Akira Tomodachi wasn't exactly having the best of days. He was stressed, to put it lightly, and it showed in how dark the rings around his eyes had gotten over the last few days. His clothes were ruffled, his shirt wrinkled, and his pants were in the same condition. His hair was a mess, and he had recently shaved.

The club, The Love Palace, had fallen on rough times. Several experienced dancers had quit, leaving only a bunch of new hires who didn't attract nearly enough attention to keep this place afloat, which resorted to him taking loans from the bank.

Those that did stay had to reduce their shifts, some for personal reasons, and others because they now had second jobs that they needed to have to keep up with the rising cost of living in large metropolitan cities like Musutafu.

To make things worse, Arakawa Otoshi had gone on break and told Akira that he wasn't going to come back until Sayaka got discharged from the hospital. If Otoshi hadn't been such a close friend to Akira, he would've fired him on the spot. So now, he had to hire a part-time bouncer, and considering he was a newbie, and considering he wasn't nearly as strong as Otoshi, there had been several times where he was unable to keep people who shouldn't have been there out.

To say it caused a mess was an understatement. There were times when he had to help the newbie escort drunk people out of the club for scaring the dancers. He wasn't opposed to assuring his employee's safety, but at the same time, he wasn't the one who did that job. That was what he had hired the extra bouncer for.

Then, there was the financial side of things, which shone a light on just how screwed he was if he wanted to keep his business afloat. It reminded him of when he first got The Love Palace up and running 20 years ago, except that wasn't a good thing. It meant he was flat broke, except even then, this was worse.

He was 2,000,000 Yen in debt with the bank, and he had nothing to show for it. Soon, he'd have to file for bankruptcy, and The Love Palace, the very thing he had tried so desperately to keep running for twenty years of his adult life, would be shut down for good. The one thing he had left to remind himself of his father would be gone, and that would be that.

When Yoshihara was around, and when she still worked for him, he never had this problem. She had made him so much money that he had it easy for two years. If he were a lesser person, he would've blamed his misfortune on her. But, he wasn't. In hindsight, he should've never let her work for him as a showwoman.

But, there was no use in fretting on the past. What happened, happened, and there was nothing that he could do about it. Besides, it was better off this way. Even if The Love Palace was under threat of being shut down, he much rather it be that than profiting off the abuse of a minor.

He viewed this as karma for letting Yoshihara work here in the first place. He should've never put her through that in the first place. This was his punishment, and now he had to take it on the chin.

That still didn't mean he wasn't going to try and keep this place afloat for a little bit longer, though. He was close to paying off his debt to the bank, so if he could just do that, then he'd be in the clear and he wouldn't have to worry about the bank trying to take some of his possessions to recoup the cost of giving him a loan.

"Takeda, I'm begging you, please, don't leave. I'll even double your pay," Akira bargained, sitting in his office as Takeda, one of his long-time dancers, sat across from him, looking completely disinterested.

She was a young woman, who started working with him when she turned 21 to afford rent. Now, she was in her early 30s, and she hadn't looked a day past 24. She had smooth cream-coloured skin, long black hair that went down to the center of her back, and alluring cat-like silver eyes. She was also a rather curvy-looking lady, and even in the baggy yellow shirt and black sweats that she was wearing, it was clear that she had the makings of a very attractive woman.

Her Quirk, Antigen, made her physical appearance age slower than her actual age, though only by two to three years—nothing too serious. If it wasn't for her ID saying that she was 21 when he first hired her, he would've turned her away. He was glad that he hadn't, though, but now, sitting across from her, Akira was more than a little concerned.

Why?

Well, because she wanted to quit. He couldn't afford for any more of his employees to quit, because if they did, then it would only make his situation worse. But if they wanted to, there was nothing he could do about it. The only thing he could do was try to sweeten the pot to ensure they stayed longer.

Takeda had her arms crossed, a frown on her face as she raised an eyebrow. "Double my pay? You can hardly afford to pay me my regular salary," Takeda said, sighing. "Look, Tomodachi-sama, I understand that you're desperate but I think it's time that I find a new job. I've been meaning to get out of this business for a long time now. I just haven't had the chance to until recently."

Akira sighed, slumping forward as he did, exhaustion rolling off of him in droves. "I understand, Takeda," Akira said, clearing his throat as he sat up straight. He needed to at least look professional. "Then when do you plan to quit?"

"Today, actually, after my shift," Takeda replied as Akira nodded, keeping a straight face as he resisted the urge to pull his hair off in clumps. Without another word, Takeda stood up from her chair and bowed. "It was nice working with you, Tomodachi-sama."

And with that, Takeda left his office. "And that's the last experienced dancer I had…" Akira thought, looking over his shoulder, and stared at his employee wall. He had long since removed Yoshihara's portrait from the wall, and had thrown it out, but now, it was just a wall of women who no longer worked with him, and even if Yoshihara's portrait was there, it would've still been the same thing.

He deserved this. He kept telling himself that because that was the truth. This was karma. Karma for being a former member of the Shikibukai Yakuza—a past he liked to keep hidden from everyone including Otoshi—and karma for hiring a minor. Karma for damning his brother to die in the streets as he battled cancer. Karma for being an awful, awful man.

Karma. That was what this was. The more negativity he had injected into the world, the more he would have it returned to him with interest. Now, after all this time, it was finally being paid back to him.

But he was going to tough it out. He had to. The Tomodachi family name would've been disgraced if he hadn't done everything he could to ensure that he could push through and preserve. If he was the captain of a ship, he'd go down with it. Such was the Tomodachi family way.

Just as he was about to get up to go use the bathroom, he felt the phone in his pocket rumble, and for his ringtone to start going off. He looked at the time and frowned. It was just a little past midnight, around 12:22 am. "Who the hell is calling me at this hour?" Akira muttered to himself, before taking his phone and checking the number.

For a moment, he thought it was Otoshi. He wouldn't have been shocked. But, instead, that wasn't who it was. Much to his shock, it was The Musutafu General Hospital. "The fuck?" Why would they be calling him? Regardless, he answered the phone and put it to his ear. "Tomodachi Akira speaking. How can I help you?"

"Hello, Tomodachi-san. It says here on this piece of paper that I have in front of me that you are the employer of one Arakawa Otoshi, correct?" A tired, borderline exhausted voice of a young man filled his ears, which confused Akira.

"Who am I speaking to?"

"Ah, my apologies, Tomodachi-san. My name is Tomioka Tooru. I am the Head Doctor here at Musutafu General Hospital."

