Toshinori Yagi stepped out of the taxi onto the winding gravel path leading to Seaside Serenity Institute, the coastal wind whipping at his oversized coat and tugging at the scarf wrapped around his gaunt neck. The facility loomed ahead, a cluster of low, white-washed buildings perched precariously on the cliffs of Kanagawa, overlooking the restless sea below.
Waves crashed against jagged rocks, their roar a constant undercurrent. The air carried the sharp tang of salt and iodine. It was a place designed to heal fractured minds, but something about its isolation, the barred windows glinting in the late afternoon sun, the chain-link fence, felt more like a cage.
He had come alone, without fanfare, his skeletal form drawing less attention than the Symbol of Peace ever could. The drive from Musutafu had given him time to mull over Tsukauchi's report, the puzzle pieces of Yoshi Abara's life.
A missing boy, accusations against a hero, an escapee, and now, somehow, lodged in Young Midoriya's body like a splinter in flesh. What are you, Yoshi Abara?
Toshinori thought, his sharp blue eyes narrowing against the wind, a part of him was simply hoping that Midoriya was stuck in some daze, but he also knows his boy wouldn't lie to him.
The questions gnawed at him, tense and unrelenting, each one pulling tighter like a noose around an unsolved riddle.
A security guard at the gate nodded curtly as Toshinori flashed his license, discreet, no need for dramatics.
"Mr. Yagi," the guard said, voice flat but respectful. "The director's expecting you. Follow the path to the main building; Nurse Hayashi will meet you there."
The path wound through manicured lawns dotted with benches where patients sat in supervised clusters, their eyes distant, quirks muted by the facility's ambient fields. Toshinori's steps were measured, his mind racing ahead. If this boy was targeted... why? And by whom?
The accusations against Stinger, baseless.
At the entrance, an older nurse awaited him, Nurse Hayashi, her greying hair pulled into a severe bun, uniform crisp. Her face was lined with the quiet weariness of someone who'd seen too many broken souls pass through these halls.
"Mr. Yagi," she greeted, extending a hand that trembled just slightly. "I'm glad you came. Follow me, we can talk in my office."
They walked through sterile corridors, the walls painted a soothing blue that did little to mask the underlying sterility. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows that danced like elusive clues.
Toshinori's thoughts sliced through the silence, Escaped three months ago. Vanished without a trace. And now, inside my successor.
In her office, a small room cluttered with files and a single potted plant wilting in the corner, Nurse Hayashi gestured to a chair.
"You wanted to know about Yoshi Abara. Where to start... He was kind, in his way. Quiet, though. Looked out for the younger kids, shared his snacks, broke up little spats before they escalated. But he didn't like being around people much. Preferred his own company. Some days, he'd go without saying a word. Wouldn't eat, either, just stared out the window at the sea, like he was waiting for something, or someone."
Toshinori leaned forward, his voice low and probing. "And his behaviour? Any strange patterns?"
Hayashi's eyes flickered, a shadow crossing her face. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper, as if the walls themselves might listen. "He attacked the male staff a lot. Scratches, bites, nothing lethal, but vicious. We'd have to isolate him, sedate him sometimes. It went... a little too far, looking back. But I didn't butt in."
"Why not?" Toshinori asked, tension sharpening his tone, the mystery tightening like a knot.
She hesitated, glancing away. "I kind of thought he deserved it. He struggled to follow the rules, always pushing back, questioning everything."
Toshinori's brow furrowed. "He was grieving his sister."
"I know," she admitted solemnly, her voice barely above a breath. "We all knew. But still... I thought it fit, somehow. Like the punishment matched the disruption. Everyone here kind of... let it happen. No one saw much wrong with it then."
The admission hung heavy. Toshinori's mind raced, Punished for grief?
Hayashi continued, her tone shifting. "He was monitored more heavily than the other children, though. Cameras in his room around the clock, extra logs on his file."
"Why?" Toshinori pressed.
