Fukuoka Tower, Fukuoka.

Fukuoka was beautiful at night, and I hadn’t quite been able to stop myself from finding a seat atop one of the tallest buildings in the area—I’d even done my due diligence and purchased a ticket to make sure that I had something to fall back on should anyone climb up the outside of the tower to chastise me. The bright lights of the cars far below shifted around in rigid lines, and time seemed to creep on by at a pace that grew slower in proportion to my proximity to midnight—which was the time I’d decided was the most appropriate for searching through Kimiko Habiki’s mansion. It was possible—and perhaps even likely—that I could get away with doing it now, under the cover of the newly fallen dark, but there were still far too many people awake for me to be entirely comfortable with it.

Unlike my illicit trip to Shimoda, I wasn’t constricted to such a sharp timer, and even if tonight went awry, I had six more attempts to complete my task. Momochi Seaside Park lay beneath me, a green carpet that led out into the wide open ocean beyond and the sparkling reflection of the stars that patterned it. There were still thousands of people walking along the pathway that preceded it all, and hundreds that were willing to brave the well-lit paths inside the actual park—the muggings that Red Bird had spoken of at Sohara Park seemed to have little effect on scaring away any aspiring park goers at this one. The conversation with Hawks regarding the USJ was still fresh in my mind, and I couldn’t help but replay everything that had happened over again in my mind, along with all of the mistakes I’d made. I found myself thinking of Rikido Sato and Koji Koda and how they would have fared in the U.A. Sports Festival had they made it there unscathed.

Beyond that, I wondered if they’d had heroes they had looked up to and if they would have been lucky enough to receive internship requests from them. I felt as if being here amidst my own internship—and without any of the excitement or desire to actually learn from the heroes I was now working with—that I was somehow taking for granted something that they would have immersed themselves within. It was another stolen dream, just like joining U.A. High School and just like meeting All Might had been—maybe one day I’d find a way to atone for my failure to save them.

“Strength and perseverance,” I said.

The words were lost to the wind before I could even hear them, but the mechanical movement that produced them was enough to help me settle myself. I remained there for a long time, the pattern of my thoughts somehow spiralling right back to the same place over and again—until, perhaps, an hour had passed by, and I realised that I had been watching the same tall girl wind her way back along the footpath for the second time, beginning another pass through the other pedestrians. The girl moved with an affected clumsiness, touching people in passing and occasionally reaching out to tug at their clothing to ask an unheard question.

As I watched her, my mind began piecing together the situation and everything I’d read from Velcrow’s notes earlier in the day. A girl who was tall, with brown hair styled in a ponytail, and who made a habit of bumping into people to facilitate her partner’s pending criminal actions. A girl who could pick out a person's PIN code from their minds with a moment of physical contact—a girl who, if under application of a certain amount of psychological pressure, could be encouraged to use her quirk on a target of my choosing, and towards an end of my design. My network began to expand outwards once again, creating new nodes to increase the range of my quirk until the entirety of the beach was under my control.

I began shifting singular grains of sand up onto the footpath ahead of her, with the intention of slipping some into her shoes to help track her before pausing—I had no way to tell if her quirk would activate on contact with my sand. Because while it was technically an inanimate object, my consciousness was present within it, and if her quirk worked by targeting the mind itself, then that might be enough for her to read my mind. I kept my distance, working to refine the network until I was watching her from a dozen different angles, distances and vantage points—if she managed to find a way to somehow elude my gaze at this point, then she deserved to escape. The girl looped back around twice more, performing the same odd dance of affected clumsiness until she finally moved on, heading back into the city proper on foot. In the space of about three steps, she’d shed that intentional gracelessness entirely, her strides becoming longer and more assured as she aimed to leave the area as quickly as possible.

I tracked her without issue; my nodes were already present in every alleyway she passed by, and so no matter where she went or how many corners she turned, the girl inevitably found herself walking towards the centre of my net. The further we moved from the ocean, the more dense the city became until she finally slipped down a dirty alleyway and into a door that looked as if it was barely hanging on. Sand crept inside through the many cracks in the wall, shifting up towards the too-dark ceiling—

“—do you think we have all night to wait on you, Inaba?” A man said, sounding frustrated. “For fucks sake, your brother hasn’t stopped crying since you left either—go tell him to shut up before I do it myself.”

“I’ll do that now, Kenta,” Inaba said, eyes shadowed by her hair. “I won’t be long.”

I watched as Inaba crossed the room, past the dozen sullen-looking men and women before she slipped inside one of the many doors lining the other side—whatever this building had been in the past, they’d made it well and truly unrecognisable. There were steel girders visible on just about every wall, the bolts securing them in place large and rusted. There were three sets of dirty bunk beds scattered around the main area, and as I expanded my search into the other ones, I found that there was at least one set in all of them. Some of the beds had people sleeping in them, while others were empty, their occupants either out in the main room or simply no longer present. When I located Inaba once again, I found her sitting on the top bunk with a little boy in ragged clothes, no more than three or four years old at best. The boy was crying, just as the man had said, but his tears were quickly forgotten once Inaba had joined him.

“Natsu,” Inaba murmured. “Did he hit you again?”

“He said he would,” Natsu sniffed. “Inaba, you were gone.”

“I’m sorry, I had to go to work again, and you were sleeping, so I didn’t want to wake you up,” Inaba said, keeping her voice quiet. “I’m still working for a little bit longer, so you need to stay quiet until I get back. I’ll go get us some food when I’m done—okay, Natsu?”

“Okay,” Natsu said. “I’ll be quiet, promise.”

“You’re a good boy,” Inaba said with a smile. “Play with your toy, and I’ll be back soon.”

Inaba scaled the ladder to get back to the floor, then slipped back out into the main room—while she’d been gone, Kenta had called for a man and a woman to come join him at his table. The woman had a lined notebook set down in front of her and a pen held in her dirty fingers, already pressed against the paper—there was writing all over it, but the combination of low light, poor handwriting and distance made it indecipherable. Inaba joined them, taking the only free chair and looking tense the entire time.

“Names, codes and best places to find them,” Kenta said, “You better have a decent amount this time.”

“I stayed out longer so I could get more,” Inaba said in her own defence. “The best one is—”

I listened as she reported the names of two dozen people, in order of descending wealth, along with the PIN codes and addresses of each—on the rooftop high above them, I wrote each one down on my phone in case I needed them later. I’d always been quietly pleased with my ability to memorise things, but whatever natural talent I had in that area, it paled in comparison to the girl below. How she could possibly remember two dozen names, PIN Codes and addresses after only having a second or two to discover them and somehow avoiding mixing any of them up was outright impossible—perhaps it was quirk-related, and the information she gained from touching a person lingered for some time afterwards, allowing her to just recite it on command. It took them the better part of half an hour to organise it all, and it became clear that Kenta was the one who would be actually collecting the cards from their victims—and perhaps that was why everyone seemed to defer to the man.

“Can I go out again?” Inaba asked after they’d exhausted her list of names. “I want to get something for Natsu.”

“Do what you want,” Kenta said, “Just make sure you’re back in an hour.”

The man seemed far more agreeable now, and I wondered if he realised just how obvious the manipulation really was—angry, curt and expectant when he didn’t have what he wanted and then almost friendly once they’d done something to benefit him. For all of its transparency, everyone present seemed to be affected by it, and the tension that had pervaded the room seemed to give way to something far more cheerful.

“Can I take Natsu with me?” Inaba tried, “You won’t have to deal with him crying then.”

“You think I’m stupid?” Kenta said. “I know that the second I let you take him out, you’re never coming back here.”

Inaba didn’t ask a second time. Instead, she returned to the room to speak with Natsu and then left the building entirely. She began her way through half a dozen alleyways, and once she was a single turn from emerging onto the street—she turned the corner to find a wall directly in her path.

“What—” Inaba started.

I stepped out of thin air just as she turned around, reforming in the shadow of the wall that towered over both of us. Inaba stepped backwards, and I shifted the thick wall of sand backwards away from her, unwilling to make contact with her yet—this close, I realised that she was actually quite a bit taller than I was and several years older than I had first thought.

“Inaba,” I said, speaking up. “I apologise for being so direct, but I require your assistance in a personal matter.”

“I don’t even know who you are,” Inaba managed, “Why would I help you with anything?”

“I have the names of everyone you just used your quirk on, along with all of the PIN codes and the addresses that Kenta will be visiting over the next few days,” I said, “I also know the location of your hideout, and that Natsu is currently playing with a Best Jeanist figurine.”

