A monarchy is a form of government in which power is passed down from one ruler to their heir.
Almost every royal family had its own community, consisting of the sovereign's closest associates. Such groups were most often referred to as clans due to their exclusivity and secrecy.
People joined clans for various reasons: power, family ties, ideology, faith and a host of other factors uniting them under a single banner.
As the ruling elite, leaders had their own circle of loyal followers amongst their numerous supporters, who held power over those who did not. Such deputies were most often referred to as 'co-leaders', and they played an important role in the organisation of the community.
To maintain power, strict rules were introduced requiring individuals to pay compensation for leaving the community. None of the leaders wanted people to leave their community, however ignorant they might be; the uneducated had always been the best resource for a society built on monarchy and those close to it.
Hatred, as a destructive emotion, unites people better than any ideology. The fuel for hatred arose from short-term anger. Hatred of a group or other things was a tasty morsel for any propagandist seeking to subjugate. The 'best' person in every community was built upon hatred of something specific and a lack of reason, which ultimately led to aggressive fanaticism, convenient for those at the top of the power structure.
The Himura clan is one of Japan's oldest clans, having existed since before the Age of Change. As befits any community, they kept records of those with pure Himura blood.
Before the advent of technological progress, the monarchy suffered from inbreeding, producing genetic freaks with serious defects, in contrast to traditional unions between different individuals. The supreme monarch's aim was to preserve power and leave a legacy for centuries to come, so that the dynasty's name would inspire fear and awe.
Marriage between a woman from the Himura clan and a man not connected to the clan system was subject to strict control. The birth of children in such marriages became a legal nightmare for the parents. The father, lacking any real authority, was forced to watch as his children were taken away, leaving him with a son or daughter whose genes were dominant. Such marriages rarely lasted more than ten years. When drawing up the contract, a woman from the clan was forbidden to reveal anything about the clan's internal system. Every woman and man was given a special mark under their tongue: if they uttered certain key words, their tongue would burn, leaving no chance of recovery. Two centuries later, only a handful of people from wealthy circles knew the secrets of Himura, whilst ordinary folk were permitted to know only limited information, carefully edited by the clan itself.
Children born of incestuous unions between members of the same clan were put to death by the elders. The elders had no patience for the defiled blood resulting from such illicit love, and news of such incestuous unions quickly reached the monarch. The parents of such children, regardless of their status, were condemned to a painful death for defiling the blood of Himura. The elders would take the child away for a bloody ritual. In it, the child would slowly die from blood loss until the altar had absorbed the defiled blood.
***
"Touya, why are we here?" asked Fuyumi. The Todoroki family was renowned thanks to the number one hero, Endeavor, and his son, who followed in his footsteps. The proverb 'the apple doesn't fall far from the tree' describes much of what happens in life. Often, the eldest child in the family becomes a parent to the younger ones, inheriting their manners and habits, becoming a better version of their parents. Furthermore, Toya also took on the responsibility of protecting the family when his father was away on missions.
Touya's arrogance towards others aroused his colleagues' displeasure, but amongst his close circle he behaved simply, without provoking anger. After their last conversation, Touya was left in no doubt that his parents were hiding an important secret from them regarding their origins.
Enji wanted a perfect heir who would inherit his 'hellfire' and 'ice' to prevent overheating. All attempts to create a perfect heir had ended in failure; although Shoto's quirk came close to the ideal, it was not quite it.
For the first time in many years, Enji gave up, throwing his hands up in defeat. The whole family hated him, and only Touya wanted to prove that he was not a mistake, but the very ideal that Enji wanted. Blinded by his perfect heir, Enji saw in Shoto a 'universal tool' capable of inheriting both his genes and his mother's.
"Who are these people?" asked Fuyumi, unable to hide her surprise. On this clear morning, strangers had entered the house—their hair as white as silk, dressed in white kimonos bearing a strange emblem. Several elderly people with wrinkled faces glared at Toya, who was quietly seething with anger. Their parents stood to one side, merely watching. Fuyumi noticed how their mother bashfully lowered her head, feeling guilty for her transgression. Alongside the chill, there was a heat in the room emanating from Enji, who wanted to burn everything their filthy hands had touched.
"And where are the others? Call them down too," said one of the elders, without taking his eyes off his eldest son. Their gazes met. Touya remembered his parents' conversation about his mother's clan and hadn't expected this to happen so soon. That morning he'd received a message telling him to come downstairs, but, out of pride, he'd decided to sleep a little longer, showing carelessness and disrespect for orders.
"They…" Fuyumi began to reply, but was cut off by a sharp gesture from her older brother, ordering her to be quiet. A few steps later, Touya stood before her, shielding her with his body. She had never been known for having a strong will and could not refuse when asked. Touya knew of her unyielding nature and had become her shield and support after their parents' passing.
"None of your business, old man. Grab your trash and get out of here," Touya snapped. One of the bodyguards couldn't stand the young man's insolence and took two steps forward.
