Emi wasn't fooled. She had spent years teaching students and had developed a fairly good understanding of the difference between indifference and controlled excitement. Shinso was absolutely thrilled to be standing there. He was simply determined not to let anyone see it. For him, this internship represented something considerably more important than a week spent following a Pro-Hero around. It was an opportunity to demonstrate that his Quirk didn't make him destined to remain in the General Course.
It was his chance to prove that he belonged in Heroics. Emi placed one hand on her hip.
"Well, Shinso, you've picked a good week to start." She pointed dramatically toward the road. "For the next seven days, you're going to follow me around Horisu City and absorb everything I have to teach you."
"Understood."
"No skipping lessons."
"Understood."
"No wandering off."
"Understood."
"No picking fights with Villains."
Shinso paused.
"…Understood."
"That pause concerns me." Emi narrowed her eyes playfully.
"I was thinking."
"That's what concerns me." She laughed before continuing toward her car. "In all seriousness, I'm going to give you the basics straight. Patrol procedures, civilian protection, situational awareness, communication, teamwork, field judgment, and everything else you need to understand before you start calling yourself a Hero."
"I'll do whatever you tell me." Shinso nodded.
"Good." Emi pointed at him. "Because if a Villain shows up, you leave them to the local Heroes or me."
"Even if I can neutralize them quickly?" Shinso frowned.
"Especially then." She folded her arms. "Brainwashing is powerful, Shinso. I know exactly how tempting it is to use it whenever you get the opportunity."
"Then why shouldn't I?"
"Because not every Villain is going to stand there and give you the perfect opening." Emi tapped his forehead. "Remember the UA Entrance Exam."
"I hate to be reminded." Shinso's expression immediately darkened. "Those robots didn't monologue."
"That's the point." Emi laughed. "The practical portion taught you a very important lesson. Villains don't always play along with your strategy. Some won't talk. Some won't answer questions. Some won't give you the trigger phrase you need. Others will simply attack you before you get the chance to activate your Quirk."
"I understand." Shinso crossed his arms.
"Good."
"Then we're on the same page." She smiled.
A week might not have sounded like much time to someone outside the situation. Shinso understood that better than anyone. He wasn't expecting Ms. Joke to somehow transform him into a fully trained Pro-Hero in seven days. That wasn't the objective. He had already missed more than a month of specialized Hero Course instruction, and no amount of intensive training could magically replace everything he had missed.
His goal was considerably simpler. He needed to prove that he could process the fundamentals. If he could demonstrate that he understood the basics of fieldwork, combat judgment, rescue procedures, and Hero responsibilities, then he would have something tangible to bring back to UA University. Something that could demonstrate that his time in the General Course hadn't made him incapable of becoming a Hero.
"I'll do my best." Shinso adjusted the strap of his bag.
"I know."
"Although I have to ask something." He glanced toward the surrounding buildings.
"Sure."
"Why are we in Horisu City? Your agency isn't even in Ehime Prefecture."
"Excellent observation." Emi stopped beside her car.
"So?" Shinso stared at her.
"This week isn't just about tutoring you." She opened the driver's door. "I've got another appointment here."
"Another appointment?" Shinso frowned.
"Yep." She climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. "And if I get called away to deal with a really big bad guy, you're going to have to do some babysitting."
"Babysitting?" Shinso stared at her.
"Exactly."
"I wasn't informed that this was part of the internship."
"That's because I enjoy surprises."
Shinso's expression suggested that he already regretted agreeing to this. It wasn't until he reached the vehicle that he understood what she meant.
The car itself was unmistakable. It was painted in a shade of green remarkably similar to Emi's hair, making it almost impossible to miss from a distance. Shinso walked toward it and opened the passenger door, although his attention was drawn toward the backseat. Someone was sitting there, small enough that she had been almost completely hidden behind the front seats.
A little girl with long bluish-white hair, striking red eyes, and a small brown horn protruding from the right side of her forehead. She looked toward Shinso with an expression of cautious curiosity, her hands resting quietly in her lap.
"Oh!"
"Shinso, I'd like you to meet Eri." Emi leaned across the front seats.
"Hello…" The girl looked toward him. Her voice was soft, meek, and barely above a whisper.
Shinso paused before returning the greeting.
"Hey." His tone was casual enough that someone unfamiliar with him might have mistaken it for dismissal. Eri didn't seem to take it that way. She simply gave a tiny nod and looked down again, clearly uncomfortable around someone she had never met before.
"Eri's going to be staying under my supervision for a while." Emi smiled.
"Why?" Shinso looked at her.
"She's learning to control her Quirk." Emi's voice became slightly more serious. "It's an exceptional ability, so she needs someone keeping an eye on her while she learns how to use it safely. She also has an appointment with a doctor tomorrow."
"I see." Shinso glanced toward Eri.
"I figured I could accommodate both of you without any problems."
"Fine by me." Shinso shrugged.
There was no objection in his voice. If anything, the situation seemed relatively straightforward to him. He placed his belongings into the trunk, closed it, and climbed into the passenger seat. Emi settled behind the wheel while Eri remained quietly in the backseat, and within another minute, they were driving toward their temporary residence.
Shinso watched the city pass through the window. His thoughts drifted toward the future. That was where they always seemed to go lately.
He had known about the Erasure Hero long before he had ever set foot inside UA University. Lockdown had become the perfect example of the kind of Hero Shinso wanted to become. Lockdown was considered the greatest Undergrounder in Japan, a Pro-Hero who didn't need giant billboards, television appearances, or roaring crowds to prove his worth. His work happened in alleys, interrogation rooms, abandoned buildings, and other places where the public rarely saw Heroes operate. That was Heroism to Shinso. The work mattered more than the applause.
Limelight heroics had never appealed to him. He had no interest in standing on a stage while crowds chanted his name. He didn't care about cameras following him around or reporters competing for interviews. He wanted to operate where his abilities were most effective, where intelligence and strategy mattered as much as raw strength, and where saving people didn't require an audience.
Dean Nezu had recognized that when he summoned Shinso and Uraraka to his office and explained that both of them would receive internships intended to determine whether they were worthy of transferring into Class 1-A and joining the Hero Course. The opportunity had come with a clear challenge: demonstrate that they possessed the potential required of Hero students despite their unconventional starting points. For Shinso, there was one obvious standard to measure himself against.
He glanced toward Emi, who was happily humming along to the radio while driving.
There was one problem. Ms. Joke was practically the definition of a Limelighter. Her Hero work was public. Her personality was enormous. Her entire fighting style revolved around her Quirk and the confusion it created in opponents, often while entertaining everyone watching. She was almost the exact opposite of Lockdown.
And yet she was the person who had been chosen to judge Shinso. He glanced into the backseat. Eri was quietly watching the scenery outside. Shinso turned toward the windshield again.
Lockdown had recommended Ms. Joke as the person capable of judging whether Shinso had what it took to make the transition into the Hero Course. That fact alone was enough to make Shinso trust her, regardless of how different their approaches to Heroism might be. Maybe she wasn't the Hero he wanted to become. Maybe she wasn't even close.
That didn't matter. She was his opportunity. His last opportunity. Shinso rested his head against the window and watched the city disappear behind them.
"I'll make it."
"Hm? Did you say something?" Emi glanced toward him.
"No."
