“Izuku, don’t believe a word of what the doctor says.” That’s what my mom had told me the day I was diagnosed as Quirkless. The same day of the robbery, ironically enough. “You won’t develop a Quirk, but he is talking nonsense when he says it’s impossible to be a hero. He doesn’t get to decide who gets to be a hero or not. No matter if you have a quirk or not, heroes are not decided by their power but by their character. All Might is always ready to help, just like you are and no doctor can say you don’t have that quality. Quirk or not, Izuku, you’re closer to All Might than most.”
As wise as those words are, I know now that she was trying to make me feel better. What good mother wouldn’t? I had all but gotten my dreams of being a hero smashed that day and she pulled me out of what could’ve been the start of a nasty depression. Still what she said stuck with me and even if she was trying her best to make me feel better, she didn’t pull that out of whole cloth. She recognized something in me that, even years later I had only just begun to grasp about myself.
Of course, after that she’d taken me to the corner store near where we lived and the rest is, as they say, is history. Our lives ended that day. She and I were changed, though we didn’t know how much at the time and the first domino in a long line of them was flicked and began to tip.
-My Mother The Warrior
----------------------------------------
Inko blinked as she looked down her son’s back.
A tail.
That’s what it had to be. It was furry, brown, and thick like large snake and it was moving just behind him.
A pressure at her back, one that she hadn’t quite registered, shifted and she nearly jumped out of the bed with her son in her arms. “What?!”
She looked down to see a small fuzzy nub sticking between the sheets and her bed. She then looked at the hero in shock.
For her part, Recovery Girl looked unsurprised. “Well, that was the other thing I wanted to mention, dear. It seems as if you’ve developed a secondary quirk. The tail grew on you and your son apparently grew while in transport to the hospital.”
Izuku pulled away sightly, his face, while still wet with tears, glowed when he smiled. “I’ve got a quirk now, Mom! You were right, the doctor was wrong!” In a movement so quick that Inko was surprised she could follow it, Izuku let go and backflipped off her bed. This time everyone yelped at the unexpected jump and she was about to leap off the bed to catch him. Her shock was doubled when instead of smacking face first into the floor, Izuku landed gently on his tail with legs split and arms spread for balance. Giggling, he did a few hops, bouncing around in a circle like his tail was a pogostick before dropping to his feet as the nurse who’d brought him in told him to stop. “You’re not in shape to be doing that,” she scolded in the exasperated way Inko recognized as an adult having repeated themselves several times.
Her son looked back at her, smile wide and happy. “See, Mom?”
She did. And she could barely believe it. That day… the day she’d thought couldn’t have gotten worse until the robbery.
Not for Izuku, though that was enough of a surprise, but her own tail.
“How?” She asked, completely confused. “This...”
Suddenly, the comment about wagging made more sense. She bent forward off the bed enough to feel the whole length of the tail. It moved like a living thing, squirming under her touch as she traced it all the way up to the base of her spine. “This makes no sense.”
“It’s quite possible that this quirk lay dormant for your son. It’s quite possible this Quirk also came from your or your husband’s grand and great grandparent. While it’s not unknown for a person to be born with multiple quirks, it’s rare and in your case, Mrs. Midoriya, it’s quite unheard of for anyone to develop a quirk this late in life.”
“But, his toe joint...” Inko faded, she didn’t want to sound like she was unhappy for the development. Her son wasn’t Quirkless and that was great but… this was a lot to process. She had a dormant Quirk? She reached out to the empty cup she just drank out of and pulled it towards her like she’d done so many times over the years. It floated into her hand without issue.
Apparently guessing at what she was doing, Recovery Girl nodded. “There shouldn’t be any complications between your Quirks, don’t worry.
A knock at the door cut off any questions that she wanted to ask and the want to do so left her as soon as she saw who entered.
Two men made their way in. One was obviously a police officer; his dark blue uniform, peaked white cap, and badge pinned on his chest while the other was in a trench coat and matching fedora. The latter was tall, so much so, that when he leaned over to Recovery Girl, he had to bend quite a ways to meet her like a grown adult addressing a child. Inko found it difficult to keep a straight face, it looked so ridiculous.
Her attention was taken by Izuku as he bounced from his tail back to the bed, turning a full flip in the air and landing on the rail so gently that she barely felt the impact. It was enough to shock her into action. “Izuku,” she warned, her voice firm but not harsh. Guiding him off the rail by his hips, she patiently swept him up with both hands and onto her lap. “You need to calm down.” Before you give the nurse a heart attack. The woman in question looked like she was on the edge of fainting from that last stunt.
Her admonishment seemed to calm him down just enough before his face lit up. “Hey. Hey, mom. I can feel things too.”
“Like what?” She wanted to focus back on her son but couldn’t help but notice the man in the trench coat had raised his gloved hand to cover his mouth as he whispered in the heroine’s ear. It was odd at first but as the other’s face began to frown at whatever she was being told, it became clear that something was wrong.
“Mom. You’re not listening.” Izuku moaned, his hands patting against her chest for attention.
She looked down at her little boy who was giving her a grumpy look, cheeks puffed out in childish frustration.
