"You're really throwing money out the window, kid," the old-timer said after finally accepting the yen Takuma had been trying to give him for the last twenty minutes. "Tell you what, I'll find myself a comfy spot somewhere you won't find me."
"That's all I ask," Takuma replied as he gently pushed the man, who was in his eighties, away from where the fighting would take place. "Stay there for a few days. A warm meal and a warm bed will do wonders for those old bones."
"Ah!" the elder guffawed. "These bones are more used to the cold than anything else. But who knows, with how much you're willing to give me, maybe it's time for a change of weather."
"I guess it is. Take care, old man."
Takuma watched the old man walk away, heading towards a hostel a few streets away—cheaper and safer than the street the old man hadn't wanted to leave. When you had nothing, even a street or a well-placed corner was easy to get attached to. It made his job harder; getting the homeless and lost to safety wasn't easy. He knew without a doubt that if someone had come and told him to get to safety without explanation, he would have told them to fuck off. The money was what convinced them it was serious. Not because it was money, but because the amount he was giving them was too high to ignore. He gave every person he found enough money for a week of easy living arrangements. Sometimes more. It was too much not to trigger every survival instinct in the people he talked to. So they listened, not out of reason, but instinct.
A quick check in his pocket revealed he'd gone through half his stash in the last three hours. It had taken him months of living with Mei to spend half as much on groceries, dates, and some bills he'd managed to pay behind her back. Just because Mei was better off than him, it wasn't an excuse for him not to pay his fair share.
"Alright, where's the ne—"
The earth shook. Somewhere, a car alarm blared as the city grew eerily quiet.
'And so it begins.'
He had cleared the area around three out of the five safe houses he knew of, meaning he would now have to keep going while a bunch of gangbangers were killing each other around him. Fun times. But he already knew this was bound to happen. The difference was that in his original plan, he would've been far away from it all—not in the middle of it.
"Don't get caught, don't die," he reminded himself as he started jogging to the next location. "Can't be too hard."
The streets were mostly empty, unsurprising since the Black Dragon probably enforced a curfew through word of mouth. The attack had begun as soon as the schools closed and the pupils were safely home, in a bid to keep things out of the Heroes' radar. They'd waited for the period of time when Limelight Hero stopped patrolling and Underground Heroes started theirs—not that any would be around here. He hadn't felt a single Hero since arriving this morning, and he doubted any would care to patrol today.
Mixed in with the myriad of things he would have to watch out for tonight were three individuals in particular: the Hydra, for obvious reasons—he didn't want to meet a gang leader face-to-face. Nyx, because he couldn't risk his involvement with the gang reaching her ears; she would probably snoop, and if she found out his connection to Nova, then Nova might be punished for his presence. And then there was whatever was happening with the Carmine. He didn't want to meet whoever had slaughtered the C.R.C. They were a real threat that he did not want to contend with.
Takuma sighed as he turned a corner and was now a minute away from the fourth safe house. "I'm going to meet at least one of them," he thought, knowing full well luck was rarely on his side.
The air was knocked out of his lungs as he entered the range of the safe house and the battle going on within. Around twenty or so gangbangers were slaughtering each other. He raised his mental walls as high as he could and only allowed himself to pinpoint where the fighting was happening. Most of the fighting was inside the safe house, which had been breached by the Black Dragon. The C.R.C. was getting their asses kicked, and only the reinforcements provided by Sundered Will kept them from breaking and running. Some of the fighting had spilled out onto the surrounding streets, and Takuma used the full power of his Quirk to search for anyone caught in the crossfire. He sensed something—a small, frightened presence. A boy who'd snuck out against his parents' orders to play with his friend, now hidden inside a dumpster he'd crawled into when the fighting started. Takuma ran.
With a sick feeling in his gut, he rushed into the alley, taking the quickest route toward the kid. He took a small detour around the thickest part of the fighting, making sure not to draw too much attention to himself as he closed in on the dumpster. Three men were fighting; their allegiances didn't matter to him. The only thing that did was that they were closing in on the boy. Two against one, knives, and steel pipes.
Turning a corner at full speed with his hood raised above his head, Takuma didn't even stop as the tallest and burliest of the three had his back turned to him. The two assailants noticed him, though, and before they could say anything, Takuma grabbed his shock maul. The electricity crackled to life on the head before he slammed it into the man's side, sending him flying against the wall with a crack of lightning, echoed by his body cracking the wall.
"Holy—" the woman started to say before Takuma twisted, gaining momentum right before he kicked her in the side of the skull. He then closed in on her partner, whose eyes grew wide as he raised his steel pipe to defend himself.
Takuma feinted a strike from above, dropping low and socking him in the gut before headbutting him in the nose, earning a sickening crunch. Then, before the man could fall, Takuma elbowed him in the side of the head. Staying still for a second, he checked his surroundings with his Quirk for any threats that might have snuck up on him. The woman had lost consciousness. Feeling nothing urgent, he holstered his weapon and slammed the dumpster open.
"Ah!" the kid screamed in fright, trying to hide deeper in the trash. "Don't hurt me!"
It stank to high heaven in there. "Get out. I'm bringing you back to your parents," Takuma said as he grabbed the boy by the arm and helped him out. The fear was deep and strong, as only a child's emotions could be. Takuma had to double-check his mental walls to ensure nothing slipped through. "Where do you live?"
"A-Around the corner," the boy stammered, pointing toward an area hidden by the building they were next to. "I di-didn't make it very far."
The boy seemed unhurt, though scared. The three unconscious bodies lying in the alley didn't help calm him down. "They're alive, just unconscious. Now let's get you home before anyone else shows up," Takuma said as a blade through the heart nearly made him whimper from the second-hand fear he was fighting against.
He let the boy lead the way while monitoring the situation around the safe house. The C.R.C. was losing badly, and he estimated that in about ten minutes, the fighting would cease. Some of Sundered Will had already fled, and the Black Dragon were busy dealing with the leftovers.
"Hopefully, this isn't going to get worse," he thought, following the boy to his house.
"This is my house. I can—"
Takuma cut the kid off by knocking loudly on the front door. He wasn't about to let the boy slip back inside without his parents knowing. If he let him get away with it, the kid might end up caught in another crossfire later on.
"Who the fu—TOMNI!" the woman exclaimed when she saw the sorry state her son was in. "What are you doing outside?!"
"Make sure he stays inside, ma'am," Takuma said. The woman, quickly grabbing her son and pulling him inside, focused on him. "Th-Thank you, sir," she added, probably assuming he was a gang member on the lookout. "It-It won't happen again."
Takuma nodded, turned, and walked away without a word. Silence was worth its weight in gold, and the woman wisely closed the door before she started yelling at her son.
There wasn't anyone else who seemed to need help, aside from the members of the C.R.C. who were getting ripped apart. But he didn't care about them, so he kept moving forward, this time running toward the fifth location—the last one he hadn't had time to clear of the homeless and lost. He was glad no one else seemed to be in danger. No homeless people around or lost kids meant he could continue his trek. Takuma started to run.
The months of good living he'd enjoyed were paying off. Even after the quick fight, he was still ready to go, and his stamina withstood the running and energy expenditure better than the utter exhaustion this simple task would have caused months ago.
'Another reason to thank Mei.'
The sun had set by the time Takuma reached the fifth location. Immediately, he knew the situation was dire. More than fifty gangbangers were going at it, and he could feel the minds of a dozen people caught in the crossfire. Quirks were being used left and right as Takuma quickly moved toward the nearest innocent.
