YES, IT IS I!

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Chapter 35: Ruminations in the Garden

Poison-crafting is a delicate art, with traditions and disciplines as varied as the leaves of the cypress.

At the root, there is the most basic form: have your enemy ingest, unknowingly or unwillingly, a substance that causes severe distress to their body, mind, or even both. Any simpleton can manage such a feat; all he needs is some spoiled food thrown into the target's soup bowl.

But to truly be named a poisoner, a novice must master the three lynchpins which separate the boor from the craftsman: to control the time of the poisoning, to ensure the poison does what its brewer wants it to do, and most importantly, to ensure that the culprit responsible for the poisoning is clean.

Once a novice acknowledges those three…the life of any man is his to control, with but a single drop.

The knife barely scrapes my chin as I lean back. I can't let her gain momentum.

I press back down and thrust forward, only to wince at the sensation of a brick smashing against my arm. My aim's lost, but I throw myself to the ground and force myself back up just in time to dodge an arcing slash that, were steel on its end, would've ripped my tendons to mincemeat. Without even taking a moment to think, I jab repeatedly, only for each blow to be slapped away. I hold back a smirk; she let me get too close. With my other arm, I swing at her head, and before the knife reaches my elbow, I let the other one fly into her ribs…

…and she twists away like a top, and my blade hits nothing but rushing air.

Closing my gaping jaw, I press forward. What kind of body control was that!?

Our blades clash with rubbery stings; her quick slashes against my stabs and cuts. It's becoming a test, to see who can force the other back. She tries to push me back, and I find holes in her assault. If I try to get in close, she twists and dances out of the way. Every blow is aimed to be lethal, and had we been using live steel, I'd have to sew up my clothes. Grappling only works for a second, then she pulls out of the hold. For her…rather slim body, there's a remarkable amount of strength hidden.

I jump back from a slash and - what the fuck is that jump!? What is she, a kangaroo!?

Raising my arms high, I feel my knees buckle as I hold back her stab. If I slipped, the knife would go right in my eye. I meet her impassive black eyes with a stare and my teeth grit.

Challenge accepted.

I knee her in the stomach and strike her arm, missing the flesh by scant centimeters and snagging her robe instead. With a jerk, I pull and reach for her shoulder, the tips of my hand grazing it before she crouches and sweeps. Biting back a curse, I spin and throw myself back to avoid falling down. Narrowly avoiding the upward slash, I settle into a guarded stance while she rises and holds her knife at the ready. My breath comes out heavy and I can feel a layer of sweat forming on my brow. Seconds pass, each of us silently daring the other to take the first move. Then, she gestures with her knife towards herself, not even a trace of emotion on her face.

Come and try.

Oh, I'll try alright…let's see if this works.

I rush forward and she begins to crouch down, no doubt hoping to aim at my jugular. Before she does, I throw the knife right at her forehead. She moves to intercept, but at the last second my fingers twitch and the knife comes back flying. An upwards swing, too wide, too fast.

I have to say, the flicker of shock that passes through her is hilarious. Especially when she feels the blade press against her chin. Just as I allow myself to grin, however, her right wrist twitches and I feel the slightest tap against my neck.

She corrected herself mid-slash?

…

…

…wow.

I nod. "Well played."

Shiki does the same and I pull away. I offer her a hand, but she picks herself up and shakes her arm. I wipe my forehead and exhale, only for my body to screech in agony. The hiss escapes my lips and I roll my shoulders to cool it off. I wave at Shiki's raised eyebrow. "I'm fine, just a little sore."

She nods and I keep rubbing sore spots over my body, trying to remove at least some of the strain. Downing a nearby water bottle, I glance at Shiki to see her doing some stretches. It might just be the light, but I don't see even a drop of sweat on her, despite her heavier-than-usual breathing.

"Nice trick with the knife," she says after a minute. "How fast can you throw it?"

My forehead creases as I think about the answer. "Hm, fast enough that it doesn't matter who's on the other end and to pierce bones. A good throw to the back of the skull drops a man where he stands, and I had to pull knives out of concrete more than once."

That mostly happened during my early days of training with Mawla; failed results of my first attempts or measuring sticks for the strength of my throws. Come to think of it, it's a wonder that the dagger didn't chip or break.

Come to think of it, my first kill was throwing a dagger into some crook's head.

His face isn't even a blur, if I saw it at all; only the coat he wore and the way he fell on the pavement. A step into a reality I'd never thought I'd take - maybe only in the deepest recesses of my mind. Has it really been a year?

"Concrete? That's impressive. I don't think I can cut that deep just by stabbing," she remarks. The implication of her Quirk is left unsaid. "And you can use it on any knife? What about other objects?"

I pause and look at the bottle. Closing the cap, I throw it to the other side of the room. The mental pull that twinges every time I throw a knife doesn't make a peep. Shiki deadpans at me - though to be honest, with her usual expression, I'm not really sure.

"Point taken." She does another set of stretches, pulling her arms behind her back. "How are you doing since last time?"

"Uh, great. I healed up nicely and Mom eased up on me." I rub a towel on my face and quickly scan the area. "I went on a few outings since then. What about you?"

"Not much," she responds with a shrug. "I had to promise my parents I'd come right back from school for a few days, but they let up soon after that."

Huh. I'd thought they'd keep her under lock and key for getting into that situation. I might be stereotyping, but I have the impression rich folk don't like it when their kids get so much as a scratch. They could be the other type, but I have a feeling that Shiki wouldn't stay long enough for it to be a problem if it was. "Where do you go to school?"

"Reien Girl's Academy. It's a private school up west, near Mount Odake."

A fancy private school? You know, I can picture it. Guess some stereotypes hold. "What's it like?"

She looks up and her nose wrinkles. "I think it used to be a Christian school some time ago. It covers a whole mountaintop and looks like something out of a European painting." I can't help but raise an eyebrow. I never knew there was a building like that in Japan. Sure, I've visited a couple of old churches with Mom, but this sounds a few steps higher than that. "Also, the uniforms suck. They look like nuns' clothes."

An image of Shiki wearing a white headdress and black robes while praying at an altar flashes before my eyes and I scoff.

"What's funny?" she asks in a clipped tone. I shake my head and lightly wave at her.

"Nothing, it's just…you're right, that does sound ridiculous. At least when you put it that way."

She huffs and rolls her wrist before grabbing a water bottle like I did. Heh, this feels kind of surreal. My outfit is in my bag and so is my mask, I'm completely un-Concealed and here I am, sparring with a girl I met after she killed someone. Coming here today was kind of on a whim (and the fact I had a short school day), but when I asked her, she just gave me an okay and greeted me at the entrance. It didn't take long for us to find ourselves in the dojo and brandishing rubber knives. A rhythm quickly formed, and we've been going at it back and forth until now.

A strange, almost twisted smile forms on my face. This is…actually kind of fun. Didn't think I'd enjoy sparring this much. It almost matches the satisfaction I get when…hm…

'Do you enjoy killing?'

That question again…gah, what the hell. What did she even mean by that? It's not a matter of enjoyment.

After she finishes drinking, I ask the question which suddenly wormed through my brain and into my mouth.

"By the way, um…" I ask. "How did you bring my outfit to my apartment?"

She tilts her head like I asked a stupid question. "I asked our driver to drop it off for you."

My jaw drops for a second before I manage to force it shut. "Asked your-"

The driver, as in, the limo driver that drove Mom and me home? To say something like that so casually…what a world rich people live in!

"That's…nice. Great. Thanks for that, really. I had a spare but I like keeping one in reserve."

"You're welcome," she replies nonchalantly.

"Did your parents ask any questions about that? Especially since you delivered it in the middle of the night."

