Location: Naruhata Estates – Unit 203
Sunday Afternoon
The air in Unit 203 was heavy with the scent of ginger, soy sauce, and the lingering heat of a packed room.
The sterile, organized space Kaito usually maintained was cluttered with stacked Tupperware, stray luggage tags, and the frantic energy of a family preparing to go home.
Zrttt.
Grandma Saki pulled the zipper of her suitcase.
Thud.
Behind her, Kimiko and Kenji were already hauling the heavier bags toward the narrow hallway.
Shoko Haimawari stood in the center of the kitchenette, pointing a finger at a massive plastic bag filled with containers.
"Koichi, the mackerel is in the blue lids. Don't mix them up with the stew in the green ones, or the flavors will bleed," Shoko commanded.
She turned toward the door where Koichi was trying to look busy with a pair of shoes.
She lunged forward, catching him by the ear and twisting until he was forced onto his tiptoes.
"Listen to me, Koichi! If I come back in three months and find your fridge is empty of anything but convenience store trash, I am dragging you back by this very ear. You are twenty years old; start eating like a human being."
"I get it, Ma! Ow! Let go, you're going to tear it off!" Koichi yelped, swatting at her hand until she finally released him.
Shoko smoothed her tracksuit and turned to Kaito.
Her expression softened, though her eyes remained sharp. She gave him a short, respectful nod.
"Thank you for the hospitality and the patience, Arisaka. My son is a magnet for trouble, but he has a good heart. Keep him focused. If he gets too annoying, just report it to me."
"I'll keep an eye on him," Kaito replied.
Grandma Saki walked over to Kaito. She didn't look at the luggage or the room.
She looked directly at his face, searching for the fatigue he usually hid behind his glasses.
She reached into her cardigan pocket and pulled out a small, heavy object wrapped in a silk handkerchief.
She took Kaito's hand and pressed the object into his palm.
It was a hand-carved wooden cat, painted in the same black-and-white pattern as Boss.
The craftsmanship was rough but intentional, capturing the specific, stubborn tilt of the old feline's head.
"Boss is gone, Kaito. The shop in Shizuoka feels different without him," Saki said, her voice dropping to a quiet, grounded tone. "But you are still here. This apartment is clean, and your suits are expensive, but don't let the city turn you into a machine. Keep this on your desk. Remember that some things can't be fixed with a paycheck or a spreadsheet."
Kaito closed his fingers around the wood. The surface was polished smooth, retaining the warmth from Saki's hand. "I'll keep it close. Thank you, Grandma."
_-_-_-_-_
Vroom.
Te-teeet.
Chug-chug. Chug
The group moved past the grimy storefronts and the buzzing vending machines and vehicles.
At the platform, the atmosphere shifted to the hurried rhythm of travel.
Kimiko pulled Kaito into a tight, lingering hug. "Don't work until you collapse, okay? Kenji and I will send you photos once the nursery is done."
Kenji shook Kaito's hand, his grip firm. "You've got a good setup here, kid. Just don't forget to look up from the desk once in a while."
Saki was the last to board. She stood in the doorway of the train, her hand resting on the frame.
She didn't wave. She simply watched Kaito with a steady, knowing gaze until the chime sounded and the doors hissed shut.
The train pulled away, its silver body disappearing into the grey industrial haze of the horizon.
_-_-_-_-_
Kaito and Koichi walked back to the apartment in a rare, shared silence.
The energy of the weekend was draining away, leaving the streets feeling colder.
"They're finally gone," Koichi sighed, his shoulders slumping as he kicked a loose pebble.
"My mom is like a hurricane. I think my ear is actually bruised. But... the place feels weirdly empty now, doesn't it? Do you want to come over later? We could probably put a dent in that stew she left."
"No," Kaito said, his voice returning to its usual flat, professional clip. "I have a backlog of logistics to clear for the Captain. I need to catch up."
"Right. Work. Typical," Koichi muttered, though he offered a small, tired smile. "See you tomorrow, Kaito-san."
Kaito entered Unit 203.
He didn't turn on the big light. He walked to his desk and placed the wooden cat next to his laptop.
In the dim light, the carving looked like a small sentinel.
He sat down, opened his laptop, and the blue light of the screen filled the room.
He spent the next five hours buried in the logistics of Captain Celebrity's upcoming week, ignoring the silence until his eyes blurred.
At 11:00 PM, he closed the lid and slept.