"Alright." She smiled.
Shinso looked ahead. Inside his mind, however, the answer was clear. He had spent too long being told that his Quirk was frightening, unsuitable, or better suited for Villainy. He had spent too long watching other students receive opportunities he could only dream about. Now someone had finally opened the door.
He wasn't going to waste it. The future was finally within reach. And Hitoshi Shinso intended to snatch it with both hands.
-)(-
The faculty meeting had been proceeding like any other when Hawks arrived with information that immediately changed the atmosphere of the room. The Wing Hero had requested a private audience with the most trustworthy Pro-Heroes at UA University, making it clear that what he intended to discuss wasn't something that could simply be passed around the faculty lounge. There were no reporters outside, no Commission representatives sitting in on the conversation, and certainly no official briefing documents. Hawks had come alone, carrying something that the Hero Public Safety Commission desperately wanted kept out of the public eye.
"Where did you get something this classified?"
"Let's just say I have a fan among the Commission's agents. I try to keep people like that worth talking to." Hawks gave a crooked grin.
The joke received little laughter. Hawks understood why and produced the footage.
The recording came from a surveillance drone operated by the Hero Public Safety Commission, showing a convoy transporting the Smoke Villain known as Fumator toward Tartarus. The Villain had been captured only recently by Webjack, and the convoy had been heavily secured for precisely that reason. Fumator wasn't considered an insignificant criminal anymore. A Vigilante had taken him down, and the Commission wanted him locked away before he could return to the streets. Police vehicles surrounded the prisoner transport while a covert team of Pro-Heroes accompanied the convoy, prepared for any attempt at interception.
Then the attack began from a sniper who could not be seen and seemed to come from every angle.
The footage became chaotic as the officers attempted to respond, although the attackers moved with frightening precision. The woman cut through the convoy's defenses without causing a single fatality, disabling officers and a Pro-Hero alike with deliberate shots that left them incapacitated rather than dead. Her movements were practiced, efficient, and completely devoid of hesitation. She reached Fumator's transport, freed the imprisoned Villain, and prepared to disappear.
Then she looked directly toward the surveillance drone. The recording jolted. A single shot destroyed the camera. The screen went black.
"That was Lady Nagant." The statement came from Nezu.
There was no uncertainty in his voice. The faculty knew exactly what that meant.
Lady Nagant had once been one of the Commission's most celebrated operatives before becoming one of its most dangerous enemies. She had escaped Tartarus under circumstances that remained mysterious, and the revelation that she was now actively freeing Villains elevated the situation from disturbing to catastrophic. Whatever Nagant intended to do with her newfound freedom, she was no longer merely a fugitive. She had demonstrated that she possessed the ability to attack secure prisoner transports, defeat trained personnel, and vanish before the authorities could respond.
"How long has the Commission known?" Nezu's question was directed toward Hawks.
"Long enough." Hawks' expression had become considerably more serious. "The footage was recovered before the drone went down. The Commission doesn't want this released."
"Understandable." Nezu's eyes remained fixed on the frozen image of Nagant. "What I don't understand is why they wouldn't tell the other Pro-Heroes."
That was the question everyone in the room was thinking. A Fallen Heroine had attacked a prisoner convoy. She had freed a Villain. She had assaulted Police officers and a Pro-Hero. She had escaped.
Under ordinary circumstances, that would be enough to trigger an immediate nationwide manhunt. Every Hero Agency should have received her description. Every major city should have been placed on alert. Intelligence networks should have been scouring the country for any trace of her.
Instead, the Commission had hidden the incident.
Hawks lowered his gaze.
"You didn't hear this from me either…" His voice became grim. "The Commission wants to handle Nagant themselves. And I don't think it's to put her back in Tartarus."
The room grew colder.
A year ago, several of the Heroes sitting there would have immediately rejected the implication. The Commission had always been controversial, certainly, yet its authority existed because Hero Society required some institution capable of regulating Pro-Heroes and protecting the public from threats that individual agencies couldn't manage.
Now they knew better.
The truth had been uncovered months ago. They had learned what the Commission was capable of doing, what it had concealed, and how deeply its methods were woven into the supposedly pristine image of Hero Society. The idea that the Commission might want Nagant dead wasn't difficult to believe anymore.
In fact, it was almost predictable. Nagant knew too much. She had been inside the machine. She knew where its bodies were buried because she had once been one of the people ordered to bury them. If she began speaking publicly, the Commission's carefully maintained image could collapse beneath the weight of everything it had spent years concealing.
"So they're going after her." All Might's expression hardened.
Hawks said nothing. Nobody needed him to. There was another problem.
"Nagant didn't simply attack the convoy." Nezu folded his paws together. "She freed Fumator."
The implication was obvious. Lady Nagant wasn't operating alone anymore. She was collecting people. Recruiting criminals. Building something.
"She's building a syndicate." Ectoplasm voiced the thought aloud.
"That is the most reasonable conclusion." Nezu nodded slowly.
Yet something about it bothered him. Nagant was too experienced to make unnecessary mistakes. Freeing Fumator was reckless. Not because the operation itself had failed—it hadn't—but because Fumator had been captured so easily in the first place by Webjack.
Nezu's eyes narrowed. There was a detail buried within the timeline. A detail that refused to fit.
Fumator's rampage had taken place in precisely the same area where Izuku Midoriya had been present while the Wild, Wild Pussycats were investigating the possibility that the young inventor was secretly Webjack.
Midoriya had been cleared. Not completely. The investigation had established that he wasn't Webjack himself, at least not in the most literal sense. The evidence simply didn't support the idea that the teenage inventor was secretly wearing the mask.
Yet his connection to Webjack remained difficult to ignore. His extraordinary technical knowledge. His Support Gear. His suspiciously advanced inventions. His proximity to multiple incidents involving the Vigilante. Nezu had never been comfortable with coincidences. And now another one had appeared.
'What if it wasn't a coincidence?' His mind began connecting pieces.
Fumator's appearance. Midoriya's location. The Pussycats' investigation. Webjack's continued anonymity. The fact that Midoriya could potentially provide the Vigilante with technology.
A ridiculous theory began taking shape. Nezu didn't speak it. Not yet.
'What if Fumator's rampage was orchestrated?' The possibility sounded absurd.
Fumator could have been deliberately placed in that location to create the appearance that Midoriya had nothing to do with Webjack. If Midoriya were present during an incident caused by another Villain, then the investigation could naturally conclude that he couldn't possibly be the Vigilante.
Except there was another possibility. Midoriya didn't have to be Webjack. He could be helping him. That theory was considerably more plausible. Still, he wasn't willing to accuse a student without stronger evidence. An accusation from someone in his position could ruin Midoriya's life, and Nezu refused to allow his suspicions to become facts simply because they were interesting.
'I need more pieces.'
"For now, our priority should be locating Lady Nagant." He finally looked toward the other faculty members.
Several Heroes nodded.
"If we find her before the Commission does, we need to make something very clear." Nezu's expression softened. "We are not her enemies."
He looked toward Hawks.
"She needs to understand that we are willing to protect her."
"Convincing her that we're on her side is the ultimate agenda." Hawks nodded.
"Yes. Because if the Commission reaches her first, I doubt we'll ever hear what she knows." Nezu's gaze hardened.
