Archive of Our Own

When he blew his breath, it clouded to a mist, and shivered under the shrouded, dying sun. The day was old and the evening young, yet it was an hour from him even considering supper. This early waning sunset was expected in a Musutafu November, but the bone-deep cold rather reflected the month to come.

Badan kept pace with the green-haired boy beside him, no matter how much his legs and lungs burned, no matter how dry his throat was. He pressed and pressed, following his friend in mechanical lockstep.

He didn't falter when the dirt path switched to stone and concrete – his foot's pace drumming jolts down his spine and kicks up his knees. When his shoes struck the still puddles, splashing him in frozen fury from him disturbing their slumber and breaching their icy veneer, he didn't slow down.

To some, this would have been torture, but to Badan, the chill wind blowing by his face gave him a sort of peace of mind. But, like the wind, so was his trail towards taking Thule down, leaving his options to wither away like a fall leaf.

The yakuza… was a dead end, leaving very little in their wake; and after they left, there wasn't even a straw to grasp at Thule's continued existence. As soon as Overhaul packed bags, Thule seemingly vanished without a trace.

No more mysterious disappearances. No more kidnappings. No more murders. No more arms sales.

Nothing.

Poof! Just like that.

The ledger didn't provide much help either, as all the names listed within were long scattered to the wind. It wasn't even worth the paper it was printed on now…

The only crime that happened now was your standard surface-level fare, which didn't lead back to anything more nefarious than "He was a piece of shit gangbanger," or "She was on drugs,". The isolated lone wolves or gangs that can never and will never amount to anything important; the same kind that the daylight heroes took in as warm-up after their daily coffee; the ones whose life's purpose was for the local newspaper to cut some verbal chaff on them, to either fill in 30 seconds of air time or some space on page 13 next to the op-eds.

Thus, it was over. There was nothing left for Noose to do.

There was no reason for Noose to even exist anymore.

He looked deep into his heart, and only witnessed the abyss staring back at him, whispering to him that there was nothing to be found. With a mission strangled in the crib, the weight of his failure crushed Noose, making him cease to be.

It was unpleasant, having his life's purpose to just… fizzle away, without even so much as an explanation. To say it was hard on him would have been the understatement of the century…

Like it or not, Batsuku Badan was Noose and Noose was Batsuku Badan, and Noose… he revolted in this new paradigm. For those first few months, he denied it all, turning up stone after stone to uncover dirt and no worms. He searched and scoured all within his means and some without too, all for nothing.

Thule was gone, and they haven't even left a single breadcrumb.

It drove Noose mad, and it dragged Badan down to hell with him. That side of him kept asking questions that could never be answered and demanding answers that don't exist. It kept creeping more and more into his thoughts – something had to give.

So Badan stopped.

He stopped dressing up in that uniform, hiding it away deep in his closet. He stopped traveling around, collecting information, and buying all that ammo with his limited funds. He stopped venturing out in the night, beating thugs left and right in a mad pursuit of justice.

He just stopped… and Noose was no more. For now at least…

All that remained was Batsuku Badan, that boy in Class 3B who worked at his parents' cafe. That boy who had a bright future at UA in the general education course. That boy who was friends with Midoriya Izuku and Toga Himiko.

Noose was getting in the way of that.

It was better this way…

Badan finally realized that it didn't have to be him; he didn't have to fight against a future that would never come to pass by virtue of the butterfly effect. He didn't have to waste his precious seconds on this Earth in pursuit of revenge against a man who will never know him.

And deep down, he knew it was all futile regardless…

He looked into every avenue, he buried his nose through every paper trail, he squeezed what he could out of the dark web and La Brava – they all told him the same thing:

While All For One existed, there was no record of his activities nor any record of his existence after five years ago. There wasn't evidence of a Shigaraki Tomura, nor even a villain with a disintegration quirk either in those past five years at all. All of the fronts, groups, or organizations that would make the tentacles of the Paranormal Liberation Front (with the notable exception of Thule and Detnerat) either went out of business five years ago, were broken and arrested, or just flat-out never existed.

And most damning of all, a certain Dr. Tsubasa Kei – better known as Dr. Ujiko Daruma or Dr. Garaki Kyudai, the Father of Nomus – was found murdered in his home along with his grandson – get this – Five. Years. Ago.

If that wasn't evidence of somebody else doing the job, then Badan didn't know what was. Somebody must have had the same idea… and in Badan's opinion, he was perfectly fine not knowing who.

That someone else could follow through the rat race for all he cared, it wasn't his business anymore. He had a family here and now, and people to take care of… and that was all he needed. He was tired of living in scorn, and for once in his God-damned life, he wanted a normal existence.

Taking down Thule? Heh… No matter how noble that idea was…

…He was just deluding himself into believing that he mattered in the course of history, that the dark future was a guarantee unless he did something about it, instead of the world being the chaotic tumble into nothing that it was.

This nihilism he found was comforting in a dark way, especially after years of feeling the world on his shoulders…

Huff. Puff. Huff. Puff.

At least, it felt like the world was on his shoulders from all this jogging…

Thankfully, the end was near as the plaza came into view. Izuku started to wind down as they approached the bench where they left their water bottles, and Badan's muscles were on the edge of screaming in relief. They came to a stop near the center of the part, and as soon as Badan's final foot was firmly planted into the ground, he nearly collapsed.

He was sweating like a stuck pig chained in a sauna, his everything hurt, and his lungs were still trying to catch up to Izuku's idea of a light jog, or rather, a suicide sprint through uneven terrain for a whole hour straight.

Eventually, when his eyes were no longer blurry from the bitter tears of exhaustion, he was able to appreciate the natural and man-made majesty he found himself surrounded by.

The patterned paths and neatly trimmed hedges drew the eye towards the center, where the granite image of All MIght stood mighty and invincible, unbowed and unbent to the whims of mother nature. It stood immortal… ethereal… and idol to a god that was but a man, forever proving that humanity never changes.

But, at least nature stayed the same too, remaining glorious despite being artificially manicured. The park was absolutely beautiful, even during the dreariest days of Autumn and Winter. Defiant to the bitter cold of the air, the trees harshly contrasted themselves through the warm colors of their leaves. And sprinkled over the tips of endless blades of grass, little smatterings of snow sat perched, making patterns of green and white all the way around.

But this reverie, however calming to Badan, was subordinate to the body's immediate needs. He collapsed onto the freezing metal bench and slammed his water down in a matter of seconds. Izuku, by contrast, was more conservative in his consumption.

"Why do you insist on training so hard, Badan-kun?" Izuku asked between sips.

Badan finished the last of his water with a gasp, "Hah… Why not?"

"I mean…" Izuku looked at the blond incredulously, "You're going to Gen-Ed… A-and you don't care about being a hero… You don't have to… Ah, Nevermind!" He shook his head, apparently coming to some sort of conclusion.

He's improved quite a bit on that stutter… Badan idly commented in his head.

"Do not need to… What, exactly?" Badan pressed, putting his empty bottle away in his bag.

"T train like that… like me…" Izuku trailed off with a faraway expression, his eyes taking in the statue…

"Earth to Izuku?" Badan teased.

"Oh, right!" A slight blush of embarrassment on the boy's cheeks, "What I was saying was… My trainer said that this routine is a lifetime's worth of strength and endurance training compressed into one year." Izuku explained, "You could do less than half what I'm doing, and still come out on top at P.E. class. I'm only doing this 'cause I have a lot to make up for – you're already fit."

"Oh, I think you got it all wrong, Izuku…" Badan smirked, "Sure, that 'Aim to Pass: American Dream Plan' thing your trainer drew up is one psychopathic schedule… but I am not doing this to get fit. I am doing this because… well… I am kind of a bigger nutjob than Bakugou-kun on a bad day, and I just like the challenge!"

Izuku gave Badan a dead-eyed stare, "What will I ever do with you?…" He sighed.