'How in the actual fuck did I ever think this was a good idea?!' he recriminated himself. Putting so many people in danger with a half-baked plan was not something he wanted to do. 'What the hell was I thinking?'
o-O-o POWER o-O-o
A couple had taken a wrong turn and were now stuck in their car after a Quirk melted the engine. Only two fighters were around. Takuma looked for a ladder, and as soon as he saw one, he started climbing. His target was on the other side of the building, and he couldn't risk walking around it since there were too many fights going on. As soon as he could, he ran to the ledge. Below him, a lieutenant of the Black Dragon was dueling the woman in charge of this safe house. The man had purple smoke emanating from his knuckles, which seemed to harden into a pair of brass knuckles. The woman was using some kind of light-based Quirk to blind her opponent and slip a knife between his ribs. She was winning, and in a few seconds, Takuma expected her to slay the man.
Takuma grabbed his shock maul and jumped. He wasn't high enough to risk hurting himself, and even if he was, landing feet first on the woman would cushion his fall. A cry of surprise left her lips as they hit the ground roughly before he slammed his weapon into her face twice. Both times, she twitched painfully as the electricity surged into her skull, ripping a scream of pain from her the first time and a wet gurgle the second, leaving her a stunned mess on the ground. While making sure the surprised man couldn't see his face with his hood raised, Takuma turned toward him. The man was old, maybe in his fifties, with large gashes on his biceps and forearm and a few missing fingers.
"You're not one of mine," the man said between ragged breaths. "You're not one of hers either," he added with a mirthful chuckle as he kept sizing him up. "If you're here for those two, you won't find me arguing."
Takuma nodded once, his weapon still crackling with electricity as he walked around the man, who retreated without turning his back.
"Heh, I'm pretty fucked up. So I'm gonna go my own way. Is that good with you?" the man said, trying to staunch the flow of his injuries. Takuma could sense he was thinking of finishing off the woman, but Takuma's overbearing presence and lack of clear allegiance made the man reconsider his approach.
"Leave," Takuma simply said. The word was sharp, leaving no room for argument.
The man left, probably to get patched up. As soon as he was out of sight, Takuma breathed a sigh of relief and walked closer to the car. He knocked on the window. The two occupants looked at him as if they couldn't believe what had just happened in front of their eyes.
"Both of you, get out," he told them, feeling their fear and worry. "This area is not safe. Leave."
The man nodded quickly, jumping out of the car and pulling his girlfriend along. "Come on, Shi, we need to leave."
"Walk in that direction," Takuma instructed, pointing east. "Find a hotel or somewhere to hunker down for the night."
"We will!" the woman said before running in the direction he had indicated. "Thank you!"
Takuma didn't respond. As soon as they moved away from the fighting, he searched for the next closest innocent. Five. A family. Not in direct danger—they lived next to the street where the thickest part of the fighting was taking place. They were hiding in the basement of their house and were safe from most, if not all, danger for now. Next.
Some of the innocent minds he sensed had fled during his brief encounter with the two gang members, and now only one was left. Old, weary, and scared. Hidden under a cardboard box as people fought around him. Six.
This time, he didn't cut across the roof. He ran directly into the back alley where Sundered Will and the Black Dragon were fighting. He wouldn't be able to take them by surprise or jump feet first into their faces. So he would have to do it the old-fashioned way—shock and awe.
As Takuma entered the alley, he holstered his shock-maul. It was too eye-catching, and using it would draw the attention of anyone else in the alley sooner than he'd like. Sneaking around, he hid behind dumpsters and piles of trash as he closed in on the two nearest fighters. Two boys, barely trained, one from each side, exchanging punches and kicks that even Midoriya would have been ashamed of. Takuma leaped at them, slamming their heads together before sending a punch to the taller one's throat. He then grabbed the other by the shirt, punched him twice in the face, and kicked him into the wall.
He barely had two heartbeats before the next two fighters noticed what he had done. The one with his back to Takuma hesitated, knowing that turning around would expose his back. Takuma took advantage of the man's indecision, rushing him and kicking his legs out from under him. As the man dropped to one knee, Takuma kneed him in the face, then moved past him, aiming a straight punch at the woman who had noticed him. She dodged, and her knife went for his liver, but he sidestepped and grabbed her wrist.
"You—" she started.
Takuma slammed her hand against the wall, eliciting a shriek of pain. He did it again, and on the third strike, he felt her bones crack, forcing her to drop the knife. He cocked his right arm back and sent a haymaker straight to her face, landing with a sickening crunch. She collapsed to the ground. The man, still conscious, tried to kick, but Takuma saw it coming a mile away. He stabbed the fallen knife into the man's leg, eliciting a roar of pain before a punch broke his jaw and sent him whimpering to the ground.
Takuma massaged his own jaw and turned to face the last two fighters, who had noticed him and stopped fighting. They seemed relatively fresh—tall, broad-shouldered, and uninjured. No visible Quirk. Fighting them wasn't in his best interest.
Takuma slowly grabbed his shock-maul from his lapel, letting it rest by his side, giving his remaining opponents time to see it. Theatrical—exactly what he needed. Then he turned it on. Electricity crackled menacingly above the head as he stared them down.
"Who's first?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, letting a vicious grin spread across his lips.
With his Quirk, he pulsated fear into them, gnawing at their resolve, pushing on their uncertainty and exhaustion. Added to that was the fact that he had taken out four people and the dramatic reveal of his weapon. It was no surprise when one of them took a step back, followed by the other. Then, they ran.
A long breath escaped Takuma's lips as he checked on the people he had dealt with. Between the whimpers and unconsciousness, there was nothing to worry about. He moved toward the man who was trying to hide under a flimsy piece of cardboard.
"Hello, old-timer," he called out gently, making sure the man knew he was there. "This isn't the best place to weather the night's trouble."
The man quickly dropped the cardboard. "I figured, not too hard when those fucks start tearing each other apart out of nowhere," the elder replied, standing up and dusting himself off. "Am I free to go?"
Takuma nodded and fished a bundle of cash from his pocket. "Here, find a warm place for tonight."
"Well, aren't I living like a king," the man chuckled. "Don't know why you're doing this, kid, but it's appreciated."
"Keeping an eye out for those in need. Take care of yourself, old man."
"Will do, but I think you're the one who's going to need it," the man chuckled as he started walking away.
"Thanks. Go east, less trouble in that direction."
"Loud and clear!" the elder replied before disappearing around a corner.
Takuma didn't begrudge him for not following his direction and hightailing it out of there. Trust wasn't earned in a night.
Moving on, the fight was still raging between the rest of the gang. At least a dozen people were still fighting it out. Takuma could sense death in the air—one of his favorite ways to go was bleeding from a throat wound. The euphoria caused by blood loss was something he never quite knew how to deal with. Focusing on the still-fighting gang members, he noticed that the Black Dragon was winning handily. The older man Takuma had encountered earlier was leading his men. The battle was won, and the nearby family would soon be safe. He didn't have to exert himself any further; there were other places to be. Just because things had gone well so far didn't mean it would stay that way.
The three locations he had cleared of the homeless earlier were still unknown to him, and he needed to check each one.
'This is going to be a long night,' he thought as he started jogging toward the closest location.
Half an hour had passed since the hostilities began. By now, he expected the Heroes to know that something was going down, and some of them might be making their way to the slums. Twilight Heroes were rare; few cared enough to straddle both ends of the heroic spectrum. It was an all-or-nothing gig—either you were interested in fame and popularity, or you weren't. Known but not famous. You could keep your Quirk a secret, but not as much as a full Underground Hero. Being a Twilight Hero was the worst of both worlds. That's why he didn't expect any for now. Soon, the place would be crawling with Underground Heroes, the few that could be mustered on such short notice. One or two at best; the loss of three of their number probably crippled them in the short term.
The night was going to be rough. The police would hopefully react later when the scale of what was happening reached their ears, and a response force was mustered. Cops were too underutilized, in Takuma's opinion. Most Heroes used them as villain pickup, which wasn't the best use of a trained and professional force.
'I could use a professional and trained fighting force right about now,' he thought. The idea of reinforcements was appealing. Not that fighting with Danny and Nova some years ago hadn't taught him that it was a double-edged sword. You never knew when or where your ally would falter, and you needed to keep your eyes on them as much as on the enemy. Takuma always preferred to deal with problems alone. Less risk for the few people he liked getting hurt. And getting in his way.
