Location: Tokyo Metropolitan Expressway – Route 3 (Shibuya-Roppongi Line)
Tuesday | 07:15 AM
The expressway was a graveyard of idling engines and stagnant frustration.
VRMMM.
Kaito Arisaka sat in the driver's seat of his matte-black compact, the rhythmic thrum of the motor vibrating through his palms.
Ahead, the sky was warped, the light bending around a bridge pylon where a mid-tier hero was currently playing tug-of-war with a gravity-type enhanced trigger villain.
"Another one?"
"Why haven't they solved the Trigger pandemic yet?""
"They're just wasting taxpayers money!"
"Go! Defeat the villain already!"
"I'm going to be late!"
Countless people were stuck in a traffic jam. Some were annoyed, some were in a hurry, others were irritated and most were hoping the pros can take care of the situation.
Cars were bobbing half a foot off the ground like corks in a bathtub.
"Every morning it's the same script," Kaito muttered, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror. "A thousand horsepower held hostage by a C-rank ego."
He checked the dashboard clock. 07:18 AM.
The Roppongi briefing was in seventy-two minutes. If he stayed in this lane, he'd be lucky to make it by noon.
Click.
Kaito didn't just flip a switch; he initiated a sequence.
He reached for the customized aluminum toggle near the gear shift and pulled it back.
"Let's minimize the footprint," he whispered.
Whirrrrr-shoooop.
Kaito had finally purchased his own vehicle. And on top of that he modified it to become like ant man shrinking technology. A little bit of snap and some upgrades and add ons in the vehicle.
He focused on the car's molecular volume, the specific density of the steel, and the conceptual space it occupied.
The "Snap" didn't just shrink the car; it edited it.
The cabin condensed, the leather seats tightening around him as the world outside surged upward.
The exhaust pipe of a nearby delivery truck suddenly looked like a tunnel entrance.
The massive, treaded tires of a floating SUV became black rubber cliffs.
Vroooom.
Kaito tapped the pedal. The shrunken car zipped forward, navigating the narrow asphalt canyons between the stalled vehicles.
Zip. Swerve.
Kaito drove specifically under the "blind spots" of the suspended cars so the drivers can't see a tiny car zipping between their tires.
He went directly under a suspended sedan, dodging a slow drip of dark transmission fluid that looked like a falling lake.
"Too close," Kaito noted, steering with a single, sharp motion.
He wasn't just driving; he was threading a needle through a disaster zone.
Click.
He hit another button on the console.
"Electronic dampening on," Kaito said.
A localized frequency-jammer flared from the car's chassis.
The nearby traffic cameras didn't glitch; they simply saw a blur of grey static that the HPSC software would later flag as a routine "interference pocket."
Kaito wasn't just avoiding the traffic; he was erasing the evidence. After all, a shrinking vehicles in public can be seen as using quirk illegally and if they know its a technology, one will still be questioned and branded as using illegal gears.
Only certified manufacturers and licensed support companies can modify or create support or hero gears.
Kaito cleared the gravity field in forty seconds. Once he hit an empty patch of road past the fight, he pulled into the emergency lane.
Click.
Fwooo-oomp.
The car expanded back to its original size with a heavy, pressurized thud.
Kaito adjusted his tie in the mirror, checked for soot on his sleeves, and accelerated toward the Roppongi Hills tower.
_-_-_-_-_
Location: Roppongi Hills – CC Corp Headquarters | 32nd Floor Tuesday | 08:30 AM
Ssssh-pah.
The pressurized glass doors of the command center slid open.
Kaito walked in, the cool air hitting his face like a splash of water. It smelled of dark-roast espresso and the faint metallic tang of the massive server racks.
The room was a hive of quiet, disciplined activity. Thirty-two analysts sat at their stations, swapping data tablets and monitoring live feeds.
There was no shouting, no running. Kaito had purged the "frantic" energy of the old CC agency weeks ago.
Tap-tap-tap. Click.
Kaito walked to his central desk.
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the hand-carved wooden cat Grandma Saki had given him.
He placed it on a stone coaster next to his monitor.
The black-and-white paint was slightly chipped at the ears, and the wood felt rough compared to the polished steel of the desk.
Kaito sat down and opened the Legacy Manual.
He liked the weight of the heavy-stock paper. It was filled with his own handwriting—wind velocity charts, rescue formations, and psychological profiles.
He flipped to the section on Crowd Management.