Now that was a response that would have never come from the old Izuku. Clearly, the boy had changed a lot in the past half-year that Badan knew him, even beyond just the obvious physical ones like muscle mass and athletic ability.

Now, there was a sort of… straightness in his posture that wasn't there before; a bit of iron in his spine that exuded a quiet confidence. Izuku, despite the occasional stutter and stim, grew leaps and bounds away from the skinny nervous wreck that rolled his way into the cafe. He proved himself more confident in talking to people, especially to Badan, with a slight sereneness to his tone – as if a lingering shame was pulled away from him, and a weight was lifted off his shoulders…

…Badan had the decency not to comment upon Izuku's innocent hypocrisy in asking why he was training so hard. He wasn't in the mood to deal with his friend's tendency towards blustering embarrassment.

So like any good peer looking out for another's ego, he changed the subject, "...Would you look at that?… Winter is around the corner…"

At the mention of the W-word, flakes of snow started trickling down the darker overcast sky. Izuku brushed some of the crystal flakes off, it having been caught up in his tangled mess of curls.

"More like, already here." He muttered, putting his hands around himself in a futile attempt to banish the cold.

"That is certainly your perspective," Badan commented shamelessly, earning a light glare from Izuku.

Suddenly, a chill breeze struck them both with a hurricane's intensity, shivering them down to the bone. Izuku elected to end his glare with a roll of his eyes, and started to collect his things; Badan followed suit. Without a word passed between them, they both agreed to pack their things and get going.

They set off on their journey home rather hastily, as the weather threatened to only get worse from there. Outside the park, the sidewalks were rather sparks, presumably due to people wanting to stay home and not deal with the unusually frosty weather.

Not in the mood to suffer on his own, Badan roped Izuku in with some small talk, "So, are there any new things going on in the hero world, that the ever-wise otaku, Midoriya-sensei, would bequeath to his wretched, ignorant student?" He made a mock bow in false deference to cap his statement.

Izuku held back a snort, "Oh, certainly, I could share a few things with my dear disciple…" Over the next few seconds, the grin of humor stretched out to a shining, anxious-to-share smile. Izuku couldn't resist the opportunity to dump hero information by the truckload onto his unwitting victim, "First of all, just yesterday, the A-rank villain Muscular finally got caught by the Water Hose Duo and The Wild Wild Pussycats…"

Izuku's impromptu speech only sped up from there…

It always amused Badan to wind Izuku up like this, and the other boy seemed to appreciate that he was willing to listen to him talking about his interests. It seemed that the boy was desperate for someone to entertain his thoughts and ideas, and since the world insisted on patronizing, ignoring, or spitting on him, he found that someone in Badan.

"...and Hawks was spotted in New York, helping some American heroes out, taking down the Canadian villain Blueridge…"

All the better for it! Izuku was an honest-to-God genius on the subject of heroes and criminals.

Being an observant soul, he always caught tiny little details or other things that would have escaped anyone else's notice, even Badan. If Izuku wasn't so dead set on the path of heroism, Badan surmised that he would have been the most terrifying intelligence officer under the Ministry of Defense.

"...Finally, there's Eraserhead," Who happened to be the boy's latest obsession, considering the whole cloak and dagger schtick and the practically quirkless fighting of the underground hero, "He conducted a massive sting operation against a Trigger ring sometime last September – Couldn't get much more info on that since TOR crashed and the link went dead a minute later…"

Yeah… it was probably a good idea not to show him any of the 007 movies… Badan really didn't need that kind of thoroughness turned against him in the future. Underground heroes' activities were classified by the government for good reason, and Izuku just casually talked about finding out about a raid like it was a new chapter of a manga or something.

No thanks!

"Oh, that's right!" Izuku raised a finger, apparently remembering something "There's also a big press conference coming up with the Hero Commission. Apparently, something big, but nobody knows what."

"Huh…" Badan hummed and nodded.

There was one thing, however, that Badan noticed Izuku keeping quiet on, and that was All Might's ever-decreasing public appearances. Slowly, over time, there were fewer and fewer appearances by the hero in the news, and for some reason, he always seemed to be in a rush for something, sparing little words past the "I am Here!" and the meat-headed wholesome advice.

Of course, Badan knew the true reason why, but Izuku's silence on the matter raised a few concerning flags.

"By the way, how's Toga-san doing?" Izuku asked, being on a completely different wavelength.

Thrown off slightly by the non-sequitur question, Badan quickly formulated an answer, "Oh, she's doing much better now…" And all things considered, that was quite the understatement coming from Badan.

Himiko had made leaps and bounds in progress. Therapy had a noticeable positive effect on her, helping her deal with what she had gone through, and the medication so far seemed to be doing its job. She was a lot more sociable and less timid, especially towards Tomoko as they formed a sisterly bond. Now, they were practically joined at the hip!

"That's good to hear." Izuku smiled, "Saw her in class earlier – seems she's having fun with her legion of friends…"

"Yeah, I've noticed…" A small grin broke out on Badan's face as well.

At school, there were a few ups and downs, especially with idiots trying to pick on her. That problem was solved with some… convincing on the part of Badan. Over time, as the incidents came one after the other, Badan had forged himself quite the fearsome reputation; not quite to the level of Bakugou, but he was well known as one of the guys you positively, absolutely did not want to have as your enemy.

Without the cruel vocal minority to holler and henpeck her, Himiko had spread her wings and proved to be an A-Class extrovert, summoning an army of a friend group coming from all sorts of backgrounds. Whether bookish, popular, or punk, thou canst not fight the temptation of the social butterfly name Toga Himiko.

Resistance was futile, and there was no escape from her corruption.

Already, thanks to the influence of Tomoko, she indoctrinated the female student body to the wonders of Boys' Love…

…There was a running bet on how long it would take for Badan to finally… He held back a gag… To finally confess his love to Bakugou Katsuki of all people!

Just… Just no… He purged the thought with prejudice.

A terror, she truly was…

She wasn't a slouch in her academics either; behind those perpetually blushing cheeks and cheerful smile laid a mind sharper than steel. With straight A's, she made up for her lost education tenfold, even somehow managing to be allowed to apply for UA's Gen-Ed course. Badan learned to never underestimate her again after she scored higher on a test than him. She was still yet to take his number one spot in Class 3B, however…

But, not everything was sunshine and rainbows, especially around the subject of trauma. Once in a while, her experiences come back to haunt her, and she would either have a nightmare, a panic attack, or a flashback. Though, thankfully, that was only a monthly occurrence now instead of the biweekly incidents before.

It all just proved to remind him that recovery wasn't a linear path, nor was it easy. In his own ongoing journey, he had experienced this himself; he had the occasional nightmare, and his own long-standing neuroticisms, especially the ones surrounding cleanliness and dusting, still crept up once in a while.

There was something a therapist told him when the Batsuku's took him in that stuck with him, and he found that it had perfectly fit the mold for Himiko's situation:

"So you think you took a few steps back?... That's perfectly fine, and it's normal. Don't worry about how better it was before and how bad it is now – just look forward, and focus on who you want to be. All that matters is that you keep putting one foot in front of the other…"

That helped him understand his own situation, and it gave him a frame of reference for Himiko – an ideal to strive for.

There was also one more positive influence on her, and that was her finally becoming a ward of the Batsuku family, officially. The paperwork that Badan's parents had to fill out was a true Gordian knot of government bureaucracy, but they held out until the very end, and as of a few weeks ago, it was approved.

A great celebration was had back home, and a disgusting amount of sweets and pastries were consumed. Never underestimate the Batsuku sweet tooth.

Speaking of friends and family, Badan was curious about someone, "Well, what about your mentor…" He paused, scratching his temple, "Yagi-san, right?"

Izuku gave a nod, affirming that the name was correct.

Badan only met the man a scant few times, but he already had a good read on his personality. He was a genuinely kind person with a surprisingly pure heart considering his age – a positive, if slightly clumsy, influence on Izuku's life, and certainly a hardcore trainer.