_-_-_-_-_-_
The "Hard Mode" reality did not arrive with a manifesto; it arrived directly without warning.
Across the nation, the security grid began to shudder under a surge of anomalies that were as unpredictable as they were violent.
Monday: Shibuya Crossing | 08:30 AM
The morning rush was a sea of umbrellas and suits.
Then the shadow fell. A flock of forty crows, each mutated to the size of a golden eagle, plummeted from the skyscrapers.
Their feathers had been rewritten into carbonized steel.
CLACK. CLACK. CLACK.
The birds dived like shrapnel.
"Get under the overhangs! Move!" Kamui Woods bellowed. He leaped from a lamppost, his wooden limbs spiraling out.
CREAAAK—SNAP!
"Lacquer Prison!"
He unleashed a massive move, weaving a dome of timber over a group of schoolchildren.
But the crows didn't retreat. They struck the wood with beaks like industrial drills.
TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
"They're not stopping! They're shredding the reinforcement!" Kamui gritted his teeth.
Splinters flew as a crow tore a jagged strip of bark from his shoulder.
SHHHH-THUD!
The fire department arrived, opening up with high-pressure cannons.
The water hit the crows like solid stone, slamming the steel-heavy birds into the asphalt.
Kamui Woods stood in the middle of the street, his timber body riddled with holes, watching the black feathers swirl in the gutters.
_-_-_-_-_
Tuesday: Northern Shizuoka – Cedar Trail 11:15 AM
The silence of the forest was broken by a sound like a dry branch snapping—except the branch was a foot-wide cedar tree.
A brown bear, its muscle density forced to 400% by drug Trigger, stood in a clearing.
Its skin had split in jagged lines, showing raw, pulsating red fiber beneath the fur.
GURRR-HRAAUGH!
The bear's roar shifted the leaves on the trees. Mirko hit the dirt ten feet away, her boots digging into the loam.
"Look at you! You're a walking disaster!" Mirko shouted, her ears twitching.
The bear lunged.
Its claw swiped through the air with a heavy WHOOSH.
Mirko rolled, the wind of the strike ruffling her hair.
She kicked off a tree trunk—BOOM—and launched herself at the beast's jaw.
"LUNA RING!"
CRACK!
Her kick connected.
The bear's head snapped back, but it didn't fall. It swung a massive paw, catching Mirko in the ribs.
She flew backward, hitting a trunk with a heavy THUMP, but she was back on her feet before she could even slide to the ground.
"Yeah! That's the stuff!" She blurred.
BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM!
A flurry of kicks targeted the bear's knees and shoulders. By the time the sedative teams arrived,
Mirko was panting, sitting on the unconscious beast's chest, covered in dirt and forest debris.
_-_-_-_-_
Wednesday: Shinjuku District | 12:00 PM
In the narrow, trash-lined alleys of Shinjuku, twelve stray dogs had become a multi-limbed nightmare.
A terrier-mix, now with three heads, breathed a jet of blue fire that melted the siding of a nearby ramen shop.
FSSSS-BOOM!
The heat was intense.
All Might arrived, his boots hitting the pavement with enough force to crack the sidewalk.
CLOMP.
"Stay back, everyone! These animals are victims!" he boomed.
The three-headed dog lunged, its teeth gnashing.
SNAP-GRRR!
All Might didn't punch.
He caught the dog by the scruff—THIP—and held it firm.
He took a deep breath, his chest expanding, and swung his arm in a massive arc.
SWOOOOOOSH!
The wind pressure was so precise it created a vacuum, choking out the blue flames and physically lifting the pack of dogs.
He herded them into a dead-end alley with the sheer force of his presence.
Almight stood at the entrance, a golden wall of muscle, ignoring the snapping jaws at his shins for two straight hours until the HPSC containment teams arrived with heavy-duty cages.
_-_-_-_-_
Thursday: Coastal Chiba | 03:00 PM
A mutated humpback whale had washed into the shallows of a flooded town. Every time it breached, it released a sonic pulse.
VREEEEEEEEEEEEE—!
The sound shattered every window in the harbor.
TINKLE-CRASH.
Captain Celebrity descended, his golden cape snapping like a whip in the sea breeze.
FWOOOM.
"Don't worry, citizens! I've got this handled!"
He dived into the surf.
SPLASH!
He surfaced seconds later, the massive whale balanced on his shoulders.
Captain Celebrity's veins were bulging, his teeth gritted as the sonic pulses vibrated through his skull.