“You can’t—” Inaba tried. “How do you know that?”

“Please understand that if you do not cooperate, I will retaliate by releasing everything I know to the police,” I said, “This will most likely end with your brother being separated from you during processing and then placed in the custody of a family you will not have access to.”

Inaba was completely silent in the face of my words, and so I waited patiently for her to come to a decision—this was a rather big risk on my own part, but it was also an opportunity that I couldn’t let slip past. Whatever information I could find in Kimiko Habiki’s house that might point me towards her son’s location, it would inevitably pale in comparison to what this girl could find with a single touch. The reward of getting her assistance far outweighed the risk that she would try to use that information against me—

“I want something else,” Inaba said.

It was a rather bold statement considering the leverage I had on her, but provided she actually agreed to help me, I’d give her just about anything she asked for—still, I remained silent, letting the pressure build up until she broke the silence herself.

“I just want you to help get my brother out—they always have someone on watch, and I’m not allowed to take him with me.” Inaba said, “If you do that, I’ll do whatever you want.”

It would be a relatively simple task to smash down the door and remove her brother from the building, but my quirk was distinctive, and there was a chance, however small, that they would connect it back to my identity. From there, I would be one anonymous tip away from being dragged back into a police station for unauthorised use of my quirk—there was, however, a way to handle this situation that allowed me the full, authorised use of my quirk and that would end with Kenta being unable to retaliate against either Inaba or Natsu.

“Very well, but I will need several days to organise everything.” I said, “The task I require you for may take longer than that—you will handle my request tomorrow night, so make sure you are available from midnight until three in the morning.”

“That’s fine; I can come and go as I please,” Inaba said, “I’m just not allowed to take Natsu out.”

“Before we go any further,” I said, “Tell me what information you receive when you use your quirk on someone?”

“I get full access to their memories for six hours,” Inaba said, “Anything they’ve seen, thought or remembered is something I can see.”

“Can you use it on a person who is asleep?” I asked.

“It works the exact same on everybody, sleeping or awake,” Inaba said, furrowing her brow. “Who am I using it on?”

“You will discover that when you make contact with her,” I said. “I have everything I need for now, and you have one hour to return to the hideout.”

“You know about that too,” Inaba managed. “Listen, after I do what you want—how do I know you’re actually going to help us?”

“I’m sure the answer to that question will become apparent during our next meeting,” I said, “I require your phone.”

Inaba attempted to hand it over to me directly, to which I avoided entirely, having her set it down on the ground before I picked it up. I sent myself a message using her phone and then placed it back on the ground for her to pick up.

“I will send you the location of a hotel room tomorrow afternoon; make sure you arrive there before midnight,” I said, “If you make any attempt to speak about our interaction to anyone other than myself, the deal will be off, and I will release the information.”

#

Hisoka’s Hotel Room, Fukuoka.

I’d long since solved the method I would use to complete Inaba’s request, though it would require her direct cooperation to actually complete. The main issue was the upcoming meeting with Inaba and that there was no real way of hiding my identity. I’d already sent her the location of my hotel room, with the repeated instruction to make certain she arrived before midnight. Covering my face would only work until I was forced to use my quirk, and my quirk remained intrinsically linked to my identity. I had already used it once in front of her, though I’d had the presence of mind to do so in a location that was dark enough to obscure the details, but that wouldn’t hold out after tonight was finished.

I’d considered attempting to have her visit one of the favoured restaurants that Kimiko Habiki liked to frequent during the day, and without my presence being a factor, but Inaba would likely be barred entry from those places based on her attire—and if I went so far as to provide her with new clothes, then she would still be an unaccompanied teenager that was at least ten years younger than the rest of the clientèle. The best I had come up with, given the time constraints, was mutually assured destruction, in that if she took any action to draw attention to me in the aftermath of our deal, I could reveal her name and participation as a primary member in the string of card-thefts that had been afflicting the citizens of Fukuoka—but perhaps the outcome of us working together could end on a higher note than that.

If I offered her additional help, say by providing her with a method to leave the city entirely, then I could replace any discontent she might be harbouring with a sense of gratitude. Having access to her quirk again in the future would be something that would be useful, considering I still had three other targets to locate—my network of sand picked up the sight of a familiar girl approaching the hotel, though it was hours before the requested time of the meeting. Either she had misinterpreted the text to mean any time before midnight, she was attempting to use the time to gain some leverage for herself, or she was simply scouting out the location in advance. I watched her enter the bottom floor of the hotel and then slip into the stairwell, apparently unwilling to take the elevator—my phone made an odd noise that I’d only ever heard before during practical classes at U.A. High School.

I considered leaving it unchecked before the same noise repeated itself five times in quick succession. I retrieved my phone and unlocked it, finding the communication application we used for the ever-shifting teams during our practical classes now active. The group chat that contained every single member of Class 1-A had a series of red notifications next to it, and when I clicked on the icon, I found that all five messages contained the exact same content—Izuku Midoriya had sent a location ping to everyone in our class, including the teachers, and he’d done it five times in a row, at two-second intervals. I navigated through to my contacts, raised the phone to my ear, and then waited.

“Hisoka?” Sajin asked. “I’m still at work for another half an hour—I was going to call you as soon as I was done.”

“I apologise for interrupting you,” I said, “But I believe my classmate is currently in danger.”

In a feat of unfortunate timing, Inaba chose this exact moment to knock on the door to my hotel room, and I found myself rising to my feet in response. I crossed the room as I spoke, frowning at the situation as I placed my hand on the handle and opened the door—Inaba stared at me from the other side, and I placed a finger to my lips to indicate she should be quiet.

“Then I’m all ears,” Sajin said, voice sharpening. “What’s the situation?”

“Izuku Midoriya just sent a repeated locational ping from Hosu City, which is an odd occurrence for several reasons, the primary one being his internship was taking place somewhere else entirely,” I said, “He shouldn’t be there this late at night, and the general use case for the ping feature is to request aid during our practical classes.”

I stepped back away from the door and indicated that she should make her way inside, giving up any attempt at concealing my identity in favour of solving the current issue that had arisen. Inaba stepped inside, and I stepped back to make sure we didn’t make contact, keeping a careful eye on the distance between us.

“We have a general alert for Hosu City—there is some kind of ongoing attack happening there,” Sajin said, “The details are coming in slowly, but there is something about several creatures that look like that thing who attacked your class at school.”

“Nomu—which would indicate that the League of Villains is currently present within Hosu City, along with two of my classmates,” I said, “Considering the history involved, this may be connected somehow.”

“That’s right,” Sajin said, “Ingenium’s kid brother was there as well, wasn’t he?”

“I am unaware if he is involved in this,” I said, “But I can attempt to contact him over the application.”

“You do that now, and I’ll get in contact with Manual,” Sajin said, “Send me the exact location of your friend, and if you hear anything else, pass it along to me as well.”

“I understand,” I said, “Thank you.”

I removed the phone from my ear and then sent a screenshot of the location with the address included. Then I navigated to Tenya’s contact information within the same application before sending off a request for information regarding his status and if he had reported the locational ping to Manual yet. Half a dozen messages had already appeared beneath the ping’s as my classmates began asking for further information and whether or not he needed assistance, but Izuku made no further response—if it had been a mistake, he would have already responded, so whatever situation he was in likely prohibited further use of his phone. Inaba watched me from her place at the edge of my bed; eyebrows furrowed together at some unknown, internal musing.

“I didn’t expect you to be a kid,” Inaba said.

“While this is certainly before midnight,” I said, turning towards her for the first time. “I would consider five and a half hours to be a little bit early.”

“What’s happening in Hosu City?” Inaba asked.

“There is an attack occurring there, but that is not something you need to concern yourself with,” I said, “For now, we should discuss the task I have for you.”

“Well, I think we should go back to the part about saving my brother,” Inaba said, crossing her arms. “You’re just a kid, and they have guns.”

“Guns are not an issue,” I said, “How many of the members have quirks?”

“I’m not saying until you—” Inaba started.

“I have already come up with a method to retrieve your brother and deal with the entirety of the gang at the same time,” I said, “I’ll require your assistance to make it happen, but rest assured it will take place either tomorrow or the day after, depending on whichever day has the most people present within the hideout.”

“You could just be saying that,” Inaba said, remaining firm. “You should get my brother out tonight, and I’ll help you with whatever you need after.”

“No,” I said.

“But I can’t trust you—” Inaba tried. “I’m not doing anything unless you can prove you can actually help me.”

It was becoming increasingly clear that she had come here so early in order to maximise the time she had to bargain, and while there was a multitude of methods I could use to address her concerns, giving in to her demand for information now would only embolden her.