He was also literally All Might. The skinny form did little to hide it – even behind the baggy clothing and timid hunchback didn't hide the aura of power and charisma.

No, Izuku didn't tell him anything, especially about One for All. He had long known the truth and the existence of such a quirk, the same as everyone else of his time.

Badan continued, "Is he still skinnier than a matchstick?"

"Definitely! Without a doubt… but…" Izuku's face turned flush in heated embarrassment, "Well… Mom's… working on it."

"Oh, I believe that!" Badan blurted before erupting into a less than dignified chuckle – not exactly hyena-level, but far louder than what was polite in Japanese society.

He saw firsthand how the Midoriya matriarch, like any good mother, made damn sure that everyone was well-fed. A mother looking to feed her children was the most terrifying being in the universe – and he never dared to go against the mother of mothers that was Midoriya Inko.

"You-know-who still bothering you?"

"Actually, no. Lately, he's been pretty quiet, ignoring me and all the other quote-unquote extras. Haven't even heard a 'Quirkless DEKU!' " Izuku imitated Bakugou's signature gravelly voice, "–in weeks!... It's weird…"

"Hm…" Badan hummed, "Well, I wouldn't discount him quite yet – He is a real piece of work after all."

"You think I don't know that!?" Izuku squawked.

"Better than me, I stay the hell away from him, unlike you–"

Ding!

"–Oh, got a text, hold on…"

…

Then, in an instant, It felt like a bucket of ice water was splashed onto him. A cold shiver went down his spine.

He wasn't one to swear excessively, but…

Fuck.

He took a deep breath and slumped.

"Eh… Sorry Izuku," Badan retreated apologetically, "My friend is running a raid, and I promised I would be there tonight…"

The best excuses were made of half-truths.

"It's fine, I understand." Izuku waved him off, "Hero Online is serious business, heh…"

Yeah… not the kind of "serious business" you're thinking of, Izuku…

"Well, it was nice catching up with you, Izuku…" Badan gave the boy a pat on the back, not letting his true thoughts show on his face, "…but, I got to go."

"Nice seeing you, Badan," A shining smile on the sunshine boy as he waved, providing a slight bit of relief to Badan's weary soul. "Good luck!"

"You too!" Badan waved back.

Unnamed Woods – Four Months Ago…

"One way ticket… One~…shshhh… way tick~-shhh… One way~…shhhhhhh…" The nagging buzz of the radio overpowered the music when the trees got thicker and thicker. Noose reached out and tapped the screen. He turned off the radio, plunging the car into the dead silence outside, except for the faint hum of the engine.

It was a dark and peaceful night under the pitch-black new moon, leaving only the headlights to tell the way ahead. There was little light to spare, even to the point that there was no seeing the green of the leaves above, only the stenciled shadows that covered the milk-dropped sky.

In contrast, the air was oppressively in its summer might, almost intolerable if it weren't for the intervention of the air condition system, slaving away to provide a modicum of moderation. Even if the radio was left on, it would hardly have been heard over the desperate vents.

Despite the filters of his mask, Noose still smelt the tang of iron and old burnt flesh in this car, but it was no fault of his own. Next to him, with his hands on the wheel, the Arsonist, a scarred young man whose leathery skin was held together by staples and a jewelry store of piercings, hummed to the absent music's harmony. Here was Todoroki Touya, though he much rather preferred the name Dabi.

Noose, while staring ahead at the road, kept the corner of his eye on the man, not trusting that the money would be enough to keep his hide in the clear. He knew what depths this man could have potentially fallen, and it was for that reason that always kept a hand close to his holster, and took all precautions in wearing fire-proof clothing.

"Y'know…" Dabi finished mumbling lyrics, glancing at the blond to his left, "I didn't expect ya to take this long to finally hit me up… Did ya finally realize ya can't just lone-wolf all the big fishes in the pond, Hm?"

"…"

Though, in practice…

"Well, don't worry, I'm not demeaning your work here or anythin'. In fact, I think you're a God-damned saint – putting lead in the heads of pedos and traffickers is probably the noblest thing you could do in this line of work…"

"..."

…Dabi slowly proved to be a lot more grating than dangerous to be around. Noose crossed his arms and kept his gaze firmly out the windshield.

"Heh… It's funny, that… how fate puts us together, lining up those interests n' all…" Dabi continued, "I mean, I wasn't really much of a fan of those Yakuza fuckers before – they tried pulling a couple o' yen from one of my buddies a few years back – but now that I know they be doin' business with those sick fucks at Thule… Sheesh! Makes me really wanna castrate 'em with a blowtorch."

"…" Noose looked the arsonist straight in the eye, "...Turn right." And only acknowledged the other's words with a taciturn order.

"Ah! He speaks!" Dabi celebrated with faux glee, "And here I was thinking you were dead."

"…"

…Why did I invite him again?

Thump! Thump!

A banging came from behind the backseat, along with muffled shouting…

Oh, right… Waste disposal…

Dabi turned at the next opening, squeezing the older bulky car from one narrower dirt road to an even narrower one – if it even qualified. The only evidence of human habitation ahead was two tire-wide dirt tracks covered in sticks and weeds. Leaves and branches passed the window by a hair's breadth as they traveled at a tortoise's pace.

"Any more orders for this humble chauffeur, Sire?" This… wasn't the Todoroki Touya he knew…

"Not at the moment,"

Oh, sure, there were superficial differences, like dying his hair black and obviously younger age, but his appearance was still a dead ringer to his other self, even down to the fashion. Noose was even reasonably sure that Dabi had the same psychological triggers as well – one of the only comforting facts about bearing near the man.

No… Dabi was… Immature? Innocent? …He couldn't quite describe it in words, he was just… different.

The man didn't hold himself the same way, and he viewed his life and his… work in a much different light than the Instructor's cold, irritable, and most importantly, psychopathic second-in-command. Dabi acted more like a lone wolf, growling and snarling at everything in his way but otherwise benign in the grand scheme of this, rather than the pyromaniac demon general leading the armies of Hell to ravage the innocent.

Looking at the man tapping his finger on the steering wheel to another hummed tune, Noose couldn't help but think… Was this the same man who would burn tens of thousands for the pettiest of reasons?

Noose still thought of the man beside him as a murderous thug, but his mind raised questions, wondering what was the true extent of the Instructor's corruption. How much did Shigaraki Tomura change Dabi, that he would burn Kyoto to the ground without a care in the world? How deep did the Instructor's corruption go?…

…Or was it that they already had the same goals? That their "interests" happened to "line up" so to speak, and he turned into that man by his own free will…

Those questions would have to wait, however, as their spot was coming up.

"Pull over here," Noose ordered, pointing to an open space coming up on the right.

Dabi looked around the woods with a twinge of discomfort showing on his face, "Okay then…" There was a hint of understandable reluctance in his voice. These thick woods weren't the most pleasant of areas, being far too quiet and void of the noises of cicadas. Some would even say that it was haunted…

"Shit, this place gives me the fuckin' creeps…" Noose caught him muttering, but still complied and parked the car. The Dabi he knew had too much pride and ego to admit experiencing fear at all – this just about confirmed to Noose that he was playing a different ball game. He kept his guard up, though; there was a snowball's chance in Hell that he was trusting this man with his life.

When the world plunged into darkness from the engine shutting off, Noose took an old flashlight from the cup holder, smacking it a few times until it finally turned on. He wasted no time, opening the door and stepping out the first chance he got.

Before walking out to the trunk, he opened the backseat door and retrieved a shovel. He inspected it for a few seconds… Looking good, he made his way around back.

Click… Vrrrrr….

The trunk opened itself. Inside was a spare tire, a few empty shopping bags, a leather coat… and a man, bound at the wrists and ankles by zip-ties, squinting at light shining onto his face.

"Mmm…mmmrph" The trapped man tried to speak through the cloth gagging his mouth, to no avail. He had a bleached fringe and tattoos creeping up his neck but looked to be on the wrong side of his thirties to indulge in such rebellious youthful nonsense. His eyes shined with a thuggish sort of confidence, assured that somehow, he would leave these woods alive…

Noose kindly disagreed with the notion. He glanced to his right, silently setting his shovel down and handing the flashlight over to Dabi before pulling out his gun, and aiming it at their prisoner.

