of his neck, his heart pounding as he searched for the right words. "I… I can understand why you'd think that" he admitted, his tone softening. "But there's… there's something else at play here. Something that isn't divine—or at least not in the way you're imagining." He paused, his green eyes meeting hers with a quiet intensity that made her breath hitch.
Ibara took a tentative step forward, her hands gripping her skirt tightly, her voice trembling with a mix of wonder and fear. "I heard His voice," she said slowly, as if piecing the memory together. "After the explosion, when everything felt hopeless, I was terrified. But then, God's voice told me you were well. How do you explain that?"
Her gaze locked onto Izuku's, her eyes brimming with conviction and desperation. Her breaths came quickly, her mind racing to reconcile her faith with the reality before her. "It wasn't just a feeling," she pressed, her tone growing firmer. "It was clear. Distinct. Like a whisper that came straight to my heart. How could that not be Him?"
Izuku opened his mouth, only to close it again, his thoughts stumbling over themselves. The sight of her unwavering belief—so strong, so deeply rooted—made his chest tighten. He didn't want to hurt her, didn't want to shatter the foundation that had given her strength. But he couldn't lie to her either.
"Shiozaki…" he started softly, hesitant, his fingers fidgeting nervously at his sides. He took a deep breath, grounding himself. How could he explain this in a way that didn't diminish her faith? A faith so intertwined with who she was. It wasn't just about telling the truth; it was about honoring what she held sacred.
"You heard a voice," he said carefully, his tone slow and deliberate. "I'm not saying you didn't. But… it wasn't His voice. It was… Its voice." He paused, watching her intently, trying to gauge her reaction. "Something bigger than either of us. Bigger than anything we can fully understand."
Ibara blinked, her grip on her skirt loosening slightly. "Its voice?" she echoed, her tone caught between curiosity and hesitation. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, her mind trying to grasp what he was saying. "What do you mean? What… is 'It'?"
Izuku swallowed hard, his throat dry. Of all the scenarios that had crossed his mind, this was by far the most daunting.
The Force was a religion—he knew that much. Even if his teachers had never explicitly said so, it was impossible to ignore the parallels. The eternal conflict between the light and dark sides mirrored the religious wars of Earth too closely for it to be mere coincidence. It didn't take an expert in theology to see it.
But how was he supposed to explain that to the girl standing before him? Ibara's faith was the cornerstone of her identity—so unwavering, so deeply rooted. How could he tell her that she now had to believe in something entirely different, yet hauntingly similar?
His mind began to race, almost instinctively tapping into the Force to accelerate his thoughts. But even as his mental processes quickened, clarity remained elusive. He wasn't ready for this conversation. He probably never would be.
Compared to Master Yoda's centuries of wisdom, Izuku's understanding of the Force was like a single grain of sand in an endless desert. And the totality of the Force itself? That was an entire planet—vast, unfathomable, and impossibly complex. How could he hope to reconcile two ideologies, one so sacred to Ibara and the other so foreign, into something that could satisfy her curiosity and sustain her faith?
The thought alone was absurd. Worse, it felt insulting—to her beliefs, to the Force, and to the truth he owed her.
Lying wasn't an option. Not to Ibara. Not to someone who looked at him with such earnestness, as though he held answers to questions she hadn't even dared to ask yet.
He couldn't lie to her. But he also didn't know if the truth would be enough.
"Shiozaki," he began, his voice quieter than he'd intended. He paused, searching for the right words but finding only fragments. "What I'm about to tell you… it might sound strange. It might not make sense right away. But it's the truth. At least, the only truth I understand right now."
Her expression softened, her hands loosening at her sides as a new understanding settled within her. She nodded, urging him to continue.
Izuku drew in a deep breath. "The voice you heard… the connection you felt… It's not from God. At least, not in the way you've always understood Him." He hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. "It's something called the Force. It's… everywhere. In everyone. It connects all living things, binds them together. It's… powerful, and mysterious, and…" He trailed off, the enormity of it all pressing down on him.
"It's not evil," he added quickly, as though sensing her apprehension. "It's not here to replace your faith. It doesn't demand worship or obedience. It's… just there. Always."
Ibara stared at him, her brow furrowing as she processed his words. The room felt heavy, making Izuku think he had screwed up.
Yet, unbeknownst to him, he had muttered his every thought aloud, his whispered words carrying the rhythm of a rapid inner debate. To anyone else, his voice might have been too fast, non-sensical even—but not to Ibara. To her, it was as clear as a bell.
Her breath caught, the realization slowly dawning upon her like the first light of dawn: whatever this Force was, she too must have some connection to it. How else could she explain the clarity with which she perceived his conflicted thoughts? How else could she understand the voice she had heard, the connection she had felt during that chaotic night?
Her gaze softened as she studied Izuku's face. His sincerity was undeniable, his words brimming with respect and care for her beliefs. Despite his obvious nervousness, he had taken great pains to honor her faith, never once diminishing it. And his modesty—so rare, so genuine—shone through in every stammered explanation, every hesitant admission.
It was this combination of truthfulness, humility, and empathy that made her want to consider his words.
She inhaled deeply, steadying herself. "You've given me a lot to think about," she admitted, her voice quiet but calm. "And… I don't fully understand it yet. But I believe you."
Izuku blinked, startled by her response. "You… do?" he asked, his tone a mix of relief and disbelief.
She nodded, her fingers brushing against the strap of her bag, as if to stabilize herself against the gravity of his words. "Yes. Not because I understand this Force you speak of, or because I'm ready to let go of what I believe. But because you've been honest. And because I think… I think there's more to this than either of us can fully comprehend."