The problem was that locating Nagant would be easier said than done. She had been trained by the Commission itself. Espionage. Surveillance. Counter-surveillance. Infiltration. Disguise. Escape.
Every trick used to find someone had been taught to her so that she could become someone who could never be found. Lady Nagant wasn't merely hiding. She had been trained to become a ghost. And ghosts were notoriously difficult to arrest. The meeting eventually moved on, although Hawks remained quieter than usual. Nobody in the room knew the full truth behind his silence.
They couldn't.
Hawks was trapped between two worlds. To the Heroes sitting around that table, he was an informant risking himself to expose the Commission. That much was true. What they didn't know was how deeply his leash remained embedded around his neck.
Lady Nagant had been the Commission's weapon. Hawks was her successor. He had never asked for that position. He had never wanted to become an executioner.
The Commission had recruited him when he was still a child, shaping his life around their needs until obedience became indistinguishable from survival. They had given him a purpose, trained him to become a Hero, and quietly transformed him into something much darker whenever their definition of a threat required it.
Heroes who endangered the Commission's perfect image. People who knew too much. Problems that couldn't be solved publicly. Hawks dealt with them. He hated it. He had always hated it.
Then Nagant escaped.
That single event had cracked the cage around him. Her disappearance had exposed enough of the Commission's hidden nature that people like All Might and the UA faculty were finally willing to question the institution they had trusted.
Hawks had seen an opportunity in that revelation. A way out.
The Heroes were beginning to understand. They were beginning to resist. And Hawks could help them. The price was terrifying. The Commission still had his mother. If they discovered what he was doing—if they learned that he was secretly helping the Heroes dismantle the organization from within—they wouldn't simply punish him.
They would make him watch his mother suffer for his betrayal. That threat kept him obedient. It also kept him desperate.
'I can't let them find out.' Hawks kept his expression calm.
In reality, some of the UA faculty, like Present Mic, already suspect him of being the Commission's new hitman, so they don't fully trust him. Hawks doesn't have it in him to tell them the truth and face their judgment. It's enough for now that he was allowed to be in on this rebellion.
Hawks can prove he's serious about this by making sure the Rebellion being spearheaded by All Might succeeds.
He had to keep feeding the Commission enough information to maintain their trust while quietly giving the Heroes enough information to undermine them. Every conversation became a balancing act. Every report could become evidence against him. Every secret passed between allies could become a death sentence if the wrong person discovered it.
It was a dangerous game. One mistake could cost lives. One betrayal could destroy everything. Hawks looked around the room at the Heroes who were finally preparing to challenge the institution they had once trusted without question. He couldn't tell them everything. He couldn't afford to. Yet he could give them what they needed.
Piece by piece. Secret by secret. Until the Commission was no longer powerful enough to control the people it had spent generations manipulating.
'Win.' That was the only outcome that mattered.
For himself. For Nagant. For his mother. For every person, the Commission had sacrificed to preserve its precious image. Hawks lowered his eyes and allowed his usual carefree smile to return. Nobody in the room could see the cage around him. That was the point.
A bird that wanted to escape couldn't afford to let its captor know it was closer to the key than ever before.
-)(-
For all the chaos that Villains routinely brought to Musutafu, the city was surprisingly tame when it came to the more discreet forms of criminal activity. Robberies, assaults, public Quirk-related incidents, and other crimes still happened with enough regularity to keep the local Pro-Heroes busy, although anyone looking for a city where criminal organizations could quietly establish themselves would be better off looking elsewhere.
Musutafu had UA University sitting practically in its backyard, and that meant the city had an unusually high concentration of highly trained Heroes and Hero students. More importantly, Undergrounders such as Lockdown primarily operated after dark, quietly dismantling criminal operations before most civilians even knew they existed. The smarter Villains understood that discretion was survival and avoided conducting sensitive business anywhere near UA's territory.
That didn't mean Musutafu lacked places where criminals could gather. Every city had secrets. Some of Musutafu's were simply better hidden than others.
A bar was perhaps the most obvious place that intelligent criminals would avoid using as a rendezvous. Public establishments attracted attention, cameras, curious civilians, and, eventually, Heroes. A room full of suspicious-looking criminals drinking together was practically an invitation for law enforcement. Consequently, anyone with half a brain would assume that a secret Villain gathering place wouldn't resemble a bar at all.
Which was precisely why this one did.
Hidden behind layers of secrecy and known only through the Japanese Underworld's private network, the establishment operated as a neutral ground where criminals could meet without immediately worrying about a Pro-Hero crashing through the door. Some came to discuss business. Others negotiated deals. A few simply wanted somewhere they could complain about their lives without being judged by people who actually had respectable careers. The clientele was as varied as the criminal world itself, ranging from ordinary-looking Humans to Heteromorphs whose appearances would have attracted immediate suspicion elsewhere.
The bar was, surprisingly, rather nice.
The lighting was warm, the furniture was comfortable, the counters were polished, and the walls had been decorated with enough taste to make the place feel less like a den of criminals and more like an upscale establishment whose owners had simply chosen a very questionable customer base.
Then again, criminals could have class.
Himiko Toga entered without her Vigilante costume.
Today, she wore the outfit she preferred when she wasn't playing the role of Kat-astrophe: a simple seifuku that made her look considerably more like an ordinary schoolgirl than one of Japan's more infamous young Vampires. Her blonde hair was styled in her favored manner, and without her mask, claws, and Vigilante equipment, she looked almost absurdly harmless.
Almost.
Two guards stood near the entrance, both watching her approach carefully. Neither immediately recognized her, which wasn't particularly surprising. Toga had disappeared from the criminal world after her first infamous incident, when she had attacked a classmate and drained enough blood to leave the victim suffering from severe hypovolemia. The incident had made her a subject of whispered rumors, though she hadn't remained active long enough for most criminals to develop a personal familiarity with her. Vampires were different. Once one of them struck, people remembered.
"You're still underage." One of the guards looked Toga over.
"I'm just here to talk to Giran." Toga shrugged.
"That's it?" The guard frowned.
"Yep."
"He's expecting you?"
"He's been calling me for a while." She pulled out her phone and waved it casually. "Figured I should probably answer eventually."
The two guards exchanged a look.
"Fine. Go ahead." One sighed.
"Thanks!" Toga skipped past them with a cheerful smile.
Neither guard seemed particularly eager to argue with a Vampire who had apparently been invited by one of the most important Brokers in the Japanese Underworld.
Inside, Toga paid them no attention. The bar was busy.
Criminals occupied tables throughout the establishment, some speaking quietly over drinks while others exchanged documents, discussed jobs, or simply socialized. A pair of Heteromorphs argued about the quality of a recent robbery while someone at the counter laughed loudly enough to draw several annoyed looks. Another group had gathered around a table covered in photographs and maps, apparently planning something that was almost certainly illegal.
Toga ignored all of it. She had come for one person. It didn't take long to find him.
Giran was sitting toward the back of the establishment, having just finished negotiating a deal with a Heteromorph whose appearance resembled that of an enormous cockroach. The man had a vaguely humanoid frame covered in dark chitin, long antennae protruding from his head, and several other insectoid features that made him stand out even among the bar's unusual clientele. He seemed satisfied with whatever agreement Giran had offered and departed shortly afterward, leaving the Broker alone.
