Pain wasn't the right word for what Takeshi felt.
His Quirk was trying to adapt—he could feel it surging, reaching for the threat, analyzing the device's output. But every time an adaptation began to form, it collapsed. Not suppressed. Disrupted. Like trying to build a structure in an earthquake, where the foundation kept shifting before anything could take hold.
His body was tearing itself apart trying to respond to a threat it couldn't understand.
Takeshi collapsed to his knees, his vision blurring. The man in the lab coat was watching with clinical detachment, making notes on a tablet that had appeared from somewhere.
"Fascinating," the man said. "The readouts are showing attempted adaptations cycling at roughly four per second. Your Quirk is effectively attacking itself, trying to counter interference it categorizes as a threat but can't properly analyze." He adjusted something on the device. "Let's see what happens when we increase the frequency."
The pain doubled. Tripled. Takeshi heard himself scream, distantly, like it was happening to someone else. His skin was trying to harden and failing. His nervous system was trying to dull pain receptors and failing. His cardiovascular system was trying to boost oxygen delivery and failing.
Every adaptation attempt was a new failure. Every failure was a new wound his body inflicted on itself.
Going to die, he thought with surprising clarity. This is how I die. Not fighting villains. Being studied to death by someone in a lab coat.
"Heartrate critical," the man noted. "Cellular breakdown accelerating. Quirk factor approaching fatal cascade. Recommend termination of test in fifteen seconds to preserve subject viability."
Through the pain, through the biological chaos, Takeshi's analyst mind latched onto those words. Preserve subject viability. They want me alive. This is capture, not execution.
And if they wanted him alive, they'd have to stop before killing him.
Which meant he had maybe ten seconds to act while they thought he was incapacitated.
Takeshi forced his hand to move. It felt like pushing through concrete, every muscle screaming in protest. His Quirk was still cycling failed adaptations, still tearing him apart from inside. But his hand reached the earpiece that had fallen when he collapsed.
He crushed it.
The plastic shattered, and inside was a tiny battery. Still charged. Still containing energy.
Takeshi grabbed the fragments and pressed them against the man's leg.
The battery shorted. Electricity arced. The man jerked backward, startled rather than hurt, but his thumb came off the device's button.
The disruption field cut off.
Takeshi's Quirk seized the opportunity with desperate ferocity. Adaptations slammed into place—electrical resistance, pain suppression, accelerated healing, enhanced reflexes. His body was overcompensating, throwing everything it had at survival because it had just experienced the closest thing to death an adaptation-type could face: the complete inability to adapt.
He was moving before conscious thought caught up. His fist connected with the man's jaw—pulled at the last second because even desperate and terrified, Takeshi wasn't a killer. The man went down hard, the device clattering from his grip.
Takeshi grabbed it and ran.
His body was still healing, still compensating for the damage he'd inflicted on himself. He could feel internal bleeding stopping, torn muscle fibers knitting together, neural pathways rerouting around damaged sections. The pain was fading but the memory remained—the absolute helplessness of having his Quirk turned against him.
He made it to the hallway before his legs gave out. The wall caught him, cold concrete against his forehead as he struggled to breathe.
The device. Destroy it. They can't have—
"Takeshi!" Mt. Lady's voice, distant but approaching fast. "Where are you? I heard—oh fuck."
She rounded the corner and stopped. Takeshi could see himself reflected in her horrified expression: covered in sweat, skin pale and clammy, shaking like he had hypothermia. Blood at the corners of his mouth from bitten cheeks.
"What happened?" She was beside him in an instant, supporting his weight. "You look like you went ten rounds with a Nomu."
"Worse," Takeshi managed. He held up the device with a trembling hand. "Commission tech. Disrupts adaptation Quirks. Tried to capture me."
Mt. Lady's expression went from concerned to furious in a heartbeat. "They what?"
"The insider. Works for them. Knows everything—my name, Kamino connection, Quirk type." Takeshi forced himself to stand without support. "Where is he?"
"Still in the storage room if—" Mt. Lady started toward it.
The room was empty. No lab coat, no tablet, no evidence except the scattered Trigger canisters the man had been loading. He'd fled during Takeshi's escape, probably had a secondary exit planned.
"Fuck," Mt. Lady said eloquently. She pulled out her phone. "I'm calling this in. Commission operation against a civilian is illegal as hell, and—"
"Don't." Takeshi's voice was sharper than he intended. "Think about it. Who do you call? The Hero Commission? They're the ones who deployed him. The police? They defer to the Commission on Quirk-related incidents. The media? We're both unlicensed and operating illegally tonight."
Mt. Lady's expression shifted from angry to calculating. "We're fucked."
"We're exposed," Takeshi corrected. He looked at the device in his hand—sleek, professional, covered in manufacturer markings he didn't recognize. "But we have evidence. And leverage, if we use it right."