“If you fail to assist me, then the deal falls apart, and you will be separated from your brother,” I said, “Those are the terms of our agreement, and while I very much want your help, I can go without it.”

Inaba blew out a frustrated breath at my lack of engagement with her questions or maybe at the fact that her gambit hadn’t managed to gain her anything of note. Reestablishing the structure of our initial agreement was the best course forward for now, and while I could understand how little that would reassure her, it was all that I was willing to concede.

“Fine,” Inaba managed, “What exactly do you want me to do?”

#

Hisoka’s Hotel Room, Fukuoka.

The situation at Hosu City seemed to have resolved itself for the most part, though there were still fires and rescue efforts taking place throughout the area where the fighting had taken place. The news reports seemed to be splitting their focus between the creatures that had rampaged through the city and the Hero Killer, Stain, who had been apprehended by Endeavor. The series of messages I had received from Sajin over the last couple of hours detailed some more of the situation as reported by Manual and the other heroes he’d been in contact with—Izuku, Tenya, and Shoto had all been involved in the fighting to some unknown degree, though their names were entirely missing from the news reports. All three of them had been taken to hospital due to the injuries they’d received over the course of the night, but the extent of those injuries was also unknown. It made little sense that the League of Villains would go after the three of them without All Might being present—unless their target had actually changed. Perhaps they considered the failure to kill All Might at the USJ to be the fault of Class 1-A, and they had officially added the members of our class to their list of targets—

“What is your name?” Inaba said, speaking up. “You still haven’t said.”

Considering she had seen my face and that she’d overheard my end of the conversation with Sajin, she had more than enough information to establish that I was a hero-in-training. All it would take at this point for her to connect me to my name was for her to see any of the video footage that was still being passed around from the U.A. Sports Festival.

“I figured you wouldn’t tell me,” Inaba said into the silence. “It was that, or you would lie again.”

“I haven’t lied to you a single time,” I said. “Inaba Tanabe.”

“How do you know—” Inaba demanded before cutting herself off. “Damn it, I gave you my phone last night.”

It was already late enough that most of the city would already be asleep, and waiting another hour would probably provide no further benefit. I rose from the solitary one-seater chair that sat in the corner of the room and turned my mind towards the main issue with transportation—that is, the fact that I would need to make contact with her by way of my sand, and I was still unaware if that would be enough for her quirk to activate.

“Are we finally leaving?” Inaba said.

“Yes,” I said.

I crossed the room and then stepped into the short hallway that led to the front door—Inaba rose to her feet the moment my back was turned, sliding her foot forward against the floor in an attempt to muffle the sound of her footsteps. By the time I had reached the front door, she had made it most of the way into the hallway, and her hand came up as she reached out towards my back—sand lanced upwards from both of the skirting boards, passing close enough to the skin of her wrist that I felt some of the looser grains make contact, and then they clamped down on her arm, trapping it from going any further.

“I’m sorry—” Inaba managed, as all of the previous confidence she’d held fled in an instant. “I won’t do it again—please don’t hurt me.”

Inaba tried only once to yank herself free of the shackle I’d built around her arm, and when it failed, she collapsed onto her knees in the hallway, already crying and entirely unable to even look at me—the sheer intensity of the reaction sparked something inside my chest that I had no idea how to interpret, and when I turned to look down at her, that unknown feeling only sharpened. My caution about her quirk activating seemed to have been for nothing because it was clear that she didn’t currently have access to my mind, or she would have known that I’d never had any intention to hurt her and that any danger she thought was present was entirely illusionary. I stared at her for a long moment, wondering how she could have possibly functioned in her everyday life when something like this was so close to the surface and, beyond that if I could really call myself a hero for leveraging it against her.

Hayami Higawara would have been outright horrified by the situation and how I was conducting myself. Sajin Higawara—had he been here in my place—would have immediately taken action to provide what reassurance he could to her before working to solve the problem at large. Nanami Kureta would have wanted me to do everything in my power to save her, no matter how hard it might have been, because that was how she had seen the larger-than-life heroes that had dominated our lives. The models I had spent years building up to represent them in my mind had long functioned as the guiding principles that determined whether or not my actions were appropriate, and the instances where I had quietened them or turned my thoughts elsewhere had almost always ended poorly. That was how I’d come close to seeing threats and force as the primary method to draw information out of Minato Yaoyorozu, a man who had been entirely innocent of any crime and who had actually aided in the search for Nanami—but now that I had turned my gaze inwards, I came to realise that I’d made significant and untracked progress in forming several other models.

Eijiro Kirishima would have seen the suffering right in front of him and then, without a second thought, stepped forward to dispel it, even if he had to sacrifice his own safety to manage it. Momo would have been driven to action by her refined sense of empathy, and she would have used her intellect to come up with a clever solution. Mina would have moved to offer comfort, and then, carried along by her almost endless energy, she would have thrown herself towards finding a solution. Tsuyu would have seen a girl in a bad situation and then, without a shred of shame, reached out to those she could trust to ask for advice. Ubiquitously, all of the models were aimed in the same direction, and none of them would have allowed me to continue on my current path—so I listened for the one that, somehow, and without even realising when it had happened, I had grown to truly trust.

“I was always going to save you,” I said, with an image of Eijiro Kirishima in my mind. “Whether or not you agreed to help me had no bearing on it.”

Then, I reached out and took hold of her hand as the cage of sand fell away—for a long while, I simply stood there, the weight of her completely limp arm pulling against my grip. Inaba, still struggling to regain her composure, twisted her hand until she was holding onto my own.

“Not because it’s what you want to do,” Inaba managed. “But because it’s what your friends would have done if they were here?”

With the physical contact, Inaba Tanabe had gained full access to my memories, so the answer to her question was already well within her grasp—still, she had taken the time to ask, and so I would answer it regardless.

“Yes,” I said. “Because it’s what they would have done.”

#

Street, Fukuoka.

Kimiko Habiki’s mansion was both modern and large, though not nearly as sprawling as the one belonging to the Yaoyorozu—and the security system wasn’t anywhere near as refined. I’d already done a cursory exploration of the exterior last night in an attempt to locate all of the cameras, though I hadn’t attempted to check the inside. My sand crawled towards the main building from a dozen different directions, slipping through the gardens and grass in singular lines of fine grains, far too small to set off any of the motion detectors that would trigger the spotlights. They reached the building before slipping underneath the doors and through the open windows.

I found Kimiko almost immediately on the top floor, asleep in the master bedroom. She was tucked away tight in her bed, with a sleeping mask shading her eyes from the bright light of her still-lit lamp—how she could have slept in such a well-lit room escaped me. She was most definitely asleep, however, as the uneven and very audible pattern of her breathing could attest to that. I kept an eye on her as I set about locating all of the interior cameras that intersected with the most efficient path to where she was sleeping; then, once I had sand positioned beneath all of them—

“You should probably stop doing things like this,” Inaba said at a volume that was barely above a whisper. “After you find your friend, I mean.”

It was impossible to ignore the fact that she still had an active connection to my memories, at least not when she continued to make innocuous comments about things she wasn’t present for. I found myself wondering whether she could read my thoughts as they occurred or if she—

“I can’t read your thoughts, but they appear as a new memory basically right after you think them,” Inaba said, “I guess it’s almost the same thing.”

I said nothing, as the bulk of my attention was on directing my sand to surround all of the exterior lights in the event that the motion detectors were set off. My sand began a slow process of crawling up the detector itself, moving at a pace that was far below the speed it could detect sudden changes—the bottle of sleeping pills on her bedside table made it unlikely that Kimiko would be waking up any time soon, but it was better not to leave any indication that we had been here in the first place.

“Your memories are really strange when you use your quirk,” Inaba said, still whispering. “It’s like there is a stack of the exact same thing, from a bunch of different directions at once—but you’re actually all the way out here—”

“Why are you whispering?” I wondered. “There isn’t anyone nearby who could possibly overhear us.”

“Because you’ve got sand in her room, and that’s the memory I’m paying attention to,” Inaba defended. “I feel like if I talk too loud, I’m going to end up waking her up.”

“I see,” I said.

The pathway to her bedroom was about as secure as it could be, and all of the cameras were now obscured by the sheets of black plastic that I had stripped from a nearby construction site—I’d considered just covering them with my sand, but I wasn’t sure if the material would be identifiable from the proximity to the lens. I waited a minute longer, just to make sure nothing unexpected would occur at the turn of the hour, then cut across the street towards the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the property. Inaba was quick to follow, but she found herself stuck on the other side of the fence, unable to pass through it in the same manner I could. Sand crawled outwards from beneath my feet, passing through the fence—I found myself pausing as I considered the reaction she’d had back at my hotel room.