He was still fresh, with no injuries and enough stamina to run to the next location in good time. It was fifteen minutes away at a walking pace, but he made it in half that time. He was about to reach the range of the safe house when a Quirk hit him, making him stumble as his defenses held against the mental attack. Whoever was behind it was striking indiscriminately. People living close to the fighting were huddling, hiding, desperately trying to distance themselves from the attack—a debilitating wave of disorientation and nausea that made anyone hit stumble and cower. They couldn't do anything against it, not unless they were willing to leave the area. But they couldn't, not with the fighting still going on. So Takuma had his next objective.
For the first time in a long while, he pushed his mental wall to encompass the minds of others. Men, women, children, elderly, or young—under his aegis, they were safe. Until he could punish whoever thought it was a good idea to let loose a wide-range attack against the local civilians and the rival gang. Honestly, he didn't care about the why. Somebody was going to get the "Chop Chop" treatment.
Takuma slipped a hand under his shirt and raked his fingernails against his chest. The pain was a nice point of focus as he was now defenseless against the multitude of minds cohabiting within his head. He felt the blood start to drip and used this moment of distraction to pinpoint the origin of the attack. Farther than even his Quirk's range could reach, so he followed.
More and more people fell under his protection as he closed in on the point of origin. It wasn't every day that Takuma shared his formidable mental defenses with anyone. It was hard to do, even more so than deciphering someone's intent in a fight. Thoughts and memories, fear and anxiety touched him as he experienced the multitude of perspectives he was safeguarding. Relief still prevailed—parents hugged their children tightly, families huddled closer, hoping the horror had passed. Takuma found the wielder.
The last member of Sundered Will who had been sent to take over the operation was stuck in a room in the safehouse. All the others were dead or had fled—only members of the Black Dragon remained. It was an act of desperation more than ill intent. Seven gangbangers were now bashing the door down, and she was scared, so much so that she was throwing everything she had at them, trying to hold them back for just a single second longer. Takuma pushed his Quirk against her, cutting her off from the wider population. She could only reach the other gangbangers in the safehouse now. He lowered his aegis; the locals didn't need it anymore, and he breathed a sigh of relief at being alone behind his wall again. The poor girl didn't have much time left.
He needed to push against her out-of-control Quirk that slowed her attackers tremendously. It was like an arm-wrestling competition—against a child. Her fear did more damage to him than anything else.
Thought.
'Pleasepleasenonono-godpleasenottoday.'
An unending stream of thought as the woman knew deep down she was stuck and had no illusions about what would happen to her. And from this profound feeling...
Memory.
The memory touched his mind. He could have stopped it, but he allowed it to pass through—maybe he could glean some more information about Sundered Will's plan for the night.
A mother, a sister. A name: Usuiyama. In her late twenties, she had joined Sundered Will barely two weeks ago.
'This one didn't last long,' Takuma commented to himself.
A mission, a hierarchy, regimented—strangely not something he would have expected from a gang. Takuma's stomach dropped. A uniform, duty.
'Oh fuck,' Takuma realized. 'She's an undercover cop!'
Takuma ran. He sprinted as he pushed his Quirk harder, attempting to bolster Usuiyama's assault. The gang members went from being uncomfortable to on their knees in a second as Takuma slammed the door open and started to go up the stairs as if the devil himself was on his heels. There were seven of them, a few injured.
'Close quarters, not much space to move,' he noted as he tapped into the eyes of the man bashing down the door. He was halfway through.
Everything that disadvantaged him in a fight. These men and women were tough, and he didn't think bursting into the place with his weapon in hand would do him much good. So he grabbed the concussion grenade Mei had slipped into his bag. He reached the door that led into the safehouse and opened it wide. Heads snapped in his direction as he categorized the knives, knuckle-dusters, and tools the gang members were holding. Then he threw the grenade, aiming for the middle of the room, and closed the door. A second passed, then a dull shock rocked the building.
'Once more into the breach.'
Takuma opened the door, weapon in hand, and dove into battle. The cop's Quirk came in handy as it disrupted the attackers' responses. Coupled with the concussion grenade Mei had so helpfully provided, he felt confident enough to rush in. As he entered, he noticed two of them were on the ground—one was bleeding profusely from her eardrum, and he ignored her to rush to the side of the bulkier man who was already getting to his feet. Behind him, others were struggling to get up, and he focused his attention on his opponent. Knuckle-duster, enhancement-type Quirk, or just simple trust in his ability. Takuma grabbed his weapon with both hands and struck him in the shoulder. It didn't do as much damage as he was used to feeling.
'Durability.'
The man roared as he dived to grab him, forcing Takuma back as he sent a kick to his knee, forcing him to kneel. Another hit to the side of the face with the shock-maul pushed him back to the ground as the man swiped at him with considerable strength. He was too tough—the shock-maul lacked power for an enhanced individual.
'Can't turn this into a brawl,' he thought as he backed away from the clumsy swipe. 'Need more power.'
He was dealing damage, but the man's durability stopped his attacks in their tracks when he had hoped for a quick resolution. He'd bloodied the gang member's nose, and they were now aware he was there and keen to deal with him.
"Hope you had your fun!" the man roared as he stumbled to his feet and charged him again. "I'm going to rip your dick off!"
Threat aside, Takuma couldn't waste his time fighting him. Pushing his Quirk into the minds of those behind him, he found one who had a Quirk primed and ready to fire. The woman had her arm extended toward the bulky man's back and was waiting for a chance to take a shot.
o-O-o KILL o-O-o
Takuma smiled and pushed into her mind, searching for the trigger of her Quirk as he ducked in front of the man, who looked at him in confusion. Right before a bone spike burst from his chest and went to nail the wall behind him.
Pain burst into Takuma's own chest as he gasped for breath. He punched himself in the chest; only the dull thud of his chest plate answered. So Takuma punched himself in the leg to deal with the flurry of sensation. His breath grew ragged as he stared at the man, who was looking at the hole in his chest in confusion, then at him.
"Heh?"
The men and women behind him were stunned—those that could see the scene, anyway. A clear example of friendly fire would help him. He let the man who was still standing come to terms with the end of his life as he used him as cover to search the minds of the five gang members left.
Three were ready to fight, while the other two were suffering too much from the cop's mental attack to be a threat.
'Three against one,' he thought, his lack of any other way of pushing the balance in his favor becoming apparent. 'Heh, I've had worse odds.'
The man fell, and Takuma rushed the woman. She fired by reflex, missing him with the first shot and hitting him in the shoulder with the second bone projectile that came from the center of her palm. He felt the shock but no pain, as Mei's jacket stopped it from even drawing blood. The strength behind it wasn't anything to sneeze at, and it stopped Takuma in his tracks. Linking his mind to the woman who was readying her next shot, he followed her intent as she aimed. He ducked a second before she could shoot. The projectile passed above him as he rushed her again. The two beside her readied themselves for a fight, and he knew they would have jumped in front of her to protect her if she hadn't killed one of them a second ago. But they were still in shock from the death of their comrade and weren't willing to risk being next. She tried to backpedal but stumbled on the coffee table and fell down as Takuma engaged the other two, maneuvering himself so that they were between him and her. On his left, the woman with the long knife took a stab at his face. He moved his upper body out of the way as he caught the hand of the other woman with bright red nails, feeling the heat radiating from them. He ducked under the extended knife he had just dodged as it made its way back. He caught the wrist and directed the hand toward the woman on his right, whose hand he held.
o-O-o KILL o-O-o
He felt the rush of adrenaline as the knife pierced the woman's chest, slipping between two ribs and into a lung. With horror, the girl on his left let go of the knife just as the next projectile shot from the one on the ground, tearing a chunk of flesh from the already stabbed woman's thigh.