Giran was a middle-aged man of moderate height whose eyebrows always seemed to be raised slightly, giving him an expression of perpetual curiosity or mild concern. His pink eyes were notably narrow, almost permanently squinting beneath those expressive brows, while his short gray hair was parted toward the right, with side bangs hanging above his eyes.
A small mustache framed his upper lip, accompanied by a neatly maintained goatee on his chin. He dressed considerably better than most people would expect from someone whose profession involved connecting criminals with other criminals, wearing matching dress pants and a blazer, plain black shoes, and a shirt left partially unbuttoned around the collar.
He looked more like a businessman than an Underworld Broker. That was probably the point.
Giran reached into his pocket and produced a cigarette. He placed it between his lips before pulling out a lighter shaped like a small handgun. With a practiced motion, he flicked it open and ignited the cigarette, the tiny flame illuminating his face for a moment before disappearing.
"Hey, Giran." Toga walked toward him.
"There you are." The Broker glanced up. He leaned back in his chair. "I was beginning to wonder whether you were going to answer any of my calls."
"I've been busy." Toga pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down without asking permission.
"I noticed." Giran took another drag from his cigarette. "For a while, anyway."
"What do you mean?" Toga tilted her head.
"The bodies." Giran gestured vaguely with the cigarette.
"Ah." Toga's smile became slightly sheepish.
"Your little feeding spree was getting rather noticeable." He narrowed his eyes. "Then, suddenly, it stopped."
"I stopped hunting." Toga rested her chin against her hand.
"I gathered that."
"Nagy's been giving me blood bags."
"Has she now?" Giran paused.
"Yep." Toga smiled. "That explains the sudden disappearance of hypovolemia cases." She gets them for me, so I don't have to go looking for people anymore."
"That sounds like her," Giran nodded slowly.
"I didn't want all that attention." She shrugged. "People were starting to notice."
"People usually do when someone keeps leaving them with severe blood loss."
"I know." Toga sighed. "It's actually been kind of boring."
"You consider hunting people less boring than drinking from blood bags?" Giran stared at her.
"Obviously." She smiled brightly. "But the blood bags are safer."
"Safer for everyone else, perhaps."
"That's the idea."
"Figured as much." Giran took another drag from his cigarette.
"So why'd you call me?" Toga leaned forward.
Giran didn't answer immediately. Instead, he watched her for a moment, as though deciding how much of the conversation needed to be handled carefully. Eventually, he lowered his cigarette and rested one arm against the table.
"That's what I wanted to discuss."
"If it's about Stainy, I'm in." Toga's expression immediately brightened.
Her enthusiasm lasted approximately two seconds.
"If it's about the League, then no."
"You've already decided?" Giran's eyebrow rose.
"Yep."
"You haven't even heard the offer."
"I don't need to." Toga leaned back. "Stainy is interesting. The League isn't."
Giran chuckled.
"Haven't you been paying attention to the news?"
"I pay attention to Stainy."
"Then you should know that Stain and the League are allies now."
"Any true fan of Stainy knows that Stainy works alone." Toga shrugged.
"And you believe you understand him that well?" Giran smiled faintly.
"Of course." Toga's tone became unusually confident. "Stainy kills Heroes because he thinks the Hero system is full of fakes. He wants Heroes to become more like All Might and is only trying to scare the majority into doing their jobs better."
She tapped the table with one finger.
"The League wants to kill Heroes because they want Villains to take over the world."
"There's a slight distinction there."
"It's a gigantic distinction." Toga leaned forward. "Even if Stainy decided to indulge them for a while, he'd kill them himself the second he decided they were truly evil."
"You're surprisingly confident about that." Giran couldn't help smiling.
"I know Stainy." Toga shrugged. "I'll stick with Naggy, thank you very much."
Giran laughed softly.
There was something almost refreshing about hearing her say it so casually. Toga's understanding of Stain was certainly romanticized, filtered through the admiration of someone who had turned the Hero Killer into an icon rather than viewing him as the dangerous murderer he objectively was. Still, she had managed to identify something that many others hadn't.
The League and Stain were not pursuing the same ultimate goal. The distinction mattered. Unfortunately, most of the people flooding toward the League didn't understand it. Giran had seen them. Low-tier Villains and angry civilians.
People who had become dissatisfied with Hero Society and wanted someone to blame. People who had heard Stain's speeches and convinced themselves that joining the League meant inheriting his ideals. They came looking for revolution and found something considerably darker waiting for them. Some were desperate. Others were simply foolish. A few were genuinely convinced that they were helping create a better world.
Giran knew better. He had already watched enough of them walk through the Underworld's doors.
One of them had been a particularly memorable example: Shuichi Iguchi, a frustrated Gecko Heteromorph who had gone so far as to dress himself like Stain in an attempt to demonstrate his devotion to the Hero Killer's cause. Giran had watched countless others do similar things, convinced that the League represented the continuation of Stain's philosophy.
It didn't.
Giran felt bad for some of them. He really did.
The Underworld wasn't exactly known for compassion, although Giran had never been entirely comfortable watching dissatisfied people throw themselves toward something they didn't understand. Still, business was business. If those people discovered the truth—that the League wasn't offering them Stain's vision but rather an opportunity to sell their souls to something far more destructive—Giran's entire relationship with the organization could become a problem.
He couldn't afford that.
"Well, if the League is out of the question…" Giran tapped ash from his cigarette.
"Then what?" Toga watched him.
"There's something else I want to talk to you about." Giran leaned forward slightly.
"And?" Toga's curiosity returned.
"I need you to pass a message along."
"To Naggy?"
"Exactly. It's a bigger deal than people realize since it's not just the League." Giran's words immediately pulled Toga's attention back toward him. The Broker took another drag from his cigarette, allowing the smoke to drift lazily toward the ceiling before continuing.
His expression had changed since they began discussing the League, losing some of its casual amusement in favor of something considerably more cautious. Toga recognized the look. Giran didn't usually bother making a serious face unless whatever he was discussing had the potential to become someone else's problem very quickly.
"There is another organization making its way into Japan," He said. "They're called the Octet."
"Never heard of them." Toga tilted her head.
"Most people haven't." Giran leaned back. "That's because they've spent most of their time in America."
That caught her attention.
According to Giran, the Octet wasn't some newly assembled group of petty criminals who had decided that Japan looked like a convenient place to establish themselves. They had already made a name for themselves across the Pacific, and not in a particularly subtle fashion. Their activities in the United States had created enough trouble to put them on the radar of the American Hero establishment, with several high-ranking Heroes killed during their operations. One of those casualties had been the United States' number-four-ranked Hero.
"That's pretty impressive." Toga whistled softly.
"That's one word for it." Giran's eyes narrowed. "They escaped before America's Champion could capture them."
"Remind me, who is that again?" Toga asked with disinterest.
"Star and Stripe. I don't blame you for not knowing much about what goes on outside of this country," Giran mused.
The name carried considerable weight. Star and Stripe wasn't merely another highly ranked Pro-Hero. She was America's Champion, a Hero whose reputation had been built upon extraordinary power, military experience, and a record of confronting threats that would have sent most other Heroes running in the opposite direction. Escaping her was the sort of accomplishment that could make even the most arrogant criminal pause.
"Anyone who claims they escaped All Might's capture has my attention. Anyone who actually escaped Star and Stripe has earned it." Giran gave a small shrug.