After another minute of mumbled conversation that she couldn’t make out, the man stood straight and at a wave from Recovery Girl, approached her bed. “Ma’am,” he greeted, taking off his hat and bowing slightly. “I’m Detective Tsukauchi. How are you doing this morning?”
Inko hesitated only a moment before speaking. “I’m fine. And you?”
“The same.”
An awkward moment followed as Recovery Girl, asked the nurse to take Izuku out in the hall for a little while.
Izuku looked at her then his mother and his little arms tightened around her, fingers gasping as if she were the only handhold on the edge of a cliff. Inko could see that all traces of that happy energy had fled and the beginnings of panic tinged his eyes.
“I’ll be fine, Izuku. It will just be a moment.” She soothed, putting on a smile that she didn’t feel. She’d expected to be questioned by the police at some point but this was early and she was getting a bad feeling about what they were about to discuss. It might be best that he wasn’t here for this.
Reluctantly, he let her go and allowed himself to be guided out of the room.
The police officer exited with them, leaving her with the detective and hero. As soon as the door shut, she spoke. “May I ask what I can do for you, officer?”
Stepping forward, he pulled a digital recorder and notepad out of his pocket and, setting the former down on the side table, turned it on and stated. “I am her to take your statement of the incident that took place three days ago.”
It was a simple enough request, she figured. So, she told him everything about what happened; how she had got to the that store to buy her son a treat, that she’d avoided the boys who been making noise at the magazine racks, how she’d idly noticed the backroom door was open and how odd that had seemed at the time, and that she’d just been about to pay when the attack started.
It was in the middle of her telling, the part where she’d grabbed her son and the other man whose name she didn’t know and had made for the only escape available, when the enormity of what she’d survived finally sunk in. Maybe it was just in the surreal nature of saying it aloud but it finally clicked into place.
Someone had tried to kill her.
Someone nearly succeeded in killing her.
A murderer was out there. It twisted her stomach into hard nauseating knots and she had to grip the handrail of her hospital bed to fight off the dizziness that followed. Could this get any worse? How was he still out there?
“Ma’am?” Tsukauchi’s voice snapped her back to the present. “Are you well?”
“Yes.” Clearing her throat, she hoped to pass it off as a moment of distraction. She didn’t know if she was convincing but the man thankfully didn’t pry any further and nodded. “Please continue.”
She gathered her thoughts then shook her head. “There is not much to continue after that. I know I planned to go for the door but it gets fuzzy even before that. Guess I didn’t make it.”
A few more notes were jotted down and then the notepad was shut and the recorder pocketed, most likely now off.
The moment it was, Inko wasted no time.
“Now that we’re off the record, what exactly is going on?” Throughout her entire statement, the suspicion of something being off had hung around. It actually grew harder to ignore as the detective hadn’t asked her anything. Beyond the initial request for a statement, he hadn’t asked for clarifications or for a little more detail. “Something tells me that you came here for more than my statement.
The man hesitated, not expecting to be called out and clearly hesitant to respond.
Recovery Girl recovered for him. “I’m afraid that one of the villains who attacked you at the store has escaped.” Moving closer to stand next to him, the tap of her cane was a counterpoint to Inko’s stunned silence.
With a short cough that she figured was less clearing his own throat and more signal he was taking back charge of the conversation. He seemed more willing to speak straight with her now that the unpleasant news was out in the open. “Um, yes. He’s still at large. The whole city is on high alert and searching.”
He said this like it was meant to make her feel better.
It didn’t.
A villain who’d killed two people like it was nothing, who’s attempt to kill her had balanced on the edge of a cellphone of all things, couldn’t be found? “It’s been three days, right?” she asked, if only to make sure.
Not just that but the equivalent of an army of heroes and police searching for three days hadn’t turned him up yet?
No, she wasn’t feeling better at all.
“We have everyone available combing the city, ma’am. He won’t escape.”
He said something more but by then she’d stopped listening. He mind spun, struggling to understand it. If he had escaped, what did that mean for her? For her son?
In a flash, she recognized the true import of that other police officer leaving the room. It hadn’t been for privacy. He was a guard. She put a hand to her face, her thigh and back tingling for some reason. “Detective Tsukauchi? Be honest with me, do you think he might come after us?”
The silence that followed and the look she caught them sharing in the corner of her vision made all clear. “It’s unlikely but we don’t want to take any chances.”
She almost laughed. Unlikely but enough of a chance that they thought her son and her needed a guard? A voice in the back of her mind said that they were just doing due diligence.
And yet… it was irritating. Her jaw tightened at the disrespect, the sheer gall of the insult dropped into her lap like a rotten piece of fruit. Why wouldn’t they just be up front with it? Did they think she couldn’t handle telling her straight that she might need a guard? Was she that useless in their eyes? Who were they to talk down to her? Was she, Inko Midoriya, so pathetic in their eyes that they thought she couldn’t protect her own son?
Again, as when she’d nearly unconsciously strangled the doctor, the thought of her son brought a ferocious calm upon her. Instead of a crashing wave meant to bowl her over, it was an embrace, warm and under pressure, a simmering displeasure that turned from them to the probable threat.
A squeak came from somewhere in the room but it was a distraction she refused to entertain. She wasn’t going to be cowed, by these two or by a...by a…
An animal. A wild butcher and nothing more. A rabid wolf that, if it did come would be expecting a lamb.