She fell with a scream as Takuma turned his attention to the last standing woman. She opened her mouth to speak, but he didn't care to listen. Punching her in the mouth, he broke her jaw and kicked her between the legs before linking his fingers together and sending a two-handed strike to the side of her skull, knocking her out cold. His instincts screamed at him, and he raised his arm just in time to stop a bone protrusion from taking his head. It caught him in the forearm, the force twisting him to the side again as two more landed on his back, sending him tumbling to the ground. Takuma fought to get back to his feet with ragged breaths, feeling the pain from the woman's palm—her fear too. She was out of ammo. He stood up and walked toward her.
o-O-o MAIM o-O-o
"Wait!" she begged, her voice desperate as she tried to crawl away. Takuma grabbed her leg, yanking her roughly towards him. He straddled her chest, pinning her down, and began to pummel her mercilessly.
"STOP!" she cried out, but her pleas were drowned out by the brutal assault. He hammered her face, the side of her head, and her raised arms, each punch landing with a sickening thud. Her blood splattered with every strike, and her cries turned into muffled whimpers.
His fists were covered in a mix of blood and sweat by the time he landed the final, crushing blow. Her head jerked violently to one side, and then, suddenly, the connection between them severed as her mind was cut off from his.
Breathing heavily, Takuma held his bloodied fist up, blood dripping from his knuckles. He listened intently, the grim sounds of pain and discomfort filling the air. The three remaining members of the Black Dragon, severely wounded, lay incapacitated and barely capable of moving. Their groans of agony were weak and pained.
Behind the door, the woman remained motionless. She had heard the violence and, though paralyzed with fear, was clinging to a thread of hope, waiting to see what would come next.
'I need to move.'
The place was clear, and besides the woman who was still bleeding from her ears, the others were firmly under control. Takuma stood up, weighed down by the bone lodged in his jacket. He was surprised not to feel any pain besides what the shock had caused him. He grabbed the weapon he had let go of during the fight and holstered it back inside his lapel as he made a grab for the bone sticking out of his forearm.
The bone was sticky—no, it was covered in tiny fishhooks that clung to the skin of his palm. He had more cuts than not from just a brush with the woman's Quirk. He was glad for Mei's armor; he would be busy bleeding out by now if it weren't for her. Takuma grabbed a cloth to protect his hand and ripped the bone from his jacket. He was surprised to see the steel underneath the jacket's leather wasn't even marred by the strike.
'She did say the steel came from the robot guarding Tartarus,' he reminded himself as he pulled out the three others that, again, had failed to pierce through his protective jacket. 'Mei is going to kill me.'
After cleaning his hand of the blood, he took another look.
The jacket would need to be repaired before he could bring it into the field again. But it would have to do for tonight. He made sure no one was in distress around him as he stepped down the stairs. The area was clear, and the undercover woman would call for reinforcements soon. He could move on and finish checking for anyone in need. His breath was still ragged from the fight, and he took longer to recover from the short bout. Takuma was starting to flag—not enough to stop him, but enough to be annoying. His lungs burned, and his stamina reminded him it was still his weak point.
'Hopefully, the other safehouse won't be this hard,' he hoped. 'No more surprises, no more undercover cops to bail out, please.'
Hopefully, asking nicely would help. As he reached the next safehouse, he realized it wouldn't.
Not a single mind in reach—the safehouse was empty. As far as he was concerned, and those who lived around here, this night wasn't different from any other. No one was worried, alarmed, or scared of their surroundings, not in the way the other area had been. Because there was simply nothing where, less than an hour ago, a dozen members of the C.R.C. had lived. The small-ish house was left untouched as far as he could tell, but eerily enough, the door was left open.
'Some high-level shittery is going on here,' he thought as he walked closer to the door and pushed it open.
Corpses. Three just in front of the entryway. More further into the building. Some wore clothes he'd seen on a few members of the Black Dragon. With no minds to pry into, he couldn't tell which body belonged to which camp, but he doubted whoever did this cared for either side. Walking into the building, Takuma followed the destruction—deep gouges in the walls and ceiling. Some sort of slash that bit through concrete. A Quirk, without a doubt. It had been a massacre more than a fight, and he could tell the one who had done it wasn't the one who had left such marks behind.
Takuma wished he had noticed the Villain tailing him before they started shadowing his every move—much like he'd done to Midoriya a few days ago. They were behind him, their breath synced with his as he tried to look busy studying the scene.
If the fighting was over and no innocents were hurt because of his scheming, Takuma didn't care which brand of gutterpunk bit the dust. It was harder to leave the scene when the one responsible for the carnage had started trailing him before he'd even reached the door.
Just as some minds called to him more than others or were harder to penetrate, there were a rare few that were difficult to notice altogether. He'd encountered someone like that twice in his life. Hopefully, the third time wouldn't be his last. He continued acting like someone who'd just stumbled upon a crime scene, trying to decipher how and why it had happened. Internally, though, he was desperately trying to pull the mind of the person so close he could almost feel their breath on the back of his head into focus. Like catching smoke, he needed to be gentle, slowly drawing the light towards him.
As his search concluded with him standing in the middle of a large room with ample space to move, he sighed audibly, ensuring his hidden observer still believed he was unaware of their presence.
"What a fucking shitshow," he said out loud, opting to talk to himself to sell the act a little more. "The guys back at the station won't believe this."
It was a gamble. Killing a cop wasn't something you did without serious backing. In most cases, it wasn't worth the trouble it brought. Playing the role of an off-duty cop wasn't hard; it's not like the villain could verify the scene. Maybe he could get out of this without having to fight the very deadly person at his back.
His pursuer's mind became clearer—a weary presence, still tired from the battle in the safehouse, despite their best efforts to hide it. Blade in hand, the villain was contemplating whether to kill him.
Takuma shook his head at the glimpse that made its way through the fragile link he'd established. Unfortunately, this wasn't the killer he'd come for. Still, he worked desperately to decipher their intent. Without it, he couldn't fight them—and he couldn't afford to die. Not as long as Mei needed him.
Better safe than sorry.
The stray thought was his only warning before a blade plunged into his back—and met steel. Takuma whirled, weapon in hand, swinging wide at his attacker. The blow missed by a large margin as the man crouched before him, following up with an attempt to stab his guts. The blade skidded off his breastplate just long enough for Takuma to leap back out of reach.
"Heh, I could've done without dealing with you," Takuma said, with more confidence than he felt as he continued searching for the intent behind the smoke and shadows of the man's mind. "Couldn't just let me go, could you?"
He needed to buy time. A quick glance revealed a shorter man, clad in a black full-body suit with a mask and steel plates to protect his vitals. A short blade gleamed in his hand.
Either foolish or an expert, Takuma thought, keeping him at bay with the crackling electricity emanating from his weapon. The latter, more likely.
The first strike had aimed for his kidney; the second would have gutted him from groin to chest. This man wasn't just skilled—he was trained, with no excitement or emotion clouding his judgment. A cold professional.
"Not going to talk?" Takuma asked aloud as he paced around the room, never lowering his guard. "At least tell me why you're trying to kill me."
No answer. Smart criminals were rare, and this one seemed to have changed his demeanor after discovering Takuma's armor wasn't just for show. The failed strike had intrigued him—he was watching for more surprises now.
His mind was hard to penetrate; apathy made it difficult to read his opponent. Takuma needed to provoke a reaction.
He's not part of a gang, Takuma reasoned. No one this skilled would work for anything less than the top crime syndicates, and the Madame already sent Nyx. She's supposed to be the highest-caliber villain around here. Yet here's this guy—just as deadly, if not more. Another layer of bullshit to deal with.
The indiscriminate killing was a big clue. No allegiance to either side. If the Madame had sent Nyx with the Board's approval, it didn't make sense for them to double dip with this guy. So, not from a gang. What, then?