"I told them you forgot something here and I wanted to bring it back. You called late and they didn't see much of a problem."

"Right," I say, nodding my head lightly in response. I almost wonder what they were thinking, letting their daughter hang around someone like me, but I don't want to question it directly.

"So, where did you learn how to fight like that?" I ask her with a mildly curious gaze. I want to be careful about prying, but I figure it would be an interesting topic to chat about while I cool down from the spar.

"Hm…mostly self-taught, but I did pick up a few things from my father," she tells me, a hint of pride seeping into her voice. If that spar I saw with her father was any indication, I'm betting it was more than just a few things. It's good that the topic at least somewhat piqued her interest, and if I'm right, she doesn't seem too bothered by the conversation herself.

Still, it doesn't explain her sheer strength, which isn't proportionate for someone her size or Quirk. I know that people with strong Quirks, or those who train their Quirks extensively are way more resilient than average; it's why you see heroes shrug off being thrown into walls and tanking blows that could cripple several times over. I'm no exception, but I'm not sure how much of that is my Quirk, Mawla's tortu-er, training, or the power of the Valley.

"Really? That takes some skill," I compliment her. "I've seen a few heroes who would break their back pulling off what you did back there."

She hides her surprise well, but I catch the sharp intake of breath and the slight widening of her eyes before she can hide it. "Well, it comes with practice," she tells me with the barest hint of a smile. What said practice consisted of was left unsaid, but I know full well what it was. I glimpsed it first-hand, after all.

Of course, despite my Quirk telling me the coast was clear, paranoia creeps up my spine, and the urge to change the subject suddenly overcomes me. So with that in mind, I make my way over to the nearby bench to take a seat. The action causes her to tilt her head at me a little, but then she walks over to me, sitting down lightly beside me with a silent huff that she hides away as soon as I hear it.

"So, what are your plans for after this?" Shiki asks with a mildly interested tone.

"I'll probably be going out," I reply with a shrug. "There's something new I've been making, and I think it's time to give it a field test."

Focusing intently on me, her eyes narrow, and she seems oddly eager for some reason. "I want to come," she told him with a tone of finality.

I look at her with a strange expression, not quite sure how to take that. It was a little weird, and I didn't think she'd be the one to ask.

"Why-"

She silences me with a glare backed with a small frown, stopping me before I can get another word. A few seconds later, I sigh.

"Fine. You can tag along. Just…make sure you bring some kind of cover, like last time, okay?"

She nods, an air of silent satisfaction around her as I inwardly grumble. Seriously, what is up with this girl!?

'Thou art too easily persuaded by her words, contractor.'

I mentally nod at my teacher's words with resignation. 'I know, Mawla, but I have the feeling she would just follow me if I say no, and unlike Dabi I can't exactly shake her off.'

'Concealment is not the only art of stealth I hast taught thou, or hast thou forgotten the trials of sunlight I ordained?'

'My point still stands,' I reply, recalling the stealth exercises he made me do, especially the one that led me to encounter the fucking Hero Killer. 'Also, I don't think it's wise to tell the person who's been graciously allowing us to use her dojo for sparring to beat it.'

Mawla hums in his deep voice, from disappointment or begrudging acceptance I can't say. Gazing out the window and at the reddening hues of sunset, I get up from the bench and Shiki does the same. Before we leave, I grab my duffel bag next to the exit and leave the rubber knife in its place. We head out along the cobblestone path and toward her house. Even after seeing it inside, I'm still…somewhere between awed and intimidated by it.

'If thou believe this homestead to be worthy of awe, contractor, the palaces of Kahir would have plucked thy spirit from thine chest.' Mawla comments.

'This coming from the monk who lived in a secluded mountain fortress for half his life? Besides, if I remember correctly, the Muslim teaching regards all wealth as belonging to Allah and not to man.'

'Aye, but I merely state that no level of extravagance should'st faze or discourage thee. In the end, it is naught but a house.'

Walls of polished wood and screen doors flank us as we move, and then Shiki stops me with an outstretched hand. "Wait here and don't peep."

She bolts into the room and slides the door shut before I can blink. Why would she - oh, right. Yeah, I wouldn't want to go out on a potential assassination, wearing sweaty training gi. That's why I'm going to wear my spotless suit over my sweaty casual wear! After we leave of course.

'You sure this will work? The lab conditions aren't the same as those from your time, for better and worse.'

'Hast thou followed my instructions to the letter?' I nod. 'Then it shall work as intended. The brew thou crafted with my guidance does not require the specialized tools Maryam possessed in Alamut. The vial is safe in thy bag, yes?'

I quickly zip open the bag and check. 'Yep, sealed and layered between cloth.'

'Then there is little to do but wait and see.' Rustling cloth and the stomping of boots draw my attention and Shiki steps out, clad in a familiar blue furisode topped with a red jacket.

"I'm ready. You need anything else?"

"Not really," I reply and pat my bag. "You got a mask on you?"

The show of a bandana from her jacket's pocket is all she says. I hum in affirmation and we head back out the door. Right as we're about to leave, I hear footsteps against wood and my head snaps to the entrance.

"Are you two going out?" asked a raspy yet deep voice.

Shiki's father is a very imposing man, with sharp cheeks, a short haircut, and a rock-hard jawline. This is my second time coming here this week, and the third time we've met since that day. Back then it was mostly my mother doing the talking, and he held his ground pretty well against her, and that's saying something. Granted, Mom mostly apologized for my stupidity, then thanked him for the doctor and for looking after me while I was unconscious, but even through that stone facade he seemed rather amicable. Since then…I'm not sure how to put it. He's even more emotionless than his daughter, and while he didn't seem to mind me coming here, the way he's looking at me right now makes me want to pull out my dagger or activate Concealment. I half-expect him to draw a katana and make me swear not to dishonor Shiki, or I'll find my head mounted on his wall.

Honestly, he reminds me of those old-school yakuza bosses I've seen in a couple of 20th-century films, the ones that can command a man to kill himself while smoking a cigar or sipping tea, and not a single smile on anyone's face.

When Shiki remains silent, I realize I've got to pick up the ball, so I swallow and nod. "We're just going for a walk, Ryougi-san. We don't intend to go far."

His dark eyes switch over to Shiki and they share a silent conversation which, to my frustration, I cannot interpret in any way whatsoever. Finally, he nods. "I would appreciate it if my daughter returns home before eight."

Yeah, that was no polite suggestion. "Of course." The small smile I send at him quickly falls flat. He then turns around and heads back inside, but not before shooting me a pointed yet cold glare.

I'll give him points for that attempt, I nearly flinched, but I've been stared down by Mawla too many times for that to be effective. I give his retreating figure a slight bow and move out, with Shiki to my right.

'A strong and calm man. It is good thou show'd respect to him, especially in his own home.'

We walk into the bamboo grove, well away from any potential line of sight. Once we're deep inside, I raise my hand to stop her and wiggle myself past some stalks. A minute or two later I emerge wearing my full outfit, boots and all, and the bag slung over my shoulder.

"I'm gonna go invisible from here on, okay?"

"Yes," she replies. Pulling my mask over my face, I head past the grove until I finally look down at the street from above the risen grove. Hopping down, rustling leaves show Shiki doing the same by my side. Without further ado, I pull my mask over my face and conceal myself. A glance in my direction tells Shiki can see me, so we start our little stroll. The street is empty of pedestrians, with only our footsteps and the sound of birdsong filling the air. Stray sakura and bamboo leaves flew on the breeze against the slowly setting sun. Considering what we're about to do, it's rather peaceful.

'Death comes in all seasons and times. A lion will kill its prey in pouring rain or under a cloudless sky.'