“I’m going to lift you up now,” I said, waiting a moment. “Please don’t be surprised again.”

“That’s not fair—I had no idea if you were going to hurt me or not,” Inaba managed, “You were just some strange, dangerous boy at that point.”

I wasn’t sure I liked having her apply that framework to me when I hadn’t made any physical threats. The visceral and overwhelming response she’d had when I stopped her from touching me suggested that she associated being grabbed or restrained with some kind of immediate escalation into more severe violence—and her collapse, as well as the pleading that had followed, were something I couldn’t quite push out of my mind.

“At that point,” I repeated, watching her through the gaps in the fence. “You don’t think of me as a strange, dangerous boy anymore?”

“You’re definitely all three of those things,” Inaba said, “You’re even more dangerous now that I know what you can actually do—not to me, maybe, but to some people.”

I wasn’t sure I liked the discussion skirting so close to such a dangerous topic.

“It’s true, though,” Inaba said in another startling intrusion to my barely stored thoughts. “You’re going to—wait, I’m not ready yet—hold on, this is way too high—”

Inaba gave a quiet, strangled noise of concern as I lifted her up into the air and over the barrier, apparently far from at ease with any kind of heights. I placed her down on my side of the fence, then stepped away without further comment. My choice of paths had us cutting straight across the grass towards the house, and the addition of two extra shadows in the courtyard went entirely unnoticed. I unlocked the door from the inside by filling the lock with sand and then adjusting the tumblers until the mechanism was defeated with a single twist of the now rigid material. The door swung open before I had even arrived, and I continued my slow walk straight through the front door of Kimiko’s home.

Inaba seemed far more withdrawn now, her eyes darting around the too-large entrance room as if someone might come stumbling out to find us. I built a panel of sand on the inside of her bedroom door to muffle the sound of the lock being dealt with as I made my way up the staircase. I stepped up onto the carpet of sand that pervaded the entirety of her bedroom floor—placed down in the event that the floorboards would shift beneath our weight and then alert the sleeping occupant to our presence—and then came to stand beside her bed. Inaba lingered by the doorframe, staring into the brightly lit room with a clear discomfort. It was obvious that all of the still active lights around the room were bothering her, but any significant changes in the level of brightness would increase the likelihood that Kimiko would notice, and the longer we waited here for her to gather her courage, the higher the probability of being discovered.

I briefly considered coating her arm in sand and then manipulating her body into touching the woman’s dangling arm, but another flash of her collapsing to the floor of my hotel room sparked across my mind—Inaba sent me a look that served as a reminder that her access to my mind was still active, and then very, very carefully, stepped up onto the platform of sand. I watched as she crept forward at a snail’s pace and how her hand stretched out past my hip to touch the very tip of her finger against the sleeping woman’s arm—then she fled the room entirely, almost stumbling in her haste to get out of the light. I followed after her at a far less hurried pace, closing and relocking the door behind me before allowing the majority of the sand in the bedroom to vanish. Inaba was far quicker to leave the house than she had been to enter it, and I found her waiting for me just outside the front door of the mansion.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Were you successful in activating your quirk?” I asked.

“Yes,” Inaba said with clear hesitation. “But I can already tell you that she doesn’t really know much about where the money was coming from.”

“Unfortunate, but also something I expected,” I said, “What does she know of her son’s current location?”

“That—isn’t really the right question,” Inaba said, glancing away for a moment. “As far as she is concerned, Kaito Habiki died two years ago.”

#

Hisoka’s Hotel Room, Fukuoka.

“When was the last time she saw her son?” I asked.

“Six months before he died—well, she called him once after that, but he ended up hanging up on her pretty quickly,” Inaba said, “Kimiko doesn’t actually know how he died or the exact time, but it had to have been some time after that call.”

“How did she come to be aware of his death?” I asked.

“She received a letter two years ago, on October the twenty-seventh,” Inaba said, furrowing her brow. “There wasn’t any kind of signature or name attached to it to say who it was from, but she really seemed to believe it was real.”

There was a time limit on how long Inaba’s quirk would remain active, and I wasn’t willing to waste everything we’d managed to accomplish tonight.

“Kaito never answered his phone again, and then she started calling the police, but they couldn’t find any sign of him—he told her that he was in Jaku City during that phone call I mentioned, so that’s where they started looking for him,” Inaba said, before picking up her phone. “Kimiko must have read the letter at least a hundred times because she remembers it pretty much word for word—just give me a minute to write it out, and I’ll send it to you as a message.”

An unsigned letter to declare the death of a family member was about as far from the standard process as could be imagined. The fact that someone had gone to the effort of writing a letter to mark his death was noteworthy, and if the police couldn’t track him down to establish his status as dead or alive, then either the man had attempted to disappear or someone else had made him disappear—considering he’d been involved in an abduction ring for what appeared to be most of his adult life, I wasn’t sure if that counted as a very surprising outcome.

“You indicated that she was unaware of where the money was coming from,” I said, “What did Kaito say to explain it?”

“He didn’t say anything; he outright refused to talk about it when she asked, and eventually, she just stopped trying,” Inaba said, sounding distracted. “Kaito told a few innocuous stories over the years, and the same people were mentioned each time; they were the only people he ever really brought up more than once, so Kimiko came to think of them as his friends—though she never actually met any of them.”

“What were the names?” I asked.

“Akamai Hiro, Katsumi Fueki, Susumu Hoshi, and Daruma Ujiko—she had a feeling that the last one might have been his boss,” Inaba said, “He talked about him a bit differently from the others, more respectful, maybe.”

Between my existing confirmation that Susumu Hoshi had been with Kaito Hibiki, then the likelihood that the remaining three people who had been present the night of Nanami’s tenth birthday matched these new names was non-trivial—I would need to begin researching Akamai Hiro, Katsumi Fueki and Daruma Ujiko as soon as I had the opportunity.

“What information did she know about those four people?” I asked, “You can ignore Susumu Hoshi for now.”

Inaba’s typing speed slowed down again as she worked to multitask between transcribing the letter into a digital format and searching Kimiko’s memories for an answer to my question.

“He really seemed to like Hiro, and all of the stories involving the man were either funny or positive,” Inaba said, “Kimiko got the impression that the man had a way of talking himself in and out of trouble.”

I studied Inaba’s face in the low light; her body language now held an edge of sluggishness to it, and her eyelids seemed far heavier now as she squinted at her beaten-up old phone.

“Fueki sounded like a loose cannon, and he—she? Kaito didn’t seem to be very consistent on the pronouns being used for that person,” Inaba said, “Kaito said they got into a lot of fights while they were working, but he never said what caused them.”

“I see—and the last person?” I said.

“Kaito said he was really old and really smart—but he could be finicky about doing things a certain way,” Inaba said, “He mentioned that one time he messed something up badly, and Ujiko yelled at him for over an hour.”

“Were there any physical descriptions included for any of them?” I asked.

“Susumu had a creepy smile—but you’ve already seen her,” Inaba said, furrowing her brow. “Ujiko was shorter than most people, and I think the androgynous teenager you saw at that restaurant might have been Katsumi Fueki.”

“How sure are you of that?” I asked.

“It matches up with Kaito’s inability to stick with a single gender,” Inaba tried. “So I’m that sure.”

Which meant that she had hijacked my own deduction and then said it back to me as if it had been her own. She was also only as sure as I had been when I had first had the thought—which was to say, not very.

“You’re being kind of rude,” Inaba decided. “I’m helping you, you know? So you should be nicer to me.”

“I feel like intruding on my thoughts rates higher on the rude scale than pointing out that I noticed,” I said, entirely unbothered. “It’s also an inaccurate statement because I’ve been treating you quite well.”

“Mina would disagree,” Inaba insisted.

“Most likely,” I said at the continued intrusion. “But her motivation for doing so would simply be to cause trouble.”

“Here,” Inaba said, dropping the topic entirely. “That’s pretty close to the original.”

My phone sounded off at the incoming message, and I brought it out of my pocket before unlocking it. The message opened up at the press of a button—

I hope this missive finds you in good health, for the rest of its contents will surely lower your spirits. It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you that the life of Kaito Habiki has come to an end. Your son has spent many years working tirelessly at my side, though there have been stumbles, disagreements and some unfortunate moments of doubt. For the longest time he held firm to reaching our vision, though his conviction has more recently wavered. I had hoped when it came time to step forward into the new, fairer world that we had helped create, that Kaito would be standing there with me. But fear not, for even with his unfortunate absence, I have found a way for my dear friend to contribute to our great cause.