She reached into a drawer, pulling out a worn ledger disguised as a donation receipt book. Flipping through, she pointed to entries with peculiar puncture holes at the bottom. "
This. A hero agency started donating heavily right when he was admitted. Thousands of yen monthly. Slowed to a trickle after his escape, then stopped. No name on the checks, just 'anonymous benefactor.'"
Toshinori examined the pages, his sharp gaze tracing the perforations.
The mystery deepened, tension coiling tighter, whispers of conspiracy echoing in his thoughts.
"And his escape?" he asked.
Hayashi shook her head. "No idea. Police reviewed the footage, door opens for a routine check, he's there one second, gone the next. Like he just... dissolved. No alarms, no signs of force."
Toshinori cursed himself internally for not getting this from Tsukauchi earlier. "What about his quirk?"
She pulled a document from a file cabinet, sliding it across. Quirk: Ripple Effect. Registered ability: User can shrink or expand the distance between two objects or points.
"That's what the intake said. Seemed like a fine quirk, useful, even. But he never had much chance to express it here. Staff thought it better to not allow those with a proclivity to violence to do so for our safety."
Toshinori nodded, pocketing a mental note. He thought that did make sense. From the little information he knew of this place from researching on his ride over here, he knows that this current director is new, only being instated a month ago.
"Show me his room," he said.
Hayashi led him down a dimly lit hall, her steps hesitant. The room was bare, bed stripped, shelves empty, but the walls told a story in faint, musty red scrawls.
On one side, a crude drawing, a young girl with flowing hair, hand-in-hand with an even younger boy, smiles frozen in innocence. Toshinori's heart tightened at the thought it was most likely the boys drawing of himself and his sister.
Opposite, horror unfolded, the girl hanging from a rope, crimson streaks leaking from her form, body limp. Below, another scene, the sister dragged by that rope, pulled by a floating figure clad in heroic garb, cape billowing like a shroud. More drawings trailed off, smudged and wiped, as if interrupted mid-revelation.
"He drew this," Hayashi murmured. "With his own blood. Scratched his arms or something, nurses found him like that one night."
Toshinori frowned, tracing the lines with his gaze. "Why wasn't it cleaned?"
"Detectives said to leave it, for evidence, I suppose. But we got an email just before you arrived. 'Clean it up now.' No explanation."
As she spoke, Hayashi edged toward the door, her face paling, relief flooding her features once outside. She sighed deeply, as if shedding a weight.
"This way, to the office. More files there."
In the cluttered admin space, stacked with yellowed folders and humming computers, she pulled out brain scans, two glossy prints side by side.
"These. First one, normal, taken on admission. Second, after he started accusing that hero, Stinger again, and lashing out at staff."
Toshinori peered closer, squinting. The images blurred into technical jargon, lobes, folds, shaded regions. "What am I looking at?"
Hayashi pointed patiently. "See here? The prefrontal cortex, decision-making, emotions. In the first, it's standard. Second? Irregular activity, like under external stress. Our era's studies on quirks are vast and transformative. Brains look different under their effects, hypnosis quirks light up the amygdala, illusion ones spike the visual cortex. This? it's influence. Not natural grief."
Toshinori's breath caught, incredulous. "Alcohol? Where would a kid get,?"
She shook her head firmly. "No. Quirk use. Subtle, persistent. Like something planted in him. We already handed all copies over though."
Pity surged through him, sharp and tense. "That's why he escaped so suddenly?"
"Must be," she agreed. "Outside influence, lingering from before admission. Nobody came to visit him. And no kids or staff with mental quirks that could do this. It had to be from outside."
Toshinori nodded, the mystery crystallizing like ice in his veins. Targeted. Framed memories? To silence him about Hana? Or maybe to use him against a hero? But why?
He thanked her, requesting copies. She printed them swiftly, handing over the stack.
His phone buzzed then, vibrating insistently in his pocket. Glancing at the time, he realized hours had slipped away.