GRRRRRRRN.
He heaved.
With a massive burst of speed, he flew the whale three miles out to sea and lowered it into the depths.
GLUB-WHOOSH.
He returned to the docks bone-dry, posing for a swarm of reporters.
The news tickers that night were a constant scroll.
[CAPTAIN CELEBRITY: 100% COMPLETION. A NEW SYMBOL FOR A NEW ERA.]
_-_-_-_-_
Huummm
In an unknown apartment the room was quiet, save for the hum of the air conditioner.
Aizawa sat in a low chair, the blue light of a tablet reflecting off his tired, bloodshot eyes.
He scrolled through a list of blood analysis reports.
TAP. SWIPE. TAP.
"Shibuya crows. Shizuoka bear. Shinjuku pack. Chiba whale," he muttered.
On the TV, Captain Celebrity was laughing during an interview.
Aizawa tapped the screen, pulling up a chemical breakdown.
Every single animal had traces of enhanced drug, Trigger that the League of Villains released.
"They're not using people anymore," Aizawa said, his voice a dry rasp. "They're using things that don't have a choice."
He looked at the map of Japan, dotted with red markers.
"They're flooding the streets with innocent monsters. This is organized chaos. Someone is testing the limits."
"All For One?"
_-_-_-_-_
Naruhata District – Abandoned Cold Storage
Saturday Night
The interior of the warehouse was a cavern of rusted steel and freezing air.
In the center of the floor, the only light came from a wall of nine mismatched digital monitors, their pale blue glow illuminating the twitching, high-speed movements of Number 6.
He wasn't sitting.
He was crouched on top of a server rack, his fingers tapping a rhythmic, manic beat against his own knees.
TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP.
His eyes moved with a frightening, mechanical velocity, scanning frame after frame of grainy surveillance footage.
On the central screen, a low-resolution image of the Naruhata convenience store played on a loop. A tall man in a tan trench coat walked into the frame.
CLICK.
Number 6 froze the video. He zoomed in on Iwao Oguro's gait.
"He's walking," Number 6 whispered. His voice was a thin, jagged rasp, vibrating with a frantic energy. "I am sure the bone-bullet shattered the T4 vertebrae. His lung should collapse. He should be a corpse. A discarded, obsolete relic."
He leaped down from the rack, landing silently, paced in a tight circle and his breathing becoming shallow and fast.
"Fourteen days. He vanished for exactly three hundred and thirty-six hours. No hospital admission. No underground clinic records. No black-market surgical purchases." Number 6 slammed a fist into the palm of his other hand.
SMACK.
"And now he's back on the street. His stride is longer. His weight distribution is perfectly balanced like he wasn't even injured. He is moving with 15% more efficiency than before I broke him."
Kuin Hachisuka sat on a wooden crate in the shadows, her legs dangling.
She was spinning a mechanical bee between her fingers, the tiny wings making a high-pitched ZIIIIN sound.
She watched him with a bored, half-lidded gaze, a small, cruel smile playing on her lips.
"Maybe he's lucky, Six," she said, her voice light and melodic. "Or maybe he's just a memory coming back to haunt you because you didn't finish the job properly."
Number 6 whirled around.
His face was a mask of twitching fury, his pupils dilated until his eyes were almost entirely black.
Number 6 grabbed the edge of the monitor desk, his grip so tight the plastic began to groan.
CREEEAK.
"Someone fixed him." He stared at his own reflection in the darkened screens. He smoothed his hair, his expression shifting from rage to a cold, narcissistic focus.
Number 6 was the successor. He was the perfection of the O'Clock legacy. The existence of a "healed" Iwao was a flaw in his own masterpiece.
He reached out and tapped the screen where Iwao's face was frozen. "I want to see the old man break again. I want to see him realize that no matter who stitches him back together, I am the one who decides when he stops moving."
Kuin hopped off the crate, her heels clicking against the concrete.
TAP. TAP.
She walked over to a steel briefcase and flipped the latches.
CLACK-CLACK.
Inside, rows of glass vials filled with dark, swirling Trigger sat in foam padding.
"The old man loves his ward," Kuin said, her eyes gleaming. "He loves his little park."
Number 6 reached into the case and plucked five vials. He held them up to the light, his fingers steady now, his mind locked onto the mission.
"Then let's see how his place handles a few monsters," Number 6 said. "Give me the bees. We're going to Naruhata Park. I'm going to force his savior into the light, and then I'm going to bury them both."