—I read it three times, one after another, without pause. Then, I took a moment to actually consider what was being said and what that meant for all of the parties involved. The one who had written this letter had to have been one of the other members of the organisation that Kaito had worked for, and the formal style of it hinted at someone who was much older. I’d read enough of Susumu Hoshi’s work to know that this didn’t sound anything like her—she was clinical in research papers and lacked much in the way of subtlety, the bend of her writing far more direct. That placed it as one of the other people who’d been at that table on the night of Nanami’s birthday dinner—either of the two men who’d been in attendance. Inaba had reported that Daruma Ujiko was both old and short—which also placed him as the short man I’d seen that night with the obscene moustache—and the most likely candidate for being the leader of the group. If that was correct, then the process of elimination said that the large dark-skinned man’s name was Akamai Hiro.

“The letter is kind of weird, isn’t it?” Inaba wondered, “It makes it seem like Kaito wanted to quit.”

“Yes, that is the impression I have as well,” I said, rereading the letter again. “I’d originally assumed that this was nothing more than a quirk trafficking organisation, but the author makes it seem as if there is a greater goal to be found through it.”

“How would kidnapping children and killing their parents create a fairer world?” Inaba asked, “This seems more like a cult than an abduction ring.”

It was unlikely that the act of abduction itself was what would create a fairer world, but rather what they gained through the abduction, and the only motivation they could have had for targeting Nanami Kureta had been the function of her quirk—but if they needed her quirk, then they also needed her to remain alive so she could use it.

“That’s good; your friend is probably still alive,” Inaba managed, barely stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry—I didn’t get any sleep last night because I was worrying about what you were going to make me do.”

“It’s fine; you’ve already provided far more information than I expected to learn through my own methods,” I said, “Do you need me to take you back to your hideout?”

Inaba shook her head at the words and then fell onto her back in the middle of my bed, arms spread out to claim the entire space like some kind of tyrannical bed sheet angel.

“Natsu is asleep, and I’ll be back before he wakes up,” Inaba said with a sigh of relief. “Kenta thinks I’m with some guy, and he was still in a good mood from yesterday, so he said I could do what I wanted—I can sleep here, can’t I?”

Considering she had already thrown the bedspread most of the way over herself, I had a feeling that getting her to leave wouldn’t be worth the trouble. Still, that was fine because, with everything I’d learned in the last couple of hours, I had no intention of going to sleep any time soon.

#

Hawks Agency, Fukuoka.

“It’s an odd situation because the Hero Killer always works alone, but people were reporting sightings of Nomu variants all over Hosu City,” Hawks said, leaning against the door frame. “I suppose it’s possible that Stain was taking advantage of the chaos of an existing attack to go after some of the heroes that were running around.”

I hadn’t expected Hawks to be sitting in on my two hours with Velcrow when he hadn’t shown any kind of interest in doing so before—but the fact that his eyes hadn’t left the back of my head since he’d stepped into the room was telling.

“I’m surprised that he only managed to kill one hero during all of that, especially when you consider just how many people he’s murdered in the past,” Velcro said, half-turned in his seat to actually face the other man. “It’s a damn shame he didn’t manage to hold out until Endeavor showed up to deal with it all—Native didn’t deserve a death like that.”

Hawks let out a quiet hum of agreement.

“The real question in all of this is why the Nomu variants were in Hosu City in the first place,” Hawks said, “The League of Villains are supposed to be targeting All Might, so what exactly were they after with that attack? As far as I can tell, they put in a whole lot of effort for no real reward.”

“They caused a lot of property damage, and they derailed a train,” Velcrow said, “So if that’s what they were after, I’d say it counts as a success.”

The two of them were relying entirely on the public version of events here, which meant that they didn’t have enough information to come to the same conclusion that I had. The information I’d received from Sajin and what I’d picked up from Izuku and Tenya’s muted attempts to assuage everyone’s concerns in the group chat told me that the news reports weren’t anywhere near accurate to what had actually occurred. Shoto, predictably, hadn’t responded to any of the messages except to state that he was in good health.

“Probably,” Hawks agreed. “Hisoka—you’ve been closer to the League of Villains than either of us; what do you think they were after?”

This was likely the reason he’d decided to come here, but I was left to wonder exactly how he’d come to the conclusion that I might know anything about it—I’d been here, in Fukuoka, for the duration of the attack, so he shouldn’t have had any reason to suspect that I would know anything more than he had. So, was this a complete shot in the dark based on my limited history of being one of their collateral targets, or was it guided by a more informed intuition? Still, regardless of how he’d come to the decision to press me for more information, I had no real reason not to tell him what I had learned.

“They were most likely after Izuku Midoriya, Tenya Ida, and Shoto Todoroki,” I said, “As all three were present in the area at the time of the attack.”

Velcrow turned to look at me at the words, apparently caught off guard by getting such a direct answer to a question he probably didn’t think had one—Hawks was outright smiling now, no doubt experiencing some level of internal satisfaction about his guess, and he settled more comfortably against the door frame.

“Those are members of your class,” Velcrow said, “What were they doing there—the internships.”

I just nodded at the words.

“What makes you believe they were after those three?” Hawks asked.

I took a moment to turn around, accepting that my two-hour training session—accessing and using the shared database of recent villain activities that was utilised by the vast majority of agencies across Japan—would be coming to a temporary halt.

“I’m not sure about the exact details of what transpired, but last night Izuku sent out an emergency ping using the communication application we use at U.A. High School,” I said, “They haven’t been very forthcoming with what occurred, but all three were injured, and are now bedridden at the hospital in Hosu City.”

“They couldn’t get to All Might, so they’re trying to kill his students to tarnish his reputation instead,” Hawks said, “That’s your theory?”

Considering the interference of our class and our general success in fighting off our attackers at the USJ, it was entirely unsurprising that the League of Villains would want to take some form of revenge on us.

“It’s nothing but speculation,” I said. “But it doesn’t seem unlikely.”

“If that’s right, then it means you are one of those targets,” Velcrow said, “You’re going to have to be on your guard from now on.”

“Yes,” I said in agreement. “I think I will.”

“You were just sitting on that information while we had a full-blown conversation about it,” Hawks wondered. “Would you have said anything if we hadn’t asked?”

“No,” I said, without pause. “I wouldn’t have.”

Hawks actually laughed out loud at my response, though what exactly he found amusing about it was beyond me.

“Why not?” Velcrow managed.

“I’m unsure about the veracity of my conclusions,” I said, “I would have rather spoken to Izuku, Tenya or Shoto first before relaying that information to anyone else.”

“Fine,” Velcrow said, shaking his head. “But you could have said something—”

“Don’t worry about it—it’s fine, really,” Hawks said, still smiling. “Hisoka, I’d like you to consider a request of mine.”

I nodded in acknowledgment.

“In the future, if you hear anything new about the League of Villains, or anyone you think might be working with them,” Hawks said, “It doesn’t matter if it’s speculation, or you can’t confirm it—I’d like you to call me, or send me a message about it.”

“Very well, if I learn anything noteworthy, I will make sure to inform you,” I said. “But in return, I would like to redeem a favour with you at some point in the future.”

“I’m pretty sure I said a request and not a trade,” Hawks said, seemingly amused. “But still, I guess I am asking for a favour here—sure, I’ll owe you one down the line.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Velcrow, give him my contact details before you send him out with Red Bird,” Hawks said, pushing off the door frame. “I’ll only be here for another hour; then I’m gone for the rest of the day—out of the city and no contact.”

“This would be that meeting you mentioned,” Velcrow said.

“Right in one, it’s a big brand deal, so this isn’t one I can flake on,” Hawks said, “Seems like there’s more and more of those these days.”

#

Hawks Agency, Fukuoka.

My initial plan had been based around Hawks being present, but with his confirmed absence for the rest of the day, it had actually just become far, far easier to handle the situation. The main concern with him being present was actually how fast he was and how quickly he would respond to a distress call—the reality was that there would be no way to keep Hawks from arriving at the scene, and if that occurred, it would be difficult to remove anyone from the hideout without being caught. The idea with the most merit was to have Inaba make a high-priority report on the opposite side of the city at the same time that Red Bird moved to address the low-priority one, thereby ensuring that Hawks was too busy to respond—but the fact that he was gone from the city entirely was infinitely better.