"The Head Doctor? Why would the Head Doctor want to talk to me? Better yet, why would the Head Doctor want to talk to Otoshi?" Akira thought, frowning. "Right, Dr. Tomioka, yes, I'm Arakawa Otoshi's employer. What seems to be the issue?"

"Is he with you right now? I wish to speak to him. I've been trying to reach him for the last five minutes, but I haven't been able to contact him."

"Sorry about that, but he's not here. He's currently on leave for something. I can forward a message to him, though. Besides, he and I are close friends, so whatever it is, I'm sure I can tell him about it later," Akira replied as he leaned against the left wall of his office, staring at the door to his office with a distant expression.

"Sir, this is confidential information. It would be rude of me to tell it to someone else rather than the person who it is intended for."

"With all due respect, Head Doctor, if you can tell it to Otoshi, then you can tell it to me. Besides, if it is something medical related to him, it would make my life easier as his employer," Akira retorted as Dr. Tomioka sighed.

"Very well. Then, it is with a heavy heart and my sincerest apologies that at 12:03 am, Sayaka Takeshi had a seizure, which resulted in severe, but treatable brain damage that, if not tended to right away, had the chance to put her in a vegetative state. If that were all, then I would have waited until the morning to contact you. However, moments before we could move her somewhere where we could treat her properly, we stopped receiving brainwaves from Sayaka, indicating that due to the seizure, she had gone brain-dead, and not too long after that, at 12:09, Sayaka flatlined. With her having been brain-dead, we saw no reason to resuscitate her, and so, we have declared her deceased."

After Dr. Tomioka finished his explanation, Akira was left silent. Sayaka was… dead? She died…? It took a moment for it to register in Akira's head that what Dr. Tomioka said had been said. He faltered a few times trying to get something coherent out, but in the end, all he could muster out was a single word. "That…"

He stopped, his eyes darting around, trying to find something to do or say. He tried to say something again, but no words came out. His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, his brain scrambling to form a sentence. "I… Fuck… What?"

"I understand that you, Arakawa, and Takeshi were close, so I can only imagine the pain you're going through right now. We have transferred Sayaka's body to the on-site morgue, and she will be transferred to a local funeral home in 24 hours as of me contacting you. If you can forward this information to Arakawa at your earliest convenience, that would be wonderful. Now, if you excuse me, I am a busy man, and I have more patients to attend to. If you can, have a good rest of your night."

"Hey! Wait a minute, you asshole, don't you—" Before he could finish, the line went dead, and in a fit of rage, Akira threw his phone at the floor, the device sliding across the ground as he screamed, "MOTHERFUCKER!"

Akira stared at the floor, his blood boiling. Just who did that asshole think he was? Telling him that Takeshi was dead and then hanging up as if nothing happened at all. Busy his ass, he could've at least told him why she had a seizure or something. It was only when he was able to marginally calm down that he reminded himself that he needed to tell Otoshi.

Without hesitation, Akira walked over to the entrance of his office, but not before grabbing his brown trenchcoat off of the coat rack, as he exited his office whilst slipping on his coat, and made his way to the entrance, he passed by the bouncer he had hired to cover for Otoshi.

"Sir? Where are you going?" The new bouncer asked as Akira made his way to his car, not bothering to answer. If he spoke to anyone other than Otoshi, he was going to blow a gasket. He knew he would.

As he entered his car, which was the new Ford Ranger, he turned the engine on and signalled into the road, before driving off to get to Otoshi's as fast as he could. All he could think about was how Otoshi would react to the news. That was his fiance that just died, and someone Otoshi had plans with.

Now, she was gone, and there was nothing that could be done about it. He hadn't even considered how Yoshihara was going to react because both she and Sayaka were also close friends. If anything, he was more concerned with how she would react due to how young she was.

Although given Otoshi's mental state recently, after a second thought, he was more concerned about Otoshi.

He didn't know how long he was on the road. All he knew was that he drove and drove and drove until he got to Otoshi's address, which was an apartment on the Eastern side of Musutafu, and with the club being on the far western side of Musutafu, it was more than likely a long time. He lived on the fifth floor, and upon getting out of the car and looking up to see where Otoshi's apartment was, he saw that the lights were on, meaning he was still awake.

"Then why the fuck was he not answering his phone?" Akira thought, scowling as he made his way toward the front doors of the apartment building. As he did, he swung open the doors and marched toward the stairs with a purpose. He didn't stop for anybody and kept going. He needed to tell Otoshi. That was what he kept telling himself, like a mantra in his head on repeat.

After making it to the fifth floor, he looked for Apartment number 545, and by the time he got there, he didn't hesitate to start banging on the front door. "Arakawa!" Akira shouted, continuing the bang on the door every few seconds. Whenever he called Otoshi by his last name, it was to signify that it was urgent.

"Arakawa!" Akira shouted again, banging on his door for what felt like the fifth time in a row. His scowl deepened, as he banged on the door for a sixth time. "Arakawa! Open the fuck up! This is important!"

Finally, the doorknob turned, and when the door opened, Otoshi stood in the doorway, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. It took him a second to register who was at the door, and upon seeing Akira, Otoshi scowled. "What do you want, Akira? I told you, I'm not coming into work until Sayaka is out of the hospital."

"To hell with that, Arakawa, this is about Sayaka. Can I come inside?" Akira said, urgency in his tone of voice as Otoshi raised an eyebrow, seemingly sobering up. He stepped out of Akira's way as he entered Otoshi's apartment, and what he saw nearly made him want to slap the man.

It was a pigsty. Garbage was all over the place, and there was a pile of sake bottles on his coffee table. Takeout boxes were littered in one corner, and several trash bags were piled up near the TV. As Otoshi closed the door to his apartment, he yawned. "It's 2:30 in the morning, couldn't this have waited until I woke up, at like, six?"

"Otoshi, what the fuck is this?" Akira said, gesturing to his living conditions, prompting Otoshi to sigh.

"I… have no excuse. It's just… been stressful without Sayaka here. I guess I let it get bad, huh…" Otoshi muttered as Akira sighed. He didn't have time for this. It was better to rip off the bandaid and then slowly peel it away.

"Look, whatever. That's not important. The hospital tried calling you, but you didn't pick up. So they called me instead, and…" Akira paused, biting his tongue.