Morbid, but he's not wrong. I crawled through sewers and zombie-filled apartments to kill my targets. Complaining about peaceful weather does seem utterly weird in comparison.

It's when we reach the bridge that Shiki speaks up again. "Where exactly are we going?"

I stop and rub my chin. "Hm, I have recently been on the trail of some yakuza. I hoped to investigate some new leads regarding that, but your father has made that a bit difficult."

A curfew of eight wasn't…ideal, to say the least. Going over that chief thug's phone from the drug lab yielded some potential leads, but I've got to be careful with my next steps. One wrong step and they'd hit the panic button and vanish. Whoever these Shie Hassaikai are in the underworld, it sounds like they have a reach of influence. That means trouble on several levels, most notably their location. I'm not even close to figuring that out, but I'm guessing they're not local, at least in Tokyo. There were a few spots I had in mind, but even with the marvels of the train system, I don't know if we'll be able to wrap up what I want by eight.

"Yakuza? Kind of a low reach for you," she states with a raised brow, even as I spy her eyes narrowing in frustration.

Looking back, the grumble from my throat might've sounded like pouting. I'm not sure how to feel about that. "Unfortunately, yes. I have no doubt there is far worse filth out there, but apparently, I've made quite the impact in the eyes and ears of the underworld."

"You mean you scared everyone off?" Shiki asks, then looks me up and down in contemplation. "Hm, it makes a little sense. My classmates can't stop talking about you whenever the teachers aren't listening, and since your debut video, it's gotten worse. They always ask me who I think you're going to kill next or who's the next Pro Hero that'll be exposed by you."

Her wrinkling nose still looks out of place on her, but I like keeping my balls where they are. "Honestly, it gets annoying real fast."

Once more, my eye twitches at hearing my…fame? Infamy? Internet celebrity/creepypasta status? I'm not sure which is worse. I still haven't delved into the rabbit hole that is my internet presence, and I'm torn by growing temptation and dread. Come on Ritsu! Think of the potentially valuable information you're missing out on! The stories about scumbags people post in the hopes Shinigami will come and kill those who merely inconvenienced them! The memes! The Rule thirty - no.

Nope. Nope. Nope, not bungee jumping off that cliff. Focus, Ritsu! Where do scumbags haunt these parts? I pace around, recalling everything I know about Shiki's neighborhood -

"I know a place we can go."

I turn to Shiki as she pulls her jacket on tighter. "I'm listening."

No verbal reply comes from her; instead, she starts walking back to the bridge and I follow her, curiosity tingling in my scalp. She killed a molester when we encountered each other a second time, but I'm guessing that was a stray drunk. Where could she be leading me?

We cross the bridge and head into another residential maze. The houses are more modern, nothing like the whole Edo period architecture the Ryougi's house has. I look past the stone walls and at the apartment buildings in the distance and realization creeps up.

Heh, come to think of it…the child traffickers' lair wasn't that far from here. Somewhere behind us, we met for the first time.

Instead of me rushing ahead and her killing my target, she's leading me to a new target. There's something sick about this joke because I'm not finding it funny in the slightest.

'One side houses riches, the other side holds evil. A tale told by civilization time and time. Palaces and slums, even if both are gilded on the outside.'

'Can't deny that, Mawla. Still sad that it exists though. You'd think superpowers and technology would've bridged that gap long ago. Instead, we have Heroes vs. Villains, tonight on primetime.'

'People shall always find reasons to discriminate, the sole difference is the brush they use to paint their targets; the colors of this age are powers, in my time 'twas faith. Yet it is a challenge we all must strive to overcome, to conquer evil without and within.'

I hum in affirmation. Shiki shoots me a glance, but I don't respond and keep following her. When we reach a crossroad, I freeze on the spot at the sight of three cops leaning on a squad car.

I hold back a curse. What are cops doing here?

Shiki stops and flicks her fingers in their direction. You want to go toward the cops!? In case you've forgotten I'm…utterly and completely invisible. There's no water or grass nearby. Right.

Slowly relaxing while keeping a hand ready to draw a knife, I trail behind her as she keeps walking, looking utterly casual in her kimono and combat boots.

"Excuse me!" one of the cops calls out. I fight down the urge to bolt as he approaches us, hands on his shiny belt. "Are you lost, young lady?"

"I'm on my way to visit a friend, officer," she replies. "Is something wrong?"

"Ah, nothing like that. This neighborhood's under watch, and we want to make sure everyone gets home when they're supposed to. Does your friend live nearby?"

"She's staying a couple of blocks from here. Will that be a problem? Is there a villain on the loose?"

The cop - a grizzled man with chubby cheeks - shook his head genially. "We're suspecting something like that. We're on the trail of a dangerous individual and he's made visits to this area in the past, so keep an eye open and don't venture out too late. As long as you don't stay out when it grows dark, it should be fine. Do your parents know where you're going?"

At her silent confirmation, he smiles and lightly bows before motioning to his friends. One of the cops speaks into his walkie-talkie and waves us off. Once we're out of their range, she slows her pace.

"Are you okay?" she asks in a low tone, her eyes flicking back and forth between me and her surroundings.

"I'm fine. I just didn't expect to run into a patrol here." What the cop said was concerning. "Were there any crimes committed here recently?"

"Not last I heard," she says and I spy her finger pointing at us both. Or other than us.

I pull out my phone and look up the neighborhood in the search engine as we keep walking. There isn't anything recent…the closest thing I got was the child trafficking bust and the reports of the dead criminals by Shiki's hand. So are the cops looking for her? It would make sense, but then shouldn't they be patrolling the other side of the bridge? Shiki's last kill, to my knowledge, was the fat molester, and we escaped by running into her bamboo garden. Or…

…what if…?

I quickly type 'increased police presence in Tokyo' and scroll through the articles until I open one from a few days ago, written by one Chitose Kizuki. Yeesh, what kind of a name is Shoowaysha News?

"In a sudden statement, Chief of Tokyo P.D. Kenji Tsuragamae announced an increase in police presence in various wards of Tokyo. Extra squads and cars have been deployed in an unexpected measure while regular patrols have been extended, with talks of curfew are in the works.

In addition, Pro Heroes Gang Orca and Ingenium have been sighted accompanying various patrols. When asked to comment on these new developments, Chief Tsuragame stated that 'the police and heroes were exploring a possible lead on fluctuating criminal activity in the areas, and that all residents should take care when going out at night or alone. If any criminal activity is sighted, they are to immediately call 119 or alert the nearest Pro Hero.'

Interviews with affiliated heroes have been rebuffed as of this article's publishing, despite the public's growing curiosity and requests for clarity, in the wake of the disturbance of their daily lives. The wards and districts currently under effect of this new surveillance are Hosu, Kamino, Chiyoda, Naruhata, Koribanu…"

Those five…a few more are listed but I recognize those five. Koribanu is this Ward.

'Looks like the police are stepping up their game.'

'Aye, 'twas inevitable, contractor. I commend thee on thy diligence, yet 'twould be inevitable that a response would come from those in power. The saving grace here is that they do not mention thee directly, no doubt to save face and prevent outrage.'

I hold back a frustrated sigh and tuck my phone back into my pocket. I'd been careful with the remains of my targets - if I couldn't properly dispose of them, I'd hide them in a spot where the smell would take longer to reach unwanted nostrils. Not to mention that even with my powers, knife wounds would be too generic to properly spot. Unfortunately, the other side is better-funded and is growing desperate. Throw heroes and their Quirks into the mix? I'm surprised they didn't start a sweep like this sooner.

'What do you suggest we do?'

