Yo!
Man, this one was a real bitch to get done. But in the end, I had a lot of fun writing this. I think I'm finally finding a schedule that is comfortable for me, so I will probably take 7 to 10 days to do a new chapter.
Anyway.
A lot happens in this chapter. The day has come, and the press conference is hours away, so our two hero-wannabes will finally face the bad HPSC.
With this, the Naruhata Arc is finally over—this time for real, I swear. I really hope you like the outcome.
So yeah, those mysterious characters were, as many of you have guessed: Nezu and Toga. They will get their time on screen, so don't worry.
Just like with the last chapter, I will be answering the reviews at the end.
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. 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. (That one)
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).
Absolute power corrupts absolutely
Chapter XXIV: Intervention
The dreaded day had finally arrived. With only a few hours left until the HPSC conference, the mood in the group was at its lowest. No matter how hard they tried to find a solution—a way out—the light at the end of the tunnel seemed impossibly distant, no more than a faint, unreachable dot.
It wasn't as though the group had simply given up the moment Koichi returned from the alley with the bad news. No, this was a gathering of aspiring heroes, tech geniuses, and crafty vigilantes. They weren't the kind to surrender easily. Even in the face of adversity, they had quickly devised a plan—desperate, perhaps, but solid enough to feel logical.
The strategy relied on speed and local knowledge. Rapt had volunteered to scout ahead, using a custom-made headset crafted by Mei to relay real-time updates. The group intended to exploit Naruhata's destroyed infrastructure, where about 90% of the roads were damaged or under repair, offering limited routes for vehicles. By navigating through side streets and narrow alleys, they hoped to outmaneuver the HPSC and make their escape from the city.
It was a gamble, but a calculated one. With Rapt's eyes and ability to leap between rooftops, Knuckleduster's nondescript van—one that nobody dared to ask too many questions about—and Soga and Moyuru's deep knowledge of Naruhata's nooks and crannies, it felt like they had a fighting chance.
Or so they thought.
As the saying goes: plans rarely survive contact with the enemy. And the HPSC was a formidable opponent. At first, the plan seemed to work—so flawlessly, in fact, that it felt suspicious. Every turn felt too easy, every corner too quiet. It wasn't long before their suspicions were confirmed. Thanks to Rapt's timely intervention, they narrowly avoided an ambush set by the HPSC. That was when everything began to unravel.
All hell broke loose. The group found themselves involved in a relentless game of cat and mouse, trying to lose an enemy as resourceful as they were unpredictable. The HPSC agents—all dressed in black suits—seemed to materialize out of nowhere, always appearing moments after the sound of a door creaking open. As Knuckleduster had growled at one point, "It's gotta be some bullshit quirk."
The pursuit dragged on into the late hours of the night, tension mounting with every passing second. By the time they finally managed to shake their pursuers and return to Koichi's apartment complex, exhaustion weighed heavily on them. The moment they stepped into the living room, one by one, they collapsed onto the floor, drained of both energy and hope.
Yet only one thing was clear: They hadn't just failed to escape. The HPSC had sent a message—it wasn't luck or skill that brought them back. They had been allowed to return.
Still, they weren't ready to give up just yet.
The morning after the failed escape, Knuckleduster led Soga, Rapt, and Moyuru into Naruhata's underworld, searching for someone—anyone—with the resources and will to stand up against the HPSC. They knew the odds were slim, but they had to try. Meanwhile, the rest of the group, now joined by Ibara, remained at Koichi's apartment to come up with a new plan.
At first, their ideas were grounded in reality. Izuku suggested reaching out to sympathetic pro-heroes—those who might disagree with the HPSC's methods. There had to be someone out there who could be convinced to protect Izuku and Koichi, someone with enough popularity and influence to shield them from the government's reach. But the thought of finding such an ally seemed almost hopeless. Worse, in the underworld, it was common knowledge that anyone who dared challenge the system or became too unpredictable for the HPSC didn't fare well. They were either silenced or had their reputations destroyed beyond repair. The thought of finding a hero who would risk it all for them seemed more like a fantasy than a viable plan.
Koichi sat cross-legged on the floor, his back against the wall, his fingers absently tracing patterns on the worn wood beneath him. His gaze drifted toward the corner of the room, unfocused, as if his mind were far away. He didn't speak, didn't nod in agreement, didn't even offer a word of protest. He was there, physically, but mentally absent. His restlessness was evident as his leg bounced erratically, but the words swirling around him seemed to fade into the background.
No one acknowledged his silence, but it didn't go unnoticed. They were all too consumed with the discussion to address it directly. Mei, in her usual way, took charge next, outlining a daring plan to hack into the HPSC's surveillance systems, effectively disabling their ability to track the group. But the risks were enormous. The HPSC had access to technology far beyond their reach, and the thought of hacking into their systems seemed like a suicide mission. Still, Mei wasn't one to back down from a challenge, eager to show herself. But the group wasn't so sure.
The conversation quickly shifted to more drastic measures. Hitoshi, his voice weary, suggested they could try faking Izuku and Koichi's identities—forge new documents, create entirely new personas for them. It sounded like their best bet, but the idea was met with immediate silence. The HPSC was part of the government. They had access to too much information, too many resources. Erasing someone completely, wiping them off the map… seemed like an impossible task.
Ibara, true to her views, suggested they confront the HPSC head-on. Expose them for what they truly were. If the public knew the truth, she reasoned, there would be no way the government could continue to operate with such power. But Kazuho quickly shot that down. "That would make us public enemies," she said sharply. "We'd be painting a target on our backs, and everyone else's too."
Koichi's eyes shifted at that, his expression darkening as the weight of the conversation settled on his shoulders. For a moment, he tensed, as though he were about to speak, but he quickly swallowed the words. His gaze flicked past everyone in the room, briefly meeting Kazuho's before he dropped his head. His shoulders hunched as if trying to shrink away from them.
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until Kazuho spoke up again, her suggestion so extreme that it froze everyone in place. "What if we fake their deaths?" she proposed quietly. "Convince the world they're gone—completely gone."
The room fell eerily still. No one moved. No one responded at first. It was a dangerous idea, but in this moment of desperation, it almost seemed logical. Almost. It was a solution that offered freedom, but it came with a cost—one that none of them were sure they could pay.
The silence stretched longer than anyone could stand. Finally, Mei spoke up, trying to lighten the mood, joking about launching Izuku into space. But the joke fell flat, the words hanging in the air like a bitter aftertaste. There was no laughter, no chuckles of relief—just the heavy, oppressive silence that had taken over the room. Mei's attempt to lighten the mood only highlighted the truth: none of them found it funny. In fact, the more they considered the absurdity of their options, the more they realized how far they had fallen.
Then Kazuho offered another wild idea. What if they contacted a foreign government, maybe someone out there who hated the HPSC enough to offer asylum to whoever opposed it? The thought lingered in the air, but Izuku, his face set with determination, firmly shook his head. He couldn't leave Japan.