“Hello, you are speaking to Granular of the Hawks Agency,” I said. “How can I help you?”

“Um, hello—uh—Granular,” A familiar voice said, “I have a cat.”

I wondered if she’d practised the lines I’d written down for her at all because it was starting to sound as if she was frantically reading them off the sheet.

“I see,” I said. “Is this cat in trouble?”

“Yes, and it’s trapped in this old abandoned building—well, I don’t know if it’s trapped or not, but it went inside, and now I can’t get her to come out,” Inaba said, “I actually know the owner, and he usually lets me go in to get her, but he’s away on vacation.”

“How long has the cat been inside?” I asked.

“Since last night, and I can hear her making noise in there,” Inaba said, “Maybe she is trapped.”

“One moment, please,” I said before covering the handle. “Velcrow, are we allowed to enter abandoned buildings to retrieve trapped animals—it sounds like she has gotten permission from the owner in the past.”

“It’s usually fine so long as we don’t break anything, but ask her if she can contact the owner for permission in the meantime,” Velcrow said, “What’s the priority on it?”

“It’s been trapped since yesterday, so it’s probably best to respond in less than two hours,” I said, “Is it fine if I put it down as medium priority?”

“Go ahead, and then bump it up to the top of the list,” Velcrow said, “You and Red Bird can hit that place first when you go out—it’s only ten minutes until he picks you up anyway.”

“I apologise for the wait,” I said into the phone. “The Hawks Agency will take care of this within the hour, but please contact the owner for permission to enter the premises in the meantime.”

“Within the hour—really?” Inaba managed, “I—thank you so much.”

“Thank you,” I said in response. “I’ll also need the address and your name, please.”

There was a moment where I had the odd feeling that she would use her real name on reflex—something that would become a serious problem, given these calls were recorded—but the concern was all for nothing. Red Bird came to lean against the door jam; hand stuck up under his mask to cover his yawn.

“Mayuri Takeda,” Inaba said before rattling off the address. “The entrance he usually uses is at the end of this little alleyway—I’ll call the owner right now, and I already know he’s going to say yes, so you can tell whoever is coming that they should be fine to just go straight in.”

I made sure to fill out the final details of the report, including both the fake name and the very real address.

“I’ll make sure to pass that along to Red Bird,” I said. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Pass what along to me?” Red Bird said.

“There is a cat that’s been trapped in an abandoned building since yesterday,” I said, “The pet owner said she is on good terms with the owner of the building and will be calling to ask for permission to enter—she has done so many times in the past, apparently.”

“That works for me,” Red Bird said in agreement. “Worse case scenario we pick the lock.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Velcrow said, sounding annoyed. “Hisoka, you’re pretty much done here—you two might as well get going.”

“Thank you for your time, Velcrow,” I said. “I learned a lot today.”

“I should be thanking you if anything because I’ve got more done in the last couple of days than I have all year,” Velcrow said, shaking his head. “I might try convincing Hawks to bring on a third sidekick after all.”

“Not a chance, man, you’ll answer the phones, and you will like it,” Red Bird said, amused. “Come on, kid, let’s go save a cat.”

I followed him out of the room, retrieving my mask from the table along the way before reseating it on my face. By the time we’d reached the bottom floor of the building, my sand network had already begun expanding in the direction of the hideout. We crossed the road, started towards the corner, and then kept on going—

“This girl lives around there?” Red Bird said, eyeing the address. “It’s basically all warehouses and storage blocks.”

“She said she lived across from that address, so there must be an apartment building in the area,” I said, “Do you really know how to pick locks?”

“I used to do it as a hobby,” Red Bird admitted, “I’d buy a different lock every other week and see if I could crack it—guess I got pretty good at it.”

“Interesting,” I said.

“It’s really not,” Red Bird said with a laugh. “What about you—got a hobby?”

I wondered if any of the things I did could even be considered a hobby. Practising martial arts wasn’t something I did for fun or to pass the time, so I wasn’t sure it counted—though Tenya had once argued that jogging was a hobby, so perhaps it did.

“My aunt is rather famous for making stone sculptures, statues and other pieces of art,” I said, “She spends a lot of her time teaching me how to make lifelike sculptures, so I’ve become quite good at using my quirk for it.”

“Yeah?” Red Bird said with interest. “I remember seeing you make a bunch of hands in the U.A. Sports Festival—you can do more than just that?”

“Yes, but it takes more concentration to make complicated objects during battle,” I said, “During a conflict, I tend not to make anything unless it serves a purpose.”

Red Bird drove the conversation on from there, as he always did during patrols, and as I listened, my sand network continued to expand across the city until it encompassed the entire block that the hideout sat within. I’d already mapped it all out half a dozen times in the last two days, and the process was almost automatic at this point—I found Natsu in the same room he’d been confined to, playing with his Best Jeanist toy in the low light of the room. There were seven others still inside the building, a number which included Kenta—and twelve different firearms. Most of them were handguns, though there was a single shotgun leaning against the inside of a rusted locker.

By the time we came within two streets of the hideout, I had marked out every single item that could be considered a weapon, and everyone inside had a grain of sand in their pockets. I found Inaba hiding under a black plastic tarp two alleyways off the one that led to the hideout, her knees pulled up to her chest and her back wedged between the back of a dumpster and the dirty wall—it was quite a bit closer than where I’d told her to wait for me, but it was probably too late for her to move now. I eyed the mouth of the alleyway that would lead to the hideout—

“This is the address,” Red Bird said, glancing down at his phone. “Was she going to meet us here?”

“Mayuri didn’t say,” I said. “But she indicated that the entrance was at the end of that alleyway.”

“Down the alleyway we go,” Red Bird said.

Red Bird stepped forward until he was standing right in the middle, and I kept a close watch over everyone who was inside the hideout. Nobody had noticed our presence yet, but it would only be a matter of time. I followed Red Bird as he stepped down into the alleyway, and just as he was approaching the door, I made a deliberate misstep, the edge of my shoe catching on the discarded piece of rusted rebar. It skated across the pavement and hit one of the sheets of tin that were leaning against the wall with an awful bang—every single person inside the hideout started at the noise.

“Well, it knows we’re coming now,” Red Bird said, voice dry. “Might want to work on your stealth there, hero.”

Kenta was on his feet now and picking his way towards the door, but he paused at the sound of Red Bird’s voice—the gun that had been holstered at his waist was now dangling from his right hand, pointed low and away from the door. The sand I’d slipped into the barrel of it began to expand, slowly creeping out of the end and towards the trigger—

“My apologies,” I said. “If you’d like, I could use my quirk to open the door from the inside.”

“You’re going to rob me of the chance to finally pick a lock on the job?” Red Bird said, “Not on my—”

I compressed the loop of sand around the trigger, a few millimetres shy of Kenta’s finger, and the gun went off with a terrible crack that the door did almost nothing to muffle—the bullet, slowed by the sand I’d kept inside the barrel, smashed into the ground at his feet then ricocheted up into the wall in a shower of sparks. There were half a dozen shouts in response to the unexpected gunshot, loud enough to be heard through the door—four walls of sand washed up around us, rising above our heads and then sealing themselves shut completely.

“Velcrow, ambush at the cat job, guns present,” Red Bird said, fingers resting against the earpiece. “At least four people, maybe more—we’ll need reinforcements.”

“Permission to use my quirk,” I said belatedly.

“Granted,” Red Bird said without even thinking about it. “Is this bulletproof?”

I thickened it until it was hard-packed against the door, and the force of it sent the rusted metal creaking from the pressure. The door started to give way as sand began to press through the seams—and then everyone in the hideout who already had their guns drawn started firing at the doorway.

“Yes—my apologies; I accidentally broke the door down when I raised the barrier,” I said. “There are seven people inside, and all of them are armed with handguns.”

“Seven people, all armed with handguns,” Red Bird said, “We’re trapped in a shooting gallery here—the kid has a wall up around us.”

I took the moment to flood Natsu’s room with sand, reinforcing the existing wall I’d raised inside before the first shot had gone off. There was a small rotted hole in the top right side of the room, enough that at the correct angle, it was actually possible to see the sky outside. It exploded outwards as I broke it open, the sound of the wall's destruction lost amongst the gunfire. Natsu gave a cry of surprise as I dragged him up off the bunk bed and through the newly created exit—

“Some of the bullets are hitting the warehouse across the street, and there are people working inside,” I said, “Requesting permission to take their weapons away.”