'Now? Proceed as normal. Follow the girl, and see what she has to show us. But thou must remain vigilant more than ever. Know when to flee, and when to strike from the shadows. Shameful as the first might seem, it is better than being compromised. Which, to my great shame, thou hast toed that line beyond what I desired.'

'If you're talking about Dabi, I made sure he couldn't see my face.' I counter, despite my flush of shame. 'As for Shiki…you said it yourself, what's done is done. The fact she actually still wants to help us after the Araya fiasco is a blessing.'

'Hrm…very well, but I will say I trust neither. My reasons for Dabi have been explained and shall not be repeated.'

'And Shiki?' I ask, looking at the girl in question. She'd been giving me brief glances all the while, and I nodded every now and then. 'Is it because she can see me?'

'Her seeing past thy Concealment is merely a fraction of the issue, contractor. Nay, my concern lies more with the method.' I hear his iron-clad fingers clench around his sword. 'The veil of death, which she tore upon thy encounter…'tis not a feat achievable with any means I know of, even in this age of powers and abilities. It is through that power she sees into the Valley, and thus through thy cloak. I worry of future consequences that power can bring upon us.'

The veil of death…I'd almost forgotten about that. Now, thinking back on it, I find it hard to believe. How can you forget reality seemingly glitching in and out of existence!?

'Thy mind, even if touched by the Valley of Death, cannot process such an event without risk to thy mental faculties. I instructed thee to put thy mind at ease of such matters until I formed more conclusive proofs, to mitigate any possible damage, and yet…' he snarls and I shiver. It wasn't even animalistic, it was…older. 'This matter vexes me. Our encounter with the Berserker further muddies what I believed was absolute since my awakening in this era.'

Ignoring the flinch at the mention of the knight, I look as we approach a street lined with buildings of worn and dirty stone. For Mawla to admit he's been stuck on a problem like this for so long…that's frightening, more than I care to admit. 'If I can help in any way, let me know.'

"We're here."

I stop in my tracks and feel my brow wrinkle. Before us, at the bottom of a cracked stone staircase, is a culvert, leading into a dark tunnel. Raspy chattering, hooting, and coughing bounce off the walls and into my ears.

"What is this place?"

Shiki slowly raises her hand until she points to the entrance. "I walk past here every now and then. It's a hangout for the local thugs and druggies. The police don't do anything because they usually keep their activities quiet and away from anyone."

I understand what she's offering here but I stare into the dimly-lit corridor with growing skepticism. "In what way do these people deserve death? I'm not a wanton killer."

The response is as swift as it is brutal.

"They're rapists. Any girl they get their hands on ends up the same: traumatized or dead, by their hands or her own. The trafficking ring that was dismantled back then led them to grow bold. I found out not long before you asked me to join you, and I wasn't sure when to get rid of them." Her voice is utterly flat, with no trace of even a flicker of emotion compared to our conversations. "The man I killed back then? Apparently, he was one of them."

…

…

…alright then.

"Since you put up such a convincing argument, fine. This will do nicely as a test run."

Flexing my fingers, I reach into a pouch on my belt and withdraw a small vial, once filled with Trigger-laced narcotics, now filled with a yellowish-green liquid, and hold it between my thumb and finger. Shiki leans in and stares at it inquisitively.

"What is it, some kind of poison?"

"You catch on fast," I reply. Popping open the tied stopper, I pull out a knife and drip a few tears of the concoction onto the blade. Returning the closed vial, I gently wipe the surface and edge of the blade, to ensure the poison covers as much as it can. "Made from local narcissus plants with a touch of bleach and brewed by yours truly. Throw in a sprinkle of flour then let it boil, and the liquid grows adhesive."

Shiki hums at my explanation as she gazes at my blade. Even against the blackened steel, a very faint coating glimmers against the setting sun. Seeing her try and lean closer, I pull the knife away. "I would recommend you not inhale near it. My mask's filters block out any fumes."

"Oh…good point." She pulls her jacket's hood over her head and ties the bandana around her nose and mouth. "What does the poison do?"

I'm torn between fighting it or not, but in the end, I allow my lips to turn upward. "Why tell when I can show?"

I head down the stairs, my steps echoing in the blackness, in contrast to Shiki's silent gait. Even with boots like mine she's quiet, I need to ask her how she does that. The cacophony of drunkenness and addled laughter doesn't abate at my audible approach, even when I place my duffel bag on the way, and when we reach the lit part of the tunnel, I don't hold back the disgust. Skinny wastrels lay against walls and on dusty chairs, smoking some cigarettes or prattling on about things I couldn't care less about. There's even a bar where one of them pours drinks, albeit stumbling and sending drops flying all over the counter.

A thin man with shriveled eyes and pointed ears sits on a makeshift wooden bench and leans against a dazed woman, aggressively kissing her and clutching her chest while his buddies cheer on and smoke a bong. The girl - looking into her college years - moves her hands, but they fall down in futility.

A pained whimper, silent to everyone here but me, escapes her chapped lips.

No more.

'The evening bell hath tolled their names, mine student. Go forth and let them answer its call.'

Another knife flies from my free hand. The flickering orange lightbulbs, which were the sole source of illumination for this wretched place, shattered.

"What the-"

"What's going on!?"

"The cops!?"

"No way, they'd be hollering it by now!"

Blind as bats, they are. Unaware that I see their forms, outlined in ghostly blue, scattering about and fumbling over each other.

A whizzing pierces the air twice and they clamor when one falls to the floor. Then a second. Then a third.

"You have fed on the flesh of innocence for far too long. Thinking yourself below the notice of the light. But the shadows watch with sharper eyes, and judgement has come for thee."

They look around, frantically trying to pinpoint this new voice. In the midst of their panic, I whisper to my companion a single word.

"Go."

The first one falls to my hand, and immediately after, a second has his throat cut. I switch hands and more fall, my blade sinking into their flesh and between their ribs. Through my mask, I see Shiki swerving through the scum, each swing of her knife severing a limb, and even a head, her Quirk cutting through bone and muscle like air. One of them flails wildly and swings a knife around, his mandibles chittering nonstop and incoherent babbling spewing from his mucus-filled mouth. I follow my companion's example and deliver a swift cut to his artery, blood spurting behind me as he clutches his neck, gargling on his own fluids. Throughout all this, my other hand still holds the coated knife, which remains free of blood.

Soon, only two remain - the pointy-eared rapist and his victim. He stumbles around and calls his friends' names, tripping over their corpses. He'll do.

I finally throw the coated knife at his shoulder, where it sinks deeply into the flesh. His scream grows as I recall the blade and it flies out of his arm, tearing out a chunk of flesh.

As the thug desperately clutches his wounded arm, I take measured steps forward.

"The narcissus is a common flower that grows in many places, including the Mediterranean, the Middle East, and right here in Tokyo, and at times its bulb can be confused with wild garlic. The flower itself is pretty and used for decoration, but ingesting the bulb or its extracted and refined essence can have…disastrous consequences."

The man looks around wildly. "Who the fuck is this!? Come out so I can tear your fucking head off! I'll carve you up so bad I…I'll…I'll…"

He trails off, and his breathing grows heavier with every pant. His free hand clutches his messy head, and he runs to the nearby wall, clawing at the stone. Saliva starts to hang from his lips, and every drop is an echo to my ears.

"Once the essence enters the bloodstream or the stomach, the recipient experiences nausea and vomiting…"

Choked sounds emanate from his mouth as he hunches over.

"...trembling…"

The air is filled with his strangled cries as he tries everything in his power to stay upright. Unfortunately, his twitching grows more erratic by the second, and from how he's clawing at his heart, the poison has entered deep.