Koichi's shoulders slumped even further. His arms wrapped around his knees as he buried his face in the sleeve of his jacket. He wasn't even trying to listen anymore. His exhaustion, was written all over him. The weight of the situation had worn him down to the point of surrender, a quiet resignation in every line of his posture.
Kazuho noticed his withdrawal, but said nothing. She watched him for a moment longer, but her gaze fell to the floor as she realized the group was slowly coming apart, their morale draining with each failed suggestion. The brainstorming continued, but every new idea felt more and more like a desperate grasp at straws. Frustration and fatigue filled the air, thick and suffocating.
Finally, Koichi's detachment became too obvious to ignore. Without a word, he stood up and left the room, slipping away into the hallway. Kazuho, not wanting him to be alone, followed him, but before she could reach the door, he vanished. Koichi's quirk, had taken him out of sight before she could even speak.
As evening fell, the room seemed to darken with the fading light outside, mirroring the loss of hope within. They had exhausted every idea they could think of, and yet neither of them had any real chance of success.
- THE FORCE AWAKENS –
Koichi returned to the apartment just as dawn broke, his footsteps heavy as he passed through the empty streets of Naruhata, each step a slow attempt to sort out the chaos swirling in his mid. He had spent the night wandering, seeking clarity, trying to find some shred of peace amidst the storm of guilt and uncertainty. But with each passing hour, the weight of the looming HPSC conference grew heavier, suffocating him like a shadow he couldn't outrun. And by morning, instead of clarity, he was left with nothing but the crushing weight of his failure.
He entered the apartment, his eyes hollow, the exhaustion of the night clearly etched on his face. The turmoil inside him hadn't lessened; if anything, it had only deepened. As he stepped into the room, he knew Kazuho was waiting for him. She had been since he left—waiting, hoping, trying to make sense of everything just as he was
Kazuho stood near the kitchen, her posture tight, her arms crossed defensively across her chest. Her eyes immediately found him as he crossed the threshold, her gaze intense but unreadable. Her face was composed, but the worry in her eyes betrayed her concern.
Without a word, Koichi moved toward the couch, his shoulders heavy, weighed down by an invisible burden. He collapsed onto it, sitting with his knees drawn up, arms resting on his legs. For a moment, the room was silent, the tension thickening the air between them.
Finally, He broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper, trembling under the weight of the words. "I'll accept the HPSC offer."
Kazuho's eyes widened in shock, her heart sinking as she took a step forward, her voice trembling with raw desperation. "Koichi, please. Listen to me." She reached for him, her hand hovering for a moment before gently resting on his shoulder. "We'll think of something. We have to. This is our only chance to keep you both out of their reach. Don't do this."
But Koichi shook his head, his jaw tight with resolve, his eyes hardening with a pain that was almost too much to bear. "I can't, Kazuho," he said, the words sharp, cutting through the air between them. "I failed Midoriya. I promised him… I promised him nothing would go wrong, that I'd protect him. But now, those bastards are after him."
The words stung, the raw truth of it settling in the air like a cold wind. Kazuho's face softened with worry, but she stepped closer to him, her arms slowly reaching out to pull him into a tight embrace. "Koichi," she whispered, her voice low but urgent, "It's not your fault. None of this was ever in your control. You don't have to carry this alone."
He pulled back slightly, his body stiff, his gaze turning away from hers, as if he couldn't bear the weight of her concern. "I do have to carry it," he murmured, his voice thick with the weight of his guilt. "If I run... if I leave, they'll just come for us anyway, drag us back, or worse. At least if I stay, they'll be satisfied with one of us. And I can make sure they don't target the others."
Kazuho's voice cracked with a mix of frustration and sorrow as she tried to reason with him. "But Koichi—" she started, but her words faltered.
His eyes narrowed, the resolve in them unshakable for the moment. Beneath the hardness, there was a flicker of regret, quickly buried. "No, Kazuho. I can't risk it. Not you, not anyone." His voice wavered, raw with the truth he couldn't escape. "Midoriya... he has to be safe. The HPSC will turn him into a weapon, a tool to be discarded when they're done with him." His voice broke, thick with emotion. "I can't let him pay the price for my failure."
Kazuho stepped in front of him, her chest tight with growing anger and the desperate need to make him see reason. "Koichi, stop!" Her voice was firm, but laced with an underlying pain. "You're blaming yourself for something you couldn't control. Midoriya chose this. He chose to help. He's not some victim—he's a hero, just like you."
For a moment, Koichi's tough exterior cracked. His face paled, and his shoulders slumped as her words cut through the armor he'd built around himself. His breath hitched, and for the first time in a long while, he felt the weight of his own vulnerability.
"You don't understand," he whispered, his voice barely audible as the walls around him started to crumble. "Midoriya… he killed for me. A teenager, Kazuho. He killed for me." His breath caught in his throat as the memories surged, vivid and painful. "After he plunged his blade through Number 6, he told me... 'I did it to protect you. I did it so you wouldn't have to compromise your ideals.' He..." His composure shattered completely, and his voice broke, the raw guilt and sorrow spilling out of him. "He called me his friend, and he took that burden for me. What kind of man, what kind of friend am I, if I can't do the same for him? If I don't—" He couldn't finish the thought. The words lodged in his throat, thick with guilt and self-loathing.
Kazuho's heart ached as the magnitude of his pain sunk into her chest. She reached out, her hand trembling as she placed it on his arm, her touch a silent offering of support. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the weight of his internal struggle evident. She pulled him into her arms again, holding him close, her embrace the only anchor in the storm that raged within him.
"You're a hero, Koichi," she whispered softly, her voice steady and full of conviction. "In every sense of the word." She cupped his chin gently, lifting his face so that he could meet her eyes. The raw determination in hers burned brightly, a beacon of strength in the darkness. "But who is your hero?" She paused, her voice firm yet filled with tenderness. "Promise me this. You can carry all the burdens you want, but just let me be your hero. Let me be the one who sees you—Koichi Haimawari, the hero geek, the loyal friend. Let me suffer with you, if it means sharing this weight."
For the first time in what felt like forever, Koichi's control broke completely. Tears, long denied, slid down his cheeks, and he nodded slowly, surrendering to the solace she offered. Kazuho pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, her lips brushing against his skin with a quiet promise that, no matter what happened next, they would face it together.
Oblivious to what was happening at the living room. Izuku sat on the edge of the bed, his posture stiff. His heart pounded against his ribcage like a war drum, his breathing shallow as he pressed his phone against his ear.
"C-Can you… Can you say that again, Mom?" he stammered, his voice betraying the nerves.
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Inko's voice returned, gentle yet tinted with concern. "I asked how you're feeling about the HPSC conference."
The words hit Izuku harder, like a bolt of lightning, freezing him in place. His mouth parted as if to respond, but no sound came out. How did she know about that? His mind spun, thoughts falling down over one other in rapid motion. He hadn't told her everything—hadn't dared to. He didn't want to worry her with the full scope of his stay in Naruhata.