“Shit—you’re not supposed to be doing anything like this.” Red Bird said, “Just—can you do it without putting yourself in harm’s way?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Then do it,” Red Bird said, “Velcrow, we’re going to need—”

I reached up and placed my hand flat against the wall in front of us—it expanded into the room before exploding outward in a dozen different tendrils. They reached across the room, crashing into the chests of everyone present and then washing up over their shoulders to trap them in a tightly packed layer of sand. I ripped each of the guns from their hands, then dragged each of them into a pile on the left side of the room. I sent the capsule of sand surrounding Natsu down the alleyway before making the two extra turns to reach where Inaba was hiding—she noticed his arrival almost immediately and ripped the tarp off of herself in her rush to get to her feet. Inaba snatched hold of her brother and then bolted out of the alleyway entirely.

“—supposed to be doing anything other than saving a damn cat,” Red Bird said, “But we’re stuck here—”

“The situation has been dealt with,” I said, speaking up. “Everyone is now in custody, and their weapons have been confiscated.”

“You—you’re kidding me,” Red Bird said, stumped. “Just like that?”

“It’s worth noting that there does not seem to be a cat anywhere inside the premises.” I said, “It would appear we have received a false report.”

#

Hawks Agency, Fukuoka.

“—it’s like there’s two of them,” Red Bird said, shaking his head. “Seriously, it took him less than a minute to handle it all.”

“I believe you, but how long it took him isn’t going to make this any less of a pain in the ass to deal with,” Velcrow said, “We’re going to have to file a report and then do an interview tomorrow morning—it’s already scheduled for eight, so don’t try to put it off.”

“I wasn’t,” Red Bird defended. “Shit—maybe I shouldn’t have given him permission?”

“Don’t tell them that,” Velcrow said, in alarm. “As far as you were concerned, it was the only option available, and you did it to protect the both of you—refer them to the U.A. Sports Festival if they give you a hard time about it.”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I would like to be present during the interview,” I said, speaking up. “I was the one who asked, and I feel as if I should speak in your defence.”

“Velcrow,” Red Bird said, waving his hand at me. “Would that make me look more guilty or less?”

“Both, if I had to guess, but it’s probably best that you take him with you,” Velcrow said before smacking his hand down against the tabletop. “I should have known that report was a fake—I watched him type it in.”

“There was a very similar report two days ago regarding a dog,” I said, “It seemed perfectly reasonable at the time.”

“It did, but I still should have known,” Velcrow muttered. “I need to review that call—how old did she sound?”

“If I had to guess—” I said, thinking about it all. “She must have still been a teenager.”

“Why would a teenage girl set us up like that?” Red Bird said, planting his hands on his hips. “She sent us right to their door without so much as a warning.”

Velcrow tossed the book we’d taken off of Kenta onto the table and then waved his hand at it—

“It’s a list of PIN codes and addresses—which means these guys were the ones running the credit card thefts,” Velcrow said, “We also know of one teenage girl who was working with them, and she wasn’t one of the people we arrested.”

“You think it was the same person from your notes,” I said. “The tall girl with the ponytail who was bumping into people.”

“Exactly, but the question is why turn the rest of the gang in—did they have a falling out?” Velcrow said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We won’t have any answers until the police finish questioning them, but I’ve got a feeling it’s her.”

“To hell with today,” Red Bird said with a sigh. “Kid, you should just go home for the night—we’ve already kept you way past your scheduled hours.”

“Are you certain?” I asked. “I don’t mind waiting for Hawks.”

“Hawks isn’t going to be back for another three hours anyway,” Velcrow said, “We’ll fill him in on everything that happened.”

“I understand,” I said. “I apologise for my actions causing so much trouble.”

Red Bird clapped me on the shoulder as I stood up, and I blinked at the sudden contact.

“You did good today, so it’s not like I regret it—” Red Bird said before pausing. “Just maybe come in early tomorrow so we can get our story straight for the interview.”

#

Hotel Building, Fukuoka.

I knocked on the door to the room directly across the hall from my own and then waited patiently for Inaba to gather up the courage to actually open it. The sand I’d placed in her pockets the night before was enough of an indicator that she was staring at me through the peephole. The sound of a chain unlatching itself preceded the door opening, and I glanced down as she snatched hold of my arm. The tightness in her expression shifted on her face as she activated her quirk—

“Oh,” Inaba said, breathing out. “It’s a lot less scary from your point of view.”

I’d seen her make physical contact with Natsu, so it was an easy assumption that she had seen everything that had occurred from his perspective—which hadn’t been much, given how fast everything had happened. Inaba herself had been close enough to hear all of the gunfire but was unable to see what was happening, so I couldn’t blame her for being worried.

“The Hawks Agency is already starting to put together what has happened,” I said, “They’ve made the connection that you were the one who called—”

“Come in first,” Inaba said. “We can talk inside.”

Inaba pulled on my arm in an attempt to draw me into the room, and I went willingly, eyes falling upon the small boy sitting in the middle of the bed. There was a tray of food in front of him, though it appeared as if a substantial amount of it was actually on his face. There was a similar tray on the table in the corner of the room—

“We ordered room service with your card,” Inaba said.

“That was why I left it with you,” I said, “I’m certain you’ve already realised this, but it would be unwise to remain in Fukuoka for much longer.”

“There is no way that we can stay here,” Inaba said before hesitating. “Sorry, but I also brought a pair of train tickets—to Nagoya.”

Inaba dragged my hand up, then stuffed the card into my palm as if to force herself to get rid of it—I’d been considering purchasing a pair of tickets for her as a parting gift for her help in assisting me, so it saved me having to make another trip in the meantime.

“I was going to suggest something similar,” I said in answer. “Have you got a plan for what to do when you arrive?”

“We used to live there back when our parents were still alive, so there are some people I can go to for help,” Inaba said, turning to look back at her brother. “There are also shelters, so it’s not like we’ll be sleeping on the street.”

“I see,” I said.

I considered them for a long moment and wondered what Sajin would have done if he’d been in this situation—all of the quiet discussions we’d had over the years about desperation, poverty, and people who just needed help seemed to be playing out right in front of me. Inaba was a criminal, though ostensibly one that had only acted that way while under duress. But there was no telling if she would return to the same lifestyle afterwards. It seemed an incredible waste for her to have been gifted such a powerful quirk and then be placed in circumstances where she couldn’t use it to secure a bright future for herself and her brother. There were a dozen different ways she could leverage her power to help people, and most of them would be lucrative positions. It was easy to imagine her consulting at a Hero Agency, a police station or even a hospital—

“I’m not going to steal from people anymore,” Inaba said, glancing away. “So you can stop trying to convince me.”

“I suppose so,” I said. “Goodbye, Inaba.”

“You’re leaving already?” Inaba asked.

“I am,” I said, “If you or your brother are in need of assistance in the future—”

“I have your number, and I know where to find you—maybe we’ll drop by if we’re ever in Musutafu,” Inaba said, reaching up to tap a finger against her temple. “Thank you for everything.”

I nodded at the words, then paused at the threshold of the room as she caught hold of my wrist, and when I looked back at her, she seemed to hesitate—

“Hisoka?” Inaba said. “I really do hope you find your friend.”

#

Hawks Agency, Fukuoka.

Red Bird collapsed on the brightly coloured couch with an explosive sigh of relief and then lay there, limp, with his mask mostly askew.

“I thought all of that was never going to end,” Red Bird breathed. “How the hell did it take that long—like either arrest me or let me go already.”

The main contention had been my lack of Provisional Hero License—which, according to the roadmap we’d been given as part of the introductory materials at U.A. High School, was something I would apparently be earning later on during the school year—and while I was allowed to use my quirk to complete non-combat situations under the direct guidance of a hero or sidekick, using it during an active combat situation was strictly forbidden. The fact that we’d been essentially stuck in a long alleyway with nowhere to go, and the only form of cover had been the wall I’d created with my quirk had been more than enough of a justification for me to take defensive action—but as soon as he’d given me permission to take their weapons away, he’d crossed the legal line.

“I don’t think they ever had any intention of arresting you,” I said, “Though it did seem oddly disorganised.”

“I won’t be needing to hire a new sidekick then?” Hawks guessed. “I was almost ready to post the job advertisement.”

“Come on,” Red Bird groaned. “At least wait until I’m dead before you bury me.”

“I said almost, didn’t I?” Hawks wondered. “Hisoka—are you ready for one last patrol before we send you back to school?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Well, I’m not doing anything until my career stops flashing before my eyes,” Red Bird said with another groan. “Take Velcrow with you.”

“He’s busy, so you’re both out,” Hawks said, amused. “Come on, intern, we’ll two-man this one, and you can show me what you’ve learned about clean-up duty.”