"So, what are they doing here?"
"That's the interesting part." Giran's cigarette rested between two fingers. "I asked their leader."
"And?"
"I didn't get an answer." Giran's expression became faintly amused. "She gave me something, though."
"What?" Toga leaned closer.
"She said she intended to 'expand my empire at my doorstep." Giran smiled.
"That's ominous." Toga stared at him.
"That's what I thought."
There was another interesting detail. The Octet's leader was Japanese. At least, Giran assumed she was. He hadn't been able to identify her beneath the armor.
"She was completely covered," He explained. "High-tech armor. Magenta. No exposed skin, no recognizable features, nothing."
"Sounds flashy." Toga imagined it.
"Very, and she's probably rich too," Giran teased.
She had paid Giran considerably more than the League ever had to help supply her organization with personnel, and unlike many of his clients, she hadn't haggled over the price. Whatever the Octet's ultimate objective happened to be, their leader possessed enough resources to build an organization capable of pursuing it.
"I'm still with Naggy." Toga leaned back in her chair. "Her endgame is taking down Hero Society."
"Then perhaps you should hear what the Octet wants," Giran smirked.
"What?" Toga raised an eyebrow.
"They want to take down the Hero Public Safety Commission."
"So does Naggy." That didn't impress her.
"Not exactly." Giran's smile widened. "They don't just want to destroy it. They want to take it over."
"Oh." She grew interested.
"From the inside." Now Giran had her.
The idea was considerably more interesting than another organization simply wanting to blow up government buildings or assassinate the people running the Commission. Taking over the institution itself meant gaining access to the machinery that controlled Hero Society: its resources, intelligence networks, regulations, political influence, and the systems responsible for overseeing Pro-Heroes throughout Japan.
"That's clever." Toga slowly smiled.
"I thought you'd say that."
"Naggy doesn't have many allies yet."
"Exactly." Giran tapped ash from his cigarette. "She's building her network slowly. Her connections are limited, and every new ally takes time to secure. The Octet already has money, personnel, technology, and an objective that overlaps with hers."
"Still sticking with Naggy." Toga rested her chin against her palm.
"I wasn't asking you to abandon her." Giran chuckled. "I'm asking you to tell her there's another player on the board."
He took another drag.
"Things are changing."
"How so?" Toga watched him.
Giran's eyes drifted toward the rest of the bar.
The Underworld had changed considerably in a remarkably short period of time. Criminals had once operated under the assumption that Heroes were the overwhelming force in Japan. That wasn't entirely wrong. The Hero system possessed more manpower, more resources, more legal authority, and considerably more public support than the average Villain organization could ever hope to acquire.
Then Webjack appeared.
"The Webbed Wonder changed everything."
"That's kind of Jackie's thing." Toga smiled at the nickname.
"Villains are disappearing. Among other things." Giran nodded.
He gestured around the bar.
"Crime hasn't vanished. Far from it. Yet Villains are being arrested, intimidated, or simply deciding that certain activities aren't worth the risk. Webjack has done more to reduce the number of active Villains than most of the Pros ever managed."
"He's good." Toga's smile widened.
"He's frighteningly good." Giran's amusement faded. "That's a double-edged sword."
He glanced toward the entrance.
"Every time Webjack defeats another criminal, the Heroes lose a little more of their edge. People are starting to compare them."
"Not very flattering for the Heroes."
"Not at all."
Webjack had become an uncomfortable measuring stick.
The Pro-Heroes were supposed to represent the pinnacle of public safety, yet a masked Vigilante with no legal authority had repeatedly accomplished things that challenged that assumption. He wasn't merely beating criminals. He was doing so with an efficiency that made some professional Heroes look slow by comparison. Every victory strengthened his reputation while simultaneously making the established Hero system look less competent.
It was an extraordinary double-edged sword.
Fewer Villains meant fewer criminals terrorizing civilians.
The growing reputation of a Vigilante meant fewer people trusted the Heroes to handle the job.
"Strange, isn't it? The Webbed Wonder is making Japan safer while simultaneously making Hero Society weaker." Giran gave a quiet laugh.
"Sounds like a win-win." Toga shrugged.
"For civilians, perhaps." Giran's eyes narrowed. "For the Underworld, it's an opportunity."
He tapped the cigarette against the ashtray.
"If Villains play their cards correctly, they might actually have a chance against All Might."
"Really?" Toga looked genuinely intrigued.
"Maybe." Giran wasn't foolish enough to guarantee it. "Between the League and the Octet, we've got two organizations with leaders ambitious enough to try."
"And you think one of them could actually pull it off?"
"I think it's possible."
That was all he was willing to say. Giran wasn't a revolutionary. He was a Broker. His job was to understand where the wind was blowing and position himself accordingly. He didn't need to believe in any particular ideology. He simply needed to recognize opportunities before everyone else did.
"And I'd appreciate it," He continued, "if you or Nagant could arrange a meeting with the Octet's leader."
Toga considered the request.
"I'll talk to Naggy."
"Good."
"But where am I supposed to find these new baddies? "
"Unlike the League, the Octet shouldn't be difficult to locate." Giran smiled.
"Really?"
"They want to be found."
"That's weird." Toga frowned.
"Very." Giran leaned back. "And it'll be a bad day for the Heroes if they find the Octet first."
He paused.
"Possibly their last."
"Cryptic as always." Toga stared at him.
Giran gave her an innocent shrug.
"Whatever." Toga groaned. She stood from her chair and stretched. "I'll tell Naggy."
"You do that."
Toga turned away from him and started toward the exit. She made it several steps before stopping.
"Actually…"
Giran looked up. Toga reached into her clothing and produced a small bottle. The container held the same strange red substance Izuku had discovered earlier. She placed it on the table.
Giran's eyes immediately locked onto it. His cigarette stopped halfway to his mouth.
"Where did you get that?"
"That's why I came." Toga smiled.
The Broker carefully picked up the bottle without shaking it, examining the crimson liquid through the glass. Whatever humor had remained on his face disappeared almost immediately. He knew exactly what he was looking at, and that knowledge made his sudden caution considerably more noticeable.
Toga explained that she had encountered a few idiots who had tried to mug her. The attempted robbery had gone about as well as anyone familiar with Toga's abilities would have expected. The would-be attackers had quickly discovered that targeting a Vampire who happened to be a Vigilante was an exceptionally poor career decision.
One of the criminals, however, had apparently become angry that she resisted.
"So, this guy pulls one of these out." Toga pointed at the bottle. "And drinks it."
"And?" Giran's eyes narrowed.
"He got stronger."
"How much stronger?"
"Enough that I noticed." She shrugged. "Still wasn't enough to beat me."
Toga's curiosity had immediately been piqued. She had seen enhancement drugs before, and she knew what Trigger looked like in action. This wasn't Trigger. The man's physical abilities had changed in a way that felt fundamentally different, and she wanted answers.
Unfortunately, the criminals hadn't exactly been cooperative.
"I tried asking them where they got it, but I killed them too quickly."
"Of course you did."
"So, I figured you'd know." Toga smiled.
"You have no idea what you've stumbled across, do you?" Giran started chuckling. Not because the situation was funny. Because he finally understood what had happened.
"Nope." Toga shook her head.