He talked to her, of course. But, Izuku had carefully omitted the most dangerous details. The rescue of Kazuho, the battle with Number 6—all of it had been kept hidden. He didn't wanted to pull her in the storm that now swirled around him.
"Mom…" he began, but his voice faltered.
"Izuku," Inko interjected softly, her tone cutting through his doubt. "Did you really think you were the only one who could talk with the Force Ghosts? Did you think I wouldn't notice when something was wrong? Why didn't you tell me anything?"
He opened his mouth to respond, but the words stuck in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, guilt rising. "I…" His voice cracked as he struggled to form a coherent sentence. "It's not what you think, Mom. I—I didn't want to make you worry."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his head bowed low. "I just… I couldn't sit back and do nothing. I had to help." His voice broke on the last word.
There was another pause, quieter this time, as if Inko was weighing her next words carefully. "Izuku, baby," she said gently, "I know you want to protect people. That's who you are. It's part of what makes you such a wonderful young man. But I'm your mother, and no matter what or how old you are I'm going to be worried about you."
Izuku's chest tightened, his eyes burning. He bit his lip, the guilt choking him. "I'm sorry, Mom," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I never wanted to lie to you."
"You don't need to apologize," Inko replied softly. "I just wish you'd trust me with everything. It's not about shielding me from the truth—it's about sharing it with me, so I can help you."
Her words settled over him like a blanket, soft and comforting, slowly melting through the cold impenetrable walls he had built around himself. In that moment, a weight he hadn't realized he was carrying seemed to lift.
In truth, he had resigned himself. They had tried everything, thought every plan. So he resolved to steel himself, to accept whatever came next. He had convinced himself that his struggles were his to carry. But his mother's love, steady and unwavering, cut through his isolation, pulling him from the hole he had unknowingly dug for himself.
And so, with his heart still pounding, he told his mother everything. All the fears, the doubts. No more hiding. He spoke of all the battles, all the situations he had faced in Naruhata, and the overwhelming responsibility he had to assume.
Inko listened in silence. The moment his confession ended, there was a long, heavy pause, the kind where words felt too large to form. His heart thudded in his chest, uncertain of what he might hear next.
When she finally spoke, her voice was warm, full of love, yet somehow stronger than he expected. "Izuku," she said, and the tenderness in her voice made him close his eyes. "I am so proud of you. So proud of the young man you've become, of the hero you are, not just in power but in your heart."
She paused again, and Izuku could almost hear the subtle shift in her voice, a hint of something playful, even if it was wrapped in the seriousness of their conversation. "But sometimes, baby, you tend to overlook the simplest things," she continued, her tone lightening ever so slightly. "Not everything has to be so complicated for it to work."
Izuku's breath caught in his throat, his heart fluttering for a brief moment as his mother's words settled in.
Inko let out a soft sigh, a sound that carried a weight of both concern and understanding. "I wish I could tell you more. But it's not safe, not now," she said gently, her tone warm and reassuring. "Just have faith in those who surround you, Izuku. Remember, no one can win their battles alone."
Her words, cryptic yet reassuring, settled into his mind. He didn't fully understand, but he knew he could trust her. She had faith in him, and that alone was all that mattered.
As the call came to an end, and the last exchange of goodbyes was said, Izuku sat there, holding the phone in his hand, his mind racing, his heart filled with an unfamiliar sense of peace.
After a few long moments of silence, he finally spoke, breaking the stillness. "So, uh… masters, can you tell me about the plan mom mentioned?"
Anakin chuckled softly, a hint of mischief in his tone. "And ruin the surprise? Nah."
Izuku smiled faintly, though his thoughts continued to swirl. A question, one he had been holding back, rose to the surface, and he couldn't ignore it any longer. His voice softened as he spoke, curiosity threading through his tone. "Why didn't you help me sooner? With the plan, I mean. You could've talked to me, and I've been struggling to figure things out on my own. Why didn't you guide me earlier?"
The room grew still, the masters seemingly contemplating his question. It was Obi-Wan who responded first, his voice measured and calm. "It's not about giving you the answers right away, Izuku," he began, his tone gentle yet firm. "Part of your training is about learning how to find your own path, even when it's uncertain. Sometimes, the greatest growth comes from facing the challenge yourself. Had we given you the answers too soon, you wouldn't have discovered the strength that comes from figuring it out on your own."
Izuku nodded slowly, his brow furrowing as he took in the words. "But we didn't figure it out."
Luke cut through with confidence. "We could've given you the answers, but that would've only made you dependent on us."
A hand rested gently on Izuku's shoulder. It was Leia's, her touch warm and grounding. "It's not about succeeding every time, little brother."
Izuku smiled back at her.
Then, Yoda's ancient voice filled the air, offering a final piece of wisdom. "Failure, yes, part of success it is. Without it, grow you cannot. Learn from mistakes, you must—grow from them, you will."
Izuku sat still, his thoughts quieting as he processed their words. His gaze softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "So, where's your piece of wisdom for me, master?" he asked Anakin with a playful tone.
Anakin leaned back slightly, grinning. "Well, I gotta say, I loved your plan to start a revolution and topple the HPSC," he said, his voice light, but his mind racing. "It's got that... spark. Just like Ahsoka, or Luke and Leia…" He paused, a flicker of realization crossing his face. "Wait... and Marek." He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Huh, looks like everyone close to me ends up a rebel."
- THE FORCE AWAKENS –
Izuku and Koichi stood before the towering entrance of the HPSC headquarters in Tokyo, dwarfed by the sheer magnitude of the building. Its angular design jutted into the sky, cold and unyielding, like a monument to authority. The mirrored windows gleamed in the midday sunlight, reflecting the vibrant city around them—a city teeming with life, where the hustle and chatter of bustling crowds carried on, oblivious to the storm brewing just beyond their sight.
But for Izuku and Koichi, the pristine exterior was a cruel façade. Behind the gleaming glass and polished steel lay a different reality. They knew it too well—a place where the air felt colder, where hope was a distant echo, overshadowed by the unrelenting grind of bureaucracy. Here efficiency and control reigned supreme, and ideals like justice and compassion were stifled beneath a calculated, draconian machine.
Koichi shifted slightly, his hands buried in his jacket pockets. His gaze traveled up the structure, pausing on the bold insignia etched near the top. "Doesn't look half as bad from out here, huh?" he said, his tone light but edged with irony.
Izuku fixed his gaze on the imposing doors ahead. "No… It doesn't," he murmured, his voice quieter now.
For a moment, silence stretched between them, the weight of what lay ahead settling. Then, Izuku spoke again, his tone more intentional this time. "Now all we can do is trust."
Koichi glanced at him, his brow raising slightly. "Trust?"
Izuku nodded, his expression calm. "Trust in our friends, in those who believe in us. In the choices we've made so far. And… in ourselves." He exhaled slowly, almost as if steadying himself with his own words. "We're not alone in this, Koichi. That has to count for something."
Koichi smiled faintly, more genuine this time. He clapped Izuku lightly on the shoulder, a reassuring gesture that spoke more than words could.