Noose reached in, "Mmmph! MRRMMMPH!" The man tried to back away, quickly losing his calm bravado, but there just wasn't enough trunk to move around in. The man closed his eyes and went still…

Snap, snap, snap.

…only to find that his wrists were now free; the zip-ties snapped like rubber bands in Noose's hands. Noose reached down to the ankles, and much the same thing happened; the restraints crumbling apart, weaker than silly-string.

Despite now noticing the scarred man burning a hole through his skull with his glare, the man kept his eyes trained on the barrel of the gun, which never lost its aim throughout either. Noose looked back at him, giving him a tired stare as he picked the shovel back up.

"Tondo-san… Come with us if you want to live." He demanded, his voice in an apathetic, yet forceful tone.

Dabi nodded towards Noose, decidedly more casual, yet just as threatening "...What he said."

…

Step… Step… Step… Step-Crunch… Step…

For fifteen minutes, the three of them have been hiking through ever thicker woodland, one of them against his will. Guided by only a flashlight, and his intuition, Noose took the lead in navigating through this dark, balmy hell.

And then, after some more time of stomping through mud, leaves, and twigs, they came upon a small clearing, no bigger than a house, but large enough to comfortably walk around in. All around, the trees stood pridefully at their thickest, doing their damnedest to block the stars all above with their wide-reaching limbs.

The three stopped at its center – Dabi pushed Tondo onto the rooted ground, causing the thug to regrow some semblance of a spine with his glare. Noose pulled off the cloth gag covering Tondo's mouth, and he was absolutely frothing at the teeth.

"I dunno who the fuck you think you are," He spat in unwarranted self-importance, "but you're messing with the wrong fucking people here! I'm part of–"

Thwack!

Tondo's act quickly got old for Noose, and he put an end to the rant with a firm application of the shovel's broadside. Most tools had uses beyond their original purpose, Noose found in his experience, and he was more than willing to demonstrate so for his own ends.

With a small twirl, Tondo fell onto the ground, and Noose forcefully planted the shovel mere inches from his nose, reducing the tree root underneath into wooden mulch.

As the thug groaned in pain, Noose breathed in through his teeth, "Would you kindly save yourself the trouble, and tell us where your friends run their operations?" A deep annoyance laced his tone, "Now, is not exactly the time to be testing my patience."

Tondo lifted his head and smirked like a serpent, "Fuck you, I ain't tellin' you shit, asshole…" He spat blood onto the shovel, having no sense of self-preservation, "If my brothers don't find you here, the heroes certainly will… All you're doin' is just fucking yourself over, and digging your graves."

What a poor choice of words… Noose tittered in his head.

"I am afraid…" He spoke, unmoved, "...that you are vastly overestimating your importance to your so-called brothers… I am not sure if you had heard of something called the Dunning-Kruger Effect but… A man of your talents and ability is much more commonplace and disposable than you would think…"

Dabi rolled his eyes, "Lemme translate it to Dumbass for ya: You ain't worth jack shit."

"I would not have put it in such crude terms… But yes," Noose huffed.

"Also… I hate to break it to ya, Mr. Important, but this ain't the most hero-patrolled place out there…" Dabi casually gestured all around with his hands.

Then… There was this one particular tree that caught Tondo's eyes – it was sicker, more twisted than the others with a long shadow attached to one of its bare branches. He squinted at it, trying to pierce the darkness with his eyes and…

…It was a body, a desiccated corpse mummified by the elements, hanging off the tree by a frayed rope. Pins and needles poked down his spine, and his uneasy stomach made his face turn green…

"Thank you, Dabi." Noose looked at Tondo, gaze emptier than the hanged man's sockets. A deep, biting uneasiness crept into his soul at that moment, "Welcome to Aokigahara, Tondo-san. I should not have to tell you what that means, especially to a man with certain… issues, like yourself."

"I-Issues? What fucking issues!?" The thug blustered, his lizard brain immediately trying to respond to his fear with violence, but the gun barely restrained him from charging its wielder.

"Have you not heard? Dr. Harada had some concerns about your mental health, and is looking to have a follow-up appointment with you soon… But what do I know? I only looked at your medical records… and maybe made a few contributions of my own… It is quite fascinating to see what could drive a man so down low, that they… Hmm…" Noose hummed, tapping the chin part of his mask, "Of course, I am sure nothing of that sort will ever happen… If you would kindly cooperate, that is."

There, in the thug's rather… limited headspace, a war of emotions broke out. It didn't take long for obstinacy and ego to come out as victors – "Fuck. You." he said with a defiant glare – rationality wasn't even issued a weapon.

"If you insist…" Noose was supremely unsurprised.

I give them an open door, and they always choose to run into the damned wall…

Sighing, he pulled the shovel out of the ground and threw it at the thug as he and Dabi stepped back.

"Ow!" Tondo cried, recoiling as the handle struck him on the nose.

"Dig."

"W-Wha?..."

"You have a shovel. Dig." Noose repeated.

"The fuck are you talking abou–"

Bang!

Noose fired. A bullet grazed by, hitting a tree, and suddenly, half of the thug's right earlobe was missing, the remaining spurting his lifeblood all over the ground. He brushed his hand against the side of his head.

Tondo inspected the now-bloody hand, "E-eh?…" and only to summon a faint note of shock.

Then, Dabi walked up to him, and slapped his hand over the ruined ear – at the same time, the finally registered the pain, "Ahh… AHHHH!" A faint glow… sizzling sounded as Dabi cauterized the wound much to Tondo's agony.

When he was finished, Dabi checked that his charred handiwork stopped the bleeding and pulled the groaning thug to his wobbling feet.

Dabi glared, "Are you deaf, Jackass? He said dig!"

He pushed the thug away, who scrambled to pick the shovel up and strode away like a gangbanger walking through the streets.

Tears dripped out of Tondo's eyes; he struggled to even breach the packed dirt and rocks…

…

Noose had himself perched on a large, flat stone, eyes solidly locked at Tondo shakily spooning the dirt and gravel out of the slowly deepening hole. The thug, despite panting his lungs out like a dog and his muscles clearly turning to gelatin, through some sort of exhausted panic response still managed to lift the shovel over his waist and deposit the tough dirt onto the growing pile nearby.

In the past six or so hours, he managed to dig a whole meter and a half through unideal soil. A remarkable achievement for a rather unathletic man, and one that Noose would never afford on account of Tondo being a dirty scumbag – but an achievement nonetheless.

But, there were limits to the human body, even in the quirk age. For Tondo, it came in the form of his hand cramping, having him fail to keep his grip shover. The blade fell onto the pile, causing a not-insignificant amount to avalanche into the hole.

Dabi, of course, was quick to mock.

"Hey, Genius!" He hollered with scathing mirth from his spot near a tree, "When ya dig a hole, ya typically take the dirt out, not put it back in…"

Tondo didn't dare to snap back, only mustering a tired shiver and a nauseous expression. With fatigue in every bone of his body, he looked at Noose, particularly at the gun still pointed at him after all these hours, and hastily started to throw the loose dirt back out of the hole.

This move didn't surprise Noose – it seemed that the only thing that the thug had to motivate himself was the base fear of death, and he was more than happy to oblige. After all these hours of continuous work, it hadn't failed him yet…

"Hm… Got nothing to say, Noose-kun?" Dabi turned his attention to the so-called Hangman.

Noose merely gave a shrug for a reply.

"Yeah… sounds 'bout right…" Dabi mumbled, his neck sounding a few cracks as he rolled his head. Out of habit or boredom, he started tapping his foot against a tree's thick root, "… Doin' that whole chuuni-ass quiet, mysterious act… God, I sound like an old man when I'm bored outta my fuckin' mind…"

Noose wasn't deaf, so… "They say patience is a virtue…"

Dabi raised an eyebrow; while he didn't speak a word, Noose could tell exactly what his eyes were saying – Oh really?