She found her mouth forming the words before she realized what she said. “No, thank you.”
“I’m sorry?”
With quickly eroding patience, she spoke again, looking up and right into the eyes of the police detective who…
Had he flinched?
“Don’t bother with the guard. We won’t need it.” She spoke carefully and calmly, enunciating her words. “I won’t need it.”
The man opened his mouth as if the argue but Recovery Girl tapped him in the leg with the butt of her syringe cane and he nodded.
After a quick discussion about remembering things and calling, he passed her a white card embossed with his name and number before he left, the heroine following right behind. She gave another kind smile and a wave, saying how Dr. Shirokuro could take it from here.
And indeed he did and thus distracted Inko to the point that she never noticed the slight warp in the hospital bed handrail where her own palm would’ve fit into surprisingly well.
The next two hours were filled with nothing but one test after another. The only one who found them more annoying that she did was Izuku, who had a hard time keeping still for most of them even with her coaxing. While Inko had never seen her son so foul tempered, not all of his irritation was from the tests.
The good doctor seemed to be trying to be as obtuse as possible and when, after what had been promised to be the very last test, a knock sounded on her door, she was this close to shouting go away at the top of her voice.
Her bad mood fled quickly in in a flurry of flowers, balloons, and the smiles of the three people who carried them in.
“Mitsuki? Masaru?”
“KAACHAN!” Izuku sprung to his feet and tackled the other four year old in a hug, very nearly taking him off his feet. “Hey. Hey. Guess what? I got my Quirk!” He announced, letting the other boy go and turning around the show off his tail. “Pretty cool, huh?” All of this was said so fast and so loud that, there was not even a moment for the other boy to get a word in.
“Inside voice,” Inko warned.
Izuku flushed slightly and gave her a fast nod that had his hair bouncing. Still, it hardly mattered as her son took Bakugo by the wrist and they both took off for the hospital playground as fast as their little legs could carry them.
She knew that was where Izuku was going because that was all he could talk about during the tests, all but getting on his knees to beg the doctor to let him go play. Now that he had a chance to leave, with his best friend in tow no less, she’d be stunned if he went anywhere else. She didn’t miss the look Mitsuki gave her own child just before they sped out the door.
The blonde woman spoke first as she handed over the flowers while her husband set the balloons on the side table. “How’re ya doin’, Inko?”
“Just fine.” She answered, slipping a side hug around her as she took the bouquet. “I figure we’ll both be out of here by this evening once the test results come in.”
Both husband and wife stared at her, eyes wide. “That fast?”
She covered her mouth, holding in a laugh. Of course, they wouldn’t know. They were probably stunned that she could speak much less be able to walk out of here on her own two feet before the day was out.
“Recovery Girl made a personal visit.” She explained. “She’s not known for half measures.”
Nods of understanding followed and Masaru smiled, pushing his glasses a little higher up his nose. “So, clean bill of health?”
She shook her head, lifting the sheets the show her thigh and then turning around so they could see her back. A gasp accompanied each one. “Both sting like you wouldn’t believe but they look worse than they are.”
“But they’ll heal?”
Inko nodded as she got herself comfortable again. “It’s good to see you two.”
Masaru rubbed the back of his neck and Mitsuki seemed to struggle looking her in the eye.
She didn’t know how but something in her statement must’ve made things awkward. Which wasn’t right because nothing in that statement should’ve been worthy of awkwardness.
Seconds passed, her genuine comment curdling in the silence. “Inko...”The blonde faded clearly having something to say but not able to phrase it right. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Umm...I guess?”
“Like very personal?”
“I’m...” Suddenly, Inko wasn’t quite liking the direction this was going. But certainly it couldn’t be that bad? “Go ahead.”
Mitsuki paused and glanced and Masaru nervously before she finally looked her in the eye. “Where is your husband?”
Inko’s entire world froze. Her breath caught in her throat, the words hit her like a spike of ice driven by a sledgehammer.
Not until now, had she realized just how hard she’d been trying to ignore it. The police and drama and questions and everything had been one great distraction from the fact that Hisashi wasn’t there when she’d woken up. It had been three days and yet he wasn’t here. She knew the hospital probably called and the Katsuki family clearly had, otherwise why ask. So why…?
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Only when she was certain that she could trust her voice, did she answer. “I don’t know.”
She wanted to say more but what could she?
“He’s...” Even trying to say the word ‘busy’ took that spike and twisted it.
“Maybe...” She knew what a lie ‘he is on the way’ would be. If he wasn’t here by now, then he wasn’t coming.
“But-” Her attempt at digging an answer that wouldn’t carve her to the bone was cut as Mitsuki leaned in and hugged her.
“Inko.” Her voice wavered slightly as she squeezed her tight. “Inko, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… I didn’t mean...”
Why wasn’t he here?
The question remained unanswered.
It was 6:37 by the time they were released and the first thing Izuku said when they exited the hospital couldn’t have been more apt. “I’m hungry.”
Inko was starving as well. She’d been to a hospital before in her younger years and somehow between then and now, the food had gotten worse. Though she’d only got some steamed bun, it had somehow managed to taste plasticy and stale though it was warm. She ate it, though.