"Use it how?"
Before Takeshi could answer, his damaged earpiece crackled with broken audio. "—eshi—respond—situation—critical—"
Not his earpiece. The fragments he'd crushed. But the private channel was still transmitting somehow, the encryption holding even through shattered hardware.
Mt. Lady pulled out her own earpiece and switched to the private channel. "—repeat, Midnight down, multiple injuries, auction site compromised—"
Death Arms's voice, strained and urgent. "—Trigger enhanced villains retreating, civilian casualties confirmed, need immediate medical—"
The coordinated attack was falling apart. But not in a good way.
"We need to move," Mt. Lady said. "Help the others, secure the situations, then figure out the Commission problem."
"No," Takeshi said. His mind was working through scenarios, probabilities. "The attacks were cover for my capture. Now that it failed, they'll have a backup plan. Probably already in motion."
"What kind of backup plan?"
"The kind where they spin tonight's events to justify taking me into custody." Takeshi's analyst training was overriding his exhaustion. "Think about it: coordinated villain attacks, unlicensed civilians operating in combat zones, one of them with a dangerous and uncontrolled Quirk. They'll say I'm a threat, that tonight proved I need Commission oversight."
Mt. Lady was quiet for a moment. "That's exactly what they'd do."
"Which means we have maybe an hour before official hero units arrive with detention orders." Takeshi looked at the device again. "Unless we move first."
"Move first how?"
"By doing exactly what they don't expect." Takeshi met her eyes. "We go to them. Now. Tonight. Before they can build their narrative."
"That's insane. You'd be walking into their hands."
"I'd be walking in on my terms, with evidence of illegal operations, with witnesses who saw me acting heroically, with leverage they can't simply suppress." Takeshi's grip tightened on the device. "And most importantly, I'd be walking in before they've had time to prepare their trap properly."
Mt. Lady stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "Kid, you nearly died five minutes ago. You're running on adrenaline and spite. This is not the time for bold tactical decisions."
"It's exactly the time," Takeshi countered. "Because in an hour, I'll be recovered enough that they'll expect rational caution. Right now, they'll expect me to run or hide. So we hit them while they're off-balance."
He could see her wavering. "And if they just arrest you the moment you walk in?"
"Then at least I go down swinging." Takeshi's smile was grim. "But I don't think they will. Because arresting me publicly, after tonight, creates questions they don't want to answer. Better to offer me a deal—cooperation in exchange for oversight, study in exchange for eventual licensing. Something that looks voluntary."
"You're betting your freedom on reading their politics correctly."
"I'm betting my freedom on the fact that I'm more valuable to them controlled than imprisoned." Takeshi started toward the exit. "And if I'm wrong, at least I made them work for it."
Mt. Lady followed, still arguing. "This is stupid. Midnight would tell you this is stupid."
"Midnight isn't here. And her plan—slow building, controlled exposure, eventual licensing—just got destroyed by tonight's operation." Takeshi's voice was hard. "So we pivot. We adapt. Just like my Quirk."
They exited the pharmaceutical center into chaos. Police were arriving, ambulances screaming in from multiple directions. The three villains Mt. Lady had secured were being loaded into transport, still unconscious.
Takeshi pulled out his phone and made a call he'd hoped to delay.
"Yamada?" Death Arms's voice was rough, exhausted. "Where are you? Midnight's asking—"
"Listen carefully," Takeshi interrupted. "The pharmaceutical center attack was a Commission operation to capture me. They know everything—my identity, my Quirk, my connection to Kamino. An agent tried to take me down with disruption tech."
Silence. Then: "Are you injured?"
"Recovering. But that's not the point. I'm going to Commission headquarters now, tonight, before they can build a narrative about what happened."
"The fuck you are," Death Arms said flatly. "You get to safety, we regroup, then—"
"There is no safety," Takeshi said. "They know where I am, what I can do, how to counter me. Running buys hours at best. So I'm going to them on my terms, with evidence, and I'm going to force a negotiation instead of waiting for them to dictate terms."
"Takeshi—"
"Tell Midnight what happened. Tell her I'm sorry for deviating from the plan. And tell her..." Takeshi paused. "Tell her she was right about the Commission being broken. But sometimes the only way to fix a broken system is to break it further."
He ended the call before Death Arms could argue more.
Mt. Lady was watching him with an expression somewhere between admiration and horror. "You know this is probably going to end with you in a cell, right?"
"Probably," Takeshi agreed. "But maybe not. And maybe is better than certainly, which is what happens if I run."
She was quiet for a long moment. Then she pulled out her phone and made her own call.
"Kamui Woods? Yeah, it's Yu. I need a favor. Big one. Remember how you said I could call if I ever needed support?" She listened, then: "I need you to come to Commission headquarters. Now. As a witness to tonight's events. And bring anyone else you trust who'll actually show up."