"That's Baraka." Giran placed the bottle back onto the table.
"The stuff from the Kraven Legend?" Toga's eyes widened.
"Exactly." He leaned back, looking more amused by the second. "The Octet is bringing it into Japan."
"They made it?" Toga stared at the bottle.
"They're selling it."
"To who?"
"Anyone who can afford it." Giran's expression became almost cynical. "Though don't expect street thugs to receive the good stuff."
He explained that Baraka was the Octet's opening product, the foundation of the empire they intended to build in Japan. The serum could transform ordinary people into physically enhanced Super Soldiers, although the product being distributed to small-time criminals was apparently a diluted or weaker version. The stronger formulations were reserved for people important enough to justify the expense.
"Wait." Toga's mind immediately jumped somewhere else. She pointed at him. "Stainy."
"What about him?" Giran's eyebrow rose.
"Did he get one of the good ones?"
She leaned closer.
"There's a rumor that Stainy fought Jackie before the Sports Festival disaster."
"And?" Giran's expression became thoughtful.
"As awesome as Stainy is, beating Jackie seems pretty unlikely." Toga shrugged.
Giran couldn't argue with that.
"I have no idea whether Stain ever contacted the Octet." He tapped the table. "However, if Stain fought Webjack and walked away without being permanently put down, Baraka would explain it."
"So it's not just the serum." Toga's eyes gleamed.
"No." Giran's smile vanished. "The Octet has technology, too."
"How good?"
"Very."
The Broker explained that some of the equipment he'd seen was far too sophisticated to have been developed by an ordinary criminal organization. The technology appeared to have originated from I-Island, the global center of cutting-edge Support Gear and scientific research. Somehow, the Octet had acquired technology that should have been tightly controlled.
"Which means their Mistress isn't simply rich." Giran's eyes narrowed. "She's cunning. Give it time. If the Octet keeps distributing Baraka, it'll probably outsell Trigger."
"Really?" Toga looked surprised.
"The effects last longer." He held up one finger. "There are two major catches."
Toga waited.
"First, if your body isn't strong enough to withstand the strain, the serum kills you."
"That's pretty bad." She nodded.
"Second, it doesn't directly enhance your Quirk."
"So it's purely physical?" Toga's smile returned.
"And it also boosts your senses, which is always useful." Giran glanced toward the bottle again.
"That's all I needed to hear." Toga took the bottle back and tucked it away. "I'll talk to Naggy."
"Good." Giran nodded.
Toga started walking toward the exit again. This time, Giran called after her.
"Toga."
She looked over her shoulder.
"If you're going to snoop around like you always do, restrain your curiosity this time." He pointed his cigarette toward her. "Otherwise, curiosity might kill the cat."
"Whatever." Toga rolled her eyes.
She walked out of the bar, leaving Giran behind with nothing but his cigarette, his thoughts, and the growing certainty that Japan's criminal underworld was entering a new era.
-)(-
Toga left the bar without any trouble. She didn't even bother stopping for a drink, despite the establishment offering considerably more than alcohol to its criminal clientele. There were beverages available for people who didn't want to risk waking up with a headache or making questionable decisions while already surrounded by criminals, although Toga had more important things to worry about. She slipped into the alleyways of Musutafu instead, keeping to the shadows as she always did. Without her Vigilante costume, she couldn't exactly walk down the street without attracting unwanted attention, particularly when the police and Heroes were actively searching for Kat-astrophe. Fortunately, Toga had never been bothered by staying out of sight.
She stopped several blocks away.
"That conversation didn't last nearly as long as I thought it would." Izuku suddenly appeared beside her.
One moment, there was nothing; the next, Webjack was standing beside her as though he had simply materialized from thin air. His mask concealed his expression, although the tiredness in his voice made his experience fairly obvious.
"So, how was being inside a bar exclusive to Villains for the first time?" Toga teased.
"Shockingly more elegant than the regular ones I've snuck into to spy on Police and Undergrounders," Izuku mused.
Izuku slowly dropped the invisible field around his body, allowing his emerald Psi-Webs to shimmer faintly around him before disappearing back beneath his costume. He stretched his shoulders, almost as though he had been standing still for hours rather than following Toga through a criminal establishment. Remaining invisible for an extended period wasn't physically impossible for him anymore, although it was exhausting in a way he had learned to respect. Maintaining his vibration-based invisibility required concentration, and concentration became increasingly unpleasant when combined with the strain of keeping his body moving naturally while his senses were constantly processing information.
Still, the opportunity had been worth it.
"I've wanted to meet Giran for months," Izuku admitted. "Or, technically, meet him without punching through a wall and giving everyone inside a reason to panic."
"You liked him?" Toga giggled.
"He's exactly what I expected. A true professional who treats organized crime like a business." Izuku glanced back toward the direction of the bar. "I can respect the professionalism."
Izuku had known about the hidden bar for roughly a month. He had discovered its existence while digging through the Underworld's networks, although knowing where it was and actually entering it were two very different things. The establishment's security was exceptional. Whoever operated the place had taken the concept of secrecy seriously enough to account for abilities that could bypass ordinary surveillance. Cameras weren't the only concern. The building had systems designed to detect concealed weapons, unusual movement, and even individuals capable of turning invisible.
Infrared sensors had been one of the biggest problems.
A conventional invisible person might have been able to walk straight past a camera, yet their body would still radiate heat. With the right equipment, invisibility was little more than an inconvenience. The guards at the bar were prepared for exactly that kind of intrusion, which was why Izuku had avoided attempting a break-in until he had a reliable countermeasure.
Fortunately, he had his EM Belt that helped him again.
"The belt helped us against Ragdoll's low-tier omnipresence, so evading pesky sensors is a breeze." Izuku tapped the device concealed beneath his costume.
"Goody," Toga tilted her head.
The EM Belt generated a carefully controlled electromagnetic field around his body, allowing him to manipulate the electromagnetic signals that would otherwise expose him. While invisible, Izuku could use it to mask his thermal signature and interfere with other forms of electronic detection. It wasn't perfect, and he certainly wasn't arrogant enough to assume that it would defeat every conceivable security system, although against the equipment protecting Giran's bar, it had done exactly what he needed.
"Those infrared sensors couldn't pick me up," Izuku explained. "Neither could anything else they were using to detect invisible intruders."
"So you can sneak in whenever you want." Toga grinned.
"Pretty much." Izuku nodded. "Which means I can come back. Spy on criminals. Gather intelligence. I'm busting Villain operations nationwide."
The hidden bar represented something he hadn't possessed when he first became Webjack: access. He could fight criminals all day, confiscate weapons, intercept robberies, and dismantle small operations, yet fighting the Underworld only dealt with what appeared on the surface. The bar was different. Criminals went there to negotiate. They exchanged information, recruited people, discussed organizations, and sometimes bragged about things they thought nobody outside their circles would ever hear.
It was practically a library of criminal intelligence, and Izuku had a way to walk through its doors without anyone knowing he was there.
"At least we have a lead."
"The Octet." Toga looked toward him.
"That's the name Giran gave us." Izuku folded his arms.
He had been paying close attention to criminal activity outside Japan, particularly in the United States. His obsession with Heroics meant that international incidents rarely escaped his notice. The United States had some of the most powerful Heroes on the planet, and anything significant happening there usually generated enough coverage to reach Japanese media within hours.