She thought about how much food was in the fridge at home and then thought about how much she felt like shopping and cooking right now. “So am I, let’s go to that diner near the house.”
“Yay! Can I have...”
“Anything you want, Izuku. As much as you want.”
The trip over there was quick, even with her slight limp. The place was on the way home so it was also not an extra train or bus away. The only hitch in it was the waitress’s reaction when they placed their orders.
“So you want; 2 large orders of buffalo wings, two double cheeseburger combos one of which will have an extra order of chili fries, one plate of french toast, a short stack of pancakes, a spaghetti combo with extra garlic bread, a chocolate milkshake with the works, a patty melt on Texas toast, a Katsudon bowl, and 10 pieces of bacon?”
The waitress, looking rather shaken then turned to Inko. “And...uhm...what...?” She cleared her throat, and put the pen to the paper. “What will you be having, Ma’am?”
She made her order as well. The pen fell from the woman’s fingers as her eyes bulged even wider than when Izuku had placed his order. To her credit, she recovered quickly. “That...ahem... Is quite a lot of food. I don’t mean to be rude but this is over 33,000 yen worth. Can you pay for it?”
Inko didn’t take offense as she’d probably have said the same if the roles were reversed. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her card. “I can pay now if you like.”
It took the waitress, the head cook, the manager, and the owner – who was apparently there that afternoon – coming to her table to confirm that yes, she could pay and no, this wasn’t a joke and yes, they were eating here. At that point, they had attracted some attention from the other customers who noticed the commotion happening in that part of the restaurant but it was nothing compared to when the food started coming out.
They began to eat, Inko paying no mind to the cellphones and chattering as her and Izuku tore into the food with wild abandon. She hadn’t realized how ravenous she was until she’d taken that first bite of her salad and, after that, mother joined son in falling upon the food like wild animals. She did her best to mind her manners but the tomato soup was just so much better then the watery sop they served at the hospital.
Plates clattered as they were stacked. Forks and knives flashed, and chopsticks clicked. What would have been enough food for a party of 20 with seconds and thirds left over, was demolished over the course of three hours.
Inko hadn’t noticed until she’d finished the last sip of her tea and a final bite of her whole cake, that not only did they have an audience but a local news crew had set themselves up at some point. Izuku, who scooping what was left of his milkshake in his mouth noticed all the eyes on him as well, and flushed. The both of them hadn’t been entirely clean while they ate and it was probably hitting him that they’d been watching for awhile.
It was seeing the looks on the faces of the people that she realized and was amazed by the massive meal they were wrapping up. And in her case, she was still a little peckish. Maybe another slice of- She shoved the tantalizing thought from her head and watched as her son nibbled away on her last slice of toast.
Some people applauded then as they left. Other wanted to stop them for a picture but, again, she ignored them all. The food coma was setting in, Izuku’s eyes were already drooping when they arrived back home. Unlocking the front door, her son stumbled in ahead of her, went to his room and dropped into bed without even changing. She wanted to join him, to fall into her own bed and sleep the rest of the evening away.
But the question remained. She felt a flutter of hope when she noticed the answering machine blinking at the phone.
However, it was after nearly going through the entirety of them that the flutter began to die. It was after another message left by Katsuki that she heard a voice that she’d certainly not heard in a long while.
Her Grandmother’s.
‘Hello, Inko. I tried calling your phone but I couldn’t get through. Your phone is disconnected apparently. So I’m calling you on your other line. I know it’s been some time since we’ve talked but I wanted to talk whenever you have the time.’
Inko sat at the table as the message ended with a BEEP and thought. It had been quite a bit since she’d talked with her, even longer since the last visit. She couldn’t call right now, her grandmother was no doubt already in bed but it would be good to ta-
End of new messages.
The automate voice brought everything to a halt. So, not even a message. A phonecall? No explanation?
She snatched up the receiver and got as far as pressing the first button before ending the call. What if he picked up? What on Earth could he even say that would make any of this okay?
Her finger dialed four numbers before she shut the phone off again. What if something happened? An emergency of some sort? Here she was riled up and angry and her husband could be in a hospital or dead for all she knew. What if… she closed her eyes to calm herself but her thoughts charged ahead heedless of what she wanted.
But if there was no accident, no excuse, what then?
The entire number was dialed, several ringtones all of which Inko wasn’t sure if she wanted it picked up or not, and then his voicemail.
She sat at the table silent, trying to think of something to say. When her mind stayed blank, she forced herself.
“H- hello...um. Hisashi?”
She almost hung up again, hating how tiny and fragile her voice sounded. That was so stupid. This was his voicemail, he wasn’t going to just pick up. Quickly, she rallied her mind and spoke. “Our son and I are out of the hospital. We were there for three days. I...”
Where was he?
“Where were you?”
And with that drop, what she wanted to say flowed through her.
“Where were you? She asked again to nobody. “Where are you, Hisashi? Near half a week, Hisashi. More than three full days your son and I spent in that hospital. They called your cellphone and your assistant’s number. The hospital even told me they tried the business number as soon as I was brought in. Why haven’t you called? Why aren’t you even here?”