"And what?" Otoshi prompted, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. "Is she ready to be picked up? Did she wake up from her coma?" There was a bit of excitement in his voice, and his eyes sparkled like black jewels. Akira's heart ached. He didn't want to do this to him, but…

"Well, here goes nothing…" Akira mentally prepared himself and spoke. "Arakawa… Sayaka's dead."

Silence. It was dread-inducing silence for the next few minutes, as Otoshi processed Akira's words. It was slow at first, his expression unchanging from when he believed it was time to pick Sayaka up. Then, it changed, slowly, to confusion, then his eyes widened to the size of saucers, his mouth hanging open slightly before he let out a shuddered breath.

"Huh?"

"I said, Sayaka's dead. Arakawa, look, I—"

"No," Otoshi said flatly, a humourless chuckle filling the air. "No. That's a bad joke, Akira. You're not funny. Why are you here?"

Akira's eyes narrowed, his scowl deepening further, borderline flashing his teeth to Otoshi. He was really starting to get frustrated with people today. "Arakawa, I want you to look me dead in the eyes, and tell me I would joke about your fiance dying. The Head Doctor at the general hospital just called me, because he couldn't reach your dumbass, and—"

"NO! SHUT UP!" Otoshi shoved Akira, who nearly tripped over Otoshi's coffee table. Before he could do anything, Otoshi grabbed Akira by his collar, and before he could do anything, Akira kicked him between the legs as Otoshi let him go, and fell to the ground.

"What the fuck, Otoshi?!" Akira snarled, straightening himself out, and brushing himself off as Otoshi writhed on the ground, crying as he curled up in a ball. He should've waited. Goddamnit, he should've waited. He should've seen the signs. Otoshi was piss drunk, and he was mumbling something that Akira could only just barely make out.

"I was going to be a dad…" Otoshi muttered through his sobs, and the gravity of the situation became heavier. Akira shook his head because that was the only thing he could do. Before he could say anything, Otoshi slowly came to his feet and glared at Akira. "Get out…"

"Otoshi—"

"GET. OUT!"

And without further prompting, Akira left, with Otoshi slamming his door shut when he did. This was a mess. It was all a giant, fucking, mess. At some point this week, he was going to have to contact Yoshihara. She deserved to know.

But not now. He had enough of dealing with people for the day. He sent a text to the assistant manager at The Love Palace and told her that she was going to take over for him, and after that, he continued down the stairs to get back into his truck and go home.

If today was a shit show, tomorrow was going to be even worse.

[XXXX]

Yoshihara sat at the back of the class, as usual, fiddling with a strand of hair that had fallen over her right ear to keep herself from getting bored. Classes were a few minutes away from starting, and with Aizawa being in the ER, there was a high likelihood of there being a substitute teacher. However, while she was given this time to think, she had come up with some… interesting thoughts.

Last week had been, by far, one of the worst weeks of her life… well, in her recent school life anyway. The USJ attack, the rogue Stand User at the mall, and the mention of some suited individual manipulating people to come after her and her friends; it was all too much.

For some reason or another, someone or something, or maybe even some group, was out for her head. The reason? Well, she was still working on the potential reason—perhaps it had something to do with the Stand Bullets? If it did, then perhaps that mysterious individual was behind their creation.

She couldn't say for certain that was the case, but it was definitely a possibility. After all, why else would someone be trying to silence her?

Or, it could be entirely unrelated. That was also possible. But knowing her crappy luck over the last couple of days? More than likely not. Because if that was the case, then things were going to be far too complicated, way too quickly, and at that point, it wouldn't have been worth dragging herself into this mess to begin with.

But, assuming that this imagined group of people led by this suited man Stroheim spoke of was real, and if that portal guy from the USJ, Kurogiri, was with him, then that could only mean one thing.

The League Of Villains had a partner group working with them. The same partner group that could potentially be linked to and be the ones producing The Stand Bullets, and now that group and by extension The League Of Villains were officially targeting her, Karera, Kujo, and Izuku.

That was a problem, because if they were targeting them, then that would mean that they would also, by extension, be targeting Class 1 – A. If they were targeting Class 1 – A, then what Ashido said about telling Class 1 – A about Stands was going to have to happen at some point. The problem was when?

When would they tell them? What could they even do with that information? It would be useless to them. Although she supposed Izuku was able to listen for where his mother's stand had been when they were attacked by it. Maybe there was a way they could avoid a Stand attacking them, but not exactly counter it.

If, not when, if they decided to tell Class 1 – A about Stands, it would only be when they had no other choice. Exposing them to that kind of threat was something that she didn't want to do. But, then, just by existing in their class, she was. She and Kujo were beacons to Stand Users. It might've been immediate, but they would come.

A perfect example was at the USJ, with the rogue Stand User that she and Kujo had sensed. Granted, that Stand User was now dead thanks to Kujo, and Kujo had quite the tongue-lashing from Nedzu for it, but no real punishment was dealt out. It was their lives over the villains, and thankfully the media didn't get a hold of it.

Though she supposed even if they did, The Speedwagon Foundation would bury it under countless lawsuits. She guessed there were benefits to having your father being the head of a very public, and very litigious government agency.

Yoshihara looked out the window, watching as leaves from trees blew in the wind. She covered her mouth before letting out a rather soft and quiet yawn, her eyes glancing over the class as Ida stood up front and center, taking his role as the Class President a little too seriously, while also being an ironic hypocrite for being the only student in the room for standing. Upon realizing this, he walked to his desk and sat down, and as the door opened, something rather… interesting happened.

The person who walked into the classroom wasn't a substitute for Aizawa-Sensei. Rather, it was a heavily bandaged, damn near mummified version of the very man himself, noticeable by the tired black eyes and shaggy black hair he always had. Both of his arms were bandaged heavily, and both of which were kept up by thick strands of bandages.

It was… bizarre, to say the very least.

"Mornin'," Aizawa-Sensei said, much to the collective shock of Class 1 – A, barring Yoshihara, who simply stared, impressed.

"YOU'RE BACK ALREADY, AIZAWA-SENSEI?!"

"Well, I'll be damned…." Yoshihara thought, humming silently in approval. It seemed as if Aizawa had decided to go against what she probably assumed to be "doctor's orders" and came to work anyway. She wouldn't say that she didn't expect it, especially given how quickly he came back from having claws dug into his head, but still, that didn't mean she wasn't a little bit shocked that he was back so quickly after the injuries he had received.

However, she had also been concerned. The fact that he was here, standing in front of the class in such a heavily bandaged state showed that he had no intention of just letting himself heal. He had what looked like two broken arms, and whatever was behind his face bandages was probably not pretty. Overall, Aizawa looked like shit. He seemed to have no sense of self-care, and part of Yoshihara was a wee bit worried about that.

