Monica squinted, peering through the shimmering haze between the massive steel containers. The air was thick, saturated with the acrid stench of burning plastic and spilled fuel. The Molotov cocktail the boy had hurled into the creature's face had been a godsend—the beast had shrieked, distracted by the clinging flames, buying them a few precious seconds. Yet now, a suspicious silence had fallen. It was far too quiet for a port turned into a disaster zone. Only the distant groan of metal warping under the heat and the rhythmic drip of water from shattered cranes broke the stillness.
She turned her gaze to the boy. He was still sprawled on the cold, wet concrete like a broken doll.
— Hey, what are you lying around for? Get up! I didn't sign up to be a stretcher-bearer! — she hissed.
Her voice trembled; fear was slowly crystallizing into defensive irritation. Against her will, the memory of giving him mouth-to-mouth just a minute ago resurfaced. His skin had been ice-cold, tasting of salt, and his face in unconsciousness had seemed hauntingly innocent—devoid of the darkness that usually seeped through him. Monica felt the heat rise to her cheeks despite the chilling sea breeze.
«Get it together, Monica!» — she scolded herself, adjusting her crooked tactical belt. «Now is not the time to blush over a pretty face when there's a charred monster behind you capable of tearing a shipping container in half.»
TN, meanwhile, was slowly—teeth gritting—grinding his way back to reality. Each breath echoed in his lungs with the aftertaste of crude oil and fuel. His muscles didn't just ache; they burned as if molten lead had been poured into them. The Sugar Rush crash was brutal, but still slightly better than just dropping dead from exhaustion. «How the hell could Sato handle the strain of this Quirk several times in a row?»
His body refused to obey, a useless weight. He strained to turn his head, wanting to identify his secret savior, and the first thing to pierce the fog of his vision was the girl. That ridiculous, splayed-out "crab" hairstyle and a gaze full of fierce determination. She looked thin, almost defenseless, but every living cell in his body felt that this impression was a total lie. The image was so out of place, so alive in this hallway to the morgue, that TN briefly forgot the fire in his bones.
— Man... I could really... go for some udon right now, — he forced out in a raspy whisper.
— Hey, snap out of it! — Monica delivered a sharp, merciless slap to his face. — Your name's Nomura, right? Stand up, hero! We don't have time for your culinary fantasies!
— How do you know who I am...? —He tried to remember and understand where he had screwed up, but his head was in no hurry to work.
— Everything later!
With a strained, animalistic wheeze, he tried to prop himself up on his elbows. Seeing him tremble, the girl cursed and moved in, pulling his arm over her shoulder and bracing him. Leaning on each other, drenched to the bone and utterly sick of this nightmare, they began to limp toward Sector 10. TN's shoulder, bound in makeshift, blood-stained rags, throbbed in time with their steps, sending jolts of dull agony through him with every movement.
— There's a temporary shelter nearby, behind some concrete blocks, — Monica whispered, freezing at every corner to check the shadows. — We need to hurry before that "mangy cat" pulls itself together and catches our scent.
— Whatever you say... But honestly, I'm about as useful as a dead fish right now, — TN croaked, dragging his feet. — You shouldn't have bothered... You should've just left me in the water.
— Shut up and keep moving! I've got enough problems without your whining! — She shot him a glare, but her expression softened as she noticed him turning pale. — Listen. I'm from Osaka. Where I come from, we don't abandon people who put themselves on the line for others. Now collect your snot and let's get out of here together.
«Right now, most corpses have it better than me. She thinks I'm doing this for her? We must weaken this creature by any means necessary; it cannot be defeated one at a time. AH, well, who cares anymore. Come what may. I hope I survive this night, unless Kyudai sends some other fucker here.» —TN thought, beginning to envy them.
He let out a faint, nearly silent chuckle. Inside his head, like static on an old radio, the images from that void were still spinning: the colossal figure of AFO, those violet eyes hovering in the darkness... It felt like the delirium of someone dying from asphyxiation, yet the aftertaste of power on his tongue was far too distinct. Despite the fact that Sugar Rush had sucked him dry, something deep within was shifting. He had more strength than a dying body should.