BZZZZZZZZT.
A swarm of mechanical bees rose from Kuin's sleeves, their red optical sensors glowing in the dark as they spiraled around Number 6's head.
_-_-_-_-_
Naruhata Park | Saturday | 07:00 PM
The evening air was cooling, carrying the scent of cut grass and the distant hum of the city.
A few teenagers sat on the swings, their laughter cutting through the quiet.
Near the pond, a man tossed the last of a sandwich to a scruffy stray dog.
BZZZZZZZZT.
The sound was high-pitched, metallic, and sudden.
Five mechanical bees, their red sensors burning like embers, shot through the canopy of the oak trees.
They didn't hover; they hunted.
STING.
The stray dog near the pond let out a sharp, agonized yelp.
STING.
A raccoon foraging in the trash bins shrieked, its body convulsing.
STING.
Two cats huddling under a park bench were struck simultaneously.
STING.
A large crow perched atop the jungle gym flapped once before its wings went rigid.
The silence of the park died.
CRACK-CRICK-SNAP.
Within sixty seconds, the biology of the park was rewritten.
The stray dog's legs didn't just grow; they shattered and reformed into meter-long, jagged bone stilts that tore through its own fur.
The raccoon's mass doubled, then tripled, its claws lengthening into glowing, red-hot blades of obsidian.
The two cats under the bench were forced together, their flesh fusing into a two-headed, eight-legged mass of snarling teeth and weeping Trigger.
"HELP! IT'S A MONSTER!"
The teenagers scrambled off the swings. The dog-monster lunged—CLACK-SNARRRL—its jaws snapping inches from a girl's heel as she bolted toward the gates.
SQUEAK—SWIIISH!
Koichi Haimawari hit the pavement on his hands and knees, sliding into the park at high velocity.
He used the friction of his palms to pivot, placing himself directly between the terrified teens and the car-sized raccoon.
"Get back! Run for the street!" Koichi yelled, his eyes wide. He looked up as a shadow crossed the moon.
FWOOOOP!
Kazuho Haneyama snapped her fans open, landing atop a park bench with the grace of a performer.
She didn't wait.
She swung her arms in a wide arc, creating a localized gale that physically shoved a group of children toward the exit. "Move! Toward the lights! Don't look back!"
CLOMP. CLOMP.
A heavy, measured tread announced the arrival of the veteran.
Knuckleduster stepped out of the shadows near the pond. He didn't look at the teens; he looked at the dog-monster currently towering over a fallen bicycle.
"Disgusting," Knuckleduster growled. He lunged forward. No quirk, just pure, reinforced muscle.
WHAM!
A heavy right hook caught the dog-monster squarely in its elongated snout.
The impact sounded like a sledgehammer hitting a wet bag of gravel. The monster skidded ten meters across the grass, its bone-legs sparking against the pavement.
Knuckleduster straightened his back, looking up at the playground.
The crow had transformed into a prehistoric nightmare with a ten-meter wingspan. Every time it flapped, the heat intensified.
SHHHH-THIP!
A white capture scarf shot out from the branches of a cherry blossom tree, wrapping around the two-headed cat-beast with the precision of a strike.
Shota Aizawa dropped into the fray, his black hair floating, his eyes glowing a lethal, predatory red.
"You again," Aizawa rasped, his gaze shifting to Knuckleduster.
"You're late, Eraser," Knuckleduster grunted. He didn't wait for a greeting.
He dodged a swing from the raccoon's red blades—WHOOSH—the heat singeing the fabric of his trench coat.
Aizawa pulled the scarf taut, slamming the cat-beast into the ground.
"The last time we met, I was trying to arrest you for illegal heroics. This time, I'm trying to stop this park from burning down. Focus on the raccoon. I'll handle the feline and the bird."
"Don't tell me how to work my own neighborhood," Knuckleduster shot back, pivoting on his heel to deliver a rib-shattering kick to the raccoon's side.
Above them, on the roof of a public restroom, Number 6 crouched.
He didn't care about the fight. He didn't care about the animals. He was staring at Knuckleduster through a high-powered thermal lens.
He watched the old man's chest. The rhythm was steady. Deep. Powerful. There was no wheeze. No hesitation.
When Knuckleduster threw a punch, his spine aligned with a fluidity that was physically impossible for someone who had been broken two weeks ago.