"I have to go," he said abruptly, waving off further questions. "Thank you, for everything."
Hayashi walked him to the exit, her gaze lingering as he stepped into the fading light. A long, careful stare, as if measuring him against some unseen scale. The door closed behind him with a final click, sealing the institute's secrets once more.
Toshinori hurried down the path, wind howling.
Targeted by a quirk. Memories twisted. Accusations planted. But by whom? And for what end?
Was Yoshi Abara even dead? All Might thought, it could have been a new quirk but he didn't want to think about what that insinuated, so he thought that maybe it was a change or awakening in his quirk.
But even if so why would Yoshi Abara individually want to go after Izuku Midoriya. There was a lot on his mind now, he wanted to figure out where those checks were coming from first though. That would be a clue in revealing what is hiding behind the door.
___
Izuku Midoriya wandered the sun-dappled halls of UA High School, the polished floors reflecting the afternoon light in fragmented patterns that danced like elusive memories. The building buzzed with subdued energy, students chatting in low tones, lockers clanging shut, the distant echo of training sessions from the gyms below.
But for Izuku, it all blurred into a distant hum, his mind a whirlwind of unease that pulled him inward, away from the world around him.
He didn't like the idea of the Sports Festival going on at all. The thought of it churned in his stomach like a bad meal, a knot of dread that refused to untangle. Principal Nezu's words from the announcement were, 'resilience in the face of tragedy'. But what about the cost? What if showing strength meant inviting more danger, more loss? Izuku's fingers tightened around the small green carton of apple juice in his hand, the cool condensation slick against his palm. He took a slow sip, the tart sweetness doing little to wash away the bitterness rising in his throat.
Lately, he felt so jumpy again, heart racing at shadows, breaths shallow and quick, like a cornered animal. It reminded him too much of those days back in Aldera, before the move to Tokyo had offered escape. Back then, every hallway had been a gauntlet, every glance a potential threat. The bullying had been relentless. And at the center of it all had been Katsuki Bakugo, with his explosive temper and even sharper words.
Izuku could still picture that moment during the quirk assessment test, when he'd thrown the ball with One For All's power surging through him for the first time on campus. The look Bakugo had given him, rotten, twisted with shock and something darker, like Izuku had sprouted a second head or betrayed some unspoken rule. It had been a glare laced with confusion and rage, as if Izuku's very existence with a quirk upended the world Bakugo knew.
Izuku had made a point to avoid him ever since. Not out of fear, at least, that's what he told himself. He wasn't scared of his childhood bully anymore; the move to Tokyo, All Might's mentorship, the inheritance of One For All, they'd built him stronger, layer by layer.
But avoiding Bakugo meant steering clear of that small, suffocating hole in his chest, the one that threatened to reopen with a single shove or sneer. The old wounds were scarred over, but they itched sometimes, a reminder of the boy he'd been, quirkless, worthless in the eyes of so many.
He hadn't told All Might about the bullying. If he had, the Symbol of Peace would have acted, swiftly, decisively. Bakugo would have been removed from the class, the school, maybe even barred from hero work altogether. It didn't matter how powerful his quirk was; All Might's word carried the weight of the world. But Izuku held back because, deep down, he truly believed Katsuki could be a good hero.
Flawed, yes, arrogant, explosive, but there was potential there, a fire that could protect as much as it destroyed. Or so he hoped.
The apple juice carton crinkled in his grip as he took another sip, lost in the swirl of thoughts. A cheery voice suddenly pierced the haze, "Deku!"
Izuku stumbled lightly, his foot catching on nothing but air, the carton nearly slipping from his fingers. The name... Deku, hit him like a echo swinging back, one he hadn't heard from anyone but Bakugo in years. And even then, with his careful avoidance, it had faded into memory. Hearing it now, bright and innocent, sent a jolt through him, stirring up dust from corners he'd long since swept clean.