Then, the thug stopped digging. He planted the shovel at the bottom of the hole and used it to support himself. With water in his eyes, he tried to summon his voice between gasps, "I-I…hah… I can…"

"And a certain someone could stand to learn that fact." Noose coldly lamented.

"I can– I'll tell you where the base is…" Tondo continued to gibber, "I-I-Isn't that what you w-wanted… Didn't you ask–?"

"I did not ask anything of you, Tondo-san," Noose harshly cut in, refusing to entertain the other's nonsense. A finger crept around the trigger, making the thug recoil back in a burst of terror, "… except to dig, understand?"

"B-but–"

Bang!

Dust picked up around the edge of the hole; a bleeding cut appeared on Tondo's cheek from the barest of grazes.

"Understand?" Noose growled.

The thug rushed to pick up the shovel, desperately digging once again with renewed vigor.

"Ooh, scary~" Dabi cooed from the sidelines, "Look at you, big boy. Got some real intimidation chops on ya…"

"…" Noose pointedly kept himself quiet; he was not in the mood to arouse unnecessary conversation. What blissful silence he could salvage here was more than enough for him.

He absorbed the dreadful, yet peaceful scene surrounding him; carefully looking around and listening. It was deathly quiet, with no crickets chirping or any cicadas buzzing into the night. There was only the gentle brushing of the leaves above, and the panting and scraping from Tondo and the shovel.

Somehow, it was even darker than before; not even the stars shined now with the clouds covering the sky. There was nothing to pierce the omnipresent ink-black gloom, other than the blinding beacon that was the flashlight pointed at the thug. Even then, it barely made it past the first layer of trees before subsuming itself to its absence.

A perfect void and abyss, it was, for Noose's mind to clear…

…So, inevitably, Dabi had to ruin this most wonderful moment of reprieve with his plaguy comments.

"Hmm… Don't you have school or something, kid?" Dabi teased, "It's like 4 am… Ya hav'ta sleep sometime, right?"

Noose held back a groan, "I sleep on my own time, thank you very much."

"So, you don't… Sucks to be you, kid." Dabi smirked.

"You are not one to talk about staying up at late hours to me, hypocrite."

Dabi snorted, "Then again, I ain't the one who gotta worry about So-and-So-sensei's math exam tomorrow."

"Actually, I…" Noose paused, raising a finger, "…You almost had me there… almost…"

"I'm just that good." Dabi patted himself on the back. Then, slowly, the smirk on his face fell into a distant expression, "Y'know… Talking about this shit takes me back…"

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah… God, I fucking hated every single one of my tutors. Stuck-up assholes, pulling out the ruler over every little mistake…"

Tutors?… Oh, right… Dabi was Endeavor's offspring, a fact Noose almost forgot while being in his presence. There hadn't been any hint of his blue blood origins anywhere in the arsonist's manners; instead acting more akin to a common gangster. Vexingly, Dabi almost seemed proud of that fact.

He continued, "And my… one teacher… He was a real flaming dick – King Asshole of the anal porn shoot, the kind of motherfucker whose dick was 20 centimeters long, but 19 of it in his personality… Got out of that fuckin' place as soon as I could… all the better for it…"

Yes, those metaphors were quite helpful, Todoroki…

"They also say that an education is a gift." Noose replied.

Dabi almost recoiled in offense, face looking like he just swallowed a lemon, "Yeah… I'm gonna have to disagree with ya on that one, kiddo. My quote-unquote education was getting the shit kicked outta me, and then gettin' ignored when I just wasn't convenient anymore…"

"It appears that you did not have an education, then…" Noose countered.

"Huh…" Dabi nodded with a contemplative glint in his eyes "...You are one weird fuckin' kid, y'know that… You're supposed to hate school, and play video games n' shit… not…"

"Notice how I said education, not school." Noose pointed out, "The former is a gift, the latter is incompetent to give it…"

"Whatever, Professor." Dabi waved him off dismissively, "Take your Philosophy 101 lecture somewhere else."

That was not–

Thump…

The thug collapsed, his face landing against the rim of the hole. After a seeming eternity of continuous hard labor, his body finally gave out under him.

"I…" Was all Tondo could wheeze out before descending into a brutal fit of hacking coughs.

"I believe that should be deep enough…" Noose stood up, and walked towards the prone thug, "Now… would you kindly tell me where Overhaul keeps those children?"

"Th…hah…" It took a good few minutes for the thug to string together coherent words between croaks and rasps. He sweated like a stuck pig in the night's heat, and his eyes nearly crossed in a feverish delirium, "They're… hah… tenth block… next to the black lily club… 'cross from Soapland… can't miss it."

"Why… Thank you for your cooperation, Tondo-san." Noose raised his gun and the thug didn't have any time to react, "May whatever god you believe in forgive you…"

"Wait–WAI–!"

Bang!

A hole punched itself straight through the thug's head – a bullet coming out the back to splatter all over the hole. Gingerly, Noose pushed the cooling body into the pit with his boot.

Dabi jumped up at that, "Hot damn!… That was some cold-blooded shit right there…" Dabi waltzed up to the hole, and patted Noose on the back, much to the latter's annoyance. Then, with a slight wave of a hand, he bathed the remains in bright blue flames, vaporizing everything, leaving nothing but baked dirt – Not even bone was left "But… the whole 'digging your own grave' shtick is kinda not needed when I'm 'round… 'cause… y'know? Cremation is kinda my name n'all?..."

"I needed him in a suggestible state of mind, and the easiest way to do so without certain hard-to-obtain narcotics is to force him into extreme exhaustion. This was to ensure he told the truth." Under the mask, Noose smiled like a demon tormenting the damned, "And besides, is not punishing the wicked half the fun?"

Dabi squinted, "You sure you're supposed to be a vigilante?"

"Did I ever say that I was?"

"Point…" Dabi muttered, slowly removing his hand from Noose's shoulder, a slight bit of disconcertment showing on his face.

Slowly, Noose squatted down and put his fingers on top of the pile, raking it through the broken dirt. He pushed… and it started rumbling before suddenly, it rushed to fill the empty hole nearby, flooding the hole in dirt and stone like the floodwaters that God sent unto the Earth in the Book of Genesis.

Then, seconds later, the hole was no more, as if it had never been dug in the first place. Noose placed a boot at the center of where it used to be; it was packed tight, like the ground surrounding it.

Noose stood up and clapped, brushing the dirt off his hands, "Now, I believe that description narrows it down to three locations within the Eight Precepts of Death's known stomping grounds – two of them, we have already checked…" He turned to Dabi, "…I trust you can take care of the rest?"

"Mhm-hmm…" Dabi nodded.

"Good. Then the other half of your payment should be in your account as soon as you send confirmation to La Brava's OnionShare."

"Sound's peachy…" Dabi started walking back the way they came, Noose followed, "Don't forget, though – You owe me a favor now, as agreed…"

"Yes… as agreed…" Noose's eyes narrowed into what was most likely a smile under the mask, "And I will hold myself to that deal… unless it breaks my code, and is worth killing you over."

"Nah, I ain't that kind of asshole…" Dabi assured, scoffing at the idea, "But I'll warn ya kid – when ya get too deep in that blood, money, and honey, that 'code' of yours is the first thing to go. That's how it went for most people I met…"

"I am not most people." Noose rebuked, "Wealth is only useful to me as a utility to achieve my goals; it is not valuable to me intrinsically, but as an instrument–."

"Yeah, yeah… You're a nutball crusader like Stain, I get it." Dabi rolled his eyes.

"Thank you for the compliment."