Even if Recovery Girl was a good nurse, it didn't matter. He shouldn't be at school, and he shouldn't be teaching. He should be in the hospital healing, resting, and getting better. Not in the classroom, teaching, even if it meant he'd be in excruciating pain.

As he walked to the front of the class, he wobbled, having to slowly meander his way to the front space before slowly but surely turning to face the classroom. Despite this display of weakness and pain, Ida still greeted him as if he had seen nothing. "I am glad to see you doing well, Sensei!" Ida said as Uraraka commented on how he looked anything but "well" which would be correct.

"At least Uraraka-san has a good sense of pointing out the obvious…." Yoshihara thought, looking to Aizawa, who brushed off her comment. "My well-being does not matter. Besides, your fight is far from over," Aizawa said, earning a few raised eyebrows and not-so-hushed whispers.

"Our fight?" Bakugo growled out, giving a slight tilt of his head and a raised eyebrow.

"You don't mean…" Izuku muttered, a slight look of worry on his face.

"M-More villains?!" Ashido stammered, looking up at Aizawa, who squinted his eyes.

"U.A.'s Sports Festival is fast approaching!" Aizawa stated that everyone in the class had a reaction of shock and confusion. To be fair to everyone else, Yoshihara couldn't help but agree that it was something that was considered 'regular.' She could also agree that he could've worded what he said better, too. That being said, however, it got everyone's attention, so in that regard, it did as it was intended.

"Uh, Aizawa-Sensei. Wouldn't it be better to hold off the Sports Festival after such a prominent attack on the school? It could be dangerous, kero." Tsuyu asked, tilting her head to the side as Aizawa resolved to answer the question as a continuation of his statement.

"It's necessary to demonstrate that U.A.'s crisis management protocols are sound. That's their reasoning, apparently. Compared to past years, there'll be five times the police presence. Anyhow, outside of security concerns, it goes without saying, but, Our Sports Festival is the greatest opportunity you'll get. It's not an event that can be cancelled over a few villains," Aizawa explained, turning to Tsuyu. "I hope that answers that irrational question of yours," Aizawa stated as Tsuyu hummed leaning back in her chair.

The question was anything but in the mind of Yoshihara. While the group of villains were defeated, they, outside of that creature called a 'Nomu' that she had heard being tossed around, hadn't been captured. They were still on the loose—which, given that Stroheim had bore witness to one of Kurogiri's portals was proof of that. While it would be suicide to attack The Sports Festival, they could still plan another attack, and maybe that next attack would be far more devastating.

Their original stated goal was to kill All Might which Kujo had filled her in on. She didn't know how bad it got, but from what she saw, the Hero in question had been battered, badly, if the blood had anything to go by. He was put into a rough shape by the end of the battle, and if they were given a second chance at All Might's life… There was no telling what might have occurred. Hell, they might even succeed.

The keyword there is "might." After all, All Might was the Symbol of Peace for a reason. But at the end of the day, he was human. He had weaknesses. Every human has weaknesses, no matter how strong they might have been.

Everyone, no matter who they claimed to be, could die. No… not could die, but would die. It was only a matter of time. And for All Might, considering how old he was, and considering what his profession is, that time might have been coming a little too close for comfort. Far closer than Yoshihara would've liked to admit.

Don't get her wrong, she didn't want All Might to die. But she had to be realistic. He was an old man. No matter how much strength and power All Might could dish out, the older one gets, the more frail their body becomes. It would come as no surprise that All Might would die sooner or later.

He was not a God. He was not infallible. And more importantly, he was not immortal.

"Back to the topic at hand," Aizawa's voice cut through Yoshihara's thoughts like a knife to warm butter, "Our Sports Festival is one of Japan's biggest events. The Olympics were once the world's Sports Festival. The whole country would be whipped into a frenzy over them. But as you know, that tradition has shrunk to a shell of its former self. And as far as Japan's concerned, What's taken the place of the Olympics is the U.A. Sports Festival," Aizawa continued as Yaoyorozu chimed in.

"That means the Nation's Top Heroes will all be watching, Right? They'll be there as scouts!" Yaoyorozu said with a small smile on her face. It was then that Kaminari spoke up, which resulted in Yoshihara tuning out the conversation.

To her, the U.A. Sports Festival was just a bragging rights competition. Whether she won it or not was something that she did not care about. The same went for internships. She planned to become an Underground Hero, anyway, seeing as that was the best choice for her. She worked better as the kind of person who you'd call on missions to infiltrate places and deal with enemies before they had the chance to attack.

Killer Queen was better suited for that kind of thing. While she had been training on lowering and controlling the destruction her bombs outputted for when she was sparring, not wanting to replicate what she did during the battle trials to Jirou, that didn't mean that was the kind of hero she wanted to be.

In a sense, she looked up to Blackwell. Villains were scum of the Earth—not crooks, like bank robbers or petty thieves. She meant true villains. Like the villain with hands all over their body, Kurogiri, and Taro. Those were the kinds of people that didn't deserve to live. The kind that killed for the sake of killing.

The true scum of the Earth.

That being said, she couldn't deny that the experience would be needed. While getting her name out there was something she was against, the attack on the USJ was something that already did most of the work for the Sports Festival. Everyone knew who was in Class 1 – A. That, and, it would serve great for her to use her Stand in combat outside of life or death battles.

Because even though she would've preferred to be the kind of Hero who did the dirty work that most heroes refused to do, she was aware that wouldn't be what all of her fights would wind up being. So, in that respect, and also because she didn't want to look like a weakling in front of her class—and also she was fairly certain it was compulsory—she was going to at least try in the Sports Festival.

However, yet again, there was the overwhelming annoyance of her name getting out there, and for her to somehow gain some sort of fanbase—something she was against. She had seen what degenerates drew and animated about their favourite heroes. Not that she believed that she'd be anyone's favourite.

That, and it wasn't as if people didn't already know about her—the aforementioned USJ incident made sure of that.

Before she could continue her train of thought, Aizawa caught everyone's attention by clearing his throat. Yoshihara was drawn out of her thoughts as the teacher began to continue his pseudo-speech. "Naturally, you'll gain valuable experience and popularity if you're picked up by a Big-Name Hero. But your time is limited. Show the Pros what you're made of here. And you'll make a future for yourselves. This happens once a year… so you've got three chances. If you're hoping to become a hero, this is an event you can't miss!"