Izuku returned the smile, albeit faintly, and together they stepped forward. The automatic doors slid open with a soft hiss, revealing the cold, clinical interior beyond. The air carried the sterile scent of polished floors and the faint hum of machinery.
The secretary behind the reception desk gave them a slow, disdainful once-over, her eyes narrowing as they swept over their attire. Her lips curled into a faint sneer, as though the sight of them had soured her mood. Without a word, she turned back to her computer, her manicured nails tapping against the keys in an exaggerated display of indifference.
Izuku and Koichi exchanged a glance, silently deciding to let her attitude slide—for now. They remained still, the seconds dragging into long, tense minutes as the rhythmic clack of the keyboard filled the air.
Eventually, with an audible sigh of annoyance, the secretary glanced up. Her sharp gaze met theirs, her tone sharper still. "Do you need something?" she drawled, her voice dripping with condescension. "If you're looking for the shelter for... people like you," she added, her disdain palpable, "it's down the street. And unless you have an appointment, I suggest you leave before I call security."
Koichi stepped forward, his calm exterior barely masking his irritation. His voice was measured but firm, each word carefully chosen to cut through her arrogance. "Actually, we do have an appointment," he began, his gaze unwavering. "With Madam President. For the press conference," he added pointedly. Leaning ever so slightly on the counter, he continued, "So maybe you could call someone who actually matters so we can end this little charade?"
The secretary's composure faltered, her expression twisting into one of indignation. Her hand darted toward the communicator, her finger hovering over the security button as if it were a weapon to reassert her authority. Her lips parted, ready to deliver a scornful retort—
But then, a faint hum vibrated through the air.
The air seemed to bend, and then, impossibly, the space near the far wall split apart. A door materialized where there had been none, as if the very fabric of reality had been severed to create its frame.
"You won't need to do that, Kaori," a smooth, commanding voice said, cutting through the tension like a blade. The secretary froze, her hand dropping from the communicator as her face turned pale.
The door swung open soundlessly, and through it stepped a man. Koichi stiffened instantly, his fists curling at his sides as recognition set in. The same man from the alley. Gone was the fedora, but his tailored suit remained, as pristine and calculated as the unnerving smile he wore.
Izuku's sharp green eyes locked onto him, his instincts flaring. Something about the man's presence—a calculated mix of control and charisma—set his nerves on edge.
The secretary stumbled back, her earlier bravado crumbling into submission. "My apologies, sir…" she murmured, her gaze fixed on the floor.
The man dismissed her with a careless wave of his hand, his attention fixed solely on Izuku and Koichi. Seeing Koichi's discomfort brought a glint of amusement to his eyes, his thin smile widening ever so slightly.
With a low chuckle, he gestured toward the doorway with an almost theatrical flourish. "Welcome to the HPSC headquarters, gentlemen," he said smoothly, his voice honeyed with mock warmth. "We've been expecting you. Please, this way."
As he stepped aside, the two exchanged a brief, wary glance before following him. The air seemed colder as they crossed the threshold, and with a sharp snap, the doorway dissolved into thin air behind them.
As the door closed behind them, Izuku and Koichi found themselves standing in a room that could only be described as a small palace. The space was vast—almost suffocating in its enormity—an extravagant display of wealth that made every inch feel imposing. The walls, a deep mahogany, gleamed with a polished sheen that reflected even the faintest light, casting the room in a warm yet foreboding glow. Stately columns lined the edges, each one intricately carved with patterns that seemed to pulse with life—symbols of history and power, designed not just to impress but to overwhelm.
Above them, a grand chandelier hung like an unspoken crown. Its crystal droplets sparkled in the ambient light, shimmering and casting reflections across the room that only emphasized the cold opulence surrounding them.
The floor beneath them was an expanse of flawless black marble, its surface as glossy as obsidian, with veins of gold running through it like arteries—an intricate, deliberate design that screamed of excess and power. Every step they took echoed against the walls, reminding them how small they were in this place.
The furnishings were equally lavish but deliberately uninviting. The chairs, crafted from leather so fine it looked as if it could have been spun from the very fabric of the night sky, were an unsettling shade of deep ebony, almost swallowing the light around them. Between them, a long, dark wood table gleamed with the same golden veins that ran through the marble floor, its surface pristine, untouched, save for a single white orchid resting delicately in a crystal vase.
On the walls, several large paintings hung in gilded frames—grandiose landscapes of faraway, unattainable places. It was then that their gaze shifted toward the far wall. A door had opened—seamlessly, almost imperceptibly—and in the center of it, a sleek, black elevator stood, its door open and waiting.
Without a word, they followed the man toward the elevator. As they approached, Izuku and Koichi exchanged a brief glance, an unspoken understanding passing between them. This wasn't just any elevator—it was private, almost certainly reserved for those at the top of the HPSC food chain.
It became even clearer that this man wasn't just another cog in the HPSC machine. His unnerving precision during the chase, the way their pursuers had seemingly appeared from nowhere, it all pointed to the fact that he was a leader, someone with influence. The realization settled heavily in Izuku's chest. Why hadn't he simply used his quirk to take them directly to the HPSC president? Why all the theatrics?
The answer was simple—and chilling. The man was playing with them. Every calculated step, every casual glance over his shoulder was a deliberate move in a game that Izuku and Koichi had no part in. He wasn't just leading them to their destination; he was drawing out the journey, savoring each second as it slowly extinguished any flickers of hope or defiance they still had left.
With a sudden, almost imperceptible movement, the man's finger pierced the air, his hand stretching out as if to touch something unseen. A small rift in the fabric of reality appeared before him, splitting the space with a quiet hum. His finger slipped through the hole, and when it reemerged, it was just inches away from the elevator button. It lit up at his touch, and the chime of the elevator rang through the suffocating silence as the doors closed.
He turned to face them, a disarming smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Don't worry too much about Kaori," he said, his voice dripping with false friendliness. "She's a bitch. A real piece of work, that one. But let's not waste time on unimportant things."
He then shifted his attention to Izuku, his gaze sharp and assessing, as if he were dissecting every detail of the teen standing before him. "It's an honor to finally meet you, Specter," the man said, his voice laced with a twisted sense of admiration. Koichi tensed immediately, his body going rigid as the man's tone sent a cold shiver down his spine. His jaw clenched, and with an instinctive step forward, he subtly positioned himself closer to Izuku, a protective gesture that couldn't be ignored.
The man chuckled softly, disregarding Koichi's gesture as if it were beneath him. His attention remained solely on Izuku. "Let me tell you, I'm quite the fan," he continued, his voice carrying a dark amusement. "That display of yours against Number 6? Absolutely electrifying. Brutal, raw, relentless... Just the kind of fire we value here at the HPSC. You're... promising, Specter. Very promising." is smile grew wider, colder, as though the words were nothing more than an assessment.
Izuku felt it before the words could form in his mind—a thick, oppressive pressure in the air, suffocating and relentless. His connection to the Force flared with urgency, warning him. The man's aura was dark, twisted, radiating malevolent intentions that felt foreign and unsettling. Though Izuku had long suspected the HPSC's true intentions, to feel that weight, that palpable corruption from one of their agents—it was an unnerving confirmation of his worst fears. His heart raced, but his mind remained sharp.