"Impossible," Number 6 whispered, his voice trembling with a manic, obsessive twitch. "I crushed his lungs. Who... what could have put him back together this perfectly?"
He looked at the other one who has goggles over his eyes using agility and a capture scarf to subdue the animals.
"Eraserhead? No, it shouldn't be him."
_-_-_-_-_
Downtown Naruhata – Route 42 Bus
08:30 PM
The interior of the bus was bathed in a flickering orange light from the passing streetlamps.
Kaito sat in the very last row, his charcoal suit jacket buttoned tight, his briefcase resting across his knees.
Makoto sat beside him, her tablet glowing in the dimness.
Her fingers moved across the screen, tracking the seismic shift in public sentiment.
"I've been watching the data pools for three days, Kaito," Makoto said, her voice low enough to stay under the hum of the engine.
"You didn't just save Christopher's career. You've created a standard that the HPSC can't replicate. People are starting to ask why the high-ranking Japanese pros don't speak with that kind of weight. You've made 'Hope' a tangible metric, and now the public is addicted to it. That's a massive liability for someone who just wants to manage logistics."
Kaito stared out the window.
The rain had started to smear the neon signs of Naruhata into long, bleeding lines of red and blue.
"The public is a variable that likes to feel included, Makoto," Kaito replied.
"I gave them a narrative they could understand so they would stop rioting and start buying protein shakes. If the HPSC can't keep up, that's a failure of their own marketing, not mine."
"It's not just marketing, and you know it," Makoto countered, turning the tablet to show him a heat map of civil unrest.
"By validating the 'nobodies,' you've made the 'somebodies' look redundant. You're playing a dangerous game with the social order."
Kaito didn't respond.
'Hm?' His gaze had locked onto a specific point on the sidewalk as the bus slowed for a red light.
Near a pile of discarded industrial crates, a black-and-white stray cat sat on its haunches.
It was scrawny, its ribs visible under a coat that looked identical to the one Saki had carved into the wooden memorial on his desk.
Next to the cat lay a shattered glass vial, its contents—a dark, viscous purple liquid—leaking into a crack in the pavement.
The cat lowered its head and licked the fluid.
Kaito's posture went rigid.
CRACK.
The sound was internal, a sickening snap of calcified tissue that echoed even over the bus's engine.
The cat's body didn't just grow; it fractured. Its spine elongated with the sound of a dry branch snapping in half.
Its legs split at the joints, growing three, then six, then twelve new limbs that looked like a cross between biological bone and the rusted iron of the nearby crates.
"What the...?" Makoto followed his gaze, her breath catching.
The creature didn't stop. It lunged at a parked delivery scooter, its flesh flowing over the metal like liquid wax, absorbing the frame and the wheels into its own anatomy.
Its back flattened, widening into a terrifying, six-meter-long corridor of fur, steel, and weeping Trigger residue.
It roared—a sound that was half-feline scream and half-grinding gears.
HRAAAA-ONNNNK!
The Trigger-enhanced Cat lunged away from the sidewalk, its multiple legs thundering against the asphalt like a stampede.
"Look out!" someone screamed from the front of the bus.
In the opposite lane, another bus—the Route 15 Local—was being pursued.
The cat slammed its massive, metal-fused shoulder into the side of the other bus.
K-K-K-K-KRRRRUNCH!
The sound of shearing metal was deafening. The Route 15 bus tilted precariously, its tires screaming against the wet road as it swerved toward a row of concrete barriers.
SCREEEEEEECH!
"I've got it! Everyone clear the lane!"
A streak of blue light and the roar of high-performance mufflers tore through the intersection.
Ingenium arrived, his arm-engines glowing with a brilliant, white-hot intensity. He was patrolling in this area when he noticed another animal with Trigger drug.
He slammed his boots into the pavement, carving trenches into the road as he moved to intercept the careening bus.
BOOM!
Ingenium hit the front bumper of the falling bus, using his massive speed-driven momentum to force the vehicle back onto four wheels.
But the cat wasn't finished.
It dived again, its six-meter body coiling like a spring, preparing to crush the roof of the bus with its metal-integrated claws.
Inside his own bus, Kaito felt something. This wasn't a villain.
He looked at the cat's eyes—they were wide, clouded with pain, and identical to the eyes of the cat he had remembered in his childhood.
Kaito reached down and pressed his palm against the vibrating floor of the bus.
SNAP
The world didn't change visually, but the momentum of the entire street seemed to lock into place.