After Aizawa's resounding and rather dry speech, classes went on as usual. By the time the fourth class ended, Yoshihara was beginning to tune everyone else out, preparing herself to go on another one of her loner walks that she did every lunchtime until Kujo had walked over to her.

She looked up at Kujo, who looked down at her. There was a vague expression on his face, a mix of confusion and also accusation. Whatever it was that got his panties in a twist, it had something to do with her.

"Kira. I want to talk to you at lunch. I have… some questions I'd like to ask if that is okay with you?" Kujo asked as Yoshihara raised an eyebrow.

"What for?" Yoshihara questioned as Josefumi's eyes narrowed. There was a seriousness in his eyes. One that she hadn't seen since they were meeting before U.A.'s Recommendation Exam was but two weeks away. It was the same seriousness that he gave her when he had introduced the Stand Creating Bullets to her.

And if that was the case, she needed to meet the seriousness with a seriousness of her own.

"Yes or no. Simple as that, I'm not playing around about this. Just answer my question. Is it okay with you if I—"

"Back of the school. We'll talk there," Yoshihara interrupted, reflecting that seriousness as Kujo afforded her a nod. The bell rang for lunch, and Kujo left through the front door, taking a sharp left turn. She waited for a few seconds, then got up, and followed him. Unbeknownst to them, Todoroki had been intrigued by their secrecy and had decided to follow them.

Shoto had been suspicious of Kira since the day he met eyes with her back at the Recommendation Exam. There was no doubt in his mind that she had bad blood in her veins. There was evil within her, an evil that he had seen deep within many of the villains he had seen on screen, and at the USJ. But unlike those villains, Kira had devastating levels of power, what with her supposed ability to vaporize whatever she wanted with her bombs.

He didn't believe her statement at first until he saw them at the combat trial. When they had blown up in Jirou's face, he noted that they were strong, that much was given, but not vaporizing strong.

But even then, that didn't mean that it wasn't possible. Quirks were powerful and deadly weapons no matter how controlled they were. He would know, he was a walking flamethrower and ice age all in one—not that he used his father's flames, but that was beside the point—so he knew firsthand just how powerful ones Quirk was.

And, because of that, he also knew firsthand what holding back looked like. He knew that Kira was holding back her power because if she hadn't, Jirou would've been dead. She didn't use her Quirks full power, and because of that, she had more tricks up her sleeve. Furthermore, her Quirk didn't seem to have any kind of drawback when she used it.

In a way, Kira was like him. She had an insanely powerful Quirk with no real drawback. That made her a threat. A threat that didn't let information about herself leak out easily, no matter how hard he observed.

And that wasn't even to mention that dead look in her eyes. She always had it when she thought no one was looking, but he always was. He knew that the Sports Festival was coming up, so he watched his future opponents rigorously. But every time he laid his heterochromatic eyes on her, she seemed dead. Void of any semblance of emotion.

Shoto had heard about a mental condition known as Sociopathy, and his sister had made him do a mental evaluation to check if he had it before he went to the recommendation exam. He didn't have the condition—there was a difference between repressing emotion and completely lacking it—but he digressed.

However, the more he looked at Kira, the more he saw what the doctor had described to him when he was taking the test; a lack of emotions, physical and verbal, and the tendency for rage and lashing out, as seen at the recommendation exam when she had tripped him up using one of her explosions, though more discreetly—at least he thought that was what it was—and even manipulating people by faking her emotions, something she did constantly if what he had believed to be the truth was, in fact, true.

All of those things were clear lines of being a Sociopath. If she truly was a Sociopath, then that made her far more terrifying if that had been the case. If she was a Sociopath, that must've meant she had no qualms in, as a hypothetical, giving some villains information about the school and its schedule if it meant it suited better for her. After all, she even got to escape the USJ relatively unharmed, and the mist villain had hesitated in warping her, staggering when she merely looked at her, almost like he let her escape.

Shoto had questions. Questions that demanded answers. When he rounded the corner and he followed both Kira and Kujo, he watched them enter a crack behind the school, and then, he overheard them talk.

"What is this about, Kujo? I thought I made it clear to you that I haven't found any information regarding that," Kira stated. He knew it was her for obvious reasons. But what exactly was she talking about? And what did Kujo have to do with it?

"This isn't about that, Kira-san. This is about something else. May I check your shoulder? Karera said she saw something that, if true, would explain a lot. Please?" Kujo asked as Kira sighed.

"Is it about that strange star-shaped thing I have? I was going to ask you the same thing. You have it too, don't you, what does it mean?" Kira asked, genuine curiosity in her voice as Shoto's eyes widened.

"They're both… Joestars?! What?! How!" Shoto thought, frowning. "Something isn't right here… that can't be right… she acts nothing like them! From what I know, they are innately heroic to a fault. Kira isn't. She's evil to the core. I can see it, but I'm not sure anyone else can…." Shoto thought, his frown deepening.

He had to leave, this conversation would hold no use to him. Not anymore. Though now he had something to ponder about. What exactly did Kira think the conversation was about? Were the two of them in on something that not even U.A. knew about?

Were they possibly moles sent in by some organization that was linked with the League of Villains? Had the Joestars turned evil over the years? Whatever the case had been, he needed to sort some things out, and if what Shoto had thought the two had been a part of was true, then their principal needed to know immediately.

But just before he was going to leave, he heard Kujo mention something that caught his attention even more. "It means we're related. My Grandpa, Jouta, had several children outside of my father, and one of them was from here. That means either your father or mother is directly related to the Joestar family, as are you. How that came to be, I don't know. But I think that might also be the reason why your Killer Queen and my Soft & Wet have nearly the exact same ability, you know, with the whole Bubbles thing," Josefumi explained as Shoto narrowed his eyes and cupped his chin.

"Killer Queen and Soft & Wet? Aren't those the names of Pre-Quirk era songs? Wasn't Kira's ability called Bomb Creation? Kujo's ability was called Plunder. So why are they calling their Quirks different names? Is it some sort of code language?" Shoto thought. Now he knew he had to leave. He was going to keep this to himself, and perhaps use his bedroom for something else other than sleeping for once in his life.

He had some thinking to do after school today.

However, as he was about to leave, he felt something grab his shoulder, and when he looked over, he saw nothing, but what he did see was Kira, glaring at him. "How much of that conversation did you hear?" Kira said, her tone of voice filled with a hint of annoyance, however, before Shoto could do anything, Josefumi showed up, a bubble moved its way over to Shoto's face, and when it popped, he shook his head. He felt whatever it was grabbing him let go, and then he felt… confusion?