"...convulsions…"

Mustering up what little energy remaining within him, the walking trash raises his head to the darkness, trying to spot the one who ruined his sad excuse for a life. His face, mired now with sweat and terror, turns pale as I drop my Concealment.

I don't halt the hidden smile.

"Y-you…w-why d-did…"

Alas, he collapses to the ground, his body spasming and rivers of saliva pouring out his mouth. His eyes, once alight with drunken pleasure, are now empty, holding the barest spark of life.

"And finally, paralysis."

I kneel over his fallen body and flip the knife. "With enough dosage, the poison can turn lethal. A healthier body would slow the poison's course by a fair margin, but a drug-addled reject like yourself won't offer much resistance. Unfortunately, I only administered a small dose, and any chance of you living utterly disgusts me, so…"

With one clean slash, his throat opens like his brethren and the liquid of life flows out of his body.

"Bisognia morire, bastardo."

Gargling one, twice…and he falls silent.

Heh. Rot in hell, kalb.

I grunt and pull myself up, wiping the knife on his ratty clothes. Eh, might not be grammatically correct in Italian, but I don't care. I knew looking up that dictionary wasn't a waste of time!

I look at the corpse with a mixture of disgust and interest, its lower jaw covered in drool. The eyes had turned bloodshot, and I'd bet that the rancid odour would come knocking very soon.

'While the manner of execution was flashier than necessary, the brew itself is near-perfection. Thou were correct; a drug-addled kalb, unsinew'd in both will and body, holds no chance against a poison of Alamut.'

The flush rushing to my cheeks almost makes me squirm. 'Thanks, Mawla.'

Moments like this, however, are rarely as pure as I'd like them to be.

'With the near-failure of your first five attempts, this wraith had little hope of thy success, moreso when this is one of the simplest of brews.'

I resist the urge to slump. One time. Couldn't I have clean praise just one time!?

Shiki's soft footsteps draw me out of the funk and I gesture to the body. "Impressive, no? All it takes is a well-placed dosage into the body."

Circling the body, my strange accomplice hums as she surveys it. She then stops and points to the man's bloodied neck.

"Wouldn't it be easier just to do that every time?" she asks matter-of-factly.

I blink, trying arduously not to groan. "Of course it's easier! That's what I aim for and it's much less of a hassle. But knowing my less-than-blessed luck, I'll run into enemies which will render that option difficult if not outright unavailable, so it's better I have this as insurance just in case."

Tilting her head, Shiki gives the body a fixed look before shrugging. "I still think just cutting their throat is better."

This time, I let the sigh loose.

"That's not the point…" I mumble. We don't all have this weird Quirk which lets us cut through, and I quote, 'anything'. Some of us actually have to make an effort to kill criminals!

Wow, what a sentence.

Shiki opens her palm and looks. "Can I see the knife, and can you shine a light on it?"

I comply, carefully handing her the weapon and turning on my phone flashlight. She turns the blade over in her hands while keeping it at eye level, giving the odd flick every now and then.

"Do you have to apply the poison like you did before every time? It sounds risky in the middle of a fight."

"I wanted to make sure the poison worked properly before I committed myself to further investment." I scratch the underside of my mask as I too lean closer. "Now that I've seen its effectiveness…I'll need to look up more efficient methods. Hm, maybe rigging one of the sheaths would help."

Shiki nods and hands me back the knife. She then looks around at the corpses and blood-covered floor, a frown appearing on her face. "Should we get rid of the bodies?"

I grimace and bite my lip. Yeah, with this many corpses stinking up the place, someone's gonna find out sooner rather than later. "Yes, but I don't know of any place to dispose of them -"

She doesn't bother with replying and walks up to one of them. For a moment I swear her eyes flash before she slashes the corpse across the chest, legs and ň̴͇ë̶̢̫́c̸̟̱̋͑k̵͚̓̐ -

I hiss and grab my masked brow. Fuck, what was that!? It's like that time - wait, where's the body!?

Before I can react further, Shiki moves with blinding speed and ç̸̺͂u̶̩͚͊̑t̵̛͇̦̉ṣ̶̢͋̑ every last one. With each ç̸̺͂u̶̩͚͊̑t̵̛͇̦̉, I wince and recover, only to see each body utterly gone. The s̶̢̞̎ͅo̵̪̕͠u̶̟̬̳̓n̴͎̼͉̐̎ḑ̴͗̄ of the last ç̸̺͂u̶̩͚͊̑t̵̛͇̦̉ shreds through my skull and I almost fall to my knees.

Forcing the pain to the back of my head, I open my eyes…and see nothing. The dirty floor, not moments ago littered with the remains of dead rapists, now only sported their bloodstains and trash. In the middle of it all stands Shiki, flicking blood off her knife and gazing impassively into the darkness.

'Mawla, that was-'

'I know,' his response is immediate. 'The veil was torn once more. Thy mind is resilient thanks to thy link with the Valley, but in such proximity, an attuned mortal can do little to withstand the aftereffects. Such tampering with Allah's creation…inquire about this. Answers must be received.'

'No kidding.'

"Mind explaining!?" I ask and gesture to the empty floor. Shiki simply turns her head to me before looking down at her knife.

"I told you before," she says, her casual voice taking on a somewhat weighty tone. "I can cut through anything. Steel, stone, flesh…as long as I see or feel it, I can kill it. I wanted those bodies 'gone', so I cut them until they were 'gone'."

That was…that made absolutely no sense! What is she saying, that she can cut through…reality? That's absurd! I've seen a lot of bullshit Quirks in my admittedly short life, but nothing like this!

Maybe she just cut through space? Sending them to a pocket dimension, like Vergil does with his Yamato blade?

'And such an explanation beggars less belief than what thou hast seen with thy own eyes and felt running through thy very flesh? Are the gifts I hath bestowed upon thee any less fantastical?'

'Concealment and the Valley aren't Quirks, you said so yourself, and this is-this is-' I shake my head and a snarl escapes my lips. 'Just-just let me think for a moment, okay!?'

I manage to focus long enough to turn around. "Not here. We should leave before the cops come snooping around."

"What about her?" She points to the stoned woman, who was staring into empty space the whole time, even as a stray spatter of blood marred her. Damn, we can't leave her like this.

"Is there a phone still lying around here?" Shiki moves over to the bench the woman's on and retrieves a battered cell phone. She hands it to me and I frown as I open it. The battery's low, and there is a password, but there should be an emergency call button - ah, there!

"Help me pick her up. We'll place her outside and call the cops, and they'll take care of her." We move to her side and heft her up by the arms. Shit, she's almost skin and bones. With one arm on each shoulder, we carry her down the tunnel. Picking up my bag on the way, we climb the stairs and place her gently against the wall outside. Once I'm sure she won't fall over, I motion for Shiki to follow and head into the shadows of the streets.

When I'm positive I'm out of reach from any potential patrols, I hit the emergency call button. A few seconds later, a female voice answers.

"Hello, this is 119 emergency dispatch, how can we help you?"

I hand the phone over to Shiki and she responds with a sleepy voice. "Ah h-hello? I-I think I'm in trouble. Someone tried to hurt me and I ran away and…I think I'm going to…"

As Shiki continues her acting, I stand guard and turn up my Quirk fully. Despite the self-assurance of my enhanced hearing, my legs feel ready to bolt at the slightest twitch.

'Thy anxiety is well-heeded, contractor.'

I internally hum at my teacher's words before I hear Shiki rattle off an address and finish the call. She closes the phone and hands it to me, but I shake my head. "Let's go back for now and drop that in the river. The less evidence, the better."

After reactivating my Concealment, we head through the dark streets and away from another patrol. As we walk, I can't help but sneak furtive glances at my strange companion.

"Do you enjoy killing?"