"It wasn't a… Ah, fuck, whatever…" Dabi sighed, "Let's just get the hell outta here before Bigfoot pops out or some shit…"

Tsukaki Shinichou leaned back onto the world's most uncomfortable lobby chair; its stiffness formed an aching kink in his lumbar, and there existed no back support other than a matted cushion. The fluorescent light buzzed a drilling tone into his ears, making his eye twitch. And worst of all, his coffee was dreadfully lukewarm; but he downed it all in one gulp regardless, because he desperately needed the caffeine.

All of this failed to contribute positively to his mood, especially as a press conference was coming up soon. He needed to be on his A-game, and these minor annoyances weren't helping, damn it!

Yet, despite all that, his mind wandered back to the decisions he had made over the course of these past few months…

For one, forcing himself to tear down and scapegoat Thule. It used to be his magnum opus, his key to controlling the underground and by extension, the World. Bringing it to half still weighed heavily on him. It was an avenue, once so tempting, but he had to close it off for the greater good.

It wasn't the kind of decision he usually made. Before, he typically chose his own self-interest over the greater good – and if they happened to align, then great! But now, it was vice versa – he was making decisions out of duty, and sometimes they were in accordance with his self-interest…

It was a shame it took him this long to read about Kant… he had some interesting ideas about morality.

Thus, he sacrificed his power in the criminal world for leverage in an arena even dirtier than that, politics. It seemed that everything led right back to simple, scummy, God-damn politics.

His little crusade against such a horrible organization like Thule, at least from an outside perspective, won him considerable approval from both influential heroes, and the law-and-order types in the national diet.

And that was just with what he'd revealed behind closed doors. To the public, all they knew was that there were a series of large raids – many publicly led by a few big-name heroes like Edgeshot, Yoroi Musha, and Wash – and the rate of human trafficking had plummeted overnight.

Never had the HPSC been so popular, and if this press conference went smoothly in putting all targets on Thule, public approval was set to fly to the stratosphere. At the moment, Tsukaki was a golden goose shitting out Faberge eggs by the metric ton.

Every competent politician loved good publicity, and with his action, they all knew who exactly it came from, and who they could spare a favor or two…

But… not all of his goals could be accomplished so easily. For instance, Noose, that slippery little shit…

After the Scarlet incident, the "vigilante" just vanished off the face of the Earth, like how Stain between his stints of cloak and dagger murder. The only lead that the heroes and police had on him were a few rumors about a fire villain somewhere in Musutafu, but that was also a dead end.

It seemed he had taught the brat too well, and he was forced to drop that part of the Thule case into the cold bin, quietly.

If it was any consolation though, at least from what whispers traveled the underground, Noose was still on wild goose chase after both the now-defunct Thule, and a 'Shigaraki Tomura' that was also long dead. If the brat had figured out who he was, especially in this weakened, quirkless state…

…Tsukaki was certain he would've been six feet under by now.

Yet… Even with all those facts on the table, he couldn't find it in his heart to order a raid on the Batsuku cafe and employ a series of summary executions.

For one, taking out some random middle schooler, even accidentally, was a PR tinderbox that would undo all the work he had done to build up his public profile.

And Two, as much as it made him sound like a comic book villain… Why should he?

All that Noose accomplished, in the end, was to aid Tsukaki in his goals, albeit unintentionally. His actions brought attention back to the Thule cartel, and the government gave him a carte blanche to do whatever it takes to take them down – and they turned the other cheek if he happened to gain some side benefits out of it too.

Why kill someone while they were still useful?

Besides, just hunting the little vigilante down brought him back to the good old days, awakening that gamer side of his that had so long been dormant. It was fun, and there was no pressing reason to shut it down quite yet.

But, he still kept his eye on the boy; they were prone to surprises and he had learned his lesson the first time around.

Unfortunately, though, there were a few unexpected variables in his political career, like the sheer arrogance of a certain Yotsubashi-san. Despite being well aware of the financial power Tsukaki held over Detnerat through a plurality of shares, it appeared that being the secret leader of the recently expanded Meta Liberation Army had gotten his head.

Mr. Revolutionary slowly became too big for his britches, and it started to be a little bothersome for the Commission President…

He started making unreasonable demands from and giving favors to the very same politicians under Tsukaki's umbrella, encroaching on his "territory" so to speak. And in private, he was now brave enough to remark upon Tsukaki's quirkless status right to his face.

Needless to say, it made for quite the sticky wicket.

Tsukaki was initially content to let the MLA do their thing without interference. Sure, he disagreed with their goals and core message – he had first-hand experience on how unrestricted anarchy just ruined it for everybody – and they were ultimately harmless in the long run… emphasis on were.

Now that they were interfering a little too much for Tsukaki's liking, he couldn't just let it go unpunished. Fortunately, he had a few plans and contingencies in place just for that…

Creeeaaaak…

The old office door opened, the tired face of his ever-trusty assistant, Mera-san, peeking through.

"Sir, It's time."

But those plans would have to wait – he had to focus on the here and now.

"Let's get this over with…" Tsukaki sighed and got up.

…

The press conference room was minimal, only having the barest of decorations on its pale white painted walls and its dropped ceiling with staggered fluorescent lights. A battalion of reporters stood at attention, pointing their cameras with laser focus towards the podium, where a tree of microphones spiraled towards its speaker.

"… I would like to give special thanks to our boys in blue…"

Tsukauchi Naomasa was stuck front and center near the podium, as Commission President Tsukaki Shinichou waxed a politician's speech. Through the professional mask, it was clear as day to him that Tsukaki was just as tired and uncomfortable as he was, but was not allowed to reveal it so, because PR would be screeching in all their ears.

Never would he have thought that a pay raise would bring so much trouble…

But like it or not, being here was mandatory for Tsukauchi, because he was now high enough on the ladder that showing his face to the public was part of the job description, instead of just happenstance. Joy.

No wonder Aizawa-san sticks to the underground…

And speaking of the pro hero in question…

"…And the many underground heroes who are not able to attend today…"

…He was noticeably absent today, and the superintendent couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy.

Under the NSPA-2102, underground heroes, unlike their top-side colleagues, or cops, had legal protections against their appearances and identities being shown by the media, unless it was approved by HPSC's Committee of Underground Heroics, which happened practically never under the current administration. It worked under the same framework as military or civilian intelligence classification, with all the same deniability as… certain assets.

"…Without you, the historic raids conducted by Task Force Theta would never have been possible, 1,739 children would have still been in chains held by the cruelest monsters to walk this Earth, and 612 villains would have been still unjustly walking these streets…"

In essence, Aizawa Shouta – The Erasure Hero: Eraserhead – was allowed to stay at home and play with his cats by the literal word of all the three-four-letter agencies, while Police Superintendent Tsukauchi Naomasa was stuck here twiddling his thumbs, playing Private Snafu.

"...And now, I give you the head of Task Force Theta, Police Superintendent Tsukauchi Naomasa."

Oh boy… With a subtle wave, Tsukaki summoned Tsukauchi to the microphone. Kami give me strength…

As he stepped behind the podium, the camera flashes intensified, almost making him squint from the flickering brightness. The crowd of clamoring reporters stirred themselves into a frenzy, questions blending into each other into an incoherent soup.

Fortunately, this wasn't Tsukauchi's first time around the rodeo, and he followed up with what amounted to muscle memory. He raised his hand, waited until the crowd calmed themselves like civilized human beings, and pointed to the least scummy-looking reporter.

A young woman, with inquisitive eyes and blue hair cut into a bob, "Sawagami Ai, NHK News, What did…" She proceeded to ask a series of questions about the investigation into Thule, and the more recent operations.

"Well, actually…" In response, Tsukaki let his PR training take hold, and gave an answer with enough substance to not look like a deceptive scumbag, but not enough to cause the government any trouble. When he finished, he pointed at the next least-scummiest reporter and started the process all over again.

It was going to be a long day…

…

Yagi Toshinori sat on the soft sofa, eyes glued to the screen as colorful advertisements flickered all around. Half of it involved him in some way or form, and he could recount the endless amount of time he spent in a studio instead of fighting crime, by the orders from his own marketing team.