Why was he here? He didn't remember. "What conversation?" Shoto asked as Kira looked over to Kujo, then back at Shoto.

"Never mind, forget it. Let's go, Kujo," Kira said, and then, after a few minutes of standing around, Shoto left as well, having no recollection of why it was he was at the back of the school. He needed to eat something before the bell rang for the next class, so he decided to go to the cafeteria. After all, his sister didn't raise him as a fool. He knew the importance of eating before something important. That, and he had foolishly skipped out on breakfast, so he was a little peckish.

"That was close…." Kujo muttered, wiping his forehead from the worry he had been feeling when he had seen Todoroki. "If I hadn't used Soft & Wet to remove his memory from five minutes ago, we would've been found out," Kujo said as Yoshihara raised an eyebrow. She knew Soft & Wet could remove things from people, but she didn't know to what extent that meant. If he could remove memories, then what couldn't he remove?

"Your Stand can do that? I thought it was just physical attributes?" Yoshihara asked as Kujo sighed. He looked around himself a few times before nodding, confirming that no one else was around, then looked over to Yoshihara.

"Soft & Wet can do a variety of things. Normally it can only remove physical aspects of a person, but if I really concentrate, and so long as it isn't a lot, then I can remove mental aspects from people as well, though only partially. I can technically only do it in small amounts, my maximum being five minutes. Any second longer and we would've been compromised. If I try and wipe someone's memory for longer than five minutes, then it just won't work. Thankfully, it was just on that threshold. However, when I do use it, it takes 24 hours for it to remain permanent, so I can't use Soft & Wet's ability until 12:43 PM tomorrow. If I do, he'll remember everything," Kujo explained as Yoshihara nodded.

"Hmm… interesting," Yoshihara hummed, quickly changing the subject "You were going to say something before you spotted Todoroki spying on us. What was it?"

"Oh! Yeah, right," Kujo began as he rubbed the back of his neck. "So, what I was going to say, was that because you're a Joestar, there's a high likelihood that my Soft & Wet and your Killer Queen are connected in more ways than just because our Stands use "bubbles" to attack," Kujo said, emphasizing the word "bubbles" by using quotation marks with his fingers.

"Why the quotation marks?" Yoshihara asked as Kujo smirked.

"Can you have Killer Queen create one of its bubbles? I just want to see something quickly," Kujo said as Yoshihara raised an eyebrow, but complied anyway. Summoning Killer Queen behind her, she had it manifest a bubble on its right index finger, and when Kujo leaned into it, narrowing his eyes whilst staring at it when he leaned back, his smirk turned into a smile.

"I knew it. I was right. That bubble is Spinning. Meaning that if it's anything like my Soft & Wet, your "bubble" isn't actually a bubble, but something else. Not like my Soft & Wet's spinning string, but… like a vortex. Like a black hole, dragging in something. Or, maybe it's pure energy being woven into a physical form?" Kujo said, scratching the top of his head before shrugging.

"What are you talking about? I'd expect this from Izuku, not you, Kujo," Yoshihara said, confused as Kujo blinked a few times before snapping out of whatever analytic trance he had been in.

"Oh, my bad. Uh, look, I can't really explain it well, but my father—your Uncle, I guess—can. Speaking of that, he wants to meet you and he'll be at The Sports Festival. But, if for some reason you don't cross paths there, he's extending an invitation to do an international internship. Nedzu's signed off on it before, and considering it's my father who's asking about it, I'm sure he'll say yes," Kujo explained as Yoshihara frowned.

"I don't even know him, and you're saying I should just accept his offer?" Yoshihara asked as Kujo sighed.

"I know, I know, but at least consider it. Besides, from what I know, you don't have any blood-related family to associate with, right? That, and… well, considering you have potential, it'd be a smart move. If nothing else, you can get stronger with his help. I don't know much about The Spin, which is what you have potential in, but like I said, my father does," Kujo said, crossing his arms as Yoshihara's frown disappeared.

She couldn't argue with that. Though her track record with blood-related family wasn't exactly the best. She had sworn to herself that she wanted nothing to do with her family. But that was when that had only been that wench and her potentially deceased and or deadbeat father. But if there was a whole part of her family that she hadn't known about until now, who didn't know about her until now….

"Fine. I'll consider it."

Kujo smiled, "alright! Now, before the bell rings, let's—" Before he was about to finish what he said, the bell to call off lunch echoed across campus, earning him an annoyed frown from Yoshihara. "Hehehe… whoops?"

"Well, cousin, guess who owes me lunch?" Yoshihara bit out, before grabbing him by his ear and dragging him back to class all the while protesting the whole way back. As she dragged him back to class, though, her phone in her school jacket pocket rumbled, prompting her to take her phone out and check the messages whilst she walked.

It was from Akira, and the message he sent her described how he had something he needed to tell her about, but that he was going to do so in person. Not today, but in two days from now. The message continued to say something about how he still needed to process what happened.

Yoshihara put away her phone, confusion bubbling in the back of her mind. "What is he talking about?" Whatever it was, Yoshihara couldn't figure it out. Instead, she focused on going back to class, while still dragging Kujo behind her.

[XXXX]

Blackwell sat at his desk within the Damnatio Ad Bestias headquarters, picture profiles of Kira Yoshihara, Kujo Josefumi, Midoriya Izuku, Sakunami Karera, and most interestingly of all to him, Midoriya Inko, sitting face up on his desk. He frowned, taking a drag out of his cigar before putting it out in the ashtray next to his nameplate. He was a little annoyed, but it was nothing too serious. It wasn't like he lost anyone this time.

"So… Stroheim failed. Oh well, I had a feeling he would. Then again, he was just a civilian. It wasn't like I should've expected anything out of him. He didn't see my face, so I didn't need to kill him either. He's not a threat to me or anyone in my gang."

Blackwell shifted through the pictures on his desk, circling a picture of Sakunami Karera. "She's a Stand User, but she's under the protection of The Speedwagon Foundation. She's not in Class 1-A, but rather Class 1 – B, as my intel has told me…." Blackwell said, looking across his desk to see a man in rags sitting across from him.

He wore a black shirt with ripped sleeves and a ripped-up bottom. He wore sweatpants with holes in the cuffs and knees, some covered with patches and others left open. He had a tattoo on his left arm that looked like a tiger's head, opening up to breathe fire on his hand. He had budding facial hair, and long black hair tied up in a messy man-bun, with his bangs brushed over to the left, allowing his natural yellow eyes to stare into Blackwell's deep purple ones.