At some point, she stood up and made for the balcony so that if she raised her voice, which was as tight as the pain in her chest, she wouldn’t wake her son. “Did you even check your phone?” she hissed, voice rising as she shut the sliding glass door behind her.
“Where are you? You tell me nothing about your work and even less about where you are. I’ve been taking the initiative to keep you up-to-date with Izuku. You haven’t tried to call once in months. I had to call you so Izuku could talk to you on his birthday. I’ve been making sure you keep contact with your son, and the one time you should’ve called, when our little boy and I are nearly killed, you can’t even bother to pull your nose out of the dirt long enough to check in? You know our little boy has his Quirk now?”
She fumed as she glared at the evening city skyline before looking up at the orange clouds. “You’re so out of contact that no red flag was registered when I hadn’t called you. Did you even think it was odd that Mitsuki, of all people, was blasting your phone non-stop? And forget about how I’m feeling about this, do you think that just because Izuku is a child, he won’t remember this? The time he nearly died and his father didn’t even bother to call?” Izuku was still riding on that happiness of getting his Quirk but eventually, he’d think back to this moment and ask questions that made Inko’s heart ache to even consider.
“I highly suggest you make the effort to actually be a part of Izuku’s life. You need to really sit down and think about what is truly important. It doesn’t matter if you’re still sending money, you should’ve been here.”She hung up after that, anger and heartache building in her chest. The city below grew fuzzy and she wiped away the tears with the back of her hand and then dialing another number, held the phone to her ear.
To her surprise, it was picked up on the first ring. “Hello?”
Inko smiled in spite of the tears running down her face. “It’s me, Grandma.”
XXX
Shota Aizawa was officially too tired and too old for this shit. "So what you're telling me," He started as he scratched at his scraggly beard. "Is that you lost these maniacs near an international airport and didn’t think to… I don’t know? Put out an ABP through Interpol?"
The face of the American hero on the screen, which had already been tightened in irritation, pinched further as if Aizawa personally shoved a lemon into his mouth. The hero in question was known as Apollo, the head of one of the government-sponsored hero teams in the states, and the man’s mood was just as sour as his expression.
Good, about time someone else’s day was soured. He wasn’t dealing with one of this year’s biggest damn messes. He’d already had people breathing down his neck to find out where the hell this guy came from but then as it always happened, the footage from inside the store had been leaked to the media and, before they could even put out a statement, the vultures started circling.
He hadn’t even had time to rest since yesterday after being dragged out of his bed to start searching through every file they had to identify who these villains were. It was a monumental task made worse by the fact they had nothing. Nothing when the media was calling on the heroes and government to do SOMETHING was about the worst scenario he could’ve imagined… right up until a call from the Americans had called. The reason why he and his team couldn’t find anything in the archives was because the suspect wasn’t from Japan. He didn’t have any records because he wasn’t even a damn citizen.
And again, he had been thinking it couldn’t possibly get worse and was proven wrong as Apollo explained the Bonnie and Clyde pair had been blazing a trail of killings from the East to West coast and somehow kept getting away, both of them evading local and federal law enforcement for nearly a month before getting trapped somewhere in Los Angeles. Only when the noose had started finally tightening, had the pair, as Apollo succinctly put it, ‘just up and vanished.’
“We did as soon as we suspected he’d hitched a ride out of the country but we’ve had his face plastered on the news for months as well as had both border crossings alert and ready. Hell, even if this guy or his girlfriend had a passport, they should’ve been stopped before they got near an airplane.”
‘But they weren’t,’ was what Aizawa wanted to say but there wasn’t any point rubbing salt in both their wounds. The villain duo had even somehow got through Japanese Customs as well. No, what was really a bur in his mind was the fact things seemed to be playing out in tandem to what the Americans were going through.
No one had found the bastard yet. They had patrols on the street pulling double, police were on alert, and every CCTV camera in the city was sweeping the streets, trains, and freeways for him. That was leaving out how the media had his face up everywhere a screen played the news.
All this… and they still couldn’t find him. It was like he ‘just up and vanished’ from the building after the explosion, other cameras on the street caught footage of everyone present during the crime entering the store. The school boys, the mother and her child, and CrossCheck were all recorded entering the building. The explosion that blew out the windows with such violence that it sent shards of glass across the street to the other sidewalk had shaken a few of the cameras but hadn’t caused any glitches in footage. Luckily, no one was near enough to get struck by the debris though some pedestrians were close enough to be knocked off their feet He could even read the licence plates of the cars driving past slamming on their brakes and even saw the slightly bent form of the store manager exiting the smoke calling for help. People, rubberneckers and good samaritans alike, closed in. One young woman even guiding the store owner away from the smoke. Yet nothing of the male suspect, no sight of him running or sneaking away in the chaos of the gathering crowd.
When the police vehicles had begun to roll in, he’d been certain that he’d have seen someone suspicious right then. If this had been easy he’d have marked a lone figure stooping, turning his back to the officers closing in on the scene and walking away from them in that ‘Please don’t notice me, I’m doing nothing wrong’ body language most every criminal did when trying to be unassuming.
There was no figure. There was no one leaving the scene who was even dressed like the suspect, much less acting oddly enough to be picked out by his eye and by the time Endeavor arrived, so had the media with their camera vans pulling up outside the police line.