The air pressure shifted. The Route 15 bus, which was about to roll from the force of the monster's strike, suddenly felt as heavy as a mountain, its center of gravity unmovable.
Ingenium gasped, his engines sputtering as he felt the resistance of the air turn into something solid. "What... why is the weight shifting like this?"
Kaito turned his gaze to the cat. He thought about Nezu and the potential for life to be more than a victim of drugs.
If the world was becoming a "Hard Mode", then even the strays needed a way to fight back.
Kaito didn't want to kill it. He wanted to give it the tools to survive.
SNAP
The sound was silent and Kaito focused his mind on the cat's DNA.
He didn't just delete the Trigger; he repurposed the energy.
He took the volatile mutation and wove it into a stable, biological framework and granted the animal the capacity for human-level cognition and a physical structure that could adapt to the needs of its environment—a living tool for a world that was losing its mind.
GRAAAAHHH!
The monster cat let out a final, earth-shaking roar.
Shhhh-VWOOP
Kaito touched the glass of the window.
The transformation happened in a blur of motion.
The metal scooter was ejected, clattering to the ground in a pile of rusted scraps.
The extra legs snapped back into the body. The six-meter frame condensed, the mass folding inward until the creature was no longer a bus, but a small, black-and-white feline sitting calmly in the middle of the rain-slicked intersection.
Ingenium skidded to a halt, his engines hissing as they cooled.
He looked at the empty space where the monster had been.
"Where did it go?" Ingenium shouted, looking at the surrounding rooftops. "The energy signature just... vanished!"
The passengers on both buses were shouting, some crying, others filming the empty street.
The black-and-white cat sat on the asphalt, the rain bead-ing off its now-glossy fur. It looked up.
Its eyes were no longer clouded with pain; they were sharp, bright, and full of intelligence.
It looked directly at the back window of Kaito's bus.
The cat didn't meow. It looked at its own paws, then back at Kaito. It gave a slow, deliberate nod of recognition.
Kaito focused one last time.
SNAP
The cat disappeared in a flicker of light, vanishing before Ingenium or the emergency teams could reach it.
Kaito sat back in his seat. He adjusted his glasses and looked at the shard of wood from the carved cat in his pocket.
"Kaito?" Makoto asked, her voice trembling slightly. "What just happened? The bus... it didn't even shake when that thing hit it."
"Good mechanic," Kaito said, his voice a dry rasp. "The suspension must have held. We should get off at the next stop. This street is going to be blocked for hours."
He stood up, grabbed his briefcase, and walked toward the exit as the sirens grew louder in the distance.
'Live well and grow stronger. Maybe you'll even surpass those pros.'
He had given the world a new protector, and he had done it without wasting a single word.
_-_-_-_-_-_
Musutafu – Public Underpass | 09:15 PM
The rain in Musutafu was relentless. It hammered against the concrete of the underpass.
Ten-year-old Izuku Midoriya walked with his head down, his yellow backpack heavy with soaked notebooks.
His uniform was stained with the grey sludge of the puddle Bakugo had shoved him into earlier that afternoon.
His knees were raw, the skin stinging with every step, but the cold was worse. It was a deep, bone-aching chill that made his breath come out in small, shivering puffs.
"I'm fine. I'm okay. A hero wouldn't cry because of a little rain," Izuku whispered, his voice cracking.
He stopped.
SKRITCH. CLICK-CLICK-CLICK.
The sound came from the deep shadows where the concrete met the damp earth.
A smell hit him—a pungent, chemical odor that burned his nostrils. From the darkness, a nightmare emerged.
It was a cockroach, but the Trigger drug had warped it into a biological tank the size of a Great Dane.
Its shell was a jagged, oily black that seemed to absorb the light. Its antennae, three meters long and twitching with static electricity, lashed out like whips.
HISSSSSSS!
Near a support pillar, two younger children—a boy and a girl—were curled into a ball, their faces white with terror.
They weren't even screaming anymore; they were just shaking. The cockroach raised its front legs, which had hardened into serrated blades as sharp as butcher knives.
Izuku's heart hammered against his ribs so hard it hurt. His legs felt like lead. He looked at the monster, then at the children.
Izuku thought about the videos he watched every day on Almight, Hero X and Soot Hero.
He thought about the "Hope" speech he had seen on the news.
'A hero is an ordinary person who finds the strength to persevere...'
Then.
"HEY! OVER HERE!" Izuku roared, his voice trembling but loud.