Monica yanked his arm suddenly, forcing him to scramble over cargo spilled from a ruptured container. TN couldn't help but cry out as a spike of pain shot through his shoulder down to his spine. He wanted to make a snide comment about Osaka manners, but he simply bit his lip until it bled.
Taking advantage of their forced proximity—and the fact that the girl was practically carrying him—he closed his eyes and focused. In this state of contact, copying was effortless; it was as natural as taking a breath. She stood right there, defenseless in her resolve, completely open to his Quirk.
Her power resonated within him like the cold, sharp ring of tempered steel. Sharp, vibrating, capable of shearing through space itself... Snip Clip. TN smirked inwardly, feeling the new threads of energy weave into his core.
«Figures... it fits her personality perfectly,» —he thought, feeling ghost-blades prickle at his fingertips. «Sharp-tongued, sharp-edged. My chances just got a little higher than zero. Let's see how Tiger handles this.»
...
The early morning in Hosu Port brought no relief. About a kilometer away from Sector C-8, the sirens of alarmed police patrols wailed piercingly. Through the thick veil of smog, it was impossible to discern either heroes or fire crews, but the wind carried snatches of panicked shouts and the roar of commotion—the city was trying to treat the wound inflicted upon the port.
Monica and TN moved slowly across the cracked asphalt, pressing against the rusted sides of containers. At any other time, these steel boxes might have seemed like reliable protection, but now the metal felt no sturdier than tin. Could one really call it protection when a massive "metal-cutter" is hunting you?
Monica grew alert. The silence that had settled around them pressed against her eardrums. Previously, the villain's activity had been chaotic, creating noise, but now he couldn't be heard at all. Had he fled? She glanced sideways at TN, whose eyelids were closed from exhaustion; he seemed to have dozed off, which didn't stop his legs from moving automatically like a robot.
«Look at him go, I certainly wouldn't be able to sleep like that. Ha-ha!» —the detective girl laughed a little, finally realizing sadly: «Just how exhausted was he to fall asleep even while walking?»
Intuitively, she tensed up and gripped him tighter, realizing that right now the entire responsibility for her life and his lay solely on her. She must not lose her vigilance for their own sakes. There were only 50 meters left to at least some kind of shelter to wait for the heroes. Better that than being in an open space; right now, they were prime prey for a villain-hunter.
— Careful! —the girl shoved TN's exhausted body between the containers and collapsed herself, barely managing to dodge a massive claw flying past!
They barely managed to dive into the narrow gap between the multi-ton containers when the deafening screech of rending steel hit their ears. A heavy clawed paw ripped through the side of the freighter exactly where they had been a second ago. The villain could have killed two birds with one stone right now! The Nomu-Tiger attacked from ambush—silent, odorless due to the soot, and terrifyingly swift.
— Back! Surrender!— Monica shouted, drawing her pistol.
The thunder of gunshots shattered the silence. First three, then five, then a sixth shot. It was unclear which hit and which didn't. Making an unnaturally sharp, convulsive leap back onto the wall of containers from which he had originally come, the Tiger fled.
Silence fell, interrupted only by the crackling of burning plastic nearby. Monica breathed heavily, rasping, not lowering her trembling hand with the empty gun. TN, meanwhile, leaning helplessly against the cold corrugated iron, did not tear his gaze from the metal. There, in the light of the crimson flickers of the fire, drops of dark, almost black blood flowed thickly and slowly down the wall.
«Wounded!» —TN was happier for her than for himself right now. Strangely, he was glad about those few drops of blood too. But something struck him much harder.
— He isn't recovering... — TN whispered.
In his voice, which only a minute ago had sounded like a death rattle, a cold, frighteningly calculating spark flickered. TN's mind worked at extreme speeds, building logical chains despite the agony in his muscles. The puzzle was coming together faster than Monica could steady the trembling in her fingers.