Rarely a moment passed without having his own rictus staring back at him. To a narcissist, it might have been a dream come true, but to Yagi, it was merely his least favorite, but one of the most important parts of his job. He was supposed to be a pillar of hope, and how could fulfill that ethereal role if nobody saw him ever-vigilant, reminding him that he was there to save the day?

Gently, he sipped down a warm, mild broth. His guts, or lack thereof, were putting up a fuss today, and Midoriya-san insisted (read: demanded with a murderous gaze) that he still gets some food in him. He was perfectly fine – he didn't push too hard on the heroics today – but he followed along with her henpecks regardless, because God knows that nobody, not even All Might, could survive the wrath of a worried mother.

"...And now we turn to the HPSC's press conference." The anchor announced, as the television now displayed a plain room with a podium, where his boss's boss stood front and center and gave a relatively boring speech.

From the corner of his eye, he saw his successor pull out his beaten notebook, looking at the screen with rapt attention. Yagi half listened to the speech as he watched the boy jot down chicken scratch at near-impossible speeds.

This analysis hobby… While Yagi believed it would be beneficial for the boy, in the long run, to have such skills in his hero career… He still privately worried sometimes that it would consume his pupil in his own obsession.

…Despite how hypocritical that sort of thinking sounded from Yagi of all people – never taking a day off despite half a lung – which didn't make his worries any less valid.

Thankfully, though, unlike him at that age, Midoriya-kun seemed to have a solid friend to support him and counter his excesses… like Tsukauchi did… and what Sasaki and Torino-sensei used to do before he got estranged from them…

A faint pang squeezed Yagi's frail heart from the lost friendship…

Batsuku Badan, at least from the brief moments he had seen the boy, was polite and had a good head on his shoulders. Midoriya-shounen would go far with a friend like him having his back – such a bond was invaluable, especially in a career as lonely as heroism.

If there was only one thing that disconcerted Yagi, it was that Batsuku-kun had this aura of… knowing too much? He couldn't quite explain it…

But, who was he to complain? Sasaki always gave out that kind of feeling when using his quirk and he was a perfectly respectable man and hero. If anything, a boy with such insight would only help Young Midoriya.

Yet, there was another thing that Yagi learned in this half-a-year of training the boy, and it was that he was far from the only idol in his heart. Midoriya-shounen just loved heroes, and he had an encyclopedic knowledge of them. He had seen one of those notebooks of his, and almost had a heart attack at how detailed it was.

In that list, included Aizawa-sensei, or the Erasure Hero: Eraserhead; very peculiar, because knowledge of underground heroes was rarer to come by than a… how did Enji use to say it again?… a virgin in a brothel; especially for a young middle schooler like Midoriya-kun.

Even more strange, Enji was suspiciously missing from that notebook, and Yagi couldn't fathom why… Wasn't he a top-performing hero too?

But, it wasn't only heroes, however, the boy understandably took a strong interest in one Tsukaki Shinichou, the aforementioned boss's boss, and one of the very few quirkless people in Japan to reach such a high place.

Very impressive, especially with the sheer discrimination faced they faced these days. A saddening thing, that despite all his campaigns, Yagi was still unable to change the terrible attitudes towards the quirkless at an institutional level. A certain part of Yagi was slightly jealous of the man; the young part of him that hadn't met Shimura-sensei yet, still pressed down by bullies and the world's prejudices.

And what's more, his career before his appointment was unorthodox as well: he started out as a cop and later businessman instead of a politician or hero, which made it all the weirder, as he remembered talking about law enforcement as an alternative career path when he foolishly tried to veer Young Midoriya from the path of heroism.

"...And now, I give you the head of Task Force Theta, Police Superintendent Tsukauchi Naomasa."

Then, the President of the Hero Commission handed the podium to… Oh! Now that was a surprise…

His friend, Detec-Superintendent Tsukauchi (Even after all these months, it still took Yagi some time to get used to calling Naomasa that) was speaking on national television, looking like his soul got sucked right out of his body by Torino-sensei's training.

Yagi had some flashbacks to the start of his career, back when he was a little more awkward in front of the cameras. He believed in his friend and trusted that he would pull through with little pain. That PR training course that heroes and high-level cops get is no joke…

His faith in his friend was proven right; after a few questions, Naomasa seemed to get into the groove of things. While listening, Yagi reminded himself to buy something nice for his friend; The Thule Cartel was a disgusting beast formed from… him, and taking them down must have been Hell on Earth, if any other of his ventures were any indication.

Honestly, from what little snippets Yagi had heard, he was surprised the damn cabal even survived this long without cannibalizing itself… But, it was a relief that those monsters were finally locked away, and the future was just that tiny bit brighter without them…

"...And the children still–" Naomasa was cut off mid-sentence.

A sudden jingle played, and a Breaking News graphic cut into the screen. The anchor gave a thousand-yard stare to the camera.

"...This just in, we are getting reports here from the Republic of Otheon, that there has been a terrorist attack. Casualties range in the thousands, while hundreds are confirmed to be dead, and still counting. Among those affected include Otheon's Prime Minister, the Albanian and Japanese ambassadors…"

The anchor spoke formally with a stiff face, almost methodical in how they delivered their words, careful that they weren't misunderstood. Tickling in the back of Yagi's mind was a deep-seated sense of horror, his instincts telling him that it wasn't over yet…

"…It has rendered 12 square kilometers of the Capital District uninhabitable, including the Otheon Parliamentary Palace, and Dimitrios Psakis Square. Authorities believe the agent was a variant of the nerve agent, Novichok, was used, mixed in with a…" The anchor paused, slightly breaking composure with a gulp, "…We have an… update, and it's from Athens. Please be advised that the footage we are about to show is… disturbing…"

It switched to footage from a shaky phone camera, zooming towards a distant crowd. The ruins of the Parthenon were visible in the background as innocent people ran away. Behind them, a series of burning buildings collapsed one by one.

Then… the people started falling and seizing, bleeding out of every pore and foaming out of their mouths. Only a half-second of it needed to be seen for it to set in… The camera cut off as the one holding it ran for their life.

Yagi looked to his side. Young Midoriya and his poor mother were frozen in place, the horror in their eyes reflecting exactly what he had felt in his heart. On the inside, Yagi cried for those innocent people, caught in a scheme by the worst of villains.

The anchor, looking as if he had aged a decade, stared at the teleprompter in dread, "...We've just received word that similar attacks had happened in the region, in Eleftheríopolis, Klayd… Istanbul, Turkey… Tirana, Albania… Skopje, North Macedonia… Sofia, Bulgaria… Naples, Italy, and–"

The screen went black – Midoriya-san had turned off the television, her heart unable to bear another word. The room descended into a stiffening, cold silence…

Bzzzt…

Yagi's phone buzzed. He yanked it out of his pocket and read it as quickly as it could load.

"E-excuse me…" He awkwardly sputtered as he set the half-full bowl of now-cold broth on the coffee table, scooching past the two to get his shoes, "Sorry, I… I have to go…"

Shie Hassaikai Compound – Four Months Ago…

The rough brick wall sent ghosts of tingles on Dabi's numb, scarred skin. He leaned against it, peering around the corner towards the large, run-down compound down the pot-holed avenue. It had perfectly fit with the ghost town around it; a microcosm of decades worth of crime and neglect.

A familiar sight, this area was to him. It was the seedy part of town – the kind of area you wouldn't find on your average travel website or in a typical Google search. He lived and breathed it, however, despite the blue blood his father tried to beat in him – the old hood was Dabi's very soul…

But he wasn't here to reminisce. There was a job to do and a favor to earn from a little brat; and the only thing standing in his way was a couple of mangy-looking thugs, circling around his planned point of entry like a pack of crack-addicted sharks. He eyed up the metal door off to the side as he walked across the street.

When he approached, they at first ignored him, which suited him just fine. But then, right as he was an arm's length from the doorway, one of them grabbed onto his jacket, yanking him back like a cheap yo-yo.