Unlike all of the other times, in which we’d left from the bottom floor of the building, this time, he headed straight towards the roof access staircase. I hadn’t yet participated in a patrol with just Hawks before, as there had always been either one or both of the others along with us. I wondered if there was an actual motivation driving his choice to bring me out alone or if he had just taken pity on Red Bird in the man’s exhausted state. We reached the rooftop in silence, and once the door had swung shut behind me, I found Hawks watching me from the very edge of the building, his back facing the open air.

“You know, it’s not every day you get attacked, but you seem pretty nonchalant about everything that happened yesterday,” Hawks said with what appeared to be vague interest. “Is there any reason for that?”

“It’s not the first time I’ve been attacked,” I said, “Perhaps I’ve simply become used to it.”

“You’re talking about the USJ?” Hawks guessed.

“That wasn’t the first time either,” I said, “A villain attacked my middle school at the end of last year, and I was forced to fight him off—it ended much the same way as our interview with the police did today.”

“Is that right?” Hawks wondered.

Without warning, the man tipped backwards off the edge of the building, vanishing from my sight before a burst of feathers erupted upwards as he spread his wings to their full span. I approached the edge of the roof, stepped up onto the railing, and then dove off in pursuit. Hawks had always been fast, but during all of the other patrols, he still kept to a pace that made it possible for both Red Bird and Velcrow to keep up—right now, he was doing no such thing. I reformed at the node that was closest to his position, then fired an array of sand pellets outwards, using them to extend the network in that direction. Hawks banked hard, twisted down past a building and fell out of sight again.

I picked another node with a better angle and then started firing off more pellets, aiming each one in a high arc to get a better aerial view of the city. There were dozens of feathers spread out across the rooftops, and all of them were in constant motion, each one slicing through the air like an arrow fired from a bow. After a week of participating in the patrols, I’d learned a lot about how he used his quirk. There was a very carefully maintained distance between each feather, which meant that he was optimising for maximum—but still efficient—coverage. The position of each one was overtly chosen to maintain signal cohesion with the rest, with himself acting as the centre of the formation.

But there was an obvious limit to how far that coverage could grow because it was built from the same resource he used to maintain his flight—ergo, the more feathers he expended on increasing his sensorium, the smaller his wings, and the slower his flight speed became. It had also become clear that there wasn’t any form of actual sight involved because I’d observed the outer net of feathers react to things outside of the line of sight and even on the other sides of the building—my best guess was that it was some form of sound perception. I worked to mark the outermost ring of feathers with my own sand nodes and then took note of which ones started shifting first—Hawks followed a very particular pattern in that the feathers would hear something noteworthy, and then the entire formation would start to reform itself to make moving in that direction a priority.

He would collect a dozen or so feathers along the way, increasing the speed of his approach, and then once he’d almost reached the area, he’d start shedding them all over again, rebuilding the network—Hawks dove straight down until he was blurring through the air only a few meters above the roof of the cars lining the roads. I caught sight of what had attracted his attention as the distant sound of skidding tyres rang out from two streets ahead of us. I fired a dozen sand pellets at an angle that would put them ahead of the car’s trajectory based on the sound of its passing and then reformed in mid-air. Hawks tore around the corner in pursuit of the car, with almost all of his feathers reseated amongst his wings and moving so quickly that he was nothing more than a red and yellow blur.

By the time it had reached the intersection directly below me, Hawks had filled the car full of feathers, and the entire thing was lifting up off the ground—the sound of a gunshot rang out, and one of the windows shattered outwards into the air. I formed a flat plane of sand above the heads of the pedestrians below, catching the glass before it could rain down on them, at which point the man that had been inside the car was hanging upside down in the air, weaponless and with a dozen feathers arrayed around him.

“Not again,” The man said in disbelief. “How do you keep on finding me?”

“Closest drop-off point is two streets back,” Hawks said without acknowledging the man’s words. “Make sure you put the gun in the locker, and the car has to go in the designated parking spot as well—do you need me to take it?”

“I can carry it,” I said.

“It’s all yours then,” Hawks said.

I collected all of the glass, placed it on the front seat of the car, and then applied the platform of sand directly beneath the car, allowing its weight to settle down on top of it—the entire thing sunk a few inches before I managed to get enough surface contact to maintain its position in the air. I created a second mass of sand and caught the criminal around the waist. Hawks waited just long enough to ensure the transfer wasn’t going to end with me dropping the car before he surged back up into the air. I rose upwards, gaining speed as I learned how the wind resisted the bulk of the car, then passed over the rooftop in the direction of the drop-off zone—there were two police officers on duty, and they rose to their feet as I lowered the car down into the small, fenced off carpark.

“It’s usually Hawks bringing people in around this time of day,” The officer said in greeting. “What’s your story?”

I made a show of placing the gun inside the locker and then closing the door on the cubby—it locked itself with a clack.

“I’m interning at the Hawks Agency for the week,” I said, “This man was arrested about a week ago for the robbery of a jewellery store—it appears he has managed to escape custody.”

“The escape artist I’ve been hearing about,” The officer said, snapping his fingers. “He just up and vanished from his cell.”

“I didn’t do nothing,” The criminal complained.

“He fired at Hawks from inside the vehicle and shattered the front window,” I said, “I’m not sure if the car is his, but he was driving quite recklessly.”

“Fine,” The criminal hedged, “I might have done all that.”

“Put him down here, and I’ll cuff him,” The officer said, “Anything else we need to know?”

“Nothing that cannot wait until Hawks submits the full written report this afternoon,” I said, “Thank you for your time.”

“Say, all that sand you're throwing around,” The officer said, “That was you at the U.A. Sports Festival, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“How about that,” The officer said with some interest. “You should have a hero name by now, right—what should I be calling you?”

“Yes, I have a hero name,” I started, “You can call me—”

#

Hawks Agency, Fukuoka.

“Granular,” Velcrow said, “Once you graduate, you should consider coming to work here—”

“I think he’s got aspirations a little bit higher than running around picking up after Hawks,” Red Bird said with a laugh. “The kid probably wants a few sidekicks of his own.”

“You should consider coming to work here—at least for a little while,” Velcrow said, annoyed at the interruption. “There is a lot more going on behind the scenes here that we didn’t really get a chance to cover, and it could help if you ever want to start up your own agency in the future.”

At the start of all of this, I’d come to the Hawks Agency under a false pretence and with only the goal of using them as a convenient excuse to come to Fukuoka—and after witnessing Hawks's own self-interested rationale for bringing a student of Class 1-A here, I’d been content with that. But the truth was that they’d spent an entire week of their time helping me refine the skills and processes that would eventually allow me to fulfil my stolen dream and become a hero. They had been welcoming, patient, and despite asking what might have been a few hundred questions over the course of the internship, neither of them had left me without a concrete answer to any of them.

“According to the school, I will be participating in a work-study program in the near future; it’s supposed to be a month-long cooperative effort alongside a chosen hero agency,” I said, speaking up. “At the time that it takes place, I should actually have my Provisional Hero License, so the range of tasks I will be allowed to participate in should be far greater—I would like to return at that time if you are willing to have me.”

“We are,” Velcrow said.

“It was pretty fun having someone else along with me on the little league patrols.” Red Bird said in agreement, “Even if I almost got arrested over a cat that never even existed.”

I smiled at what I was mostly sure was a joke—the man had a habit of making light of things in general, so it was sometimes difficult to tell if he was actively looking for a response.

“You’re more than welcome here; just call us whenever the program comes up,” Velcrow said, “I’ll mention it to Hawks when he gets back as well, and provided nothing out of the ordinary happens at that time, it should be fine.”

“Then I will make certain to put in the request as soon as the work-study comes up in class,” I said, bowing my head. “Thank you both for everything; I’ve learned a lot.”

That was true in several ways because if Velcrow hadn’t been as open with me about his ongoing struggle with the credit card theft case, then I would never have learned enough about it to identify Inaba Tanabe and dealing with the entire Kimiko Habiki situation would have been far less rewarding. As it stood, I now had three new names—Akamai Hiro, Katsumi Fueki, and Daruma Ujiko—along with a set of partial descriptors that matched up very, very well with the group of people who’d been sitting with Kaito Habiki and Susumu Hoshi on the night of Nanami’s tenth birthday.

It was possible that they had no correlation with those people I’d seen, but it was something I would be investigating as soon as I returned to Musutafu—a second trip to the hospital was needed now because there was a chance that all three of them could be tracked on the Quirk Registrar.