Not the mutant supremacists, judging by his physique. He killed with blades and skill—not likely a Quirkist. The Templar of the C.R.C. were absent; he hadn't felt a single one of their highly trained killers. No one else could field a fighter of this caliber, except—
A blink, and the blade was a heartbeat away from slitting his throat. Everything slowed to a crawl as Takuma realized he was about to die. He said the only thing on his mind.
"Q.L.F."
The blade was in his throat. No. Not inside of it, just enough in the side of his neck for a steady flow of blood to start trickling staining his cloth as the sharp edge bit into it.
"Explain," the operative whispered, seething with a single word.
Takuma glanced down, checking for a telltale sign: kneepads. Only one.
"I see Old Beard still trains the best of the best," Takuma said, ignoring the searing pain of the blade. "But you might want to work on hiding your Quirklessness better."
Worry, confusion, and anger flooded the man's mind as Takuma finally got a read on him.
"How do you know O.B.?" The boy—no, the kid, Takuma realized—asked. Younger than he thought, maybe fifteen.
"He trained me," Takuma replied, a half-truth at best since he'd never actually finished his training. "The one kneepad is a dead giveaway."
The blade slowly retreated from his neck, and the boy looked at Takuma with curiosity, uncertain about what to do with him. Uncertainty was better than murder.
"How do you know about the Q.L.F.?" the boy asked, weighing his weapon in his hands.
A good question. The Quirkless Liberation Front was a myth to most, like the C.R.C. and other shadowy entities. Knowledge of their existence was a threat to the entire organization.
"I was offered a place," Takuma said honestly, his link to O.B. over a decade old. "I declined, but I'd like to believe O.B. still thinks of me fondly."
The boy had little stake in Takuma's survival. He needed to leverage his connection to Old Beard to tip the scales in his favor. He could see the boy now, through the lens of his Quirk. He could fight—maybe win. But the wound on his neck made the idea unappealing. Even with his hand pressed against it, he could feel how much he was bleeding. Anything strenuous, and it might outright kill him.
The righteous fury in the boy's frame was something to behold. "Why didn't you join?"
Fanatics were annoying, no matter their origin. "I'm not Quirkless, even though I wish I was."
Confusion, rage, and interest. Takuma had his attention now.
"What's your Quirk?"
"I feel the pain of everyone around me," he answered as honestly as a random murderer deserved to know. "I can deal with the Quirky just fine, but in the long run, I'd be a liability more than an asset. So I turned down the offer."
The boy calmed after learning about Takuma's Quirk. He wasn't too far gone into the "Us Versus Them" mindset. Revealing his Quirk's drawbacks helped further defuse the situation.
"We'll fix you, one day," the boy said, repeating words long lost to time. "Mundum reparare."
"Libere vivere," Takuma replied, finishing the Q.L.F.'s credo. "Tell O.B. Takuma is still kicking, and he still owes me a sandwich."
The boy snorted before rage and self-recrimination washed over his thoughts as he rebuilt his facade in an instant.
"I will," he stated simply as he turned to leave. "Oh, and Takuma—if you lied to me, I'll skin you before feeding you to the dogs."
"I wouldn't expect anything less from someone trained by O.B."
With a nod, the boy walked out, never turning his back until he rounded a corner and vanished from Takuma's Quirk again.
Takuma dropped to one knee, his fingers hastily digging into the small pouch containing his first-aid kit. With sweat dripping down his brow, he laid out its contents before him. Snatching up a clean roll of gauze, he swiftly unfolded it with one hand and pressed it firmly against the wound on his neck. His shirt was stained, and some blood had fallen onto his breastplate—not ideal, but he was glad there wasn't as much blood as he'd feared.
Discarding his jacket, Takuma applied pressure to the wound without hesitation. A dull ache was all he felt as he wrapped the gauze tightly around his neck, ensuring it was secure. Looping it under his left armpit, he maintained pressure, gritting his teeth against the discomfort and nausea that threatened to overtake him.
Only then did he allow himself to breathe.
"Holy fucking shit," he whispered to himself. "If there's any more fucking surprises, I'm going to scream."
The gauze was tight against his neck; it should hold for now. He didn't feel like the amount he'd just lost was enough for him to retire for the night. Fighting wasn't yet out of the question, but Takuma didn't think he would be able to hold his own against an actual threat for long, given the way the night was going. Grabbing his jacket and his kit, he ran out of the house and into a nearby alley after covering his face. Even though he knew no cameras were in working condition in this part of town, he didn't want to risk being recognized, even by mistake.
Nobody had seen him—no one who would talk to the cops or the Heroes. Maybe those he had saved, but then he would use his name and explain what he was doing here if the need arose. Just a P.I. in the wrong place at the right time. No Quirk used, as far as anyone was concerned.
Moving on, he still had a few places to check before he could call it a night. Two places left—hopefully no more surprises. He sure as hell didn't know if he would make it if there were.
With ragged breath, covered in sweat and blood, some of it his own, Takuma made his way toward the second of the last two locations he had to check. Along the way, his hand started to sting. A quick look revealed a tooth firmly lodged between two knuckles. He grabbed it with two fingers and pried it off. He looked at it for a second before throwing it into a nearby bush.
'Mei is going to have an aneurysm,' he chuckled sadly at the state he was in. 'Night's still young.'
After wrapping a second gauze around his bleeding knuckle in the hope of not bleeding everywhere, Takuma reached the second-last location he needed to check out for the night.
Blades danced on his skin, the feeling of a shattered jaw and teeth freshly ripped out from a mouth greeted him. The wounded and the dead shared the same resting place as he cataloged the hundreds of different ways the gangers around him were suffering. The battle was mostly done. Around a dozen members of the Black Dragons still stood, killing the wounded. As seconds passed and light vanished, Takuma came to the conclusion that no one here was innocent. So he did nothing. Moving on from the wide battleground, the fighting had spilled into the streets, alleys, and even apartments, where the gangers had slaughtered each other. It wasn't a great feeling, assaulted by the smell of blood, piss, and shit. Takuma kept moving, away from anyone still alive, looking for any survivors or anyone who didn't deserve this fate.
His senses caught the presence of people—two, no, three adults and two children. A family, obviously not from around here. They were walking along the main road, unaware of what was happening around them. The road was about to take them closer to the last of the fighting, and Takuma didn't like the idea of them getting so close to it. So he started to make his way toward them. A part of him hoped he wouldn't have to intervene, but seeing how the night was going for him so far, he expected All For One to come by and say "Hi" at this point.
A short jog later, he was walking alongside them, jumping from roof to roof as he tagged along from fifty meters away. The family wasn't rushing to wherever they were going—simply taking a nice stroll through the lit street. They weren't worried and had no reason to be. Takuma noticed it wouldn't last, as some movement from the last few gangers running around threatened to send both sides on a collision course. Usually, he would have expected nothing of it. But tonight had been bloody, tension was high, and adrenaline even higher. Some might find a reason to add them to the butcher's bill. As unlikely as it was, it was still a risk. Takuma was done taking chances. So he took a ladder off the roof and, after a short run to pass the family, he waited at the end of an alley that led to the road. Hopefully, they would be willing to follow his direction rather than go forward.
He waited for them to get close, but not too close, so as not to appear right in front of their noses like some kind of cryptid. He needed them to trust him, so he raised both hands, showing his palms as he walked out of the alley.
"Excuse me, Sir, Ma'am. You can't keep going that way," he warned them, making his tone as gentle as possible as they stopped in their tracks.
Some worry filled his surroundings as the father took two steps in front of his family, displaying a strong frog-like Quirk mutation. "Son, are you okay?!"
He was alarmed? Weird, Takuma had followed his step-by-step program of not freaking people out.
"Oh dear, let me call you an ambulance," the mother was quick to add as she grabbed her phone and started to tap on the screen.
Takuma mentally facepalmed. 'I'm still covered in blood, and there's no way I can hide the wound on my neck,' he sighed internally. 'I'm a fucking moron.'