A small, tentative smile graced her lips. "Maybe… maybe this Force and my faith aren't as different as they seem," she said softly. "Maybe they're just… different ways of seeing the same truth."
Izuku's eyes widened, her words striking a chord deep within him. He hadn't expected her to respond with such openness, such grace. For a moment, the tension in his chest eased, replaced by a quiet sense of hope.
Something that was quickly crushed by the other revelation he knew he had to tell. As much as he wanted to nurture this newfound understanding between them, he couldn't let it overshadow the other reason he had asked to speak with her in the first place.
He drew a shaky breath, his green eyes hardening with resolve. "Shiozaki," he began, his voice quieter but no less firm. "There's something else I need to tell you. Something… dangerous."
Ibara's expression shifted, her calm demeanor giving way to concern. She straightened slightly, her hands clasping together instinctively. "What is it?" she asked, her tone steady despite the apprehension in her gaze.
Izuku hesitated, his throat tightening. He wasn't just warning her about any ordinary threat—this was All For One, a malevolence that could reach anyone, anywhere, and tear apart lives with terrifying precision. How could he tell her this without overwhelming her? Without making her feel like the connection she'd just begun to explore was now a liability?
He swallowed hard, his fists clenching at his sides. "It's about someone," he said, his voice low, almost reluctant.,
Ibara tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing in confusion. Izuku took a breath, gathering his courage. "His name is All For One, a villain, but he's not just any villain." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "He's dangerous in ways most people can't understand."
Ibara's eyes narrowed, sensing the gravity of his warning. Almost as if she could guess what he was going to say next.
"He's like us, right?"
Izuku's blinked in surprise as his mouth opened and closed, trying to find the words. He hadn't expected Ibara to guess it so quickly. "Y-Yeah," he stammered, his voice quiet but intense. "He's Force-sensitive, just like you and me."
She closed her eyes as the weight of his words settled in. The thought that someone could share their connection to the Force, yet use it for such dark purposes, was too much to comprehend.
"But... how can he…" she began, her voice trailing off as she struggled to put the pieces together. "Why would someone like that… come after us?"
Izuku, still processing the surprise that Ibara had sensed the connection so quickly, cleared his throat and took a deep breath, telling her everything he had discussed with his masters in the vision he had. About All For One's motivations and the danger he posed for the world.
When He finished, Ibara's gaze had hardened. Her hands instinctively gripped the fabric of her skirt as she stepped closer, her resolve strengthening. "I thank you, Midoriya," she said quietly, her voice firm but soft with gratitude. "For trusting me with this. And for warning me about him."
Izuku blinked, a little taken aback by the calm strength in her words. He wanted to ask her if she wasn't afraid. How could she not be? But before he could voice his concern, Ibara met his gaze, her eyes clear and unwavering, as if she already knew the question that hung in the air between them.
"Yes, I'm afraid," she said softly, but there was no hesitation in her voice, no sign of doubt. "But as you said, he doesn't know yet, so we have an edge over him."
Izuku's heart skipped a beat, surprised by her perspective. She wasn't denying the danger—she wasn't pretending it didn't matter. But she was looking at it differently. She wasn't letting fear control her.
"I'll just have to understand this Force better," she continued, her words measured, yet filled with a quiet confidence. "And I know you will help me."
Her trust in him hit like a tidal wave, the sincerity in her tone and the way she looked at him making his chest tighten. Izuku's breath caught, his thoughts spiraling as he processed the sheer weight of what she was asking of him—not as a burden, but as an affirmation of her faith in him. His voice trembled slightly as he replied, unable to mask the overwhelming emotions surging within him.
"Y-Yes… Shiozaki," he stammered, his hands curling into fists to steady himself. "I'll do it. I promise."
The words felt heavier than anything he'd ever said before, not because of doubt, but because as he spoke, he realized he meant every single one of them.
Ibara smiled at him, a small but sincere expression that radiated warmth. "I know you will," she said softly.
It was a simple gesture, yet it struck Izuku with an intensity he hadn't expected. His chest tightened, his heart racing in a way that was both overwhelming and oddly comforting.
- THE FORCE AWAKENS –
The shattered streets of downtown Naruhata buzzed with the chaotic energy of midday activity, the destruction from three days prior gradually giving way to the rhythm of everyday life. The scars—raw and visible—marked both the city and its people, but life pressed forward. Its inhabitants, resolute, worked to rebuild their home, even if only in fragments.
Volunteers were returning home, some carrying the weight of the past days, while others mingled with the crowds, and yet, amid the tide of bustling crowds flowing through the streets, in the shadowed alleys, the city's darker truths lingered.: the underworld never slept.
Koichi knew it all too well.
He leaned against the side wall of a restaurant, just far enough from the garbage dump to breathe easily. Opening the can of soda he had bought only minutes before, he took a long, well-earned sip. The sweetness and fruitiness of the drink reminded him of someone special—someone he was about to lose, if not for Izuku's intervention.
It struck him how strange it was: some people took years to develop a true friendship, but with Izuku, it had happened in an instant. A small smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head, realizing the uncanny similarities between them. Somehow, they had become friends, despite how improbable it seemed.
But as he sat in the alley, his thoughts inevitably turned to the bigger issue at hand—one that overshadowed even the most personal matters.
"If only the criminals would take a break."
Koichi sighed, the weight of his frustration crushing him. He loved helping, but the relentless rise in criminal activity made it feel like he was fighting a losing battle. The city was still reeling from Number 6's attack, and the chaos had become a breeding ground for every opportunistic villain to exploit, as if it had ignited something that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.