On the main wall, the ticker glowed:
[MISSION SUCCESS: 100% | COLLATERAL DAMAGE: 0.00%].
Kaito watched a live feed from Shinjuku. A containment team was cornering a pack of mutated dogs.
The animals were foaming at the mouth, their fur matted with purple Trigger-slime.
The team didn't use nets or tackle the dogs.
They followed the "Emitter Protocol" Kaito had drilled into them.
Bzzzzzt.
The high-frequency emitters Kaito had installed on the street lamps pulsed once.
The dogs went rigid, their nervous systems temporarily locked by the sound.
The team moved in, loaded them into reinforced cages, and cleared the street in sixty seconds.
"Perfect timing," Kaito noted, marking a checkbox in the manual.
He leaned back, looking at the sixty monitors. The agency was finally running the way it was supposed to.
It was predictable.
It was safe.
And because of that, it was boring. He had solved the puzzle of Captain Celebrity.
He had fixed this agency, and now there was nothing left for him to do but watch it hum.
Then.
Ssssh-whoosh.
The pneumatic doors hissed open.
Christopher Skyline—Captain Celebrity—walked in.
He wasn't flying; he was walking with a heavy, confident stride. He wore his gold-and-white suit, but the cape was draped over his arm like a folded towel.
"Manager! Kaito! Tell me you saw that!"
Christopher's voice boomed, rattling the coffee cups at the nearby station. He was grinning, his teeth a blinding, artificial white.
"That crane in Chuo! I caught it with one hand! One hand, Kaito! The 'Golden Grip' is already trending at number one!"
Christopher struck a pose, flexing a bicep for two logistics girls who were grabbing water.
They giggled and snapped photos on their phones.
Christopher winked at them before leaning over Kaito's desk, his massive shadow covering the manual.
The boisterous act dropped for a second. His voice became quiet and serious.
"The stabilization field you set for the crane's support beams... I felt it," Christopher said, looking at Kaito with genuine respect.
"The steel didn't even creak. It didn't even groan. It felt like I was picking up a piece of cardboard. I looked like a god out there."
"If the steel creaks, people get scared," Kaito said. He didn't look up from his manual. "If it's silent, they feel Hope. You're the Symbol of Hope now, Christopher. You have to act like the weight doesn't even exist."
Christopher laughed and slapped Kaito on the shoulder.
The force would have knocked a normal man across the room, but Kaito didn't even lean.
"You're a terrifying kid, you know that?" Christopher said, his eyes drifting to the wooden cat on the desk.
"You've turned my agency into a cathedral in just three months. My staff isn't worried about the HPSC audits anymore. They're afraid of you finding a typo in their reports."
"I'm just the Operation Manager, Christopher," Kaito said. He closed the manual with a heavy THUD.
Christopher's smile faltered.
He saw the "Notice of Resignation" sitting at the top of Kaito's outgoing pile.
"Kaito, wait. You're serious?" Christopher asked, his voice rising in actual panic. "I'll triple your salary. Right now. I'll give you a twenty percent stake in the CC Corp holdings. I'll buy you a private jet. Just stay. The agency will fall apart in a week if you walk out that door."
"The manual is complete, Christopher," Kaito said, looking at the golden hero. "I've solved the problem here. If I stay, I'm just an expensive decoration. And I'm bored."
"Bored?" Christopher let out a frustrated huff.
"The world is falling apart! The animal trigger cases are doubling! The spike in trigger villains is at an all time high. This is the peak of the career!"
"That's exactly why I'm leaving," Kaito said.
"The top is safe. I've already fixed it. I need to go where things are still in need."
_-_-_-_-_-_
Location: CC Corp – Briefing Room B
11:30 AM
The briefing room was a pressurized cube of obsidian and glass, overlooking the sprawling grey expanse of Tokyo.
Kaito Arisaka sat at the head of the table, his posture relaxed but commanding.
Ssssh-pah.
The door slid open.
Agent Yokoyama entered with a respectful nod, clutching a leather briefcase.
Behind him, Akane Mera shuffled in, her presence dragging the energy of the room down with her.
She looked like she was surviving on spite and caffeine, her eyes bloodshot and framed by deep, permanent shadows.
She slumped into a chair across from Kaito and slammed a heavy thermos onto the table.
"Arisaka-san," Yokoyama began, clicking his pen.
Click. Click.
"The Commission has completed the review of the last quarter. The 'Arisaka Standard' has officially been adopted as the primary logistical framework for all Top-Tier agencies. You've essentially rewritten the HPSC handbook in under a year."