"Yo, Scab's-n'-Staples…" The ugliest of the gang shuffled up close to Dabi's face – his breath was absolutely rancid, even to Dabi's burnt-out nostrils, "...Where the fuck you think you're going?"

"I got business here," Dabi droned with an unimpressed glare. He pried the hand from his precious jacket with disgusted prejudice, "And I don't see how it's any of yours. Grab my jacket again, and you'll be a fuckin' shadow on the ground, capisce?"

The thug boss didn't take Dabi's kind advice well…

"Bitch!" The thug's face twisted to a snarl. The others dropped to a ready stance… or at least what qualified if you didn't have a lick of training outside of gangbanging across this apocalyptic wasteland. He leaped up and tried to jump onto Dabi, hands quickly morphing into fleshy sledgehammers, "Who the fuck do ya think you ar–ACK!"

Dabi, stealing a page from Noose's book, gave the toothless bastard a throat punch, not even bothering to use his quirk. The thug boss shut down like a puppet cut from its strings.

"Anybody wanna join him?" Dabi asked serenely, glaring hellfire as the others flinched.

They, without hesitation, didn't take him up on the offer. They all bolted the scene practically pissing their pants, leaving their so-called friend and leader behind.

"Hn… That's what I thought… Fuckin' junkies…" Dabi muttered, hovering a hand to check if the guy was still breathing.

Hmm… He'll live.

He turned around.

He tried to open the old door, only to find that he couldn't even twist the doorknob from how rusted shut it was. He tried to put in some muscle, but it was all for naught. It wouldn't budge even a millimeter.

Piece of shit! He kicked as hard as he could, but there was still no give.

Giving up on conservative measures, he took a few steps back and fired bright blue flames right at the knob, instantly melting it into slag, along with half of the door. He kicked the cool side, and it broke in like putty, finally letting him in.

As it opened, there was a whiff of dust, agitated by the wind and heat. He glanced around inside…

…it looked like something straight out of a post-apocalyptic movie:

The whole building was seemingly stripped of everything of value: the ceiling was damp and moldy, practically falling off in a moldy mess drip by drip, and the drywall was rotting off the walls. Then the smell hit, of must and iron…

He held his breath, and ventured in…

Shit, I don't think this is even the right place…Ah, oh well, not my money! Shoulda known better than to trust that desperate fuck what's-his-name,"

He turned around a corner and found himself in an eerily quiet hallway as if every sound that came from him was muffled in the crib. It was dark too… So, with a snap, he lit a little flame on the tip of his thumb to light the way.

The first door was already sort of open. He pushed it in, keeping an eye out on all sides – who knew what lurked in these walls… Yet, inside, there was only a broken desk and chair, not what he was looking for.

He went out and broke into the next door – the room was completely void of anything unless you counted a new species of mold never seen before growing on the pipes. The one after was much the same thing, and the pattern continued all the way down the hall.

But, as he got closer and closer to the door at the end, a new smell started taking hold, that of blood, with a hint of urine and feces. He held in a gag, mentally preparing himself for what was to come with the last door; he gently pushed his way in.

It was oppressively dark, so much so that his flame did little to light it. On the floor right up against the door were patches of long dried blood. The deeper he looked into the room, the thicker it caked. Looking closely, there were even fragments of bone and long rotten flesh in the mix.

"Well, I'll be damned…" Dabi grimaced, pinching his nose.

Then, at the corner of his eye, there was a jittery movement. His head snapped toward it and he found two little red eyes staring right back at him.

"Ch-Chisaki-sama?..." A frail, raspy voice came from there.

He squinted… It was a little girl, who couldn't be any older than six…

She was rail-thin and covered in bandages under a tattered hospital robe. Her hair was long and unkempt, with a horn sticking out of it from the side of her forehead.

With eyes wider than a spotlight, yet dimmer than vantablack, she stared at him with fatigued terror.

You… Have got to be shitting me!

A long time ago in a future long forgotten…

Mommy was really sad today – Badan didn't know why. When he showed her his drawings, she always smiled. She set the pan down on the stove with her one hand and picked up the folded paper.

She only spared a second's glance, "That's nice, Dan-kun…~"

But today the smile wasn't real…

It didn't make sense to him; Daddy and Uncle saving the day just like on TV always made her happy. Why not now?

"…Why don't you go and watch some cartoons, Mommy's busy…" She said with a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. They looked redder than usual…

"Okay!" He babbled after getting his hair ruffled, running back to the couch.

Right before he left, he noticed one last thing: there was a new red mark under her collar.

She had scars, of course – Uncle said she used to be a hero… Ura-something… Before a really bad thing happened. He asked, but Uncle didn't say anything more.

This didn't look like a scar, though – it was fresh. But, he knew it would go away.

She had one last week and it went away a few days later. She never said anything about that one either… Strange.

Oh, right.

Which channel was All Might Adventures on again?

…

Badan tried to stab the brussel sprout, but with one of his fingers off the fork, it was hard. He had his quirk now. Sometimes when he touched something, it got really heavy.

One time, he dropped one of Uncle's All Might toys, and it went straight through the floor. Uncle cried like he usually does – Daddy said he cried when they were kids too.

He didn't cry. He was a big boy.

"Woman… This shit is burnt." Daddy looked really mad today. Mommy said it was stu-ress, whatever that was. Maybe a villain escaped? "...The fuck is wrong with you today?"

"Katsuki, not now…" Mommy stared at her plate.

The air got cold.

"No, look at me when I talk to you, dammit!"

"Please, not in front of Dan-kun," Mommy pleaded in a whisper.

"Every day, I bust my ass out there for 14 fucking hours, dealing with those fucking PLF roaches every goddamn second… Putting food on this fucking table for you and Badan! And you don't have the fucking decency to do your one fucking job right!?"

"…"

Slam! Pop!

The plate shattered, and a hole was burned into the table. Daddy shot up, knocking the chair back, and glared at Mommy.

He took a deep breath…

"Ever since you pussied out and retired…" He shook his head, "You've been more useless than fucking Deku…"

He started shuffling away. Mommy had tears in her eyes, and she was about to open her mouth, "B–"

It snapped shut when Daddy turned around, "I don't wanna fucking hear it!" He stomped back to their bedroom.

Badan kept his eyes firmly on his plate; dinner was silent except for the faintest sobs.

Yet… the food tasted saltier than usual…

Nation Profiles

[Note: As the quote goes in regards to movie canon, "I reject your reality and substitute my own."]

…

OTHEON

Geography: It is an Island Nation in the Aegean Sea, 1.2x the area of Malta. There is no one official language, but recognized languages include Greek, French, Italian, English, and Turkish, and its culture is a unique melting pot formed from the refugees who immigrated… [] … And it enjoys a population of 347 thousand.

History: Founded during the height of The Great Cleansing, during the dark era of the European Civil War, Otheon provided vital refuge to the vulnerable quirkless population, who were the main targets of purges within the French, Italian, Greek, and Turkish Neo-Destroist regimes… [] … Well known for being an international tax haven, contributing to its rapid rise as one of the top banking nations in the world… [] … Funding of quirkless rights movements across the world… [] … And thus, with its sister nation, sits as a powerhouse in the Aegean Sea.

…

KLAYD

Geography: It is an Island Nation in the Aegean Sea, 0.9x the area of Malta. This country is predominantly English speaking, but a noticeable Greek minority still remains from the Pre-European Civil War inhabitants… [] … Its population is a humble 92 thousand souls.

History: Founded by Englishman Thomas Klayd as a haven for the quirked fleeing the Purist Republic of Britain during the European Civil War, it was the opposite yet also exact equal to its sister nation Otheon a mere few nautical miles to the west… []... Unlike the Otheonites, Klayd was a Socialist through and through, and founded the island nation under a Marxist system … [] … A coup by Neo-Destroist elements led to the death of Klayd, and resulted in the Aegean War, where the regime was swiftly put to an end by Otheonite militias… [] … Despite historical tensions, Otheon and Klayd now remain as steadfast allies on the world stage.