"You look defeated, Crawler. It doesn't suit the hero of Naruhata, don't you agree?"
Koichi snapped his head to the side, his years of vigilante experience kicking in and quickly dispelling the shock. In an instant, the soda can dropped to the ground, forgotten, as Koichi's eyes locked onto the newcomer.
The man stood in front of him, his presence almost suffocating. Impeccably dressed in a black suit that seemed too perfect, a stark white shirt that seemed completely out of place in the grimy alley, and a tie as dark as midnight, he looked like the very embodiment of a character straight from a film noir. A fedora sat low on his head, casting a shadow that obscured his eyes, but the sharpness of his jaw and the cocky smile on his face gave him an air of control that was impossible to ignore.
Unfortunately for him, Koichi was no ordinary person.
"What's a suit like you doing so far from headquarters?" Koichi's voice was steady, but his sharp gaze never wavered from the man. He stood ready, calculating, his instincts on high alert. "And in a filthy alley in the middle of Naruhata, no less?"
The man chuckled, a small, amused smirk curling at the corner of his lips. "And to think that 'at headquarters,'" he said with mock airiness, making exaggerated quotation marks with his fingers, "there are people who think you're just some carefree idiot. But seeing you like this? Makes the trip to this dump worth it."
Koichi's eyebrow quirked, suspicion rising. So, they were finally making their move? He let his guard down just enough, noting that the man's words carried no immediate threat. If they had wanted him out of the way, it would've happened when he was distracted.
"You still haven't answered my question," Koichi pressed, his tone sharper now. "It's rude not to, you know. Let me ask again—what's someone from the HPSC doing here? Last time I checked, there weren't any cases of heroic misconduct in this part of Naruhata."
With a casual smirk, the agent pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it slowly, letting the ember flare as the smoke coiled upward in hazy tendrils. "Well, well, Crawler," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "You can skip the boring introductions. I like that." He inhaled deeply and with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his polished shoe with an air of calculated disdain.
He took a step closer, his presence now undeniably imposing, his tone shifting as if the game had already been won. "Koichi Haimawari. Twenty-four years old, blood type B, loves curry, born on February 22nd to Shoko and Naoto Haimawari. Part of the Naruhata Vigilantes, alongside Pop*Step and Knuckleduster, and once known as the hero O'Clock. Graduated from Koruska High with average grades, tried out for UA but missed the entrance exam—saving a drowning girl, if I remember correctly."
Koichi froze, his breath catching in his throat. The details the man spoke of sent a chill through him, like an ice-cold hand gripping his chest. "What?"
The HPSC agent, seemingly oblivious to Koichi's growing unease, casually leaned against the alley wall, his smirk widening. "That girl you saved—Pop*Step, right? Kazuho Haneyama, 20 years old. She's the one, I believe, who's now your girlfriend?"
The words hit Koichi like a punch to the gut, making him instinctively take a step back. His breath faltered, and his chest tightened as the weight of the revelation settled in, like an anchor in his stomach. A cold shiver ran down his spine, his pulse quickening, as his instincts screamed that something was terribly wrong. The girl he saved… was Kazuho? The realization sent a chill through him, especially considering the stranger knew something even Koichi hadn't figured out yet.
The agent grinned wider, his satisfaction apparent as he watched Koichi's reaction. His eyes gleamed with the enjoyment of a well-played game. "Two years ago, you helped stop the Tokyo Sky Egg incident with Captain Celebrity and the others. Of course, you were denied any recognition for it. And more recently? You teamed up with a new vigilante, Specter, to stop the villain Number 6. But the way you ended it… quite the statement, wouldn't you say?"
Koichi's hands were now trembling at his sides, his breathing shallow and erratic as he struggled to steady himself. He had realized too late just how much this guy knew—about him, about Kazuho, about everything.
He wanted to scream, to curse, to do anything to drown out the gnawing fear clawing at his chest, but the sheer weight of it held him in place, crushing him under its enormity. In just three days, they had dismantled every ounce of security he thought he had. Their reach extended further than he could have imagined, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable in ways he hadn't thought possible.
It wasn't as if he hadn't known what the HPSC was capable of. Knuckleduster had drilled it into him over and over: Never trust them. Never let them know who you are or what you care about. They'll exploit it all. But even with all those warnings, nothing could have prepared him for this moment.
Koichi's breath hitched as the faces of those he cared about flashed through his mind. His family. Kazuho. Master. Soga. Moyuru. Rapt. Everyone in Naruhata who looked up to him. And the people he'd grown close to more recently—Midoriya, Hatsume, Shinso. They were all in danger now.
His vision blurred at the edges, his chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. The faint scent of cigarette smoke lingered in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of his own sweat. He had spent years fighting to protect everyone, to keep the people he loved safe. But now, it felt like the walls were closing in, faster than he could ever hope to push them back.
For the first time in years, Koichi didn't know what to do. The certainty that had always fueled him—the belief that no matter how bad things got, he'd find a way—was slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. He leaned back against the cold alley wall, tilting his head to stare at the sliver of gray sky between the buildings above. A sharp breeze swept through the narrow space, tugging at his jacket, but it did nothing to quell the fire of panic raging inside him.
"Geez. To think the mighty Crawler could be undone by mere words. What a tragedy." The agent's voice cut through the silence like a knife, dripping with mock theatricality. His smug grin was unwavering, a taunt in itself. "Where's all that bravado, that adaptability, I wonder?"