The natural regeneration of this Nomu had turned into a pathetic parody of its former power. Now it was no stronger than that of an average person—well, maybe slightly more effective, on the level of Taiko. And all because "Bloody Regeneration" (hereinafter Vamp) no longer belonged to the monster.
«It is mine.»
He had sacrificed the "Body Swap" quirk to capture this asset. Honestly, there wasn't much difference in terms of usefulness between them. How often would he need to switch bodies and lose all his adaptation progress? He still hadn't gotten used to Nomura's body. And for survival, the ability to regenerate by drinking blood would probably come in handy. (hereafter Bloody)
«This beast... it's afraid,» —TN poked a finger into the wound in his shoulder and licked his blood off his finger. Spat. — «Doesn't work.»
He leaned down, touched a drop of the Nomu's blood on the asphalt with his finger, and immediately tasted it, trying to activate the regeneration on himself. His shoulder felt significantly lighter, and something very unusual began to move. It was like drinking soda for the first time and being surprised by the gas. «I'll have to get used to this.»
«Normally, Nomu are just puppets. She think its a villain, who can to think and make desicions, but this is just the beast. Brainwashed minds in a meat shell, dying without question at the order of that mustachioed piece of shit. They have no fear because the Doctor burned out their will with his zombie-brainwashing. But this one... its instincts have woken up.»
When the Nomu retreated, TN clearly heard its heavy, labored breathing. Having lost its sense of smell due to the burns, the Tiger was blind and disoriented. Now the predator moved by touch, relying only on sharp hearing and the shadows flickering in its single remaining eye. Pain had become tangible for it. And a wounded predator, whose wounds no longer close before its eyes, becomes cautious. And caution is the precursor to one last and most violent lunge.
«He understands that Kyudai left him here in a trap. Surrounded by a world hostile to him, he isn't even trying to escape. He wants to take us with him.»
Monica quickly recovered. Which was to be expected from a trained detective; although she had only received her promotion six months ago, she had already cursed this job at least ten times tonight.
She turned to "Nomura" to grab him again, and for a moment she thought she saw something unpleasant. TN, who had just leaned over the bloodstain, straightened up with an expression that sent a chill down her spine. He gave himself a short nod—the test was successful.
When he looked up at her, he once again looked like an exhausted teenager. Monica blinked. Probably just a play of shadows in this hell.
— Let's go. We're almost there.
***
Early morning painted the sky over Hosu in a muddy orange color, but not because of the dawn, but because of the reflections of an uncontrollable fire. Evacuated workers were leaving the bay one by one. Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi stood at the very boundary of the cordon, squinting from the acrid wind that hurled ash and fine granite grit into his face. The detective's fingers clenched the radio until they were white.
— Monica! Monica, answer! This is Tsukauchi, — he repeated for the hundredth time, but the answer to him was only the dry crackle of static.
He turned to a young officer who was trying to coordinate the arriving cars. — Officer! Quickly to the medics! Order the ambulances to turn around and pull back another three hundred meters from the port boundary. Move it!
— But Detective-san, the wounded need help right here... — the officer began.
— That's an order! — barked Tsukauchi, whose usual composure had cracked. — We don't know what kind of devilry is in there. If this is a villain attack, then the medics will be the first target.
The policeman broke into a run, waving his baton in front of the windshield of the lead ambulance. — No-no-no! Turn around! — he shouted, drowning out the roar of the sirens. — Back, to the highway! Get further away, this is a zone of potential breakthrough!
Tsukauchi, without waiting for the column to move, walked at a fast pace toward a man in a heavy reflective uniform — a fire brigade captain who was frozen over an unfolded map of the terminals.
— Report. How much longer will this blaze? — Naomasa nodded toward the thirteenth dock, engulfed in toxic flames.
The fire captain spat black saliva under his feet and pointed a finger at the sky, where thick, unnaturally yellow clouds were swirling. — See this shade? Inside there is a nitrate warehouse, a heap of sulfur in bags in containers and, by all appearances, spilled diesel fuel from a damaged tanker. The hellish mixture easily ignited from any spark, detective.