There are blanks in my mind I can't seem to fill out when it comes to her. A rich girl, living a relatively normal life - or as normal as rich people's lives can get - with a Quirk heroes and villains alike would commit patricide and fratricide for…and she does this. I'm the last person to judge whether someone wants to be a hero or not, so I won't; but other than that, what's the deal with her? And what exactly is her Quirk, that makes even Mawla scratch his head? And most importantly, what made her go along with my mess?

Truth be told…she gave me an answer to the last one, right before we stormed Araya's apartment building.

"Death, for me, is…something that needs to happen. A pull that I cannot sway from, even if I try." Her look turns contemplative and she raises her eyes to the sky. "The one you saw me kill that night…who would miss such a man?" She then returns her gaze to me, the wistfulness only faintly remaining. "But you…you don't kill because you have to, you kill because you want to. There is a reason behind it, more than what you just said. Maybe if I see you…I can find a reason, beyond an urge to kill."

…I don't understand. I kill because I want to, yes, but that's because of a choice that I made. I told her many times I'm not into wanton slaughter.

So what is she getting at? What did she mean by an 'urge to kill'?

After taking a bit of a scenic route with many twists and turns, we reach the bridge again. The sun was almost down by now, and the first stars had begun to shine. I let out a quick exhale, and the faint sound behind tells me Shiki's just as relieved, if a bit more composed.

"We should be fine here, so you can -"

She throws the phone over the bridge and it splashes into the water.

"-do that. We didn't leave anything that could be dusted for prints so…we should be fine."

She hums in affirmation and we walk back to the bamboo grove. Once we climb the wall and find the stone trail, we start to move in the direction of the house when I stop and bite my lip.

No point in delaying it now, I guess. "There's something I want to ask you."

I drop the Concealment and turn to face her, staring her right in the eyes. "You asked me if I enjoy killing. What exactly do you mean by that?

For a moment, there is silence. Nothing but the calm spring breeze flowing through the stalks. Shiki's stare remains impassive, but then she takes off her bandana and pulls down her hood. With a soft voice, she begins to speak, all while meeting my gaze head-on.

"Remember when I told you that killing is something I…need to happen?"

"Something like that, yes."

She takes out her knife, still speckled with blood, and stares at it. An edge enters her words that were I anyone else, I wouldn't have been able to hear it.

"It's an impulse I've had since I was born. Every time I looked around me, the urge to kill them was always there. All it would take was one cut, a single tracing of those lines, and that would be it."

Lines? Is that something to do with her Quirk? Still, I remain silent. Her grip on the knife intensifies and the corners of her eyes narrow.

"My grandfather once told me, before he died, that a person can only kill once in their whole life. Any more than that and they become inhuman. Monsters that no one will accept."

"I knew, even before that, that what I felt was wrong; that when you see someone die, you shouldn't smile. So I held it back, every day. The more I did, the more everything seemed to turn gray. Life was…like treading through a shallow river, up to your knees, and the riverbank was nowhere in sight. Sometimes it still feels that way. Then…"

She lowers her arm and looks up at the canopy of leaves, shrouding the fading twilight. A wistfulness enters her voice, but the reluctance behind it is palpable.

"It…happened. There was a murder, not far from here. Some random man got stabbed and left for dead not far from the bridge. I saw his corpse, lying in a pool of blood. I should have walked away, maybe called the police. Instead…I touched his blood, felt it run down my fingers." She traces a finger along the blade, a somewhat bitter smile crossing her face. "At that moment, for the first time, the world seemed a little…brighter."

The breeze seems to go silent, even as I feel it flitting over my body. I move my fingers one by one, trying to focus on her words.

"I watch the news sometimes, and I've seen villains and criminals kill and rampage, but the only thing that came to me was disgust. They had no care for death, no regard for the lives they've taken." The thin frown is quickly replaced by that melancholy smile. "But when I killed a man for the first time, years after that pool of blood…I felt myself smiling."

Her black eyes pierce right through me as she takes a step closer and I feel my muscles tense. "I saw you kill the Pro Hero on that clip like everyone else in my school. I heard you scream at him before you set him on fire and turned him into dust. You were angry, but most people would be. I saw you doing the same to the priest, but unlike then, it wasn't just that. You were happy too."

That's…that's not…

I want to refute her, to counter her words, to say he deserved to die and the world was better off without him. But my throat clenches, dry as paper, and neither word nor sound come through. Shiki continues undeterred, taking another step.

"I never felt that urge from you, the same impulse I hold inside. I thought you held it in, but I knew you were unhappy when you couldn't look for those yakuza. Before I told you those men were rapists, you asked me what did they do to warrant death. You wouldn't kill them without a reason. When I did, I felt your happiness again. Didn't you smile when you cut that last one's throat?"

Rot in hell, kalb.

"...what is your point?" I ask, trying not to betray the roiling mess in my head. She's standing only an arm's length away, and her eyes never leave mine.

"Every killer I met and saw on the news, I couldn't stand. They kill because they want to and don't regard anything but their own satisfaction. They also enjoy killing, but that's it, and I hate them. All of them, except you." She looks me up and down before resuming. "I think…you do enjoy it, but that impulse to kill isn't really there. For that reason…I can't bring myself to hate you."

The wind's voiceless melody returns crooning to my ears, blowing stray leaves blow between us. My mouth opens and closes behind my mask as I stare at this girl. Someone who, for all accounts, I should stay away from, but that is the farthest thing from my mind… and if it is, not for the reasons one would think.

What am I supposed to say to all of that?

I muster up what little breath I suddenly have in my chest, and find my voice.

"I kill because no one else will. Whatever I think of it…" I shake my head. "Doesn't matter. No one was willing to look and realize that certain people have to die. Those who have crossed lines that should remain utterly untouched, they deserve no compassion."

My fist slowly clenches. "'Living with guilt is more of a punishment'? 'We must be better'?"

I can't help the tinge of disgust from seeping in. "No, all people care about is upholding some code to appease their standards. If those ibn-kalb cross those red lines, then that's it."

Bisogna morire, bastardo.

"If no one is truly willing to punish those who commit the unforgivable, then let me be the one to wield the knife."

That should be it. Clear cut. No room for interpretation. Then why do I feel every word scraping my tongue and weighing it down with the force of a truck?

Bisogna morire, bastardo.

No one moves for what seems like an eternity. Then, Shiki moves forward and I almost flinch, only for her to pass me by. I don't turn around; instead, I focus on her footsteps, moving further and further away -

"I hope you'll find an answer soon."

I give her a sideways glance but do nothing else. She turns her head, gives me a small, nearly imperceptible nod, and heads back home. Soon, I am left alone in this garden.

…she has the right idea. I should head home too.

I sit on the cobblestone path, bamboo shoots blocking the view of the ornate house and begin to change. As I do, Mawla makes himself known.

'Death is ordained by Allah alone, even if he gave men the power to administer it. O hallowed life, death is thy equal, two halves to form the whole. One leads to the other, through the root of all, moving in an eternal cycle.' His tone shifts from the solemnity of before. 'The girl's grandfather spoke wisdom. If death must be delivered, it must be with purpose beyond the self, to serve a greater whole. When one walks through the Valley and stands before Allah to have his fate ordained, only then will his cause be judged. The scales are weighed and his deeds examined, and it is decided if he is worthy of the Houri's soft embrace in Jannah or the Zabaniya's burning swords in Jahannam.'

What he says next nearly stops my heart, leaving a hollowness that almost swallows me whole.

'Death for death's sake is the action of a beast.

When the beast comes prowling, the hunter readies his bow

And in the end, the beast has its head mounted on a wall.'

"Mom? I'm home!"