Yet the Octet had somehow slipped beneath his radar.
"That's weird."
"What?"
"If they really killed one of America's top Heroes, I should've heard about them." Izuku shook his head. "The U.S. Hero rankings aren't exactly obscure information. An organization capable of killing the #4 Hero should have made international headlines."
"Maybe you missed it."
"I don't miss Hero news."
"Maybe they weren't called the Octet yet." Toga shrugged.
"Possible." Izuku looked thoughtful. "Or someone buried the story."
That possibility was considerably more concerning. Still, Giran had claimed that the Octet would be easy to find. That was the part Izuku couldn't stop thinking about.
"There's something else. Giran said something weird before you left."
"Oh?" Toga glanced toward him.
"He told you to restrain your curiosity." Izuku's voice became more serious. "He said curiosity might kill the cat."
"Oh, yeah." Toga mused.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Izuku immediately noticed.
"Probably that he knows."
"Knows what?"
"That I'm Kat-astrophe." Toga shrugged.
"You don't sound concerned." Izuku stared at her.
"Should I?"
"Yes!"
"Giran is smart, Jackie." Toga laughed.
"That's not reassuring."
"He probably figured it out."
Izuku's shoulders tightened. He had expected Giran to be intelligent. Anyone who had survived for years as the Japanese Underworld's premier Broker couldn't afford to be stupid. Yet there was a difference between being intelligent enough to recognize that Toga was a dangerous Vampire and actually connecting the dots between an ordinary schoolgirl and a masked Vigilante operating alongside Webjack.
"How can you be so casual about this?"
"Because I was already a criminal before I met you." Toga gave him an almost innocent look.
Izuku opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
"Remember? Naggy didn't magically make me a good girl." Toga continued. "She wants to cause mayhem in this stupid society. And I'm still wanted. So what's the big deal?"
Izuku knew the answer.
The law didn't care that Kat-astrophe occasionally helped him stop criminals. Toga had already crossed that line before he met her, and his decision to bring her into Nagant's orbit hadn't changed her legal status. Neither had his own actions. He knew exactly what he was getting into when he sought out both Toga and Lady Nagant for assistance against the League of Villains. If he was willing to work alongside wanted criminals and Vigilantes, then he couldn't pretend that he was somehow operating outside the consequences of that choice.
Still, there was one important distinction. Giran knowing Toga was Kat-astrophe didn't mean he knew who Webjack was. That mattered a lot.
"At least knowing you're Kat-astrophe doesn't automatically tell him I'm Izuku Midoriya." Izuku rubbed the back of his neck.
"Exactly." Toga nodded.
"That's the part I'm holding onto." He looked toward the darkened city. "We can deal with the rest."
His thoughts returned to the Octet. That was the real problem. Izuku had no intention of allowing another Kraven to emerge. The idea alone made his stomach twist.
Baraka wasn't simply another enhancement drug. If Giran was telling the truth, it could create permanent physical improvements in people who survived the process. A substance capable of producing Super Soldiers had no business circulating through Japan's criminal Underworld, especially if the organization distributing it possessed the resources and technology necessary to create stronger versions.
"What did Giran mean when he said the Octet would be easy to find?"
"Maybe they have a giant sign." Toga shrugged.
"They can't just open a storefront." Izuku ignored her. "Selling a Super Soldier serum isn't exactly a legally protected business."
"Everything in life is stupid anyway," Toga said, smiling.
"Just because it's true doesn't dismiss the facts. Pro-Heroes would shut them down immediately. The Commission would confiscate every sample of Baraka they could find. Everyone involved would be arrested." He began pacing. "No self-respecting criminal mastermind with Hero blood on her hands would operate that openly unless…"
Izuku stopped.
"Unless?" Toga pressed.
"Unless that's exactly what she wants."
The thought hung between them.
Izuku's mind raced.
A criminal organization that wanted to remain hidden would bury its operations beneath layers of intermediaries. It would use shell companies, anonymous distributors, encrypted communications, false identities, and disposable middlemen. It wouldn't advertise its existence. It wouldn't openly sell its most dangerous product.
Yet Giran had specifically said the Octet wanted to be found.
Why?
"There's something we're missing." Izuku looked toward the city. "She wants people to know she's here."
"Sounds like it."
"Which means finding her isn't the hard part. Finding out why she wants us to find her is."
For once, neither of them had a joke.
The Octet had entered Japan intending to build an empire, a supply of Baraka, stolen technology, and enough money to recruit personnel through Giran. Their leader had already killed Heroes in America, escaped Star and Stripe, and apparently possessed enough confidence to announce her arrival rather than hide from the authorities.
That wasn't the behavior of someone afraid of Hero Society. It was the behavior of someone who believed Hero Society couldn't stop her.
Izuku looked toward the skyline.
"Game on then, Octet. Let's see what you're hiding."
The two Vigilantes disappeared into the darkness of Musutafu, leaving the secret bar and its criminal patrons behind. They had arrived looking for information about one strange red substance and left with an entirely new organization to investigate. Somewhere in Japan, a mysterious woman in magenta armor was building an empire from the remnants of a dead monster's legacy.
Izuku intended to find her before that empire became unstoppable.
-)(-
The moment Mirko was officially cleared to leave the hospital, she went straight back to work. Resting had never been her strong suit, and being bedridden after Webjack collapsed one of UA University's artificial cities on top of her, and the other Heroes pursuing him, had done little to dampen her enthusiasm for the profession. The Rabbit Hero remained an Independent Pro-Heroine without a permanent Agency, traveling wherever Japan needed someone capable of kicking a Villain's teeth through a wall. She had no shortage of targets, either. Somewhere on that ever-growing list was Webjack, the Vigilante who had beaten her twice now, with the second defeat made considerably more humiliating by the fact that she had needed assistance from other Heroes to even put up a fight.
"I'll get him next time." Mirko grinned at the thought. She always did.
Defeat had never been something Mirko accepted as a permanent condition. Losing was simply what happened immediately before she won. The concept of giving up had never appealed to her, and the idea of dying someday didn't frighten her nearly as much as the thought of reaching the end of her life with regrets. If death came tomorrow, she wanted to be able to look back and know she had squeezed every last drop of excitement out of being alive. Good fights, difficult opponents, impossible odds—that was the kind of life she wanted. Webjack happened to represent one of the best challenges she'd encountered in years, so losing to him twice had done little more than make her eager for a third round.
She had deliberately avoided Musutafu for the time being.
There were plenty of other cities in Japan containing Villains worth beating into submission, and Mirko wanted to stretch her legs before returning to Webjack's territory. There was also the matter of his new partner. Mirko had never been particularly fond of Heroes or Vigilantes forming teams. She preferred relying on herself, trusting her own legs, instincts, and ability to hit something hard enough that the problem stopped moving. Learning that Webjack had started operating alongside a second Vigilante had initially struck her as an eyesore.
"Kat-astrophe, huh?" Mirko had heard enough about the mysterious clawed girl to know that she wasn't completely useless. "Fine. As long as she doesn't break too easily."
That was good enough for now.
Today, however, Mirko had bigger concerns.