Koichi's fingers twitched at his sides, curling into fists so tight his knuckles turned white. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to move—to wipe that smug grin off the agent's face and make him regret coming here. But he didn't. Koichi's nails bit into his palms, the sharp pain anchoring him to the present. He forced himself to count his breaths, clinging to the faint hope that control would return if he held out just a little longer.
The agent tilted his head, his smirk widening as though he could see the battle raging inside Koichi. "Oh, there it is. You're dying to throw a punch, aren't you?" he drawled, his tone maddeningly casual. "Go ahead. I'm sure it'd feel incredible to wipe this grin off my face. But…" He raised a finger, wagging it mockingly. "We both know how that'll end, don't we?"
Koichi didn't respond. He couldn't trust himself to speak. The tension between them was suffocating, every second stretching longer than the last.
The agent sighed, the sound theatrical and dripping with false disappointment at Koichi's restraint. "No? Suit yourself." He straightened, brushing imaginary dust from his lapel. "I'll never understand you heroes. Always so composed, so controlled."
He stepped forward, his shoes crunching softly on the debris-littered ground, each step deliberate. "You know," he continued, his voice taking on a sharper edge, "I expected more from you, Crawler. All that groundwork, the hit team in the wings—wasted. And here you stand, fists clenched, tongue tied. All for what? To keep playing the noble hero?"
The silence returned, heavy and oppressive, broken only by the distant hum of traffic echoing through the alley. Finally, the agent's smirk faltered, replaced by a cold, calculated stare that pierced through Koichi like a blade. "Fine," he said at last, his voice quiet but cutting. "You're no fun. Let's get to the point, shall we?"
Koichi's mind raced, replaying every word, every smug change of tone, every deliberate pause. The weight in his chest felt suffocating, but somewhere deep within, a spark of defiance flickered. He forced his voice out, strained and barely more than a whisper.
"Why?"
The HPSC agent raised an eyebrow, feigning curiosity. "Why what, Crawler? Why am I here? Why do we know so much? Or…" he leaned in slightly, his grin returning, sharp as blade. "Why you?"
Koichi's jaw clenched, the question gnawing at him like a slow burn. He hated the way the agent said it—as if the answer were so obvious, it should have slapped him in the face. But despite the disdain, a sickening realization started to click into place.
"It's because of Number 6, isn't it?"
The agent froze, just for an instant, his grin faltering before warping into something darker, more dangerous. Then, he laughed—loud, deep, echoing off the alley walls with unsettling intensity.
"Oh, Crawler," the agent said between breaths of laughter, wiping away an imaginary tear from his eye. "You're sharper than I give you credit for." He took a deliberate step forward, his grin widening. "Yes, it's about Number 6. Or rather…" He paused just long enough to make Koichi's muscles tense. "It's about what you did to him."
Koichi's chest tightened, his pulse quickening once again. The words hit him like a gut punch.
"You and your new little friend, Specter, are quite the spectacle, Crawler. Two vigilantes who took down a threat so catastrophic, it made headlines even without your names attached." The agent's tone dropped, oozing a mix of admiration and disdain. "Do you know what happens when people like you pull off something like that?" He straightened, adjusting his tie with the ease of a man who knew he was in control. "You become a symbol. A story."
The words lingered between them, suffocating the air. Koichi's fists clenched tighter, the muscles in his arms trembling as he fought to maintain control. His expression remained neutral, or he tried to force it, but it was harder now, more fragile. His breath steadied, just barely, but the bitter realization settled like a stone in his gut.
They were targeting Izuku too.
The agent's smirk never wavered. He shifted his weight casually, leaning back against the wall with an air of nonchalance, as though he had all the time in the world.
"You see," the agent continued, his voice dripping with amusement, "normally, we wouldn't give a damn about vigilantes like you two." He slowly reached into his suit pocket and pulled out another cigarette, flicking his lighter with a sharp click that cut through the stillness of the alley. The flare of the flame briefly illuminated his face as he took a slow, deliberate drag. Exhaling a thick cloud of smoke, he watched it rise between them like a barrier. "But these are interesting times, aren't they?"
Koichi's brow furrowed, unease crawling up his spine. There was no sympathy in the agent's voice—just a cold, calculated assessment that left a bitter taste in his mouth.
The agent took another drag, savoring the silence before speaking again, his words slow, deliberate. "The Naruhata Crisis has been… well, how should I put it?" He feigned a struggle to find the right term. "Enlightening. Yeah, a real eye-opener. The hero desertion rate in the city hit 85%. Four out of five heroes just up and left their posts."
The agent's grin widened, an almost gleeful satisfaction in his tone. "That's bad PR for the HPSC. And if things keep going the way they are…" He shrugged, dismissing the weight of the situation as if it were nothing more than an afterthought. "The acting president might even resign. We can't have that, can we?"
The air thickened with tension. Koichi's breath came slower, but the panic still clawed at his insides.
The agent pushed off from the wall, stepping closer, every inch of his body radiating control. "Under normal circumstances, both of you would be arrested and dragged before a tribunal for vigilantism." He paused, his eyes narrowing as he assessed Koichi with a predatory gleam. "But as you've probably guessed, these aren't normal circumstances."
Koichi's heart skipped a beat. The agent's words hung heavy, pulling him deeper into something he had never intended.
The agent's grin faded, replaced by something colder, more dangerous. "So, a brilliant member proposed an idea. Why not take credit for your little exploits? Make both of you sanctioned heroes. Ones with the full backing of the HPSC."
"No."