But then, his mother's voice cut through the tension, steady and reassuring. Faith, The word grounded him, pulling him back from the overwhelming sense of danger. With a slow, deep breath, Izuku centered himself, focusing on releasing the turmoil inside. The chaos and fear that had begun to claw at him—he let it go, allowing it to dissipate into the Force. He had been taught to find peace in the midst of storm. And now, more than ever, he needed to remember that.
His eyes reopened, now locked on the man before him, his stance unwavering. Calm—but with an edge of something unspoken, a quiet challenge beneath his calm exterior. His voice emerged, steady and controlled, but with just a hint of mockery, a subtle edge that hinted at a deeper defiance. A trait that, if his master had been standing beside him, would've made him proud.
"I did what I had to do," Izuku said, his words cutting through the tension like a blade. "It wasn't for the fame, or the thrill of the fight. I'm no more brutal than an animal hunting for survival." A smile tugged at his lips, a playful, almost teasing expression that belied the calmness of his tone. "If brutality's what you're after... maybe your organization should reconsider its line of work."
The man's reaction was immediate and loud—a bark of laughter that reverberated in the space around them. It was rich and unrestrained, as if Izuku's words were absurdly amusing. His laughter echoed off the walls, filling the room with an unsettling sound. As it slowly tapered off, the man wiped a hand across his mouth, his smirk lingering. His eyes gleamed with a strange, almost gleeful amusement.
"Yes! Promising. Refreshing," he chuckled, his voice dripping with mock amusement. "Thanks, Specter. The very same reaction as Mr. Crawler. So similar, yet so different." The man's smile remained, stretching wider as if savoring the moment, his eyes sparkling with a dangerous kind of amusement. "You both will make for... interesting additions to our collection."
Koichi, ever steady, returned Izuku's glance with a subtle, reassuring smile. There was calm in the gesture, an unspoken promise that no matter how this unfolded, he would be there. The reassurance was enough to steady Izuku's resolve.
With a final glance at both of them, the man's expression shifted to one of cold calculation. The playful glint in his eyes dulled, replaced by an icy professionalism. He waved a hand dismissively, signaling the end of the conversation, clearly bored by the verbal sparring. "Enough games," he muttered, his voice sharp, as he turned toward the wall.
Without further words, the man waved his hand against the air. The familiar hum of shifting reality filled the space, and a door began to materialize in the previously solid wall of the elevator. The sound was almost hypnotic—an eerie, smooth buzz that cut through the fabric of space pulling it apart to reform it again.
As the door slid open, revealing the space beyond, Izuku couldn't help but feel a sense of stark contrast. On the other side stood a luxurious office, its polished surfaces gleaming under the soft lighting.
And in the center of it all, stood Madam President Rinko Jōzaki.
Her gaze radiated warmth, her eyes brimming with a kindness that suggested a sincere welcome. Her polished appearance outshone even the man beside them, yet it lent an air of approachability rather than intimidation. The smile she wore was almost maternal, as if she were greeting cherished sons rather than assessing potential assets. She moved with the grace of a benevolent queen, every step deliberate and poised, exuding a eagerness to ensure her guest felt completely at ease.
If Izuku hadn't already known better, he might have been swayed by the flawless veneer she presented. But the Force whispered its warnings, sending a chill through him as it unraveled her façade. Beneath her poised and welcoming exterior, he sensed something far more dangerous—a predator cloaked in charm. Her warmth was nothing more than a finely honed weapon, each smile, each soft word crafted to disarm. Izuku chose not to call her bluff; if she wanted to play the gracious host, he would indulge her. He would remain patient, letting the Force guide him as he observed, waiting for the moment when her mask would slip.
"Thank you so much for bringing our guests here, Mr. Tobikage," Madam Jōzaki said smoothly, her voice as silky as her smile, exuding warmth and hospitality. "Would you be so kind as to fetch Miss Tsunagime for me? After all, these two important young men deserve only the finest attire for the conference, don't you agree?"
Tobikage gave a silent nod, his eyes scanning the room one last time before turning toward the far side. Without speaking a word, he pressed his hand against the polished wall, and with a soft hum, a door materialized where none had been before. He disappeared through it with a subtle wave, leaving them alone with the president.
Izuku's eyes lingered on the door, his senses heightened as he subtly shifted his weight, ready to move at a moment's notice. But his attention was quickly drawn back to Madam President when Koichi spoke, his tone calm but laced with the same quiet awareness he felt.
"We'll be quite grateful for the gesture," Koichi said, his gaze steady and observant, a sharp contrast to the warmth in her voice.
Madam President's smile didn't falter, though her eyes briefly narrowed, a flash of calculation behind them. "Oh, no, no," she replied, her voice lilting with honeyed tones. "This is the least I can do for two promising heroes." She let the word promising hang in the air, her gaze flickering between the two of them as if measuring their every reaction. "I'm simply offering the help you both deserve."
Izuku's mind raced. There was something hollow in her words, a calculated dissonance beneath her polished exterior. He pushed his suspicions aside, grounding himself in the teachings of the Force. But the nagging doubt remained. Her kindness felt like a carefully laid trap, one that would only reveal its true nature with time.
"Promising?" Izuku echoed, keeping his voice level as he tested her words. "What exactly does that mean to you?"
Madam Jōzaki's eyes glinted briefly, as though she found his curiosity amusing. She tilted her head slightly, her expression softening into one of feigned consideration. "It means that you both have the potential to achieve far more than you can possibly imagine," she said slowly, the emphasis on 'more' carrying weight. "But like any valuable thing, potential must be nurtured."
Her gaze flickered toward Koichi, and then back to Izuku, a silent calculation running behind her composed demeanor.
"People with potential often don't see the full extent of what they can accomplish," she continued, her voice dipping lower, taking on a more personal tone. "And sometimes, finding that potential requires the right... guidance."
Izuku's senses heightened, the air around them subtly shifting as her words took on a new layer of meaning. His suspicions about the HPSC's intentions grew clearer. She wasn't offering assistance—she was offering control.
"Guidance from the HPSC, then?" Izuku asked, his voice measured, betraying a hint of his growing curiosity.
Madam President's smile remained unbroken, but the tension in the room thickened, the underlying power dynamic now palpable. "Indeed," she said, the weight of the word sinking in. "We offer the tools to shape your futures, to ensure that you are able to reach your full development." She paused for effect, letting the words settle. "It's about opportunity, Mr. Specter. It's about you deciding what your place is before the world decides for you."
Izuku processed her words carefully, his mind working to untangle the layers of manipulation beneath them. Before he could formulate a response, the door Tobikage had disappeared through opened once more, and Miss Tsunagime stepped into the room, a small sketchbook in hand.
Madam Jōzaki straightened, her smile brightening with approval as she greeted the new arrival. "Ah, there she is. Now, we can make sure both of you are properly dressed for the occasion," she said, her voice now cheerful, as if nothing were amiss.