He turned, heart thudding, to see Ochaco Uraraka jogging toward him, her round face lit with that trademark enthusiasm, pink cheeks flushed from the run. Her bobbed hair bounced with each step, and she waved energetically, as if spotting a long-lost friend in a crowd.
"H-Hey, Uraraka," Izuku managed, waving back weakly. His voice came out steadier than he felt, though his mind raced to catch up.
She skidded to a stop in front of him, tilting her head with a touch of worry creasing her brow. "Did I do something wrong? I heard that loud guy in class call you Deku, and I thought it was kinda cute! Like, 'dekiru', you can do it! But if it's not okay..."
Izuku shook his head quickly, a small, genuine smile breaking through despite the surprise. "It's okay. Really. I... I like that take on it."
Uraraka beamed, relief washing over her features. "Phew! Good. So, what's up? You look a little spaced out."
He shrugged, glancing down at his juice carton to avoid her gaze. "Just thinking. What's up with you?"
She shifted her weight, fiddling with the strap of her bag. "Actually, I was looking for Tsu. Have you seen her? She stormed out of class earlier, and I'm worried."
Izuku nodded, the memory of the debate resurfacing like a fresh bruise. Tsuyu's abrupt exit, the tension in the air. And Bakugo's smirk, his words dripping with that familiar edge... it made Izuku question, just for a moment, if his faith in Katsuki's potential was misplaced. Attitude like that could sabotage any hero journey, no matter the talent.
"Yeah, that was rough. Why are you looking for her, though?"
Uraraka hesitated, her cheer dimming a fraction. "Well... I wanted to check on her. And maybe talk about the festival. But anyway, why'd you want to be a hero, Deku? If you don't mind me asking."
The question caught him off guard, pulling him from his thoughts. He blinked, then smiled softly, the answer rising easily despite the day's weight. "Me? I... I want to be like All Might. Make people smile when they see me coming. Save them with a fearless grin on my face, you know? Be the hero who brings hope."
Uraraka's eyes sparkled. "That's so cool! All Might's the best."
He chuckled lightly. "What about you? Why a hero?"
Her face flushed deeper, shame flickering across her features as she looked away. "It's... kinda embarrassing. For money."
Izuku tilted his head, surprised. In the short time he'd known her, Uraraka had seemed so sincere, so genuinely good-hearted, always helping classmates, her laughter light and infectious. Money felt... shallow, out of place.
Seeing his expression, she rushed on, waving her hands. "No, wait, it's not like that! My family's always been poor. My parents work construction, and it's hard on them. I want to get my license so I can use my quirk to help with their jobs, make things easier. And heroes make good money, right? I could lift that burden off them, give them a life where they don't have to worry."
Izuku's surprise softened into understanding. That sounds more like her. He nodded, warmth blooming in his chest. "That's really noble, Uraraka. Helping your family like that... it's heroic."
She grinned, rubbing her neck bashfully. There was a pause, the hallway's ambient noise filling the space, distant footsteps, a locker slamming. Then her expression turned thoughtful. "You know... you haven't been smiling much these last few days."
Izuku froze, the words landing like a gentle punch.
"Is it because of what happened at the USJ?" she asked softly, her voice laced with concern. His heart stopped, a cold wave crashing over him. No one had asked him directly yet, not his classmates, not even his mom in detail.
All Might knew, of course, but the others... they'd been kind, giving him space, assuming he had no answers to give. But now, with Uraraka's wide eyes on him, the question hung there, demanding.
What do I say? Yoshi?If I slip... what about One For All?
He didn't realize he was choking up until his throat tightened, vision blurring at the edges. The hallway seemed to narrow, the weight of it all pressing down. Uraraka's hand shook his shoulder gently.
"Hey, Deku? You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. Sorry, I didn't mean to push."
Izuku nodded jerkily, forcing a breath. "It's... not your fault." He apologized with a weak smile, then skipped past her, heart pounding. "I, I need the bathroom. Talk later?"