Running water and sizzling meat embrace my senses as I close the door. Taking off my shoes I hurry into the kitchen to see my mother washing some dishes. "Ritsu, you're back! Mind telling me where you were for the past…four hours?"

The sharpness in her voice means I need to have a damn good excuse. (Un)fortunately, after depositing my bag in my room, I have a very convenient one.

"I went to Shiki's place. It was a short day so I thought - whoa!"

My mother's sudden Flash Step nearly makes me trip, and the sheer intensity of her stare is not helping my already erratic heart. "Tell me everything."

I back away and wave my hands. "I-I wanted to keep up the self-defence lessons and she agreed for a spar! It was just that!"

Her eyebrow almost hits the ceiling. "And?"

"W-well…we talked about random stuff really," I say and look away. "It got kind of philosophical along the way."

The cheshire grin she's sporting has to be an illegal weapon. Seriously, woman, why haven't you been disbarred for that!?

"Already moving onto philosophy! Why Ritsu, I didn't think she would have that much of an impact!" She grabs my shoulder and embraces me. My panicked yelp is promptly ignored and left in the lurch. "Should I be planning for a Kingdom of Heaven movie night anytime soon?"

"Whoever is up there, free me from this bondage…" I mutter, then rapidly shake my head. "It wasn't like that! It just…happened! We were both surprised when it was done!"

"You're not helping yourself here, Ritsu~" she sings. I groan at her stupid implications, but lean into her embrace.

"Whatever helps you sleep, Mom. Good to see you though." I pull away with some effort and look her up and down. Gone was the usual suit and instead some thin sweatpants and a casual blue shirt. Her hair flows freely, but a few strands stand up. "Are you doing okay at the firm? They didn't run you too ragged for staying home back then, right?"

Mom waves me off. "Pfft, nah! They were just glad I came back to work. A couple of guys there know what it's like for a relative to suffer a villain attack, so I was cut some slack. I didn't miss out on anything too special." She turns to the living room table, which is holding up a large folder, and gives it a dirty glare. "Though I have a tiny feeling this is someone's revenge for making them actually work and not nap all day."

"Tough case?" I ask and peer over her shoulder. She gives me a pinched expression while making a 'so-so' gesture with her wrist.

"Not in the way you'd think. It's mainly homework for several cases lumped up in the same category. Which reminds me," she looks down and wags her finger. "While I'm happy you're spending time with your friend, you'd better not be slacking off. Your trimester exams are in a few weeks, so you'd better prepare. We don't want crunch times a week before, do we?"

Ah, great. Another thing I have to worry about. I cannot catch a break, can I?

'Thy worldly education is paramount, mine contractor. Reduce thy time in the streets if thou must, but I shall not have thee shirk it.'

Thank you for the vote of confidence, Mawla.

I nod and she pats me on the head. "Good boy. I made enough beef soup for us both, so you're sitting with me on the couch."

Hmm, that soup does smell good…okay, I'm game.

"And bring your homework!"

Bummer.

A few minutes later I'm sitting with my mom, sipping from a bowl while going over my math homework. Mom keeps taking notes and reading from that binder, but she doesn't seem too frustrated. Mawla remains silent, though I do spot some hums of interest. Good to know my hard labor provides entertainment.

At some point, Mom mumbles something under her breath and turns on the TV. I look up from my paper and see her rapidly changing the channels until she perks up.

"There!"

I blink. "A political talk show? Since when do you listen to that crap?"

She gives me a burning side-eye. "It's material to help cover a few Quirk usage cases that landed on our desk. One of the partners thought it'd give us a better angle to tackle them. The top brass agreed, so here I am. Apparently, there's a special interview today."

The show is led by a pretty-looking woman with fluffy clouds as hair and she's rattling off the usual greetings. Eh, what the hell. At least I have a break.

"-and today we have a special guest with us, an up-and-rising star in the National Diet and head of the Hearts and Minds party, please welcome Koku Hanabata!"

The camera pans over to a tall-looking man wearing a black business suit and sunglasses. Slick hair tops his head, and a cowlick and thin pencil mustache adorn his face. The smile he's giving that anchorwoman could no doubt melt butter.

Quite the punchable face, even for a politician.

"A pleasure to be here, Mikumo-san. I'm quite the fan of your show and couldn't resist the invitation."

Charming, humble, topped with a pinch of holier-than-thou spice. He even sounds like a total asshole. Am I biased? Maybe. Do I care? Not really, no.

The woman smiles genially. "Hanabata-san, your party has stirred up quite the storm in the Diet these past years. From a local governor to a major opposition leader, it must be quite the leap!"

"I am just as shocked as you are, Mikumo-san," he replies. "When the election results came in, I almost fainted! I had to lock myself in the office for the rest of the day to ensure I wasn't dreaming!"

I roll my eyes at his dramatic swooning. A showman too? Who's he trying to fool here?

Mikumo the anchorwoman giggled at his theatrics behind a manicured hand. "Well, you've proven to our viewers and the good people of Japan your nomination was no dream. You've been a key factor in pushing welfare legislation for the past two years now, and there's been talk of you aggressively rounding up support for a new economic plan to support provincial towns. Does your hometown of Deika City stand to benefit from this plan?"

"While it is my sincere wish to help my hometown, is that not what all of us desire for our homes? Not all of us live in our magnificent capital or its many wards. Many towns are left lacking funds to refurbish their local economies and renovate their infrastructure. All cities of Japan should have the means to grow should they desire. I merely find like-minded individuals among my peers and show them the full truth, and what would happen to those towns' communities if nothing is done."

"That's very commendable, Hanabata-san. I think all we can do for now is wish you luck with that endeavor. I can imagine many citizens of the countryside would be pleased to know that someone in the government is concerned for their livelihoods."

Hanabata flashes a grin full of pearly whites and bows his head to the camera. "I am but a humble servant of the people, a trumpet of their desires. If this is their will, then what am I to do but follow it?"

I can only deadpan at the screen as applause comes roaring. Can I have some ham to go with that cheese? It's not like my sandwich is too big. "What exactly are you hoping to learn from this clown, Mom?"

Instead of shushing me like I expect, my mother tuts and wags her finger. "This is standard play for politicians, my son. He has the crowd hooked, and he's reeling in the meat. Watch and learn."

I wrinkle my nose at her words, but after a second I resign myself. Eh, might as well keep listening to this circus.

"Now, onto today's main topic: you've recently given talks about the current status of public Quirk usage, and it's been arousing some heated talks between members of the current party and your fellow opposition chairs. Would you explain to our viewers in more detail about those talks?"

"By all means, Mikumo-san." Hanabata straightens his posture and steeples his fingers on the table. "We've seen tremendous growth of Quirks over the years, both in amount and sheer power. Reports of Quirk-related accidents, unrelated to villainy and criminal activity, have been on the rise. A child is at greater risk of injuring himself or others with his borne gift than he was a generation ago, disregarding all external influences. The national body with authority regarding Quirk-related policies, our vaunted Hero Public Safety Commission, does little to address this growing issue beyond enforcing the status quo. Some voices claim their methods have grown harsher, borderline draconian. There are talks on increasing the penalties for illegal Quirk use and vigilantism, especially if bodily harm is incurred. It might seem like maintaining order, when in actuality all they're doing is merely fastening the lid to the steaming pot."

"But aren't our Quirk laws and the Hero system designed specifically to address the issue of public Quirk usage?" asks Mikumo. "By ensuring only those with the training and responsibility have the right to use their Quirks, which you admit have grown stronger by the generation?"