Izuku exchanged a brief glance with Koichi, the unspoken understanding passing between them. But before either could speak, Tsunagime tapped Izuku lightly on the chest, a quiet click of her pen filling the silence. She began to pace around him, her focus intense as she made quick sketches in her notebook, her tongue poking out in concentration. After a few moments, she turned her attention to Koichi, repeating the process.
"Uhm, if I may…" she said, and before Izuku could react, a beige suit began to appear atop his clothes. It materialized effortlessly, as if woven from the very air around him. He felt no weight from it, only a strange lightness. His inner quirk enthusiast nearly bubbled over with excitement, marveling at the seamless display of power.
Koichi's suit followed soon after, a dark blue ensemble appearing in the same manner.
Madam President's smile softened into something almost genuine, though Izuku couldn't afford to dwell on it. She was playing a careful game, and he had to be cautious. "I've heard you're quite the quirk enthusiast, Mr. Specter," she said, her voice laced with curiosity. "Could you give me your theory on how Miss Tsunagime's quirk works?"
Izuku paused for a moment, considering her request. This was a subtle test, but he knew he had little choice but to play along. Using the Force to clear his mind, he focused on the facts he'd gathered. His suspicions about their knowledge of him only deepened. They knew almost everything.
"My first hypothesis would be that she has an emitter quirk," Izuku began, his voice steady and analytical. "It likely relies on imagination and thought—she creates whatever she visualizes in her mind. But as a professional, she uses a visual aid, like a drawing or a photograph, to guide the process. And the clothes she creates seem more like a façade, temporary garments meant for single-use rather than durable outfits."
Madam President clapped her hands lightly, her approval evident. "Amazing, Mr. Specter. To assess a quirk so quickly and accurately shows the incredible potential you possess."
Izuku remained silent, processing her response. It wasn't a compliment—it was an acknowledgment, a recognition of his abilities that they would likely use to their advantage.
Koichi, sensing the increasing weight of the moment and the intentional focus on Izuku, decided to shift the direction of the conversation. "Is there anything to drink, Madam President?" he asked casually, his tone light but with a quiet intention behind it.
Madam Jōzaki's gaze flickered toward him, a brief flicker of surprise crossing her features. As if momentarily caught off guard by the suggestion, she quickly masked it with an elegant smile. The warmth returned to her voice, but there was something sharper beneath the surface. "Thank you, Miss Tsunagime," she said smoothly, turning her attention to the assistant, her voice shifting subtly to a more dismissive tone. "You may go now. I believe we've covered everything for the moment."
The woman, with a polite expression, bowed and silently exited the room. She passed through the door that Tobikage had opened for her, the soft click of the door closing behind her.
Once the door clicked shut, Madam President's attention returned fully to Koichi and Izuku. Her expression softened ever so slightly, though there was an edge to it—one that seemed to say that the game was far from over.
"Forgive me," she said, her tone returning to one of gracious hospitality. "It seems my eagerness to meet you both made me forget to bring beverages. Do you have anything in mind, Mr. Crawler?" Her voice was polite, but there was a thin thread of control woven into every word.
Izuku felt it then—a subtle shift in the Force, almost imperceptible, yet unmistakable to his heightened senses. It was a quiet change, like the briefest ripple across a still pond. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but something was about to happen.
His lips curled into a small, knowing smile. He knew what was coming. The Force whispered to him that this moment was a signal.
Without missing a beat, he shifted his focus to Madam President, his eyes steady and calm, though the subtle shift in his posture was one of quiet readiness. "I would like some tea, Madam President,"
Madam President's smile returned, though it was tinged with something that seemed almost... pleased. Oblivious to what was to come. "Of course, Mr. Specter," she said, her voice once again smooth and polished.
She turned away with grace, walking towards her desk with the fluidity of someone accustomed to wielding power. Reaching it, she pressed a button on the intercom. "Bring us a tray of tea and sweets," she instructed with a commanding tone.
Before Madam Jōzaki could say another word, the grand wooden doors of the office burst open with a resounding thud, their intricate carvings trembling under the force. All eyes snapped toward the entrance as two figures strode into the room.
The first was tall and haggard, his disheveled hair framing a face that exuded perpetual exhaustion. His drooping eyelids and slouched posture seemed to suggest he'd rather be anywhere else. The second figure was a stark contrast: small, animalistic, and utterly unique. The creature moved with a confident stride, its form borrowing traits from several species yet belonging to none.
A voice, squeaky yet oddly refined, broke the stunned silence. "It seems we arrived just in time, wouldn't you agree, Aizawa?"
Izuku and Koichi stared, their expressions frozen in a mix of shock and confusion. Recognition dawned on them simultaneously.
Principal Nezu?
The midday sun streaming through the windows cast long shadows as the air in the room grew heavier with tension. Tobikage, reacted immediately. His reflexes razor-sharp as he stepped forward, summoning a shimmering door in midair. The portal materialized directly behind Nezu, its edges pulsating with energy. Tobikage's hand darted forward, aiming to strike with precision and end this confrontation before it began.
But Aizawa moved just as swiftly. His tired eyes narrowed, his focus locking onto Tobikage. With a flick of his gaze, the shimmering door disintegrated, its golden light fizzling into nothingness. The man froze, momentarily stunned as his quirk was neutralized.
Nezu, unfazed by the sudden hostility, didn't spare Tobikage a glance. His small, clawed paws remained clasped behind his back as he stepped further into the room, his beady eyes fixed squarely on Madam Jōzaki.
"Oh, Rinko, dear," Nezu began, his tone light and cordial, as though addressing an old friend at a garden party. "What a delight it is to see you again. Aizawa and I happened to be in the area, and I thought, 'What a shame it would be not to visit.' I trust you don't mind the intrusion?"
Madam Jōzaki's serene façade faltered for the briefest of moments. The corners of her practiced smile twitched before she regained her composure. "Principal Nezu," she replied smoothly, inclining her head in a gesture of polite acknowledgment. "This is... unexpected. And you've brought Eraserhead as well. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"
Aizawa stood silently beside Nezu, his arms crossed over his chest, his sharp gaze scanning the room with a mix of suspicion and disdain.
Nezu tilted his head, his sharp eyes gleaming with curiosity as he surveyed the occupants. "Oh, nothing official," he said with a playful chuckle. "I merely thought it would be... illuminating to meet these two young men who have been causing such a stir lately. After all, curiosity is a trait we all share, wouldn't you agree?"
At that moment, an assistant entered, carrying a silver tray laden with an ornate tea set and an assortment of delicate confections. They hesitated at the palpable tension in the room but pressed forward, setting the tray carefully on Madam Jōzaki's desk.
"Your tea, Madam," the assistant murmured before bowing and retreating quickly, closing the doors behind them with a soft click.
The silence that followed was almost suffocating as Nezu approached the desk with his characteristic energy, his small frame bouncing slightly with each step. His sharp eyes sparkled as he eyed the tea set with apparent enthusiasm.