The smoke was going toward the bay, but the wind was fickle.
— If the flow shifts, your guys' lungs will fly out through their throats in one go, — the fireman added gloomily. — Toxic smog.
Tsukauchi went cold. Monica, the police, and many civilians were right in the epicenter of this chemical bath, cut off by the fire. Most of the workers, by all appearances, managed to get out, but how many more are cut off by the flames and a potential villain?
— Finish as soon as possible. We cannot allow this cloud to go beyond the industrial zone and cover residential quarters.
— While the wind is on our side and almost all the smoke goes to the sea, but what will happen in an hour? God grant, if by evening we localize it, we need more forces.
— You will have more forces. — the detective agreed.
The captain grunted, putting on his helmet. — Let's work! Increase the pressure on the fourth hose!
The detective stepped back to his car, realizing: the police are powerless now. Bullets will not stop a chemical cloud.
«Wait, if the smoke is going toward the other terminals, then likely the people cut off by the fire will also shift closer to the edge of the pier. We need support from the water. Boats to evacuate directly through the water. Need to involve marine patrol groups for evacuation.»
— Things are bad, — he whispered under his breath and pressed the button on the general frequency. — Attention all cordon posts! Urgent gathering of all licensed heroes in a two-kilometer radius. Need volunteers for reconnaissance by fire.
Putting the radio aside, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. A very long and difficult day was expected ahead. Suddenly a male voice came from behind.
— Um... Detective?
Tsukauchi turned and saw the officer, and next to him, apparently, one of the workers, only he looked different. Without a yellow reflective vest, but in a shirt and trousers.
The officer continued.
— One of the workers would like to speak with you.
— Just a worker?... — the uninvited guest smirked at what he heard, continuing — I am from the port administration. General Manager Bei Lin. — he sighed bitterly as the glow from the fire reflected on his face. — I'm afraid the board of directors won't be pleased.
— And what do I have to do with the board of directors? I am doing everything in my power.
— I don't blame you, detective. Just notifying you of possible consequences for you in case of... catastrophic damage and losses of the agglomerations of companies managing the port.
— How dare you threaten me?! Officer! Take the civilian to the medical exam, seems like he hit his head.
The already foul mood was spoiled by such insolent behavior. Lost in thought, Tsukauchi furrowed his brows. «Kenji Tsuragamae - the chief of our Tokyo Department. Is this agglomeration, or union of companies, really so influential that they can put pressure on Kenji? Need to find out more about those who own the port.»
With this question, he turned to the internet. Standing opposite firefighters extinguishing burning containers and fuel spilled on the ground emitting sulfur smoke, the detective slowly scrolled through the feed of an information website.
«26% Owned by the Tokyo administration. The state. Eleven years ago, they sold off a significant part of the shares to private corporations because of the financial crisis. Besides the agglomerations, there was the Okutami Foundation, which was managed by Okutami-sama himself. He owns 29% of the shares. A significant share of the stocks was acquired exactly during the sale of government bonds as a reinvestment of capital. The rest of the securities, that's about 45%, are divided between Detnerat Corp. - 35% and its subsidiary companies - 10%.»
Naomasa didn't understand much of all this corporate nonsense, but it seems if some shareholder owns more than 51% of the securities, then he can put forward various kinds of ultimatums.
«Looks like this port is an unspoken battlefield between corporations for political and financial influence. Then was Okutami-sama a direct competitor of Detnerat Corp.? Could they be involved in his death?»
Right now, another mountain of work piled up. This didn't add any joy to the detective at all and he sighed sadly. «Maybe delegate this to someone else?»
—Detective, we have guests. —Tsukauchi looked up from his phone. An officer approached him, behind whom stood a crowd of heroic volunteers.
—Excellent, you're just in time.— The detective felt a weight slowly lift from his shoulders, because at least someone other than himself could be held responsible for this operation. It was painful to imagine the damage Japan's image would suffer if an industrial fire broke out. And it's okay if it's just a fire. This was an attack by an unknown villain! If the heroes defeated him, then at least they'd have someone to blame.