"That might have been the case during the Dawn of Quirks, but more than a century has passed since those chaotic times. The HPSC was formed in response to the destructive Quirk use, after adopting the Rhode Island model used by the United States. It has been their policy ever since, but what many people don't seem to realize is that we have grown as a society, and have a better understanding of our gifts."

"So you think the HPSC should lighten the current restrictions?"

His tone turns urgent as he leans on the desk, a resolute expression crossing his face. "I believe it is necessary. Quirks were bestowed upon us for a reason, and I fear that continued limitations of them will result in even more incidents, each deadlier than the last. There was an incident where a middle-schooler tried to help his parents fix their home by using his Quirk that softens wooden objects. His parents supervised him all the way, but a police officer saw what they were doing and detained the whole family. If it weren't for some skilled lawyers, the fines would be astronomical and, if those new proposals from the HPSC were active then, their child would have risked going to juvenile prison."

I frown at his words. All this just for fixing up a house?

"In order for society to fully embrace our gifts, we must strive towards their greater acceptance, with the hope for a society where Quirks can be used freely and openly."

I raise an eyebrow as hushed murmurs spring around the man. Unrestrained Quirk usage? That's a hot take.

Mom blows a low whistle as she writes in that folder. "Wow, he's pulling out the big guns." No kidding. How much of that is gutsiness or pandering?

Even Mikumo widened her eyes. "That's…quite the declaration, Hanabata-san. I'm sure many will argue against that. Some even might say the Hero system would be at risk of collapse."

Hanabata chuckles and returns to his prior smoothness. "I never said it would be easy and without turmoil. Heroes have become an indispensable part of our society, and even with the widespread usage of Quirks, an ordinary civilian does not have rescue or combat training, much less the myriad of knowledge our heroes possess. And there will always be those with wicked intentions, it is human nature and foolish to deny otherwise. There are ways to integrate a full Quirk policy with the Hero system, all it takes are minds willing to look for them."

"Not being easy sounds like an understatement. The HPSC has shut down any laws regarding loosening Quirk restrictions."

"Like all institutions, the HPSC is afraid of change. But even they must realize that sooner or later the problem will come knocking at their door, and if they do not take the correct steps, it will come wielding a battering ram. And no matter what they try, the dam they've built over the years will burst, and the rivers of change will sweep everyone to the sea. I must take the first step, else one else will."

A pause stretched over the crowd, even as people kept murmuring. The anchorwoman blinked, trying to gain her bearing before smiling. "W-well, it seems like you've quite the ambition Hanabata-san! When did you grow interested in Quirk law?"

He leans back in his chair and sighs wistfully. "I had dreamed of heroism like many in their youth, and tried to find creative applications of my Quirk to enter the academies. One must train hard if one wishes to join the ranks of those we deem elite. But as time went by, I noticed that some of the students were automatically singled out or gave up. Not for any lack of willpower, but they couldn't properly use their Quirks. Instead of growing up experimenting with them and pushing themselves to their peaks, they had to hide and limit their potential, ultimately failing to make the cut. It was then I also had the idea of raising funds for-"

The sound is muted and I see Mom has hit the remote and is scribbling away. "Let me just write some things down here…huh, this might be a tough one."

"Why?" I ask, leaning back on the couch and watching Hanabata wax on and gesture like a mime. "Did he say something important?"

"Those statements about Quirk control can come up in a lot of illegal Quirk use violations. Depending on the client, we can use that offensively or defensively, though it's more often the latter case."

"That if you don't train your Quirk early on, it can backfire later in life? Or the whole full potential bit?"

Mom hums in thought and taps her chin. "I don't know about full potential, that's something for Quirkologists and doctors to handle, but early training is important. I had you train with your Quirk when it came out so you wouldn't go deaf every time you used it, remember?"

A sudden memory flashes before in my head, of me sitting in front of Mom and she's whistling and it hurt real bad inside my head, then she'd give me a cookie every time I -

Oh yeah, she did that!

Mom sees my widening eyes and shoots a finger gun. "Gotcha. Many parents teach their kids a level of control over their Quirks, and if they do it right it won't damage their physical growth." A grimace flickers on her face as she turns away. "The less said about the other types, the better…"

"So you agree with what he's saying?" I ask and point at the screen.

She pauses to consider my question, then shakes her head. "He's got it all wrong. Even if Quirk incidents start growing, that's no reason to try and dismantle a system we know works. It's flawed, that's true, but there's no such thing as a perfect system, and this is the best we have without putting countless innocents at serious risk. If people were allowed to use their Quirks whenever and wherever, it wouldn't take long for a society to descend into absolute anarchy. One guy with the right Quirk and the wrong time with nothing in his head to stop him - boom!" She mimics an explosion and smiles. "They gave us a question like that back in law school, and my answer was something like that. Unlike swords and guns, you can't take away Quirks."

I sink into the couch's backrest and scratch my cheek. She's making some sense. I've seen enough abilities to know that just letting people use them without repercussion is a bad idea. Even a careless tantrum could create grievous harm. Sengoku Period Round 2 sounds like a plausible nightmare scenario if allowed to escalated from that. But what he said about that poor kid…that's a bit too much of a punishment. Sure, if you send a guy flying with your Quirk because he stepped on your shoe, then you deserve the cops coming after you, but using a Quirk to fix your house? What about construction? Architecture? Biology? Now that I think of it…why aren't Quirks used more widely?

I once read we should've been colonizing the Moon and Mars by now. Would that hold true even if Quirks were accepted?

'Control, contractor. It's all about control. I hast seen this before, and the idea remains the same as it always has through the ages: persuade the populace to forswear power, and they will remain compliant. Yet this is an error that borders on blasphemy.'

I must've made a noise, because Mom is looking at me. "You okay there, brat?"

Quickly nodding, I flash her a grin. "Y-yeah. Just thinking about what you said."

She quirks her eyebrow before pressing the remote and unmuting the TV.

'Blasphemy? What leap of logic is that? Last I checked, Quirks aren't in the Quran, or even the Bibles.'

'The exact wording of the scriptures is irrelevant in this case, contractor,' Mawla replies, to my growing shock. 'Mine order hath witnessed sights that the words of Muhammad, ṣallā llahu ʿalayhi wa-sallam, did not explain. From what I have managed to observe from thy eyes, these powers are not borne from a foreign influence. Allah or evolution has deemed fit to bestow mankind with abilities that idolatrous magoi would pervert nature to attain. It is therefore their duty to embrace and use them. Hmph, for all this man's distasteful appearance, his oration doth not betray falsehood under his gilding.'

My mind takes its time to absorb my teacher's words. Biting my lip, I sink into the sofa, homework paper in my hand and gaze at the TV, the politician rambling on about a future that, if I'm completely honest, I have no idea how to envision. I've seen the damage Quirks in the wrong hands can do…but what would the world be like, if we weren't so afraid?

"A world where Quirks are liberated, where our gifts are truly used."

And as the politician lifts his finger up, my thoughts roil on. And I've got no clue where to steer them.

I'm back!

We finally see what the drug lab - now poison lab - produced! Narcissus does grow in Japan, and most genera are highly poisonous. I tried to research further as to how poisons could be applied to a blade from historical records, but even though it's plausible, there aren't any written records of it. Demon Slayer gives a creative method of using poisons to fight, so I borrowed some of their methodology.

Ritsu gets more glimpses at the ramifications of his actions, a further insight into the changing world around him, and we have more Shiki! I really enjoyed writing this chapter, it really stretched my dialogue skills. I hope it doesn't sound too uptight, but I've always intended for a level of deeper introspection for Ritsu. Shiki is an excellent way to get him thinking of what he does from an outside perspective, and we see further glimpses into her character in this world.

I'd love some constructive criticism and feedback about the dialogue.

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