The word was soft, but it landed like a strike. Koichi's eyes narrowed as he met the agent's cold, unblinking stare. His voice was steady, but his body was coiled tight, ready for whatever came next. He wasn't going to bend. Not now, not like this.
The agent raised an eyebrow, the cigarette still dangling from his lips. For the second time that day, he laughed—a harsh, almost mocking sound that echoed off the walls. His eyes gleamed with amusement, as though he found Koichi's defiance more entertaining than anything else.
"Crawler, Crawler, Crawler," the agent purred, his voice dripping with amusement. "Sadly for you, you don't get a say in this matter. It's already been decided."
Koichi's hands curled into fists, the muscles in his arms straining with the urge to strike out. His jaw clenched, and every fiber of his being screamed to resist, to fight back. But the agent wasn't finished.
His smile never wavered as he reached inside his tailored suit, fingers brushing over the fabric with an almost theatrical pause. He pulled out a thick envelope, its edges sharp and pristine, with a single letter—S—emblazoned on the front in bold, black ink.
With a fluid motion, he tossed the envelope onto the ground, the sound of it landing sharp and deliberate.
"Pick it up, Crawler," the agent ordered, his voice low and commanding.
Koichi's jaw tightened, and his fists clenched even harder. He stood still, eyes locked onto the envelope. His chest heaved with the effort of keeping himself in check, the heat of his anger pooling in his stomach. Don't give him the satisfaction. Don't let him win.
But as his gaze remained fixed on the envelope, a wave of dread washed over him. He could feel the unbearable intensity of the agent's gaze
He, sensing the tension but growing impatient, took a step forward, his voice suddenly cutting through the silence like a whip.
"Pick. It. Up!"
Koichi gave him a defiant look, but his fingers twitched. With a tight, controlled movement, he bent down, his fingers brushing the envelope. The letter 'S' stamped on the front burned into his eyes, and his stomach churned, but he forced his hand not to shake as he tore open the flap.
Inside, a single piece of paper lay there, and as he unfolded it, his breath hitched. It was Izuku's file, a clear indication that the HPSC knew. Knew who he was, his habits, his affiliations, his connections, his secret.
Koichi's pulse raced, a cold sweat gathering on the back of his neck. His fingers trembled involuntarily as he held the paper, feeling his world turning upside down. The agent didn't need to say a word—his grin said it all.
The agent took a final drag from his cigarette, the ember flaring as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, swirling it around himself like a final cloak before turning his back on Koichi. His footsteps echoed softly in the alley as he started to walk away, leaving a heavy silence in his wake. Koichi remained frozen. All he could do was stare at the paper, his thoughts spinning in a chaotic blur.
Just before disappearing into the shadows, the agent's voice cut through the stillness, sharp and smooth, like a blade.
"Consider this your welcome party, Crawler," he said, his tone laced with an unsettling calm. "In two days, we'll be holding a press conference. You and your little friend, Specter, will be introduced to the public as the newest sanctioned heroes of the HPSC."
The words stung Koichi as if he'd been slapped, the full weight of the situation crashing down on him. He couldn't maintain his promise.
"We're dying to meet Specter," the agent continued, his voice dripping with twisted amusement. "But don't worry… we haven't made any moves yet. We respect the fact that the kid's still unconscious. After all, we don't want to damage a young mind that could be so useful to us."
Koichi wanted to shout, to rush after the agent, but his body refused to move. The words lingered in the air long after the agent's footsteps faded.
For a moment, all Koichi could do was stand there, staring into the empty space where the agent had been, his mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion.
One thing was sure. He couldn't stop the HPSC.
- THE FORCE AWAKENS –
Oblivious to what was unfolding in the dark alley, Izuku stepped out of Koichi's room alongside Ibara. In the living room, Hitoshi sat slouched on the couch, a worn book titled The Art of Sarcasm Vol. 2 resting in his hands. His violet eyes scanned the pages lazily, though the faint furrow in his brow betrayed that he was reading with more intent than his relaxed posture suggested.
Nearby, Mei was hunched over the coffee table, a clutter of notes and diagrams strewn around her like the aftermath of a storm. Her goggles rested atop her pink hair, pushed up, as she flipped through the thick bundle of papers she and Izuku had written.
As the pair entered, both Hitoshi and Mei immediately looked up. Hitoshi snapped his book shut with a soft thud, setting it aside as his sharp gaze fixed on Izuku. Mei's lips curved into an eager grin, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"Sorry to make you wait, guys," Izuku said, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. After his conversation with Ibara, he felt more prepared for what he was about to say—but the weight of it still pressed heavily on his chest.
"About time," Hitoshi muttered, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "You've been taking your sweet time. Did you get lost on the way back?"
Izuku shot them a quick, apologetic smile, but before he could respond, Hitoshi's playful tone shifted. His eyes sharpened, and the smirk slid from his face, replaced by a more serious expression.
"But seriously," he said, his voice dropping an octave, "you've been acting weird ever since you woke up. What's going on?"
Mei's grin faded as she locked eyes with Izuku, her usually boundless energy subdued by the concern now evident on her face.
Izuku paused in the middle of the living room, feeling the weight of their gazes on him. His heart raced, the words on the tip of his tongue, but his mind was tangled in uncertainty. He had to tell them, but how could he? His throat tightened, and he shifted nervously from one foot to the other. What if they didn't understand? What if they thought he was insane?
A quiet, reassuring pulse suddenly echoed in his mind—his mental bond with his masters. It was subtle but powerful, a reminder that they were with him, guiding him even now. He wasn't alone in this.