She ended the call and looked at Takeshi. "If we're doing this stupid thing, we're doing it with backup. I'm not letting you walk in there alone."
Takeshi felt something loosen in his chest. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. This could still go horribly wrong." Mt. Lady started toward her car—a civilian vehicle parked two blocks away. "Come on. We've got maybe forty minutes before someone issues an arrest warrant. Let's use them."
Commission headquarters was a glass and steel tower in central Tokyo, thirty floors of bureaucratic power that governed Japan's entire hero society. Takeshi had been there once before, five years ago, delivering analyst reports for his agency. He'd felt small then, insignificant.
He felt smaller now, standing in the main lobby at 2 AM with Mt. Lady beside him and Kamui Woods approaching through the entrance.
The lobby was nearly empty—night shift security, a few late-working administrators. But within seconds of their arrival, Takeshi could see people taking notice. Making calls. Mt. Lady's size made her impossible to miss, and Kamui Woods in his hero costume drew immediate attention.
A security guard approached. "I'm sorry, but visiting hours are—"
"We're here to speak with someone in authority regarding tonight's coordinated villain attacks," Takeshi said. His voice was steadier than he felt. "Specifically regarding Commission operations that occurred during those attacks."
The guard's expression shifted. "I'll need to see identification and—"
"Takeshi Yamada. Kamino Ward survivor. Unlicensed adaptive-type Quirk user." Takeshi held up the device he'd taken from the lab-coat man. "And person of interest in an illegal capture operation conducted by Commission agents approximately one hour ago."
The guard's face went pale. "Please wait here."
He retreated to his desk, speaking urgently into a phone. Takeshi could see the conversation escalating—one call becoming two, then three. Within five minutes, a woman in a business suit appeared from the elevators.
She was young, professional, with eyes that showed no surprise at their presence. "Mr. Yamada. Ms. Takeyama. Shinji Nishiya. If you'll follow me, there are people who would very much like to speak with you."
"I bet there are," Mt. Lady muttered.
They followed her to the elevators. Kamui Woods positioned himself slightly behind Takeshi—protection or witness, probably both. The elevator rose silently to the fifteenth floor.
The conference room they were led to was designed for intimidation: massive table, high-backed chairs, floor-to-ceiling windows showing Tokyo's nighttime sprawl. Three people were already waiting.
Takeshi recognized one immediately: Madam President, the current head of the Hero Public Safety Commission. The other two were unknowns—a man in a suit who radiated bureaucratic authority, and a woman with a tablet who was clearly there to document everything.
"Mr. Yamada," Madam President said. Her voice was measured, controlled. "You've had quite an eventful evening."
"That's one way to describe being attacked by Commission agents," Takeshi said. He set the device on the table between them. "This is the disruption field generator one of your people used to try to incapacitate me at the pharmaceutical distribution center. It nearly killed me. I'd like an explanation."
The bureaucratic man leaned forward. "I think you're confused about what happened tonight. Our records show—"
"Your records show exactly what you want them to show," Mt. Lady interrupted. "But we've got three witnesses to Takeshi's heroic actions, civilian testimony, and physical evidence of Commission misconduct. So maybe we skip the gaslighting and get to the actual conversation."
Madam President held up a hand, silencing the bureaucrat. "Mr. Yamada, you are aware that manifesting a Quirk as an adult, particularly following exposure to catastrophic-level combat energy, makes you a person of interest under several safety protocols?"
"I'm aware the Commission has been tracking me since Kamino," Takeshi said. "I'm aware you've detained four other survivors for 'observation.' I'm aware that tonight's coordinated villain attack included a Commission operation to capture me under cover of the chaos."
"That's a serious accusation."
"That's a documented fact." Takeshi gestured to the device. "Your equipment. Your agent. Your illegal operation. Unless you're claiming someone's impersonating Commission authority? In which case, we should probably alert the media immediately."
The room went very quiet.
Madam President studied Takeshi for a long moment. Then she smiled—thin, professional, absolutely devoid of warmth. "You're smarter than our initial assessment suggested. And bolder. Walking into Commission headquarters to confront us with evidence of our own operations..." She shook her head. "Most people would run."
"Most people don't have adaptation Quirks," Takeshi said. "I don't run. I evolve."
"Indeed." She stood, walking to the windows. "Here's the situation, Mr. Yamada. You're correct that tonight's operation was ours. We've been monitoring you since you manifested, waiting for the appropriate moment to bring you into controlled observation. The villain attacks provided that opportunity."
"Except I didn't get captured."
"No, you didn't. Which is both impressive and problematic." She turned back to face him. "You've demonstrated significant combat capability, operated without licensing in multiple incidents, developed relationships with active heroes, and generally proven yourself both useful and uncontrolled. That makes you valuable and dangerous in equal measure."