"It was an outdated handbook," Kaito said, his voice level and resonant. He took a slow sip of his espresso. "Efficiency doesn't care about tradition, Yokoyama. It only cares about results."
Akane Mera squinted at him over the rim of her thermos.
"I've spent ten years looking at anomalies, Kaito," she rasped, her voice dry.
"I signed your 'Dud' classification three years ago. Your medical files—the biological rejection, the fact that your DNA was practically eating itself. Now, I'm looking at the most successful Operations Manager in the history of the Hero Society."
"The HPSC fails because it treats heroes like gods and logistics like an afterthought. I treated Christopher normally. I removed the ego, optimized the flight paths, and the 'miracles' followed." Kaito replied.
"Miracles," Mera whispered, a cynical edge to her voice. She tapped her tablet.
"People are calling Christopher the 'Symbol of Hope' because he's finally acting like a professional. But you've created his global hero speech. You're doing something, Arisaka."
"It's my job. That's what I'm paid for, Mera-san," Kaito said.
Rumble.
A 3.2 magnitude tremor rippled through the tower, a routine seismic shift.
The obsidian table hummed, and the coffee in Kaito's cup rippled.
In the server room directly behind Kaito, a heavy equipment rack filled with backup power cells began to rattle violently against its rail.
Rattle-clack-rattle-SCREECH.
The sound was sharp, high-pitched, and invasive.
Yokoyama winced, glancing toward the glass partition.
Kaito didn't turn his head. He didn't even pause.
SNAP.
The sound was a dull, internal dry pop.
Inside the server room, the molecular density of the rack's steel frame shifted instantly.
The weight of the object tripled, pinning it to the rail with absolute, silent finality.
The vibration was deleted. The room returned to a state of pressurized silence.
Kaito pretends to be slightly startled by the aftermath.
While Yokoyama blinked and was baffled about the short earthquake, then cleared his throat.
"As I was saying... your results have made you the most requested consultant in the country. The Commission wants to discuss a long-term contract."
"I'm not interested in being a permanent fixture of the HPSC," Kaito said, leaning back. "I'm a specialist. I fix what's broken and I move on. Roppongi is stable. Christopher is ready. My work here is finished."
Akane Mera watched the server rack for a long second, then turned her eyes back to Kaito.
"You're a strange one, Arisaka," she said, sliding a heavy, encrypted folder across the table.
Sswish.
"If you're so bored with perfection, take this. The Sky Blue Agency in Hosu. Since the Trigger outbreaks started, their save rates have dropped to 40%. It's a slaughterhouse. They've gone through three managers in two months. None of them could handle the chaos."
Kaito picked up the folder. He didn't see it as a threat or a burden. He saw a system in total collapse. He saw a puzzle that would actually require his attention.
"Hosu," Kaito noted, his fingers brushing the cold plastic. "Let me think about it. There are still a many agencies to choose from."
"If you'll have it," Yokoyama said, standing up with a relieved sigh. "The Commission will be grateful, Arisaka-san."
Mera stood up, her joints popping.
She grabbed her thermos and looked at Kaito one last time. "Don't think your 'Standard' is going to work in Hosu, kid. Roppongi is a controlled environment."
"I'll manage it the same way I manage everything else Mera-san" Kaito said
He watched them leave, his expression calm and settled.
_-_-_-_-_-_
Location: Musutafu – Midoriya Household
Izuku's Room
The only light in the small room came from a desk lamp, casting long shadows over the All Might and Hero X posters on the walls.
Outside the door, Izuku could hear the muffled sound of the evening news and the clinking of dishes as his mom finished up in the kitchen.
Izuku Midoriya sat on the floor, his heart racing. He had a plain notebook open on his knees, but his eyes were locked on the black-and-white cat sitting on the rug.
"Okay, Kuro. Let's try it again. Just like always, quiet," Izuku whispered.
Kuro didn't meow.
He just watched Izuku with those sharp, amber eyes.
Since the night they met weeks ago, Izuku had realized that Kuro wasn't a normal cat.
Kuro could change his shape, his weight, and the way he moved based on what Izuku needed him to do.
"Boxer Form," Izuku said, holding his breath.
Shhh-snap.
The cat's body rippled.
He didn't get bigger, but his fur flattened out into dark, hard plates that looked like armor.