With a deep breath, he lifted his gaze, forcing the uncertainty to melt away. He straightened, shoulders relaxing slightly as he met their eyes. A faint smile tugged at his lips, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. But it was enough. "A lot happened while I was unconscious," he began, his voice steadying as he spoke, though the faintest tremor still lingered. "What I'm about to tell you... might sound crazy, but it's the truth."
He drew in another breath, his mind clearing as he made his decision. His friends deserved to know everything, the truth that had changed him. No more hiding.
Izuku began with the Force, the mysterious energy that flowed through all living things, connecting them in ways beyond comprehension. He had come to understand it, feel it, from the moment he was born. But it wasn't until that fateful day—when his eyes first met Master Anakin's—that everything had truly clicked. The day his dormant power had been awakened, igniting something deep within him.
He didn't linger on the basics of the Force—he knew it would be overwhelming. Instead, he focused on what it had meant for him, personally. How it had felt right when he first truly sensed it coursing through him. His fingers trembled, remembering that initial spark of connection. He smiled, almost involuntarily, his voice growing more animated as he spoke of his training.
Izuku gave them a brief overview of his training, explaining how he had spent the years since learning to wield the Force under the guidance of his masters—Anakin, Obi-Wan, Yoda, Luke, and Leia. "They were always there with me, guiding me through every step, helping me grow into someone capable of truly understanding the Force." His voice softened with a sense of reverence as he spoke of them. "They were part of the Jedi Order—a group of warriors and peacekeepers who dedicated themselves to maintaining balance in the galaxy. They're no longer physically but their spirits, their Force ghosts, have always been present. Watching over me, helping me stay on the right path."
His gaze softened, and for a moment, Izuku was lost in thought, as if the very mention of his masters brought them closer. His eyes flickered with something like warmth, a rare and genuine expression of gratitude.
He sighed softly, shaking his head as if to clear the haze of nostalgia. "Sorry, I'm rambling. The point is, it wasn't just about learning to use the Force. It was about understanding it... feeling it as a part of me."
He spoke of his time in Hokkaido, which had turned out to be far more significant than he had initially realized. It hadn't just been a simple trip; it had been his first real test—the first step on his journey as a Jedi.
Izuku paused, his thoughts shifting. The mention of his journey triggered a darker memory, one that he had been struggling with for weeks now—the guilt over his actions during the battle with Number 6. He couldn't forget the image of the blast that had erupted when he'd made the choice to use lethal force. The destruction. The shock in Koichi's eyes as he had realized what Izuku had done. His throat tightened at the memory. "I—I didn't want to kill him," Izuku whispered, his voice breaking slightly. "But I had to. I couldn't let him destroy everything, couldn't let him hurt anyone else."
He clenched his fists, but he didn't allow himself to wallow in self-pity for long. He needed to stay focused. He moved on to the revelation he had after the meeting at Koichi's house, just before the attack on Naruhata. For the first time, he had sensed the presence of another Force user—someone other than his mother. This presence was unlike any he had ever encountered. It felt twisted, corrupted, and filled with malice. "That moment changed everything," Izuku continued, his voice tightening. "It shook me to my core."
He steadied himself. "But it also made something clear to me: stopping this dark user wasn't about fate or prophecy—it's my responsibility. My duty. I have to protect this world and everyone in it from the danger this person represents. I can't just stand by and wait."
Finally, Izuku spoke of Ibara. "I feel a strong bond with her," he said quietly, his gaze softening. "We share a connection. We both are Force-sensitive, the same energy flows through us." His hands trembled slightly as he spoke, not from fear but from the weight of the responsibility he carried. "It was my duty to make her aware of his ability." His voice dropped to a whisper, as if the very thought of her potential was sacred. "But more than that, I had to warn her. The darkness I felt that day is out there. It will come for her, for us. And I can't let that happen."
Izuku's breath hitched as he finished. He had said everything, shared everything he could without overwhelming them. His chest felt tight with the weight of his words, but now, as he looked at Mei and Hitoshi, there was only silence. The kind of silence that felt too thick, too heavy.
In the corner of the room, Ibara remained quietly seated, lost in thought. Her brow was furrowed, and though she wasn't saying anything, her silence was as telling as any words could be. Izuku knew she was likely reflecting on her own connection to the Force—questions and realizations that he had already faced, and which he hadn't fully explained to her yet.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Mei, usually so energetic, sat frozen, her wide eyes reflecting confusion and concern. Hitoshi's sharp gaze softened, his usual sarcasm absent for the first time in their conversation. The air seemed to hang between them, a delicate thread waiting to snap.
A quick glance at the clock told him he had been talking for over an hour, uninterrupted.
Mei was the first to break the silence. It was as though her energy had been held in check, waiting for the right moment to snap back into action. She clapped her hands together, her grin widening until it nearly split her face. "That Anakin guy—he's a genius with mechanics, right?"
Izuku blinked, momentarily disoriented as his thoughts scrambled to keep up. The sudden shift in conversation threw him off balance. "Uh... yeah, I guess you could say that. Why?"
"Do you think he could help me make babies?" Mei added, her voice deadpan, without a hint of hesitation.
Izuku froze. His mind blanked for a fraction of a second. Of all the possible responses he had prepared for, this was the last thing he had anticipated. He had braced himself for anger, confusion, maybe even disappointment, but this? This was entirely unexpected.
Izuku could almost feel his master's spirit facepalming, the frustration practically radiating through the bond.
Not so funny anymore, right, Master? Izuku couldn't help but let a ripple of amusement slip through the shock.