"Ma'am, please. Calling an ambulance is not the priority. The area is not safe," he added with more urgency in his voice as he lowered his hands. "It's not my place to ask what you're doing here, but you need to leave, for your own safety."
"Ribbit?" he heard from the other woman behind the parents as the two younger children huddled with her.
"What are you saying, my boy?" the father asked. He was alert now, looking around for anything that could be a threat to his family. "Are the people who did this to you still out there?"
A protective streak, even toward someone he'd just met. Takuma already liked him. "They are, and you are walking right into them if you keep going the way you are," he told him, walking closer as he lowered his hood. "I know how it looks, but you cannot stay here. Do you have anywhere to stay for the night? I could tell you where to find the closest hotel to hunker down if you need to."
"Holy hell, son, what the hell chewed you up?!" the man in his forties asked him with concern, staring at his face. "I'm calling the police."
Takuma rubbed a hand on his face. It came back into his vision with some blood on it.
'I'm really fucking this up.'
"Sir, the police are already on their way," he informed the man as he walked closer, enough so that he could see the entire family. "Right now, I need you and your family to find a safe place to wait for them to take control of the situation."
"What is happening?" the woman asked with some trepidation.
"Two gangs are fighting it out," he informed them, to their horror. "One of them doesn't have a kind view toward mutants, I'm sorry to say."
"Who are you, ribbit?" the woman in the back asked as the family closed ranks.
"Takuma. Pleasure to meet you. I'm working around here, and I was caught in the fighting a few hours back. Right now, I'm just trying to get people who aren't aware of what's happening out of the way."
"This is very noble of you to do," the man said with a hint of respect in his words. "Ganma Asui, but call me Ganma."
'Wait, Asui?!'
Takuma extended his sight and briefly looked behind the parents, focusing on the young woman keeping the children close.
She had a calm disposition despite the worrying developments and a keen mind that was watching him closely, from head to toe, for any signs of foul play. Tsuyu Asui, a future member of Class 1-A.
'Oh great, another future classmate,' Takuma thought, realizing he'd just met someone who would make it even harder to keep tonight's activities a secret. 'This just made everything more complicated.'
Well, he was screwed anyway, so he might as well embrace it.
"And this is my wife, Beru, my daughter, Tsuyu, my son, Samidare, and my youngest daughter, Satsuki," Ganma finished introducing his family. "How... how bad is it?"
The toad mutant winced slightly as he asked the question, clearly trying not to alarm his younger children. Tsuyu already understood the situation wasn't ideal, but she showed nothing outwardly. However, her mind was racing, full of protectiveness and fear—emotions so strong that Takuma could practically feel them.
"It's bad," Takuma admitted, his voice grave. "But if you tell me where you're headed, I can guide you to safety. My Quirk lets me know where people are and how to stay far away from those causing trouble."
"You look pretty beat-up for someone who can avoid trouble so easily," Tsuyu commented, her face emotionless as she stared at him.
"Well... not everyone was lucky enough to avoid getting caught in the fighting," he replied with a hint of sadness and the exhaustion he genuinely felt, selling his act. "The people I met earlier already called the cops. Now, it's just about making sure no one else gets hurt until they arrive."
His words seemed to have an effect. He could sense the concern and fear, some of it directed toward him, which was nice in its own way. Tsuyu's mind was now busy cataloging his injuries. A quick glance at a nearby store window revealed multiple small cuts on his cheek that he hadn't even noticed.
'Oh well.'
"We're heading back to our car," Ganma informed him. "It's not too far from here, in that direction."
Takuma quickly mapped out a safe route in his mind.
"We can cut through the alley here. It's safe right now, and there won't be many people on the way," he suggested. Ganma nodded and gently guided his family to follow Takuma into the dimly lit alley that led to a side road.
As they walked, Takuma made sure to keep his hands visible, aware that the family was still guarded around him. Fair enough, he thought. But his current state likely made him seem less threatening, especially with the father towering over him. He didn't mind being underestimated if it helped him gain their trust and keep them safe.
"Earlier, you said you were working here. What job involves being in this area at this hour~Ribbit?" Tsuyu asked, her finger tapping against her mouth.
He would have preferred not to divulge too much, but he couldn't afford to let the conversation die. He was literally the last person they'd met, and they might go their own way if he wasn't cooperative.
"I'm a private investigator. I'm looking for someone who's been causing trouble in this area for the last few weeks. I can't say much more due to professional secrecy, I hope you understand," he explained, walking the fine line between openness and keeping things close to the chest.
"Are you a hero?" the younger girl asked excitedly, her voice shrill enough to make Takuma jump.
Tsuyu was quick to shush her with a death glare.
He shook his head. "Don't worry, there's no one nearby right now," he reassured the family. "And no, I'm not a hero. For what it's worth, I'm trying for the Hero Course at U.A. soon."
Revealing his intention to attend U.A. was a good way to gain more trust from the family. The way some of the leftover gang members were moving was becoming worrying, and he needed to have their trust before things went south. When they went south.
"Oh," Tsuyu said blandly. "We might see each other then."
"Big sister is trying for U.A. too!" the younger girl added, her excitement filling the air, earning her a second glare from her sister.
Takuma chuckled, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit that racked his body as he struggled to keep moving forward. His lungs were shot, and he doubted he had much more fight left in him.
"Water?" Samidare offered from behind his father, who then handed Takuma a bottle.
"Thank you," he said gratefully, downing half of it on the spot. "I'll definitely pack a bottle next time I stumble into a gang war," he added, trying to return the bottle, but the boy refused to take it back.
"I'd rather you didn't take such risks in the future, son," Ganma said. His words were kind, but being called "son" was starting to grate on Takuma's nerves. Still, he didn't show his dislike; he had more important things to focus on. "I'm sure your parents would hate to see the state you're in."
Takuma sighed audibly. "I'm an orphan. You don't have to worry about them. I sure don't."
His revelation elicited a mix of concern and sympathy from the family. He had given them just enough information to understand who he was and why he was here—a U.A. prospect working hard in the middle of the night, taking risks in a dangerous area. Battered and bruised. And an orphan. Takuma had played into every angle that would push them to trust him more. Family was important to them, and revealing he didn't have one was the final strike that broke through their defenses. He had them.
'Thank goodness I'm trying to save them,' he thought.
Sometimes he was reminded how easily his Quirk could be used for nefarious purposes. This was one of those times.
"I guess that would explain why you have to work," Tsuyu commented in her usual bland tone. "You couldn't find a safer job?"
"Not really, no," he answered truthfully. "My Quirk makes it difficult to hold a steady job. Most people aren't fans of someone being keenly aware of where they are and what they're doing at all times."
That was the understatement of the century, and that was without even mentioning the more problematic aspects of his Quirk.
"Our uncle has a farm at the edge of town," Samidare said. "Dad could talk to him. He's always looking for people to work the fields."
"I don't think working on a farm would suit me," Takuma replied honestly. "But thanks for the offer. Who knows, maybe it could be an opportunity to start fresh if U.A. doesn't work out."
Takuma kept a sharp eye on the gangers still running around. One, followed by two others, was sprinting straight toward him and the family. His instincts flared, and he barked a command with a commanding tone, "Into the alley, now!" He pushed the family ahead, guiding them quickly into the narrow space. "Hug the wall, stay quiet."
Ganma was right beside him, his large frame effectively shielding the family. Takuma was closest to the road, his focus intense as he kept an eye on the approaching threat. Tsuyu stood by his side, her usual bland expression hiding a steely determination that Takuma could almost feel through his Quirk.
Steps approached, heavy and deliberate, followed by ragged breathing. The family tensed, but Takuma held up a hand to remind them he was there and to stop anyone from bolting in a panic.
A shout pierced the night: "-BACK HERE, COWARD!" A man in a tattered shirt and burned jeans ran past the entrance of the alley they were hiding in.
A gunshot rang out.