All and all, a fat wad of nothing to show for hours of combing footage frame by goddamn frame.
It was frustrating enough to make him scream.
Instead of doing that, Aizawa leaned back in the chair with a heavy sigh, rubbing his temples with one hand and drumming his fingers in thought on the arm of his chair. “We can send backup if you require it.” Apollo began but was stopped by a raised hand from Aizawa. American heroes on the ground was the last thing they needed. Their media already was having a field day and if they accepted, the ammunition they’d give them would be like cannon to the walls of their good standing.
Just imagining the headlines made his head pulse.
And that was leaving out the political bureaucracy and red tape that came with buddying up with supers from another country.
“Your offer is welcome but we can handle it. We’ll call you back, if we need more information.” He tapped a button on the laptop before him and the screen blacked out, only to be replaced with dossiers on the two villains that he’d been sent. With a heavy look, he raised his head and swept the room with his eyes.
The conference room he sat at the head of was silent. A long table had filled in the space, five chairs on each side each one with a hero seated. Each one had their own laptops which were built into the table and linked to his. All of them had seen his conversation and none looked happy.
Even those with their face covered by their costume had a tell in the way their eyebrow furrowed, a cheek twitched or a hand clenched an armrest. The tension in the room was thick enough that he could chew on it. Everyone was frustrated by the lack of evidence to track this murderer down and by the fact that essentially, the American’s had simply dropped the ball so hard that it might as well have broken bones as it fell into their lap. They all wanted to be out there to for a chance to make an arrest, to keep him from doing what he’d done again.
Hell, even as tired as Aizawa knew he was, if he knew what hole this son of a bitch was lurking in, he’d find the energy to arrest him after beating his ass. Or maybe that was just an itch for vengeance talking. Speaking of, his eyes paused on the only empty chair in the room. It was seated next to Yagi but he didn’t need the seating order to know who was still on the streets right now.
“Okay. All of us are familiar with the footage at the scene,” Aizawa announced, exhaustion making it more of an sigh. “So, I’ll get the quick and obvious out of the way ‘cause I want to get this covered in one take.”
All attention came to him breaking the tension a little as he tapped away on his laptop and pulled up the files the American's had sent along with their own. The girlfriend was pulled up first. Her mugshot from the files along with the charred remains that had been removed from the scene. It was an example of sheer opposites. The girl in the photo was young and could’ve been considered pretty but for a very disdainful look on her face that seemed to age her considerably. Her blond hair was short, dirty, and her sneer showed off gap in her front teeth. Next to it, the corpse on screen wasn’t recognizable in the slightest. Aizawa honestly couldn’t tell if it was male or female, the form so badly burned.
“Sahara Burns,” he began, pausing to blink as he began to read off the file. It took three scans of it before he was certain his eyes were working correctly. “15 years old.”
While everyone could see it, Aizawa had to guess that his saying it aloud made it real in some way. The effect it had was varied. Some cursed under their breath, some sighed as if disappointed at the state of the world, most were silent and still like they were poker players in a tournament.
“Quirk: Dehydration through physical contact. Ten confirmed homicides through its use.” He tapped again and brought up the photo of CrossCheck – Yoshida Takuya out of costume – up. The letters KIA under the tab labeled ‘Status,’ and left the confirmed tenth death unspoken.
He’d met the guy once, too energetic for his tastes but a good heart nonetheless.
Heart or no, he was gone now and the last thing Aizawa wanted to do was ratchet up tensions again by showing the marred body of a fallen hero. “Killed in engagement with CrossCheck.”
“Are we sure?”
He looked up to the hero who’d spoken and nodded his head. “Everyone but the other criminal has been accounted for, injured and dead.” He looked back at the file and began to close out the pictures. “While it’s not confirmed, we have her dental records now and a comparison is being made as we speak.”
Apparently satisfied, the hero leaned back in his chair.
‘Then we have a bigger damn problem but one disaster at a time, please.’ Instead of snapping that off, he took a deep breath, reaching for his cup of coffee, sipped the cold brew, and pulled together his nerves. “We’ll deal with the results later. For now, lets focus on variables we know.”
And so, he brought up other the villain’s profile. The Americans had sent over everything they had;from school records to criminal history to psychological diagnosis. It was the latter of which that served as his current focus. If they could understand how this man thought, then certainly it would be part of the first steps when it came to tracking him down… At least, that was the thought.
Alan Blane was a 17 year old basket case with a versatile electricity Quirk. Expelled from three schools by the time he was twelve, the last of which mainly had him institutionalized for burning out the eye of a girl in his class. Spent pretty much the entire rest of his life in a ward until he was given an early probationary release for ‘Good Behavior.’ Said ‘Good Behavior’ apparently lasted a surprising twenty-four hours after his release upon which he murdered his family and started his near month-long killing spree. Oh, and of course, he broke his girlfriend out of the female section of the ward like this whole situation was some kind of sappy romantic comedy. The kind Fukukado would be first in line at a movie theater for.
Then there was their list of crimes going from one place to the next. It was clear they didn’t care about stealing so much as causing as much death and destruction as they could manage. They’d hold up a store and one by one, kill those they took hostage no matter if they complied or defended themselves.