"You do know you don't have to be in that disguise all the time, right? Blackwell said, frowning, as the man shrugged, straightening in his chair as he clasped his hands together. He almost looked relaxed. Too relaxed in Blackwell's opinion.

"Keeps me in touch with the people below us, sir. Besides, I don't see the issue in it. So long as I blend in with the crowd of the poor people, no one will suspect a thing," the man said, his tone of voice rough, battle-hardened, almost. "So, you got a target for me, Boss?" the man asked as Blackwell smirked.

"That I do. You see, I had All For One's spy's mother email me about something interesting. They learned through their son that both hero classes have Stand Users, which was obvious when Makoto was killed, but, he also learned that those Stand Users had been forming a group consisting of Kujo Josefumi, Kira Yoshihara, Sakunami Karera, Midoriya Izuku, and most interesting of all, Midoriya Inko," as soon as Blackwell mentioned her, the man's eyes widened.

"No way…! Is she still around? I thought you bumped her off when she quit?" The man asked as Blackwell scoffed.

"And risk the wrath of Nameless? I might be strong, but Nameless scares me. That's why he's on our side. At the time, he was married to her and reproduced with her. But now that he's not married to her…" Blackwell said as the man smirked.

"I see what you're saying. But… why not try and take down the three arguably worse threats? Don't get me wrong, Ink was a terrifying person, but she's mellowed out. She's had to if she had a kid. Why try and go after her? Sure she's going against us by looking into The Stand Bullets and—oh! Wait a minute…" The man stopped himself, sighing. "Duh, that was a dumb question…"

"I'm glad you catch on quickly. She'll know it's our handiwork just by looking at it. She'll be able to give them valuable information. Though, that's assuming she's not as tight-lipped nor as loyal to us as she used to be. For all we know, motherhood could've made her soft. Or, it could have made her equally more fierce. You know the saying, don't you? A mother always protects her cubs, regardless of whether or not it would endanger her life."

As Blackwell said that, the man shrugged, slipping one arm behind his chair and leaning back with the chair in the process. "Well, either way, if you want her gone, who am I to deny you, sir?"

"Excellent. But, before you go. It's not just her I want gone. There's someone else who else needs to die," Blackwell stated, grabbing the photo of Midoriya Izuku, and slipping it toward the man. He took one good look at the picture and raised an eyebrow.

"What's up with broccoli hair? I mean, aside from lookin' like Ink, and is also probably her child and more than likely working with her and this group, unless he's a Stand user, I doubt he's of any real significance…" the man drawled, giving the photo back to Blackwell, who hummed.

"You're correct in saying that he is her child, and you'd also be correct in saying that he should be of no real significance if it wasn't for the fact he is incredibly intelligent, and just so happens to be the person that All Might choose to be his successor," Blackwell said as the man's eyebrow raised further.

"And…? I mean, if he's smart, he's smart, but what does him being big dumb and blond's successor have to do with this?" The man asked as Blackwell frowned.

"Do you remember what I told you about All Might? What two of his biggest secrets were? Ones that I learned from All For One?" Blackwell asked as the man sat up straight, no longer leaning in his chair or leaning the chair back as he rubbed his chin. For a split second, something reflected in his eyes, and then, his eyes widened.

"No shot…! Ha! That's hilarious! And you want to snuff out One For All before that twit can get his hands on it, don't you?" The man said as Blackwell smirked.

"That would be correct. If we can get a one-up on All For One, and if we can destroy the very thing he is obsessed with, then that leaves him open to be dragged down to hell. He'll be furious, and when he's raging like a bull…"

"We can eliminate him," the man said, a devious grin on his face as Blackwell steepled his fingers, levelling a serious stare toward the man, who returned it in full.

"Then that means there is no room for failure. If you fail this, Asahina, then I will have no choice but to demote you from your current position as a member of Percussores Damnatorum. After all, we need someone as head of the Debt Collector Branch after Makoto's death," Blackwell said as Asahina nodded, a singular bead of sweat trailing down the side of his head.

"I-I understand, sir. I will not fail you," without another word, Asahina left his office. He wouldn't have to send any details to Asahina, given that he and Midoriya Inko used to be friends. Inko had lived in that apartment for all of her life, and Asahina knew where it was. So it wasn't like he had to guess where to go.

When he was gone, Blackwell sat back in his chair and picked up a photo that had been covered in partial shadow. The picture was of a large, black-haired man with deep purple eyes and a thinned-out figure. Not sickly thin, but thin. He wore a very serious expression and was dressed in a black kimono.

Next to the man in the photo was a blond-haired woman, who wore a large, smile on her face. She was a rather conventionally attractive woman with her hair done up in a ponytail. She had vibrant ocean-blue eyes. She wore a white dress, and she had a large, happy smile on her face.

On the woman's shoulders was a small blond-haired boy, holding onto her head, with matching eyes and a matching smile. The only thing that showed what he was wearing were his orange sleeves and the blue shorts that he had on.

Then, there was an older black-haired boy with purple eyes that matched the older man in the photo. The older boy stood in front of the older man and was dressed in a black suit with matching pants, his arms behind his back, trying to mimic the older man's serious appearance.

A once loving, and caring family, split apart due to different interests. He remembered those days. Remembered when he and his brother would play in the front yard of their estate. Remembered when they would all around the table and eat.

But then the family fractured when his younger brother came back as Quirkless. His younger brother and his mother left the clan, though his brother left because he was exiled, and his mother left because she refused to leave his brother alone. From then on, that picture-esque family were no longer together, and it created two separate people.

Blackwell scowled. "One day, brother. One day, I will ensure you become nothing more than a bad memory. Not only did you betray the family by working with The Speedwagon Foundation to ensure our clan fell apart, but you then denied it ever happened…! You will not get away with this. For this, you will pay!"

The picture was then shattered into pieces after being punched by a dark blue and silver fist, a haunting blue aura washing over Blackwell as he scowled with nothing but wrath in his eyes. "I swear, for as long as I live, that I will ruin you!"

He calmed himself down, inhaling and exhaling. The arm of his Stand disappeared back within him, and the aura around his body faded away. He looked over to the phone on his desk and frowned. He had a call to make. Dialing the number he had memorized, the phone rang a few times, before it finally picked up.

"Yo, this is Giran speaking, how can I help you?"