Takuma felt the shot's impact as it knocked the air from his lungs. The man fell, and Takuma was overwhelmed by a wave of revulsion and pain. The heavy hand of Ganma, pressing down on his shoulder, was the only thing keeping him upright. A bullet to the spine was not something Takuma wanted to experience firsthand or secondhand. His breath came raggedly as he fought to keep his composure, the pain intense but not unfamiliar. Bullet wounds started strong but simmered into something more manageable, and with practice, he managed to keep his noise in check.
A wet gurgle reached his ears as the family beside him held their breaths, paralyzed by shock. Another man, accompanied by a woman, stepped into view.
"Stupid fuck, making me waste bullets," the man muttered, before firing two more shots into the fallen figure.
Takuma took a slow, relieved breath as he realized the man was dead. A corpse didn't feel anything.
"You think we got them all?" the woman asked, catching her breath.
"Heh, who knows," the man replied, spitting on the corpse. "We'll see in the morning. Can't fucking wait to hit the sack after a night like this."
"Yeah, those fuckers weren't even a good fight," she complained as they both turned and started walking away.
Takuma ignored their conversation, focusing on the family. The two younger kids were crying into their mother's dress, who was doing her best to muffle their cries.
"What happened to you?" Tsuyu asked, her fist clenched and cold sweat beading on her brow.
"I can feel people's pain," Takuma said simply, needing to keep them on his side. "Getting shot isn't the nicest thing I can experience."
Tsuyu looked at him with a blank face, her eyes misty. "I'm sorry~Ribbit."
He chuckled drily. "Not as much as me," he whispered, loud enough for both Ganma and Tsuyu to hear. "Tell me when they're ready to move. We shouldn't have any more surprises."
Tsuyu nodded and turned to help her mother calm the younger kids.
Ganma's large hand was still on Takuma's shoulder, a gesture of support that Takuma didn't particularly appreciate, though he recognized the sentiment behind it. It was heavy and uncomfortable, but not worth expending energy to address.
"I can see why it's hard to hold a steady job with a Quirk like yours," Ganma said in a low, near-whisper. "I work in a supply office, and even the smaller cuts can be maddening. I can't even imagine what you go through."
"It's a lot, but I make it work," Takuma agreed. "It allowed me to find you before them, so I'm going to take my win where I can get them."
Tsuyu appeared from behind her father. "We can go," she said.
Takuma nodded and led them back onto the street. "How close are we to your car?"
"Very close, just behind this block," Ganma pointed towards a nearby group of buildings.
Takuma pushed forward at a quicker pace, forcing the kids to jog. Tsuyu now carried Satsuki, and he was relieved to see them moving with purpose.
"We're going to cut through this alley," Takuma said. "There isn't anybody nearby, but be careful. My Quirk can be wrong, so trust your instincts first. Don't blindly follow my word. If we encounter anyone, I'll handle them. You keep going, no matter what, okay?"
Ganma opened his mouth to protest, but Takuma cut him off sharply. "Sir. You take care of your family, and I'll take care of myself."
He had humanized himself enough to earn their trust. Now, he needed them safe and out of his way. If things went south, he didn't want them becoming a liability.
As Takuma entered the dimly lit alley, he scanned for any potential threats, from animals to people. He ensured that nothing dangerous lay between him and the final stretch to the car. Nothing appeared, but for tonight, he knew better than to let his guard down. He relied more on his ears than his Quirk to detect any threats.
"I can see our car," Ganma said, his voice barely a whisper as they approached a parking area with several cars.
Takuma was about to pass by a side alley when he stopped, his senses alert. Though he detected nothing, a lone figure stood in the middle of the alley.
"Stop," he said with a forceful tone. "We need to—"
A sharp sting. He barely felt it, but when he looked down, he saw a thin needle of crystalline blood protruding from his thigh—a warning.
'How the hell did I end up with two people I can't sense in one night?' he thought, feeling a hint of something from the lone figure.
The figure was lowering her mental defenses slowly, an invitation of sorts. The realization struck him.
"Go to the car. Drive east for ten minutes, then you'll be safe," he instructed the family, noticing their horror at his new injury. "Don't worry about me. Go!"
He used his Quirk to urge Ganma into action, understanding that the family's fear stemmed from the risk to their children. They moved swiftly, walking past him as he stepped into the side alley, making it clear he wasn't following.
"Ribbit," Tsuyu said, her voice filled with concern as she walked behind him. "Is there any—"
"Take care of your family, Ms. Asui," he cut her off.
She hesitated, torn between staying to help him and protecting her family. The choice was obvious, but Takuma appreciated her hesitation.
"Don't die~Ribbit," she said with a heavy heart. "I'm sorry."
Takuma chuckled. "Don't be. Stay safe."
Tsuyu turned and ran after her family, leaving Takuma to face the lone figure. The woman was hidden under a raincoat with a hood that obscured her features. As Takuma closed the distance, she raised a hand, signaling him to stop.
Takuma felt the Asui's leave the range of his Quirk, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't want to have the blood of someone connected to the show on his hands.
The woman's words cut through the tension, her voice calm and curious. "Did you know your heartbeat synced to the person you're using your Quirk on?" She was tall with a hint of black hair peeking from under her hood. The crystalline needle in his thigh pulled itself out and returned to her now outstretched hand.
Takuma was taken aback by her knowledge. "I did not," he admitted, sensing that she wasn't here to end him but seemed more curious than hostile. "What do you want?"
Her shoulders shook with a chuckle, her good humor evident despite the grim situation. "You're not one to waste time. After the night you've had, I can understand why."
She had been tailing him for days, perhaps even from his first day scouting around. She seemed to know about his role in this chaotic mess.
"Why?" she asked, her curiosity genuine.
"Why what?" Takuma demanded, hoping for more information.
"Why are you doing this?" She looked at him with genuine interest. "You keep putting yourself in danger for people you'll never see again."
Takuma wasn't about to read her mind, especially after her warning. He had very little to work with and no real insight into her motives. "They're not part of our world. They don't deserve to die just because we have a disagreement," he explained, 'we' referring to the underworld and its denizens.
"Tonight would have happened with or without you, Mr. Chemist," she said, revealing how much she knew. "Of course, a certain someone might have expedited the process."
"Fair enough," he conceded. "If you know what I've been doing and have been tailing me for the past two days, why am I still breathing?"
Takuma had forgotten the most important fact in the underwolrd.'There always a bigger fish.'
"So you know me?" she realized as he hesitated. "I guess it was bound to happen at some point. What's interesting is that your heart didn't skip a beat, not even once since we met."
"I don't see how that's relevant," he replied, though he was intrigued.
"You're not afraid to die, are you?" Her question threw him off balance.
"I've had more than enough time to get used to the idea," he said, honestly.
She pulled down her hood, revealing a face marred by harsh scars—one across her cheek and more around her lips, a white eye, and extensive scar tissue on the right side of her face.
"Again," she said with a small smile. "Most people see me and, even if they try to hide their reaction, I can tell what they really think."
"It's not how I see the world," Takuma explained. "My Quirk overwrites everything about a person. Your face doesn't matter to me because I can't really see it."
She nodded with a sad smile. "Not what I expected from the Symbol of Misogyny."
Takuma groaned audibly, which made her giggle. "I hate that stupid video."
"I rather liked it," she joked, enjoying his discomfort. "But seriously, how about you tell me what you're really here for, Takuma?"
"The murderer," he said simply.
"That would explain why you've been hitting both sides all night," she said, lacking any surprise.
"Which side are you on?" Takuma asked, already forming his own theories.
"No one. Nobody is on our side, so why bother?" She shrugged.
"Fair," he acknowledged.
The encounter was strange. She could have killed him at any point but didn't seem to want anything particular from him. It was one of the strangest meetings of his night.
"The boy," she finally said. "The one you pulled from the dumpster. He's one of ours."
She was here to repay a favor. Given how much she knew about him, it made sense.
"You already know who the killer is," Takuma stated.
