Chapter Text
Nozomi used to love his job. Working alongside the pro heroes, locking up the villains, keeping the country safe; it was the lifestyle he’d always dreamed of as a kid—after being diagnosed as quirkless, because ‘hero’ had been his original dream. But now? Now heroes were breaking the law and giving birth to other villains. Destruction and war still lingered fresh in the air like a dark cloud that had just unleashed a storm. This wasn’t the life he wanted. But while his friends and colleagues resigned, he soldiered on, determined to bring the dream back.
‘Nozomi, are you ready to proceed?’ Tsukauchi said, handing him his lukewarm coffee from their barely functioning machine.
The senior detective had finally shaved his beard clean and was back to looking like the usual well-kept detective he was used to. Not that the beard was bad, Nozomi thought it gave him a nice ‘devil-may-care’ look—very appropriate for the war. But the day Tsukauchi had walked back into the precinct, clean-shaven, shirt tucked neatly into his trousers, and not a single crease in his blazer, Nozomi knew that they were through the worst of it and things might actually go back to normal.
‘Yes, sir.’ He had to admit, he was a bit starstruck working beside Detective Tsukauchi. He was a legend around the office for his interrogation skills, and he wouldn’t dare say it out loud, but he was a teensy bit jealous of his lie detector quirk. ‘Let’s hope for an easy confession.’
Tsukauchi frowned and Nozomi panicked. Was that the wrong thing to say? he thought.
‘I wouldn’t be so sure.’ Tsukauchi took a long swig of his coffee and winced at the undoubtably bitter taste. ‘This one’s a bigwig from the Paranormal Liberation Front. Just try and keep a straight face around him. Don’t give him any wiggle room.’
‘Of course, sir.’ Okay, now he was nervous. He’d heard of the man they were interrogating, but up until today he’d been so far removed from all the war stuff that it didn’t quite feel real to him yet. He took a deep breath, sucked in his chest, and followed Tsukauchi into the room where their villain was waiting.
The man before them stared the detectives dead in the eye and scowled. He looked older than League of Villains members, but still one of the younger ones from the Paranormal Liberation Front, late thirties at most. He was short with a fair build; the orange jumpsuit seemed to hang off his shoulders and wrists. His long white hair was rugged and dishevelled. Nozomi supposed there was little worth in one’s appearance when you were facing life in prison. And despite his confident and angry demeanour, his silver eyes held a vulnerability to them that he had yet to see in a villain.
The detectives sat down at the desk and Tsukauchi pressed the red button on the recording device. ‘Please state your name for the record.’
‘Geten,’ came the deadpan response.
‘And is that your full name?’
Geten leaned back and sniggered. ‘It has been since I was sixteen.’
Tsukauchi was unphased. ‘And during your time in the Meta Liberation Army you went by an alias, correct?’
He let out a fond chuckle. ‘Iceman,’ and winked at Nozomi who did his best not to react.
‘You were a Lieutenant of the Paranormal Liberation Front. Is that correct?’
‘One of many.’
‘And you agreed to work under Shigaraki and the League of Villains?’
His eyebrows—as white as the hair on his head—creased inward. ‘Beside, not under.’
‘Of course. And why did you decide to work beside them?’
‘It was Re-Destro’s wish.’
Tsukauchi hummed and jotted something down in his small, weathered notepad. Nozomi was fascinated. His partner—was it too soon to consider Tsukauchi his partner?—recited the questions with such a professional ease it was like he’d done it a thousand times. It was no wonder he was called the best of the best. Nozomi wished he too could take notes of his partner’s techniques.
‘How did you come to join the formerly named Meta Liberation Army?’
A deadly silence washed over the room, and it was as if the space became ten degrees colder. A shiver raced down Nozomi’s spine, and he supressed the urge to quiver in his chair. Keep a straight face, he reminded himself, you have to make a good first impression in front of Tsukauchi.
‘Oh? You really wanna know?’
A menacing grin crept onto the villain’s face and Nozomi couldn’t help it. He squirmed and sank back ever so slightly, but just enough for the villain to take notice and laugh.
‘I come from a once prestigious family with very strict laws. Look deep enough into our country’s history and you’ll find them. They had it all. Strength, wealth, and enough allies around them that they never had to lift a finger to get something done. He rested his head over the back of the chair, staring into the single bright light on the ceiling. ‘But Meta abilities changed everything. Suddenly, the weak became strong, the poor became wealthy, and the people who relied on the family for support no longer needed them. And as a result, they suffered loss after loss. They became desperate. And desperate people do desperate things, unspeakable things. They committed crimes, betrayed loved ones, and all but wiped themselves out. I left the family before I too could fall victim to their despicable acts.’ He pushed himself back up, leaning his shackled arms on the table and grinned so widely, Nozomi was afraid his teeth and eyes would pop right out of his head.
‘And is that when you met Re-Destro?’ Tsukauchi said.
‘Re-Destro saw me for me. Not my quirk or my bloodline. He gave me a space where I could be safe, where I could be human. But I could never fully get away from that family. It’s the curse of their blood. No matter what, they find a way to pull you back into their hellish nature. Don’t think that by locking me away you’ll be free of their chaos. Not every member of that rotten family has been wiped out. There’s still plenty of them wandering the streets committing the same atrocities as the people that came before them, right under your noses. My acts in the Meta Liberation Army shouldn’t worry you. What should is the members of my bloodline still out there, and who they’re aligning themselves with.
Himura blood runs thick.’