His paws became thick and heavy, planting him firmly into the rug. He looked solid, like a heavy-weight fighter ready to take a hit.
Kuro was dressed like a boxer. Red gloves both in the paws, a lightweight loose fitting black shorts and a golden satin hooded robe.
Izuku reached out and pushed Kuro's shoulder with all his might, shoving against the cat's side, but Kuro didn't move an inch. It was like trying to push a brick wall.
"You're so burly in this form, Kuro" Izuku muttered, scribbling a quick note.
[Boxer Form: Unmovable. Hard fur.]
He tapped the cat's side. It felt like hitting a ceramic plate.
"Okay Kuro, change. Ninja Form," Izuku commanded.
Fwoosh.
In a blur, the boxing form vanished.
Kuro's body stretched out, becoming thin and wiry. His legs looked longer, and his paws seemed to grip the air itself. He was dressed like a ninja.
With one silent leap, the cat shot toward the wall.
He didn't fall; he clung to the wallpaper, running vertically toward the ceiling without making a single sound.
Tap-tap-tap.
Kuro circled the top of the room, zig-zagging over the doorframe and the bookshelf. He didn't knock over a single pencil. He was a shadow moving through the room.
"Ninja Form is perfect for scouting," Izuku whispered, his pen flying across the page and has a cool outfit too.
"Fast. Silent. Weightless."
Kuro dropped back down onto the desk, landing right on top of a stack of textbooks.
He sat there, staring at Izuku, waiting.
Izuku looked at a new sketch in his notebook.
It was a humanoid shape, the cat standing on two legs with his front paws ready to punch.
"Next time, we'll first try the Plus Ultra Form," Izuku said.
He still vividly remembered the muscle form of Kuro when they first met. He was thinking about All Might at that time. When Kuro was about to change form.
Then.
"Izuku? Is everything okay in there? I heard a thud," Inko's voice called from the hallway.
Izuku jumped, nearly knocking over his lamp.
Fwoosh.
In a heartbeat, the Ninja was gone.
Kuro was just a normal cat again, curled into a ball on a physics book, looking like he'd been asleep for hours.
"It's nothing, Mom! Just dropped a book!"
Izuku yelled back, his chest heaving.
He waited until he heard her walk back to the living room. He looked at Kuro and let out a long sigh of relief.
"We have to keep this a secret, Kuro," Izuku whispered, sliding the notebook under his bed.
"If people find out you're not a normal cat, they'll try to take you away. We have to be smart about this."
He climbed into bed, feeling a spark of excitement he hadn't felt in years.
Izuku didn't have a quirk, but he had a partner.
And together, they were going to train until they were ready for anything the world threw at them.
_-_-_-_-_-_
Location: Roppongi Hills – CC Corp Headquarters
Kaito's Office
Kaito stood by the window, watching the shadows of the skyscrapers stretch across the city like long, dark fingers.
His briefcase sat by the door, heavy and waiting.
On his desk, the recruitment folders were spread out like a hand of cards.
[Sky Blue Rescue (Hosu): A disaster. Save rates were in the gutter, and the staff was quitting in droves.]
[Endeavor Agency: Pure power, but the logistics were failing because no one could handle the Number Two's temper or the high-stress environment of his sidekicks.]
[The Ryukyu Agency: Coordination issues. Managing a dragon and her aerial team was proving too much for their current desk staff.]
[Gunslinger Combat (Shizuoka): Too much collateral damage. They were stopping villains but leveling city blocks in the process.]
[Fire Police Department: ...]
[....]
[..]
Kaito didn't circle a name. He just gathered the folders into a neat stack and slid them into his briefcase.
The HPSC wanted an answer, but they could wait.
He had done what he came here to do.
Christopher was no longer a liability; he was a symbol of "Hope" that could run on autopilot as long as he followed the manual.
Roppongi was safe, sterile, and perfectly ordered.
Kaito sat down at his desk one last time and pulled his tablet toward him.
No long-winded goodbyes. No corporate speeches.
[To: Christopher Skyline
Re: Resignation
The system is stable. The manual is finished. You are the Symbol of Hope because the world believes you are. Do not prove them wrong.]
He hit send and watched the loading bar finish.
Then Kaito stood up, tucked the wooden cat into his jacket pocket, and grabbed his briefcase.
Ssssss
The elevator doors hissed shut, cutting off the hum of the servers and the pale blue glow of the monitors.
Kaito stepped out of the lobby and into the parking area.
_-_-_-_-_
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