"I do," she confirmed. "The others let them run around because they don't go after our people. I don't like that, but I can't do anything about it."
'She need an attack dog.' he realised.
"Where can I find them ?" he asked, trying hard not to show how much he needed this information.
She walked closer to him, her open demeanor didn't fool him, she'd killed more people in the last month than him in his entire life.
"Give me your hand," she said as she bit into her thumb, drawing blood. "I've been waiting for an opportunity to deal with those three for a while now. Don't mess this up, okay?"
He nodded as she used her Quirk to shape the blood that fell on his hand into an arrow, moving fluidly like a living tattoo. The arrow kept pointing in the same direction as he moved his hand.
"I will take care of them," Takuma said, understanding that multiple people were responsible for the murder.
"When you're done," she warned. "Do what you have to do tonight, and when you're done, leave. And never come back."
Takuma didn't argue. He simply nodded. "With pleasure."
"Good man. Now go."
As he turned to leave, a thought struck him. "Wait, what's your name?"
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Yumiko."
"Have a good night, Yumiko," he said, leaving right after she rolled her eyes at him with a small grin.
"Hopefully I won't ever meet her again," Takuma thought as he checked his injury. It was no longer painful, and he found it had healed as if a day had passed in the blink of an eye. "A Blood-Quirk that can heal," he realized.
Twice the reason to be targeted, twice the opportunity for someone like her to be scarred so horrifically.
"Fuck this world and everyone who lives in it," he swore, except for Mei.
Stuffing the now mostlu useless bandage in his jacket pocket, Takuma started jogging toward the direction the arrow pointed. His stamina was nearing its limit, but he couldn't afford to stop. He needed this lucky break to end the night on a high note. Ignoring the gang members looking his way as he crossed the main street, he ran as fast as he could.
Until pain overwhelmed him once more. He stumbled, fell, and rolled back to his feet. Fear, wrath, and pain emanated from a woman ahead. Three men were around her, armed. The arrow pointed in their direction, so he followed.
Exhausted and needing to fight the serial killer, Takuma faced a choice: hold back and hope to make it with what little he had left, or go all out and risk everything. A knife slid between two ribs, pushing the air out of his lungs.
"Balls to the wall it is," he decided.
Locking his Quirk on the three men, Takuma slammed them with Fear with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop. He felt their shock through his Quirk and pushed, not far enough to give them a heart attack but enough to cause extreme panic. They fell to the ground as he turned a corner and saw the heroine, heavily bleeding and stuck with numerous knives.
One of the younger men, not older than fifteen, stood up, dazed and confused. He stumbled into his two companions who were still on the ground. He then hammered the first boy he found, knocking him out cold.
Another boy, noticing Takuma, extended his hand toward him. Takuma froze, as if someone had taken a screenshot of him. He couldn't even breathe. But someone else could. A knife landed in the boy's throat, freeing Takuma as the boy gurgled and choked on his own blood.
Ignoring the dying boy, Takuma finished off the last man with a kick to his head as he tried to crawl away.
Controlling his breathing so as not to let the last boy choking on his blood overwhelm him, Takuma turned and rushed to the side of the heroine. Clad in a white jumpsuit stained with red, with bracers and bits of armor scattered everywhere, he had no trouble locating where she had been stabbed: mostly in the leg and arm, with one wound still in her chest. Takuma was never more grateful to have brought a tourniquet with him.
"...ear—" she tried to say.
"Don't worry, I got you," he said as he touched her earpiece and fumbled for the small switch on the back. He found it and turned it on, sending a priority S.O.S. to anyone with access to the Hero network. "I'm going to tourniquet you now, don't move."
Left arm first, closest to the heart and more likely to cause death, then the leg. Again, he pulled a tourniquet from his first-aid kit hidden in the many pockets of his jacket. It was difficult to work with the pain she was enduring. She had lost a lot of blood, and he doubted she would survive without a transfusion in the coming minutes. The euphoria was steadily rising, and he had to slap himself to prevent his thoughts from getting muddled. After securing her limbs, Takuma ripped off her costume to address the stab wound in her abdomen, under her breast, which had slid between two ribs. The knife had been dislodged at some point, and she was bleeding more than he liked, even though the wound was shallow.
"I'm going to pack the wound; it's going to suck, so deal with it," he warned her before grabbing a roll of gauze and starting to fish around for the artery that had been nicked. She barely reacted, her eyes fluttering as she fought to stay conscious, mumbling something he couldn't understand. Still, he focused on what mattered. He didn't have much trouble finding the artery and quickly started packing the wound with gauze, applying as much pressure as he could while checking with his Quirk as much as with his eyes to ensure he hadn't missed anything. She was in shock, which was good for now, as it allowed him to work on her without her making the process harder than it needed to be. Besides, he could feel a car with two occupants heading in his direction. "You're safe; reinforcement will be here in thirty seconds tops."
He doubted she could understand him; her entire focus was on staying awake. Her heart was beating as if it were about to explode, and her skin was clammy. He had done everything he needed to do. After checking on the corpses and their two friends, he spotted the closest ladder and climbed up to the roof.
Barely a heartbeat after he disappeared from view, two people ran into the alley.
"Whitestrike!" a feminine voice called as she made her way right next to the injured heroine. "She's been patched up; we need an ambulance!"
"One dead, and the two others are knocked out!"
"Do you see the guy that was with her?!"
'That's my cue,' Takuma thought. He should have remembered that the Hero earpiece opened the channel in case of an S.O.S. 'They probably heard me.'
Jumping from roof to roof, Takuma took his time to breathe and recenter himself. He'd used his Quirk to strike at the group of murderous teenagers. He was closing in on Quirk exhaustion and was already feeling raw after being so close to the injured heroine. The surrounding area was not the most crowded place he'd ever been; until now, he could ignore them. Now it was getting harder, and he needed to make a choice: keep going and hope for the best or stop. He was at risk of reaching his limit, and if there was one thing clear, there were too many heavy hitters running around tonight. He had met nearly every person he didn't want to meet, aside from Nyx and the Hydra. He was in no state to win a fight against either of them. And with his luck, it was not a question of if he would meet them, but when.
'The serial killers aren't a problem anymore.'
Missy would be safe; he'd done what he intended to do when he came here. He was tired, his Quirk clinging to his skin—or was it the blood? He was covered in it. Not his own for once. He would need to make sure not to attract too much attention when he took the train back home.
'I'm done.'
Takuma remembered the blood on the back of his hand, still pointing toward the three boys. He slammed it against a nearby wall and scraped the skin raw until there was nothing left. When he thought it was good enough, he started the walk toward the train station. There wouldn't be any trains running until early in the mor—o-O-o—ning—o-O-o.
Magong had successfully gaslighted herself into thinking she still had control of the situation. It was a strange sight. Her entourage, the dozen or so souls that worked for her directly, were dead. Only Hestia and herself remained untouched, as the two guards left behind were busy disintegrating the bodies with one of their Quirks. Takuma took control of Hestia for a short second, just enough to slit both women's throats with a nearby knife.
He pulled out as the doll Magong had made of Hestia fell to the ground, throat cut. Magong just stood there, unable to comprehend what she felt as she choked on her blood, gurgling mournful cries of anguish as she realized she was dying. He'd cut the doll's throat deeper to make her last moment shorter. Even if there was nothing left, it was a kindness to the unfeeling things that were left behind.
He didn't even care to feel her die as he started the walk back to the train station. He would need a few stops to make sure nobody was following him. Running around different parts of the city would take him a few more hours, and then he could finally take his last train to Mei's house. He couldn't wait to see her again. He couldn't wait to o-O-o KILL o-O-o her.
Takuma stopped dead in his tracks as the weight of what he'd just done hit him.
'Is there something wrong with me?'
Oh boy, that chapter needed some rewrite. I hope I conveyed Takuma strenght and expertise in this chapter, also something else that still been going on in the background. Hope you liked this chapter.