"Ah, refreshments! Perfect timing," Nezu declared, reaching up to grasp one of the delicate teacups. But his short arms fell comically short of their target.
He straightened, his tiny paws crossing in front of him in mock frustration. "I swear these desks get taller every year," he muttered, casting an expectant glance at Aizawa.
Aizawa sighed, his expression one of thinly veiled annoyance. Without a word, he stepped forward, effortlessly picking up a cup and holding it out to Nezu. "Here," he said flatly.
"Thank you, Aizawa," Nezu chirped, his tone bright as he took the cup with care. Bringing it close to his nose, he inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma. "Ah, an excellent blend. You've truly outdone yourself, Rinko."
Madam Jōzaki's smile returned, though Izuku with the Force help, could sense the tension beneath it. "I'm pleased it meets your approval, Principal Nezu," she replied, her voice smooth but carrying a faint, almost imperceptible edge. "We always strive to offer the best for esteemed visitors such as yourself."
Izuku felt a shift in the Force, subtle but undeniable. The tension in the room was reaching its peak, and he couldn't help but smile faintly.
So, this was what you meant, Mom. He thought fondly.
Nezu sipped his tea with apparent enjoyment, his beady eyes moving between each of those present in the office. "So, Rinko," Nezu began again, his voice soft but laden with a subtle undertone. "I trust everything's progressing smoothly with the Commission's activities? I've heard some... interesting rumors." He paused, letting the words hang in the air like an unanswered question.
Madam Jōzaki's hand twitched slightly, her fingers brushing against the edge of the teacup. She kept her calm, though the smile on her face was now a fraction less composed. "Rumors are nothing more than distractions, Principal Nezu," she replied smoothly, her tone betraying a hint of impatience. "You, of all people, should know that."
Nezu tilted his head, his sharp grin widening. "Ah, but you see, Rinko, how do you manage to maintain such a delicate balance, with all the... pressures of your position?"
For a moment, Madam Jōzaki said nothing, the question lingering in the air like a weight she couldn't quite shake off. Her fingers tightened around her teacup, her breath steadying as she fought to maintain her façade. But Izuku, with the Force, could feel it—her center was beginning to crack. The false warmth was slipping, replaced by something more volatile.
"Hard decisions are something we all must endure," she finally said, though her voice had lost a bit of its luster. "But it's nothing new to those who hold power, Principal Nezu. I'm sure you understand that better than most."
Nezu chuckled lightly, as if enjoying the game they were playing. "Oh, I do," he agreed, his tone turning almost conspiratorial. "But power can be a fragile thing, can't it? It requires careful handling. One wrong move, and it can all come crashing down." He leaned back in his chair, his claws gently tapping against his cup. "You must be so careful, Rinko. So, so careful."
Madam Jōzaki's smile faltered, the tiniest flicker of irritation flashing in her eyes. Izuku could feel the shift in the Force as it deepened, swirling around her in a silent struggle. Nezu was pushing, expertly toying with her, taking advantage of the slightest weakness in her resolve. His subtle, calculated words were starting to wear her down, pushing her further into a corner.
Even Koichi, felt it. The tension in the room was palpable, thickening with every word exchanged. It wasn't just a battle of words—it was a battle of wills. And in this moment, Madam Jōzaki's carefully crafted mask was beginning to slip, revealing the vulnerability beneath.
Nezu sipped his tea once more, his smile never wavering, though his voice dropped lower, tinged now with something darker, more dangerous. "Wouldn't it be a shame if all of this—everything you've worked for—started coming down on you, hmm?" His words were a delicate threat, wrapped in the sweetness of a casual conversation.
Izuku could sense the crack in Madam Jōzaki's composure widen. The words were a seed planted in her mind, taking root in the fertile soil of her doubts. For a moment, her eyes flickered with the briefest flash of panic before she quickly smoothed it over with her practiced smile. But the damage was done. She was on the edge.
Nezu leaned forward slightly, his eyes glinting with malicious delight as he let the silence linger.
"Enough, Nezu," Madam Jōzaki finally said, her voice rising ever so slightly, a sharp edge cutting through the tension. Her hands, which had been resting gracefully on the desk, now gripped the edge with unexpected force. Her breath quickened, the calmness she had fought so hard to maintain slipping away entirely. "Our society needs this," she continued, her tone no longer smooth but jagged, the cracks in her composure widening. "Right now, I'm working tirelessly to maintain the fickle balance of power in this world. And that leaves me with little time for... games. What. Do. You. Want?"
The room became even more charged with tension. Izuku could almost feel the walls closing in, the air thick and suffocating with the unspoken conflict between them. Nezu's smile remained unchanged, though there was something more dangerous lurking behind it now, a glint in his eyes that sent a shiver through the room.
"Just the same words your predecessor loved to tell when doing the most abhorrent things." Nezu's voice dropped even lower, his tone turning venomous. "You didn't learn anything after what happened to Miss Tsutsumi, did you?"
Madam Jōzaki's eyes widened, a flash of something darker crossing her features. "She was a failure," she said, her voice hardening, as if the mere mention of the past weighed heavily on her. "We don't intend to make the same mistakes our predecessors did. Besides, you know the law, Nezu. Article 5, Section 2. 'In the event of a matter of national interest, the HPSC has the power to recruit any person over the age of 14 for service to society.'" Her words were sharp, cutting through the tension, her hands gripping the edge of the desk as though holding on to the last shred of her composure.
Nezu's smile twisted, not in amusement, but in something far more calculating, his eyes narrowing slightly. He leaned back in his chair, the rhythm of his claws tapping against his teacup echoing in the room, each tap deliberate, almost menacing. "Ah, but you see, Rinko, there's a very important distinction here, isn't there?" His gaze remained fixed on her, his tone cool and deliberate. "Matters of national interest. That's the key phrase, isn't it?"
A brief silence fell, the weight of his words settling in. Madam Jōzaki's lips tightened, her teeth barely visible in a thin line. "I am fully aware of the implications, Nezu," she replied curtly, her voice growing slightly strained, the pressure in her words beginning to fray at the edges. "We're on the brink of chaos. People are losing faith in the system. You know what will happen if we don't act. These are matters that require swift action, and the law grants us the authority to take it. We do so under that prerogative."
Nezu's eyes remained unwavering, his tone unchanged. "Swift action, yes," he said, his voice unshaken, "but not reckless action. You forget, Rinko, that national interest isn't as broad a concept as you'd like it to be. War, external threats—those are clear matters of national interest." He leaned forward slightly, his sharp eyes glinting with a cold intelligence that seemed to pierce her. "But you can't stretch the law to suit your convenience. Not without consequences. The brink of chaos you mention? Japan and the world have been teetering on that edge since the dawn of quirks."
Izuku could feel the tension in the air, thickening with each passing moment, as the battle of words began to shift into something far more personal. Madam Jōzaki's ironclad control, her ability to maintain her composure, was starting to unravel, revealing the desperation behind her arguments. And Nezu, was relentless—pressing, prodding, looking for any weakness to exploit.