Anakin's dry voice responded almost immediately. I regret ever laughing at you that day.
Meanwhile, Hitoshi, who had been sitting quietly with his arms crossed, watching the entire exchange like a hawk, let out a low whistle. His smirk deepened, sharpening like a blade. "Wow. Doing it with a ghost? Even for you, that's bold."
Izuku's face went bright red, and he shot him a sharp glare. "She means inventions! Not... ugh! Stop twisting her words!"
Mei tilted her head, confused but entirely unbothered by the double meaning. "Huh? What's wrong with that?" she asked, completely unaware of how her comment had been misinterpreted.
Ibara, who had been quietly observing the banter, let out a soft, almost inaudible chuckle. Her lips curled up at the corners, a small smile tugging at her, though her thoughts drifted elsewhere. While the playful exchange unfolded around her, she found herself pondering the ghosts Izuku had mentioned. There was a strange sense of familiarity to the idea, like she had seen them before… somewhere.
After a beat, Hitoshi leaned forward, his gaze sharpening into something more serious, his smirk fading slightly. "All right, enough with Mei's... weird kinks. I've got a few questions."
Izuku gave him a quick, sheepish look, nodding in acknowledgment, already bracing himself.
"First off," Hitoshi started, his brow furrowed in thought, "how does it work that you and Shiozaki have the same power? Seems a bit weird to me. It's unheard of for two people to have the same quirk."
Mei, jumped up from her seat, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Maybe you're long-lost siblings?" she suggested with a mischievous grin.
Ibara's face drained of color at the suggestion. The thought of a familial connection to her hero made her uneasy, especially given her complex feelings.
The green haired padawan, however, shook his head with a soft chuckle. "The Force isn't a quirk, guys. It's more like knowing how to play a guitar instinctively," he explained, his tone calm.
Hitoshi and Ibara exchanged a look, both of them visibly surprised. They blinked in sync, clearly processing the new information. Izuku nodded knowingly, recognizing the confusion on their faces.
"I'm quirkless." He continued, feeling the need to clarify. "The only thing that's unusual about me is that I was born with an extra joint on my pinky toe." He paused, suddenly realizing something. "Wait… I didn't mention that, did I?"
The silence that followed was thick, almost tangible. Ibara, Mei, and Hitoshi stared at him, their expressions flat as they tried to figure out how to react.
After a long pause, they all exhaled and shrugged it off. In the grand scheme of things, with everything Izuku had already shared, this seemed like the least strange detail they'd heard.
"Yeah, well. Settling that aside," Hitoshi said, his gaze softening just a bit. "Why did you look like you were waiting for us to hate you over this?" His voice was quieter now, laced with concern. "You've been acting like you were expecting us to freak out or something."
Izuku hesitated, his hands fidgeting slightly. "Aren't you? I mean… I didn't want you guys to think that I was hiding something from you. I thought… maybe you'd be angry for not telling you sooner." He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a long breath.
Hitoshi studied Izuku for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. After a brief pause, he shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Man, sometimes I wonder how you can be this smart and determined, but then turn around and act like a real moron."
Izuku blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Huh?"
Mei groaned, her voice exasperated but laced with affection. "What Mr. Insensitive Guy here is trying to say," she added, shooting Hitoshi a side-eye, "is that you're overthinking everything." With a dramatic sigh, she removed her goggles from her pink hair and, in one swift motion, placed them on Izuku's head. "We're your friends, Izuku."
Izuku stood frozen for a moment, the weight of her words sinking in. Hitoshi followed it up with a casual but warm gesture, extending his fist toward him. "Yeah, idiot. We know why you didn't tell us sooner." His smirk deepened, but there was no malice in his words—just a touch of playful exasperation. "Stop worrying about how we'll react. We've got your back, always."
Mei's grin widened as she took Ibara's hand, gently pulling her closer to the group. There was a warmth in her gesture, a subtle invitation to fully join the circle. "You're part of this too, right?
Ibara, still somewhat reserved but clearly moved by the inclusiveness, gave a soft nod, her lips curving slightly in response.
"Who cares about this bad guy stuff?" Mei added with a shrug. "You're going to become heroes, so fighting evil was already in the package." She paused, her eyes sparkling. "Besides, you got me—the best inventor ever."
Izuku's heart lightened, the weight of his worries easing as their words settled over him. He wasn't alone.
"So, when are we going to build things with Anakin?" Mei asked with a cheeky grin, leaning in toward Izuku and raising an eyebrow.
Izuku stammered, trying to process the suggestion. "Mei, Anakin's a Force ghost, not a mechanic you can just call up to fix your gadgets."
She waved him off with a dramatic flourish, her grin widening. "Oh, come on! A little ghostly collaboration never hurt anyone. Just imagine the inventions we could make with a little help from our spooky friend!"
Izuku opened his mouth to protest but realized that, for once, he was too tired to argue. Mei was relentless, and her enthusiasm was oddly contagious. With a resigned sigh, he threw his hands up. "Fine. You and Anakin can start your own workshop in the afterlife. Just don't expect me to help with the paperwork."
Mei's grin widened to an almost impossibly large size. "Deal! I'm sure Anakin's ghost can handle the logistics!"
"No, he can't." Four voices rang out loud and clear through the mental link. Each one teasing Anakin, their message perfectly synchronized.
In Koichi's room, Izuku's phone buzzed again, its screen lighting up with a message. The soft hum of the notification went unnoticed amidst the laughter and chatter in the living room.