He’d gotten to the point where they had been tracked down near the airport when another question came up, this time from Yoroi Musha. The man’s antique armor clinked as he shifted forward, apparently so he could be heard better, because he raised his voice just loud enough that it skirted on the edge of painful for the other’s headache.
“How did they even get in the country in the first place?”
“The police are questioning Customs Officials and are trying to track down all of those people who were on that flight.” Aizawa shrugged with the statement, bringing up another bit of camera footage as he did so. This was from the airport from three days ago, it being the only gate that had a departure from LAX around the time the two had vanished from American soil and had landed within the hour of their attack on the store. There was not a single camera view with them leaving the plane, from the gate or tarmac, and certainly not exiting the terminal.
Flight 2055. According to Flight Control, that particular plane and it’s pilots and staff were already on their return trip. Apollo had made promises that they’d be questioned when they landed. “My current theory is that they stowed away.”
A snort followed from someone else. “Where? The luggage compartment? For an 11 hour flight?”
He narrowed his eyes, trying to keep a hold on his flagging patience. He was giving it his best here really as the tone was uncalled for. “I said, its a theory.” Theory or not, truthfully, Aizawa didn’t think it held any water. More than a day, in an unpressurized, unheated section of a plane more than a mile in the air? Neither villain had the power set that would’ve allowed them to survive that and even if they did, the ground crew would have had to see them exit. “I didn’t say it was a fact.”
That set the tone of the rest of the meeting. It was clear that he didn’t have much and, with tensions high, he wasn’t surprised when things fell apart. Soon,snide comments turned into insults, from there into arguments, and further into accusations of incompetence at everyone from the police to customs. He had to call a break to things when someone made a comment about Endeavor’s absence that would’ve forced the man to spend time regrowing his eyebrows at the very least.
That is, if Endeavor had been present.
As people left, the hero known as Eraserhead rubbed his head. Eyes burning from all the time he’d been staring at a screen and pulse of the beginnings of a headache behind that, he relaxed as best he could as the door shut.
“Do you think it’s him?”
Aizawa nearly fell out of his chair in shock at the voice. Sitting up straight, he looked to see Yagi still there. His arms were crossed, face serious as he looked at him. Normally, his friend would have probably made a joke or commented on his reaction and the fact he’d let it pass without comment was unusual. His gaze was hard, determined and focused and it was then that he realized that Yagi had been the only one silent this whole time.
“Who?” He finally said, his nerves raised just a bit higher by the other’s behavior.
“Him.”
A single word said but its meaning enough to make his heart tap dance in his ribs. It took him longer than he wanted to to find the strength at the thought. “Don’t know but I think not. This is too bold for him.”
“Think?”
“Yes, think. In all our time, he’s never openly done anything like this. Adding in agents from the United States? That’s absurd.”
“Those two got in someway. Either they’re both geniuses smart enough to get in undetected only to have a sudden stroke and walk into a random store to rob it or someone helped them.”
“Which means this supposed ‘help’ had to have been aiding them in America.”
“And I hope you’re wrong. Because for god’s sake, Yagi, what you’re suggesting is that his influence crosses borders,” Aizawa stated as he stood up and moved to the window. The room overlooked the city and the hero couldn’t suppress the horror at the idea of what he said. All for One with a reach like that, it made his knees feel weak. He couldn’t believe he’d ever hope that Japan was the only one who had to deal with the monster hidden in their backyard. “I’m so tired right now and your idea just took away any chance I’d be able to shut my eyes tonight.”
Whatever mirth could’ve been dug up from his joke was cut at the knees, when his phone rang. He checked the number, the Chief of Police, and answered it. “Yeah?”
“We managed to track down most of those on the plane and it’s not good.”
“How not good?” The throb behind his eyes pulsed just that little bit harder.
“We found the passenger in question in his hotel room closet, dry like he’d been left in the sun too long. I just sent you the evidence.”
A sigh. Aizawa tucked the phone to his chest to block the microphone and answered friend’s question before he had a chance to ask. “Another victim.” He put the phone back to his face and went for his laptop as it made a far too cheerful BING. “Okay, so what else you got?”
“Well, our victim was a businessman and he had his laptop on.”
“So?” The hero snapped, his thin patience being sawed at with the sharp scissors of not-getting-to-the-damn-point.
“With it’s camera recording.”
It didn’t take even a moment to find the video file and Aizawa with Yagi looking over his shoulder, both watched it.
The video wasn’t even halfway done before both were sprinting out the door. Eraserhead, already dead tired, didn’t bother using any of the extra energy that he’d gotten from the shock of adrenaline to his system to speak. He just bowled his way through the hallway, around office workers and heroes alike. He felt so stupid now, his theory hadn’t been exactly right. If he’d just taken the thought to its most logical conclusion, it wouldn’t have felt like being caught so flat-footed when the truth came.
He didn’t need to look back to know people were giving him odd looks as he sprinted for all he was worth. However, Yagi was doing the explaining for him, bellowing in his All Might voice. “GET BACK TO THE SCENE!!! NOW!!”
XXX
“Only five minutes. Don’t know how stable the building is.”