He snatched a jagged stone from the ground and hurled it with everything he had.
THWACK.
The stone bounced harmlessly off the monster's armored thorax.
The cockroach's head pivoted with a mechanical jerk, its black, multifaceted eyes locking onto Izuku.
"RUN! GET TO THE STREET!" Izuku screamed at the kids.
The children scrambled, bolting into the rain toward the safety of the main road.
The cockroach didn't pursue them. It hissed at Izuku, its legs clicking rhythmically as it scuttled up the vertical concrete wall, moving with a speed that defied physics.
Izuku turned and bolted. He ran blindly into a nearby alleyway, his lungs burning.
He hit the back wall—a dead end. He spun around, his back against the cold brick, as the monster rounded the corner.
It crawled along the ceiling of the alley, its weight causing bits of mortar to rain down.
Izuku slid to the ground, his knees giving out.
He tucked his head between his legs, bracing for the impact of the blades. "Someone... please..."
Meow
The sound was small, sharp, and completely out of place.
A black-and-white cat walked into the dim light of the alley's single flickering bulb. It didn't look scared.
It moved with a slow, deliberate grace, positioning itself directly between Izuku and the looming monster.
"Get out of here! Run, cat! Shoo!" Izuku cried, reaching out to shoo it away.
The cockroach didn't wait. It dived from the ceiling, its serrated leg swinging down in a lethal arc intended to bisect the small animal.
Izuku didn't think. He didn't calculate. He lunged forward, his wet sneakers slipping on the pavement.
He scooped the cat into his arms, pulling it against his chest and curling his body over it to take the blow.
He squeezed his eyes shut, his mind flashing to a vision of a hero—the muscular, invincible silhouette of the man he saw on TV.
THUD.
The sound wasn't the wet slice of a blade through skin. It was the sound of a heavy, solid weight hitting the asphalt.
Izuku opened his eyes.
The weight in his arms was gone.
Standing in front of him was a figure that blocked the alley's entrance.
It was two meters of corded, bulging muscle and sleek, black-and-white fur. It had the head of a cat, but the physique of a prime
heavyweight bodybuilder.
Its presence was heavy, radiating a calm, focused power.
The cockroach shrieked, lashing out with both blades.
The cat-figure didn't dodge. It caught both serrated legs in its massive palms.
CRACK.
The sound of the cockroach's metallic shell shattering filled the alley.
The cat-man didn't let go. He squeezed until the monster's legs were reduced to black powder.
With a single, short-range punch to the center of the creature's head, the cat-man drove the monster into the ground.
BOOM.
The asphalt cracked. The cockroach didn't move again.
Izuku stared, his mouth agape, his tears mixing with the rain on his face. "A... a hero? You're a Pro?"
He scrambled to his feet, his hands trembling as he reached out to thank the savior. "Thank you! Thank you so much! Are you a new hero? I've never seen a quirk like—"
The muscular figure turned. Its eyes were bright, amber, and filled with a terrifyingly human intelligence.
It leaned down, sniffing the air near Izuku's hair, and offered a slow, respectful blink.
Then, the muscles began to fold inward. The height vanished. The mass seemed to evaporate into the rain.
Within three seconds, the two-meter giant was gone.
Meow.
Standing in the puddle was the small, black-and-white cat.
Izuku froze.
He looked at the dead monster, then at the empty air, then at the kitten.
"A... a cat?" he stammered, his brain struggling to bridge the gap between the titan he had seen and the small creature before him. "The hero... it was you?"
The rain continued to fall, washing the grime from the cat's fur.
The animal walked forward, its tail held high, and rubbed its head against Izuku's scraped knee.
Its fur was strangely warm, as if it generated its own heat.
"You're not a normal cat, are you?" Izuku whispered.
He looked at the cat's eyes. They didn't look like an animal's eyes; they looked like they understood everything.
Izuku reached down, his fingers brushing the cat's ears. "Are you also alone?"
Purr. Purr.
The cat purred—a deep, resonant sound that felt like it was vibrating through Izuku's very soul, chasing away the cold.
"I'm going to take you home," Izuku said, his voice finally steady with decision.
He picked the cat up, tucking it inside his jacket to keep it dry. "You'll be my new family. We'll protect each other."
The cat looked up at him and purred louder.
In the distance, the sirens of Musutafu wailed, but in the small alleyway, the silence was finally peaceful.
_-_-_-_-_
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(9 Advanced Chapters)