If anyone had glanced at the screen, they would have seen the name of the sender: Koichi.
- THE FORCE AWAKENS –
A hooded figure sprinted through the narrow, grimy streets of the slums, its footsteps echoing against the cracked concrete. Its breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, each exhale misting in the cold night air. Blood—still fresh, still dripping—streaked the figure's tattered clothes, dark and smeared against the fabric.
It didn't have much time. They were getting closer. The figure slowed for a fraction of a second, scanning its surroundings. The flicker of a dumpster caught its eye. Perfect.
In a quick, fluid motion, the figure tore off its bloodied clothes and tossed them carelessly atop the dumpster's lid, leaving them in plain view. A stark contrast against the otherwise empty street.
Seconds passed. The figure crouched behind the dumpster, pressing into the shadows, every nerve on edge, every breath slow and controlled.
Then, a heartbeat later, an unremarkable teenage boy stepped from the shadows, his blue blazer crisp against the dim alley. His hands slid into his pockets as he walked, his face calm, almost serene, as though nothing at all was amiss. To any passerby, he was simply a teenager on his way home.
He took a brief glance over his shoulder as he stepped away from the dumpster, his gaze lingering for just a moment. His footsteps were measured, unhurried, as he disappeared into the night.
As the sound of his departure faded, the Hero arrived at the scene. His boots echoed against the pavement as he scanned the alley. His eyes immediately locked onto the discarded bloodied clothes resting atop the dumpster lid. The streetlights flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows on the ground. The boy had vanished. The only sign left was the chilling evidence—clothes drenched in fresh blood, abandoned as if the wearer had never existed.
Elsewhere, the adolescent walked along the sidewalk. He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing over something small, metallic. With a delicate flick, he pulled out a bloodstained student ID.
The name Saito was unmistakably visible, printed clearly despite the bloodstains marring its surface. He studied it for a moment, his lips curling into a slow, satisfied smile.
Without hesitation, he tossed the ID into the street. It fluttered briefly through the air before landing with a soft splash in a puddle. The blood slowly seeped into the water, the name still legible amidst the grim red stain.
"Time to go home... and get my spare uniform," he murmured, his voice quiet, almost casual, yet tinged with a dark satisfaction. His gaze lingered on the bloodied ID, his smile widening as he turned and disappeared into the shadows once more.
- THE FORCE AWAKENS –
The phone was held loosely in the person's hand, the screen reflecting a sharp, calculating gaze. For a long moment, the person remained still, mind racing through probabilities, calculations, and contingencies. Each scenario swiftly evaluated, discarded, and replaced by another—more complex, more daring.
Then, the silence in the office was broken by a soft, high-pitched voice, laced with an unmistakable sharpness. "I'll take care of it," it chimed. "Leave it to me."
With a deliberate motion, the person ended the call, fingers twitching over the screen as plans began to form in their mind.
They leaned back, letting the tension wane as they lifted a small cup to their lips and took a slow, thoughtful sip.
How they loved to cause mischief.
And there you have it.
Wonder who the two mysterious people are from both ending scenes, huh? Like I mentioned before, the HPSC's plans are the real deal. I mean, Izuku didn't do a great job hiding his peculiar abilities. Plus, one of the perks of being a government agency is having full access to personal records. A little bit of crisscrossing by the HPSC, and bam—you've got the real identities of your "enemies" ... or potential new recruits, I guess.
Oh, and as you've read, Izukusquad is now in on the green bean's secrets. Neat, right?
- START OF REVIEW SPACE –
Darkgod3000: Hey dude, it's been a while (for me to answer you, lol). This chapter is the first stepping stone for Bakugou. From now on, he'll have to either change or at least tone down his jerk attitude—probably. Glad you liked the HPSC's early appearance! As for Stain, it's just a mention for now. He's not the kind of guy to follow anyone else's orders, so we'll have to wait and see what his answer will be.
Man, the funny potential of what you suggested didn't even cross my mind, but yeah, sadly, Izuku isn't getting OFA. Why? He'd be OP as hell, lol.
Thanks for sticking around! Hope your opinion of me hasn't changed after all this time. Sorry for disappearing.
BoltSamIam: Hey man! Great to hear you enjoyed the previous chapter. Yup, those two are going to be super fun to write. As for your second question, I hope you liked the reactions, hehe. Regarding Bakugou? Probably himself. But who knows? See you next time!
Ryuujin96: Hey man, glad you liked the previous chapter and how it played out! Regarding Izuku's regret, I tried to show the real struggle someone faces after taking a life, especially since it was his first. Yes, he saved lives, but he had to kill to do it. Add to that the shock of learning about AFO and his duty to stop him—it's no surprise his mental state took a hit.
Hope you liked this chapter too. See you in the next one!
Crose: Hi! I have to thank you for that scene, though. Like I mentioned last chapter, the scene was originally different in the draft, with Izuku focusing more on his lack of ability to 1v1 Number 6. When I read your review on Chapter 20, I wanted to slap myself for overlooking the fact that Izuku idolizes heroes—people who don't kill. (And the fact that he wouldn't give a fuck about not being able to beat a villain singlehandedly.)
As for the ship... heh, what can I say? I like Ibara. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! See you in the next one.
- END OF REVIEW SPACE –
But hey, what do you think? Did you enjoy the chapter? Let me know your thoughts! As always, I'm eager to hear from you, so please drop your opinions in the review box.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter. Your support and feedback mean the world to me. Stay tuned for the next one—and may the Force be with you!
Until next time,
—FarXs, deadbeat writer.