"You act as though the law is a simple thing," Madam Jōzaki said, her voice low but beginning to steady itself, a stark contrast to the agitation beneath. "The law grants us the power to act. If that means utilizing young individuals—those with the ability to affect change—then so be it."
Nezu's eyes flickered with disbelief, his smile fading into something colder. "Utilize, you say. Do you even know what it means to be used by someone else?" He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping, his words now cutting with a sharp edge. "Have you ever felt true powerlessness? Do you intend to enslave people to fit your agenda by using a loophole?"
Madam Jōzaki inhaled sharply, the sudden challenge causing her face to flush with frustration. "It's not a loophole," she spat, her voice rising slightly, but she quickly reeled herself back in, taking a deep breath to regain control. "This is the only way to ensure we come out on top. It's the only way to secure our future. This is the only way to—" She stopped herself mid-sentence, her eyes flickering with a moment of uncertainty, before she regained her composure.
Nezu, sensing the shift, pressed harder, his tone almost mocking now. "You think you can play with their lives, shape them like puppets? Force them to march to your beat?"
Madam Jōzaki stiffened. Her eyes flashed with cold venom, her voice colder than before. "The HPSC is the system, Nezu. Whether you like it or not. Vigilantes Crawler and Specter fall under the International Accord of 2360. They are criminals, and it is within the Commission's obligations to employ them and rehabilitate them as it see fit."
Nezu's smile faded entirely, replaced by a calculating frown. "And that's where you're wrong," he said, his tone icy and dismissive. "You're twisting the letter of the law to suit your own ends. Have you even read the final provisions?" He leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "It states that vigilantes are automatically pardoned if they carry out activities with the sole purpose of saving civilians involved in situations of extreme need. Do you truly think that a society founded on heroism can ever consider criminals those who, without regard for their own safety, perform acts of unparalleled heroism?"
His words landed with the force of a blow, and Izuku could feel the air grow heavier, the room thick with the weight of Nezu's accusation. "This is what I meant, Rinko," Nezu continued, his voice low but filled with venom. "You're so drunk on power that you can't see it. No matter how hard you try, what you're planning will ruin the reputation of the Commission. And you? You'll be the one to destroy the very order you claim to protect."
Madam Jōzaki's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into the wood of the desk. The tension in the room was palpable, but Nezu, did not relent. His voice cut through the silence, slow and deliberate, each word a calculated strike.
"Did you ever ask Mr. Crawler and Mr. Specter what they wanted to do?" he asked, his gaze never leaving her. The president's eyes narrowed, her breath steadying as she held her ground.
Nezu didn't wait for a response, instead leaning forward, his claws lightly tapping on the edge of his teacup. "Really, Rinko?" he continued, the words dripping with thinly veiled disdain. "It didn't occur to you to do the right thing first... and get a voluntary answer before playing Big Brother and forcing them into a position they didn't choose?" His tone was sharp, each word cutting deeper than the last.
Nezu turned his head, a faint, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as though he were punishing an irresponsible student. "Foolish girl," he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for her to hear. The words hung in the air like an insult.
Then, with cold precision, he turned his gaze to Izuku. "Mr. Specter," Nezu said, his voice now softer, yet laced with unmistakable authority. "From now on, based on Japanese law and the powers granted to me as the principal of UA University, I declare you a ward of the university." He let the words linger in the air, allowing their weight to sink in. "If you wish, you can begin your education immediately, given your demonstration of great heroism during the Naruhata crisis and your status as a minor. You are also protected from any interference from any state agency." Nezu's eyes glinted with an almost mocking satisfaction as he finished, watching Madam Jōzaki's face fall ever so slightly.
Turning to Koichi, Nezu's tone shifted to something more casual, though still filled with quiet power. "Mr. Crawler," he began, his voice smooth, almost coaxing. "I hear you're about to graduate with a degree in Hero Sociology. How about joining our teaching staff as an adjunct professor of Sociology in the General Course next semester?" He paused, letting the offer settle. "If you wish, the university will provide you with full support to obtain your hero license."
He let the silence stretch between them for a moment before standing, his small frame suddenly filled with a quiet intensity. "Now then," Nezu said, turning on his heels. "If you both follow me, we can finalize the details. No more delays."
Before walking away, Nezu turned to Madam Jōzaki, his smile returning but without the warmth it once had. He spoke softly, each word carefully measured. "Madam Jōzaki," he said, his voice suddenly darker, "if I find out you are still harassing these two excellent young men, I assure you, the consequences will be... terrible. For you. And for your organization." His eyes locked with hers, as though daring her to challenge him.
"You know very well," Nezu continued, his tone colder still, "that my position allows me to know every single dirty secret of the Commission. All of them. Do not force my hand more than you already have." He leaned in just a fraction, his eyes gleaming with warning. "Have a nice day."
Nezu looked to Aizawa, signaling for him to release Tobikage. Without hesitation, Aizawa's capture gear flickered, and the man's was released. Nezu nodded once, satisfied with the result, before swiftly turning on his heel and heading for the door.
With one final glance at Madam Jōzaki, Nezu's smile returned—not a smirk, but something darker, final. The battle was over. He had won.
And that's it!
Nezu crashes the party and derails the HPSC's plans in true rat fashion. Meanwhile, Koichi and Kazuho take their relationship to the next level, and Mama Midoriya teaches Izuku a lesson. I mean, it's impossible to lie to your mom when she has the same power as you and can chat with your masters, right? We all learn something new every day.
Oh, and yes—Tobikage's (The HPSC Suit) quirk is inspired by the Doa Doa no Mi's abilities, in case anyone was wondering.
Since this marks the end of the arc, let me share something with you. I'm really happy with how it's been progressing. For my first "original" arc, I think I did a solid job! There's only one arc left before we finally get to UA, so I ask for just a little more patience.
On another note, I've been considering adding a section for mini-stories at the start of each chapter. These would show what other characters—whether they haven't appeared yet or played a role in previous arcs—are up to. It'd help keep track of everyone's storylines.
Anyway, let's move on to the reviews:
- START OF REVIEW SPACE –
Darkgod3000: Hey, buddy! Thanks for sticking with the story and for the kind words—they always cheer me up. What can I say? I hate the government. Nah, just kidding. Honestly, the HPSC has great potential as antagonists, so I thought, "Why not?"
As for OFA, I haven't fully decided yet. At the moment, I'm leaning toward having All Might retain it until we reach UA. But who knows? Maybe I'll come up with a satisfying solution for that little detail later.
By the way, no need to apologize! I love reading your reviews. The fact that you write them even when English isn't your first language is amazing, so thank you for that. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I'll see you in the next one!
BoltSamIam: Hey, man! This chapter should answer your questions, so I hope you like how it ends.
On another note, wouldn't it be hilarious if a Force ghost randomly appeared in the HPSC office, scared the life out of everyone, and made it crystal clear that Izuku isn't someone to mess with?
See you in the next chapter!
- 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, sentient AI.