"No," replied the elder in a firm voice, making it clear to everyone who was in charge here.
"How regrettable that our blood flows through a boor like you, Touya Todoroki," said an old, haughty voice, provoking nothing but irritation in Touya. Smoke billowed from the elder's hands, which Fuyumi could sense. A single careless word could lead to violence. Fuyumi's pacifism prevented the conflict from escalating, and she bravely stepped out from behind her brother.
"Why are you here? What do you want from us?" she asked, unable to hide the tension in her voice. All the members of the Todoroki family were dressed in casual clothes, hardly appropriate for a business visit by important figures.
"As always, not a shred of respect, just questions," snorted the second man, steam rising from his mouth. Fuyumi couldn't understand why their parents were keeping quiet and saying nothing to these people.
"Did your parents really never tell you about your origins?" Touya's sullen expression gave way to a questioning one; he had long known how his father had wanted to surpass the All might through their hands. His father's preoccupation had prevented him from learning about their origins and the genes he had concealed for years.
"If you want to know about this, then everyone must be present, without exception," he declared. Their mother followed them, as if feeling guilty towards her children. The situation would have reached boiling point had it not been for Touya's restraint. Enji approached them with a stern expression.
"Call Natsuo and Shoto. I'll tell you everything after they've left." Fuyumi obediently went upstairs, whilst Toya did not look away from Angie, asking directly:
"Are the ambitions of the past still haunting you?" Touya remembered how Enjii had behaved cruelly to impress his idol—his father, whom he considered his only hero. Now his idol had fallen silent and could not utter a single confident word, feeling guilty about the past.
"Yes," blurted out Enji as he headed for the common room. His father had always been known for his straightforwardness in any situation, but now he was faced with a pale shadow of his father, a man who didn't seem like himself. Watching his father go, Touya snorted at the presence of strangers without his knowledge. His blue flame burned brighter than the inner fire of many heroes bound by the duty to maintain order and peace.
Uninvited guests were always greeted with warmth and smiles, and a table was set for acquaintances as a sign of welcome—except for this visit. The whole family sat at the table as if in negotiations. The elders assessed each heir of the Todoroki family with sharp glances. All but one resembled their mother, and only one of them possessed their father's haughty nature, showing no respect for anyone but himself.
Self-assured and defiant towards everyone, regardless of age, submission and respect for those higher in rank were the main rules of the clan's hierarchy.
It is no surprise that in every class hierarchy, those below feel both envy and respect, sometimes simultaneously. As society has evolved, nothing has changed since the Stone Age, when the chief was in charge, bearing responsibility for all members of the pack or community.
The centuries passed, just as the landscape on earth changes, and the further progress advanced, the more complex the processes of governing a community, a clan, a kingdom and a country became; yet one thing remained constant: for every fish in the pond, there was always a bigger one.
Bold and young people have always been a thorn in the side of the elders; the system was not built in a single day or a single night. The conflict between generations has raged for centuries under every system and in every age. The elders teach and follow the order established over centuries, whilst the young bring a new order, demonstrating their independence and often challenging the old order.
"You were born healthy and strong, with the finest lineage. You are destined to hold the highest positions in our clan; the genetics of the number one hero and the genetics of our clan have borne the finest fruit," the old man continued to speak slowly. Touya found it tedious to listen to the old man talk for several more hours about the Himura clan's lineage. Unlike his brothers and sisters, Touya was independent in his views on his own destiny, and when someone imposed their will on him, it only caused irritation.
Until recently, no one in the Todoroki family, apart from their parents, knew absolutely anything about the Himura clan. Ice was hardly ever used as a power in their family, as Enji simply didn't know how to use it properly. Shoto and Natsuo were genetically gifted, but apart from basic applications, they were unable to master it fully.
"Your father and I had an agreement before you were born. Until the perfect heir, inheriting the blood of both the Himura and Todoroki clans, is born, the marriage between your father and mother remains valid," he chuckled. All the family members looked at Enji, who was struggling to cope with the pressure. Everyone knew of his ambitions, but no one suspected how far he might go to achieve his goals.
There are many reasons why people do not rest on their laurels: universal recognition and fame, which are desired by all individuals who interact with society. Fame bordering on madness sometimes leads to power. Power was considered uncharacteristic for the hero, and the pursuit of it was condemned, no matter how noble his aims might be.
"Twenty-four years of our agreement have passed, and, as we can see, your father has lost interest in his ambitions. We do not condemn him, but we do not intend to renew the contract."
Natsuo seethed with anger towards his father; their family life had been no walk in the park. Constant humiliation, neglect, threats, fear—every member of the Todoroki family had endured this, except for one. His father was the source of all their misfortune, and Natsuo could never forgive him for ruining his childhood. From a young age, he had never acknowledged his father, and even during his school years he was the subject of attention because of his father's status, which had become a stigma in his life. Hearing everything the elders said, he realised that it had all been orchestrated by one man. His brothers and sisters had forgiven him, especially Touya, who had wanted to emulate him from an early age. Natsuo couldn't understand how one could forgive a man who had brought nothing but misery for years.