"Giran—"

"Say no more, I know who you are. I'm in a meeting, so make it quick. Whaddya want?" Giran was a rather infamous information broker who worked solely with villains. Not much was known about him aside from his Quirk, Muddied which altered the memory of those to make them forget the previous 5 minutes of a conversation completely erased, and for the next 5 minutes to become a lot more vague for someone's memory.

There were rumours that he was a bit of a sex pest, but those were merely rumours. None of the sources were credible, and as far as Blackwell was concerned, he didn't really care much about what Giran did in his free time.

"Straight to the point. Very well. I want you to get me as much information as you can on a certain individual. Her name is Kyoka Jirou. She's a hero student from Class 1 – A, and after doing some digging on her "father" I became curious. I want you to find birth records, collect blood samples from whatever hospital carries them from when she was a child—assuming they still do—and do whatever you can. I want to know who her father is. Her real father."

"Very well. You know my fee. I expect my money in 24 hours from this call. We'll talk in more detail in person," and with that, Giran cut the call. Blackwell smirked. If what he thought was true, then his passing interest in Kyoka Jirou would pay off in a big, big way.

[XXXX]

Inko Midoriya was having what one might call an interesting day. Izuku had left the house with what one might only assume to be the world's widest smile on his face. His reasoning? Well, he was able to see his friends again at school. Inko was proud of her son, seeing as he had made so many friends already, and he hadn't even been at the school for a month.

Part of her wanted to meet them, but another part of her told her to just let him be, and let him grow up on his own without her interference. Besides, if Izuku was going to be a Pro Hero, then he would need some time to just be himself around his friends. After all, if there was one thing that she knew, it was that building connections were important in any business venture. Period.

Fly, Fly Away lifted one of the couches so that Inko could vacuum underneath it, then gently set it down once she was done. She wiped the beads of sweat off of her forehead from the heat of the vacuum cleaner's vents blowing directly into her face. She had the trusty piece of tech for twenty years, although as each year went by, the thing was beginning to fail on her. Perhaps it was time to retire the old piece of machinery and get something new.

"I need a new vacuum cleaner…." Inko muttered, placing it against a wall. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. A small smile took over her face as she looked around the now clean house. It was a mess when she had fought Kira-san, and even now, some bloodstains wouldn't get out of the walls, but would only fade—a permanent reminder of her mistakes.

"Nice house you got here, ma'am," a voice spoke to her, which made her jump, and when she did, she was face to face with a…. skeleton. A dapper one at that. The skeleton had golden teeth and bright red glowing eyes. Atop its bony head was a top hat with a red ribbon wrapping around the bottom part of the neck bones.

Around its neck was a tattered cape, the edges singed as if it had been in some sort of fire. Covering its body was a black waistcoat with golden stitching. Its pants were the same colour with the same golden stitching, the only difference being that on the knees were golden skull emblems.

When she finished observing the skeleton, Inko jumped back, Fly, Fly Away putting itself between her and the skeleton, who simply raised its hands in a hands-open pronounced truce pose.

"Whoa, lady! Chill out! We don't need to get violent here, I mean, what's the point of that? C'mon, let's shake hands, and put whatever tension that's between us away, yeah?" The skeleton said, reaching its hand out in a friendly nature. It was almost tempting, but before her hand could unconsciously make contact with it, she recoiled back, narrowing her eyes as several knives pulled themselves out of the drawers, a green aura forming around them as Inko sneered.

"Piss off. I already know who you are. You can't fool me," Inko spat as the skeleton sighed.

"Well, shit. As sharp as ever, Inko. Ya know, it's a shame. Really, it is. I hate to do this to you, but I've got my orders. You know how it is, right, Tornado?" The skeleton—no. The Stand, said, a golden aura surrounding it as Inko narrowed her eyes.

"We had a deal. Me and The Boss had a deal, and now he's going against his word. I guess his word doesn't mean anything, does it?" Inko spat, Fly, Fly Away hovering behind her as The Stand huffed.

"No. He kept to his word. It was you who didn't. You should've kept your nose out of our business, Inko. Now, you and your son have to die. How would your ex-husband feel? Knowing that his ex-wife fucked up this badly? Why? I can hardly imagine how he'd react," The Stand taunted, smirking with his bony face upturned in an unnatural, haunting grin.

And Inko fell for the taunt.

Without so much as a word, Fly, Fly Away flung itself at The Enemy Stand, preparing to throw a punch with the knives as backup, but before they could reach their target, The Enemy Stand grabbed Fly, Fly Away's wrist, punched it in the gut which made Inko flinch, before tossing the Stand over its shoulder and splitting the couch in half.

Before Inko could do anything, an ethereal table appeared before Inko, and when it did, Fly, Fly Away was forcibly put away. The Enemy Stand turned around, and faced Inko, clapping as it did. "The Boss was right. The mother will do anything for her Cub. Including having their soul snatched. But, first, you know the rules. Beat me in a game of arm wrestling, and Brittle Bones Nicky won't take your soul."

Inko scowled. "You're making a mistake, Asahina. You're only going to get yourself killed," Inko said as Brittle Bones Nicky rolled its red glowing eyes.

"C'mon Inko. You should know by now that Nicholas and I are two different beings. Now," Brittle Bones Nicky began as it placed its elbow on the ethereal table, to which Inko was forced to do the same. Both hands clasped together, as a twinkle appeared in Brittle Bones Nicky's eyes. "Remember how this works. This is based on how strong your soul is. If your soul is stronger than mine, then you win, and I can't harm you any longer. But, if my soul is stronger than yours… well, then… you're mine."

Inko didn't say anything. She simply glared, and just like that, it began. There was tension between the two, as Inko smirked. She had always been stronger than Asahina, and so, to that extent, she should've won this.

The keyword being "should've."

Inko's hand was slammed into the table by Brittle Bones Nicky, which made her eyes widen to the size of saucers. "W-What! I was always stronger than you! How did you—"

"Time changes people, Inko. Either you got weaker, or I simply got stronger. Either way, you lost. Goodbye, Inko. Enjoy being a collectable statue~" Just like that, a golden aura surrounded Inko, and she was lifted into the air by a few centimetres. Brittle Bones Nicky clapped its hands, and Inko's skin became encased in a wood-like substance.

She screamed in rage, but it hardly mattered. Once she was encased in the wood-like substance, she was shrunken down to about the size of an average action figure. Brittle Bones Nicky smirked, picked up the statue and put it in its waistcoat.

"One down, one to go."

-To Be Continued-