Yokkaichi, Mie Prefecture, had provided her with four Villains attempting to escape in a stolen van. The vehicle tore through the streets with its engine screaming while the criminals inside did everything they could to put distance between themselves and the Rabbit Heroine chasing them. Unfortunately for them, Mirko had considerably longer legs than their getaway plan had accounted for.
"Keep running, idiots!" Mirko bounded into the air.
The van raced beneath her. She flipped above it, drawing both legs upward before gravity and her own monstrous strength brought them down together.
"Luna Fall!" Her heel smashed into the front of the vehicle.
The impact obliterated the engine compartment and drove the front of the van violently into the pavement. Metal folded beneath the force as the vehicle flipped over, tumbling across the road in a shower of debris. Mirko landed nearby with barely a stumble, already prepared to continue the fight.
The four Villains were smarter than expected. All four had abandoned the van before it crashed. They landed across the street, bruised but standing, and immediately spread themselves out. Mirko's grin widened.
"Well?" She cracked her knuckles. "You gonna keep running, or are you finally gonna fight me?"
The only woman among them stepped forward. Her Quirk was immediately obvious when she raised her hand and spat a series of metallic projectiles from her body. Each piece emerged in the shape of a perfectly formed bullet, ready to be loaded into the gun she carried. The process was bizarrely efficient, turning her own body into an ammunition factory.
"Oh, you're the shooter." Mirko's ears twitched.
"Die!" The Gunslinger raised her weapon.
The street erupted with gunfire. Mirko vanished sideways.
Bullets tore through the space where her body had been only moments earlier, punching into pavement, walls, and abandoned vehicles. She moved faster than the Gunslinger could comfortably track, hopping, twisting, and springing between obstacles with the effortless agility of a rabbit turned into a biological missile. The remaining three Villains joined the assault, each possessing an offensive Quirk that made them considerably more dangerous than ordinary street criminals.
They weren't just strong individually. They knew how to work together. One rushed Mirko from the front while another attacked from her flank, forcing her to leap directly over the third. The Gunslinger immediately fired through the opening created by their movements, deliberately timing her shots so that they could pass between her allies without striking them.
Mirko landed.
"Oh, this is good." Her smile widened.
The three men were strong. Not stronger than her, certainly, although strong enough to absorb punishment that would have put most criminals on the ground. Their coordination wasn't perfect, either. Mirko could already see several openings in their formation, yet they were competent enough to keep her moving.
That was all she needed.
"Guess I don't have to hold back!" Mirko launched herself forward.
One of the men barely had time to raise his arms before she was already upon him.
"Luna Rush!" Her legs became a blur.
Kick after kick hammered into him with enough force to send shockwaves through his body. Mirko attacked from different angles, striking his torso, shoulders, and legs in rapid succession before finishing with a powerful blow that sent the Villain flying across the street.
He smashed through a wall. Dust erupted around him. Mirko landed lightly. She expected him to stay down. He didn't.
"Oh?"
Gunfire forced her to move again. Mirko sprang backward as another volley of bullets ripped through the space she had occupied. She clicked her tongue.
"Guns are annoying." Her eyes locked onto the Gunslinger. "You're next."
Mirko accelerated. The Gunslinger fired. Mirko weaved through the bullets, closing the distance with frightening speed before launching herself upward. Her leg rose over her head, muscles tensing as she brought it crashing downward.
"Luna Arc!" The axe kick descended like a hammer. The Gunslinger reacted. She raised one hand and caught Mirko's incoming leg.
"What?" Mirko's eyes widened.
The kick still connected. The sheer force of the impact cracked the pavement beneath the Gunslinger's feet in a spiderweb of fractures, yet the Villainess remained standing. Her arm trembled violently under the pressure, her expression twisted with visible strain, but she hadn't been knocked down.
"You're kidding." Mirko's grin returned.
"Got you." The Gunslinger answered by pressing the barrel of her weapon against Mirko at close range.
She fired. Mirko reacted quicker.
Her free leg snapped upward and struck the Gunslinger directly in the face, forcing her to release Mirko's leg before the shot could find its mark. The Rabbit Heroine immediately sprang backward several times, putting distance between herself and the four Villains.
She landed in a crouch. Her breathing remained steady. The four criminals regrouped. The Gunslinger wiped at her face. The man Mirko had kicked through a wall stepped out of the wreckage. Neither looked nearly as injured as they should have.
Mirko stared, then she laughed.
"What the hell kind of gym have you guys been going to?"
None of them answered.
"Fuck off." One simply raised his middle finger.
"Yeah, yeah. I like you guys too." Mirko's grin became almost feral.
They attacked again.
Or they tried to.
The ground trembled, ceasing all offense.
Mirko's rabbit ears rose.
The Villains stopped as well, although their reactions were different. Their expressions weren't confused. They weren't frightened, either.
Mirko's instincts flared, warning her that something was approaching. Something dangerous.
The vibrations traveled through the pavement beneath her feet, faint at first, then stronger. Mirko's entire body seemed to tense without conscious permission. Every instinct she possessed screamed the same warning.
Predator.
Not prey. Not another Villain. A predator.
Something was coming.
From below!
"What the…?" Mirko's ears snapped toward the pavement.
The asphalt ruptured. Mirko leapt away just as something erupted from beneath her. A metallic tentacle punched through the ground. Magenta armor gleamed beneath the sunlight, its segmented structure twisting with unnatural flexibility before ending in a set of vicious mechanical claws. The appendage whipped through the space Mirko had occupied a heartbeat earlier, tearing apart asphalt as though the road were nothing more than wet clay.
Mirko landed several meters away. Another tentacle burst from the ground. Then another. Then a fourth.
"Whoa!" She jumped.
The mechanical limbs snapped toward her from multiple directions, attempting to intercept her before she could regain her footing. Mirko kicked one away with enough force to send it skidding across the pavement.
She expected resistance. There was almost none.
"What?" Her brow furrowed.
It felt wrong.
The tentacle had moved beneath her kick, yet there had been no satisfying recoil. It was almost like striking something soft despite the metallic appearance. The limb bent with the impact rather than resisting it, absorbing the force in a way Mirko had never encountered from ordinary machinery.
"What are you made of?" She landed and stared.
The Villains had already backed away.
"She's here!" One of them looked toward the emerging mechanical limbs.
"Who's here?" Mirko's eyes narrowed.
The answer came from the ground. The pavement beneath them collapsed.
A section of the street gave way as though something enormous had hollowed out the earth from underneath. Asphalt cracked apart and fell into darkness, buildings trembling around the growing sinkhole as dust and broken concrete poured downward. The four Villains scrambled away from the collapsing area while Mirko remained poised on the edge, her muscles ready to launch her in any direction.
The mechanical tentacles rose higher. Something was coming up, and Mirko's instincts screamed louder that this wasn't simply another strong Villain. This was something that had entered the battlefield already knowing exactly what it was capable of.
Mirko lowered herself into a fighting stance. Her ears remained pointed toward the sinkhole. Her grin slowly returned.
Whatever had emerged from beneath Yokkaichi had brought four heavily enhanced Villains to its side, possessed technology Mirko had never seen before, and moved with mechanical limbs that could absorb the force of her kicks.
The sinkhole widened. The earth groaned. The mechanical tentacles behaved more frantically as their master emerged from the darkness.
An apex predator had arrived in Yokkaichi, and Japan's Pro-Heroes aren't ready for what's coming.