"Get to the offer," Mt. Lady said. "We know there's an offer. Otherwise you'd have already had security drag us out."
Madam President's smile widened fractionally. "Ms. Takeyama, always direct. Very well." She returned to the table. "We offer Mr. Yamada provisional hero status. Accelerated licensing track, one-on-one training with Commission specialists, access to resources and support that would otherwise take years to acquire. In exchange, he submits to regular evaluation, accepts oversight on his Quirk development, and cooperates fully with our research into Kamino-related manifestations."
"You mean you want to study me," Takeshi said.
"We want to understand you," Madam President corrected. "Your Quirk is unprecedented in scope and potential. Proper documentation benefits everyone—you gain better control, we gain knowledge that could help other adaptive-type users. Everyone wins."
"Except the four other Kamino survivors you've already disappeared."
"They're receiving excellent care in specialized facilities—"
"They're imprisoned without trial or contact with family," Takeshi interrupted. "And you want me to volunteer for the same treatment, dressed up as 'provisional status.'"
"We're offering you a path to legitimate hero work," the bureaucrat said. "The alternative is arrest for unlicensed Quirk use in combat situations. Multiple counts. You'd face years in detention regardless."
Kamui Woods spoke for the first time. "Actually, Good Samaritan provisions protect civilian intervention in emergency situations. Every incident Takeshi participated in qualifies. Arrest would be legally questionable at best."
"Legal technicalities can be overcome with sufficient motivation," the bureaucrat said coldly.
"As can public relations disasters," Kamui Woods countered. "Arresting someone who saved lives tonight, who prevented Trigger theft, who acted heroically while Commission agents tried to capture him? The media would have questions. Many questions."
The standoff stretched. Takeshi could see the calculations happening behind Madam President's eyes—risk versus reward, control versus exposure, victory versus acceptable compromise.
"What do you want?" she asked finally, directing the question at Takeshi.
"Time," he said. "Six months to train independently, develop my Quirk on my own terms, build proper combat competence. Then I'll take your licensing exam—publicly, transparently, with witnesses. If I pass, I get full hero status without additional strings. If I fail, we renegotiate."
"That's unacceptable," the bureaucrat said. "Six months unsupervised with a Quirk of unknown limits—"
"Six months during which I continue doing exactly what I did tonight: helping heroes, responding to emergencies, building positive reputation." Takeshi leaned forward. "You want control, but control through imprisonment creates martyrs. Control through opportunity creates loyalty. Give me time to prove myself legitimately, and you get a powerful hero who chose cooperation. Try to force me, and you get exactly the kind of public fight that ends careers."
Madam President was silent, her expression unreadable. Then she looked at Mt. Lady. "And you? What's your stake in this?"
"I want my hero license reinstated," Mt. Lady said. "No conditions, no probation. You destroyed my career over one mistake during chaos you couldn't control. I've proven tonight I'm still effective. Give me back what you took."
"Ms. Takeyama, your case is—"
"Non-negotiable," Mt. Lady interrupted. "Takeshi gets his six months, I get my license, or we walk out of here and take our story to every media outlet that'll listen. Your choice."
The silence stretched for thirty seconds.
"Three months," Madam President said finally. "Three months supervised training with a Commission-approved mentor. Monthly evaluations. Restricted operation to Tokyo prefecture. At the end, public licensing exam as you requested. Ms. Takeyama gets conditional reinstatement, full status restored after six months of incident-free operation." She met Takeshi's eyes. "This is as far as I bend. Accept or face consequences."
Takeshi looked at Mt. Lady. At Kamui Woods. Both nodded fractionally.
"Who's the mentor?" he asked.
"Someone already familiar with your case." Madam President pressed a button on the conference table. "Send her in."
The door opened.
Midnight walked in, her hero costume torn from combat but her expression fierce and satisfied. She looked at Takeshi and smiled.
"Surprise," she said. "Turns out I'm officially Commission-approved as of ten minutes ago. Reinstatement, full authority, assigned specifically to your supervision." Her smile turned sharp. "Someone high up decided the best way to control you is through someone you already trust. They're not wrong, but they're also not as smart as they think."
Takeshi felt something like hope ignite in his chest. "Three months?"
"Three months of me making your life hell," Midnight confirmed. "Proper training, proper oversight, proper preparation for that licensing exam. And when you pass—because you will pass—you become the hero you've been trying to be since Kamino."
"And if he fails?" the bureaucrat asked.
"Then we renegotiate," Madam President said. "But somehow, I suspect Mr. Yamada doesn't fail when it matters." She extended her hand. "Do we have an agreement?"
Takeshi looked at the offered hand. At the device on the table. At Mt. Lady and Kamui Woods and Midnight.
At the choice between control and cooperation, imprisonment and opportunity.
He shook her hand. "We have an agreement."