Misuki nodded. That’s all he really needed. He considered himself lucky he was being allowed in at all, honestly. It had been three days, and if he had to guess, his store was still a crime scene.
He gingerly stepped under the lifted the police tape, and nodded thanks to the police officer that followed. The younger man passed him a spare flashlight. “Here you are, sir.”
The elderly man took it. “Thank you kindly,” he responded. It wasn’t night yet. The sun had cast the horizon into a multicolored haze of orange clouds and blue sky and the larger skyscrapers that had office lights on were only just starting to be noticeable. “Gotta say I’m a little surprised by the ‘sir’. Ain’t too often you younger folks are respectful to old fogies like me.”
“I’m just doing my job, sir.” The young man said with a nod. “But I really must ask that you hurry, I’m supposed to be guarding you at your home.”
“I will, just one thing I need to grab.” It had been an effort and a half to convince his escort to even allow him out of his home, his pleas falling on sympathetic ears instead of bouncing off senses numbed by duty. He had to put it on the officer’s youth. If this had happened back in his day, he’d most likely would’ve gotten some hardline, unbending veteran of the law who wouldn’t have let him walk down the block much less back the the scene of the crime.
Glass crunched under his shoes as he stepped through the broken warped doors of his store and he couldn’t help but feel his chest ache at the sight of his life’s work.
Thirty two of his sixty years on this earth had been in this place and now it was all gone. He swept the place with the flashlight settling on the bits of wall over the refrigeration units, the photos that once hung there had been of him and his family; of him and his late wife when they first opened, of the first Yen note they made, all huge moments in his life shattered or burned.
The shelving was warped, bent, and all around the place, like a giant hand had uncaringly swept everything aside.
The explosion had taken apart the place like a firecracker in a fruit bowl. The scent of burned plastic from the sealed snacks was still thick in the air even though a breeze had been coming through the windows. Truthfully, it turned his stomach slightly. He remembered back when he thought the worst smell he had to deal with was cigarette smoke and trying so hard to keep the delinquents who bought packs and packs of the stuff from smoking on his front step.
He chuckled as he reminded himself that he had to hurry and made for the counter. Yet, he stopped when he nearly stepped into a dry but dull red stain on the white tile floor. Even three days later, he could tell that it was blood.
Their blood.
The blood of Endo Kazuki and Ota Ren.
The two boys had been coming here for years since they were little. Misuki had practically watched them grow up and knew their families well. They were the typical best friends and they’d always spend and hour in his store after school even when they’d started playing baseball at their high school. Their club activity took up so much of their time, he knew. They’d complain about it to him every chance they could. Yet, they’d still found time to come here and mess up his magazine organization.
One of them was thinking of going to professional baseball in college. The other had been planning to try for Harvard or Oxford. For the life of him, Misuki couldn’t remember which was gonna do which.
Now they were dead. Not even given a chance, just ended the way he would smack a spider with a broom. He hoped the heroes found that man… no, that creature and threw it down a deep hole where it would rot for the rest of its life. Too good for it, maybe but better than what he gave those poor kids.
What he gave that woman with the green hair.
It hadn’t clicked until later, but that woman had saved his life. He’d been so confused, so horrified by what had happened that he’d never considered running until the woman had dragged him along. Now that he thought about it...
“Officer?” He began as he stepped around the stain that made him shiver to look at. “What happened to the woman and her child? Do you know?” He glanced at the man over his shoulder, in time to make out the tail end of a shrug.
“I don’t know. Probably still in the hospital, if I had to guess.”
“Shame. I hope she recovers. I’d like to thank her.”
Misuki moved around the counter and had to step over the cash register to get to the drawer. The only one on the counter. He shuffled around in his pocket and pulled out the key he always kept with him. Unlocking it, he pulled it open and was just about to reach in to take what was inside when he heard a rattle.
It sounded strange like the clinking of change and the vibration of plastic against… something. He was about to look around for where it had come from when he noticed his arm. He’d pointed the flashlight down to better see inside the drawer and with his hand reaching in, got a perfect view of the thin hairs on his arm beginning to rise.
“Of...fic..er?”
The noise grew, a vibration that grew into a drone behind him and he whirled around the face the source. Or as best his old joints could manage and was met with his cash register. The thing was moving along the ground now, it’s electronic display active but flashing nonsense. It shouldn’t have been on in the first place, the power had been cut to the building, he was told. The police man had long since pulled his sidearm and had come around, aiming down at the register and speaking quickly into his radio before addressing him, his voice sharp and commanding. “Sir, you need to leave.”
He was already going to the other end of the counter when droning turned into a banging, the machine going into some sort of seizure as it bounced up and down on the floor. Crackles of electric charges began playing along its surface, melting the plastic and causing the metal to glow with heat.
Then a glowing lightning bolt rose out of it, blue and brilliant and so bright that even when Misuki closed his eyes, it left a corona of sunspots.
The officer screamed, the gun fired and the light vanished. The old man tried to rub the spots in his vision away unable to see. Terrified, he stepped back and fell, his heel catching on something. He landed hard, his breath getting knocked out of him as he crashed into the floor.
He never got the chance to see what killed him. But he heard it.
Or rather, him.
A hard angry growling voice that dripped hatred in the single word it said. “Gotcha!”