"Since the contract will not be renewed, you children and your mother are to transfer to the Himura clan." Fuyumi and Shoto, who had remained silent until then, were shocked by his statement. Touya listened quietly, glaring at the elders who had put their mother Rei in an awkward position. She lowered her head, unable to bear the weight of her guilt before her children.
"What contract are you talking about? What have you done now, old man?" Natsuo nearly shouted, sensing the looming problem.
"What do you want from us?" asked Fuyumi, feeling every fibre of her being clench in pain. Fuyumi's mature nature would not allow her to show weakness in front of the adults who had brought shame upon the family. Long-forgotten wounds were reopened, leaving her vulnerable in front of her family.
"We demand that you and your family, except for your father, move to our clan." Shocked, Rei was lost for words upon hearing that all members of her family were to return to the clan. Motherhood had always shielded her offspring from any external threats. The natural order of survival prioritises protection, and time takes its toll on an individual's body and mind. When Enji ceased to strive for an offspring surpassing even the Almighty in power, he changed, devoting himself to atoning for his sins. This became a trap for Ray: she ceased to see the threat to her own life and that of her children, for which she paid with immense pressure and a sense of guilt weighing on her heart.
"Out of the question, we're not moving anywhere," declared Touya, making no attempt to hide his disgust at the clan fanatics' audacity. His boldness stood in stark contrast to their politeness, and this was obvious to everyone present. The thought of his abandoned career as a hero and his dreams of surpassing his father drove Toya into a rage. He had forged his own path, striving to shape his own identity at UA without relying on the privileges of being the number one hero. Enji's help had been limited to a recommendation for the entrance exam, which Touya had passed with flying colours, leaving his rivals in the dust. He overcame all difficulties, from training to his studies, on his own, without relying on anyone else.
Fuyumi and Shoto remained silent whilst Touya, unwilling to pander to strangers, dealt with them alone. His parents were suspiciously silent, offering no defence of their honour. Weighing up her future prospects, she had no desire to leave the family nest for the sake of her relatives' baffling ambitions. She had her own goals, just as Shoto did, who dreamed of becoming a hero like Touya.
"I understand, you all want independence. Freedom, like any other service, comes at a price. In your case, each of you must defend your right and prove your worth by defeating the trained examiners." Rei would not put up with this and rose from her seat. She remembered the rumours about other families: those who defied the Himura clan often lost their status and property, disgraced in the eyes of their fellow clan members.
"Be quiet!" ordered one of them. Rei obediently fell silent and sat back down.
"You've forgotten your place, Rei. Do you remember what fate awaits those who dare to defy us?" Rei obligingly fell silent, not uttering a word. Fuyumi remembered how she had been helpless in Angie's hands, and then found her freedom and will. Now she watched as her fire was being extinguished before her very eyes, turning her into an obedient servant.
"I advise you to watch your tongue. The contract is over, and now there is no obligation to behave politely." The temperature in the room began to rise, and the flame on her face burned brighter than usual, taking on an orange hue. Her voice was harsh, and her gaze sharp, radiating confidence. Touya liked her father's temper, but too many questions arose in her mind, ones that were difficult to hide.
"Do you all want independence from our clan?" At this question, all the members of the Todoroki family nodded, showing no hesitation. Such a practice was rare for the Himura, but it took place due to tradition, albeit with restrictions.
"Yes, personally, I'm not prepared to kneel before an old senile fool," they said, furrowing their brows, holding back their anger whilst maintaining a formal tone. Such defiant behaviour had always been characteristic of the younger generation, until they received their lesson in re-education.
"Very well, if you wish not only for your own freedom but also for your mother's, then you will have to take part in a ritual duel. Everyone except your parents will be taking part in this duel." Touya merely snorted; his strength was far above average. Touya's pride would not allow him to lose, but apart from him there were other family members who were unprepared for serious combat. Fuyumi and Natsuo had no interest in this whim of his.
"I'm not a fighter, I… I'm just an ordinary schoolteacher," she said. Her kind and gentle nature was at odds with brutal battles and injuries. Violence had never filled her with enthusiasm; her firm belief in pacifism had made her a kind and caring person, and everyone who dealt with her knew how terrified she was of blood and violence.
"You… are a disgrace to your family. A woman of the Himura clan must not teach or have any contact whatsoever with lowly heteromorphs or the quirkless. It is a grave insult." The old man's tone was caustic and harsh; his composure wavered at the sight of her bewildered gaze. To them, she was a sheep, not knowing which way to go.
"Call her a disgrace one more time, and I'll burn your eyes out. And I'll feed your remains to the dogs," — sparks flew from Touya's hands, and the smell of ash filled the room, foreshadowing an impending fire.
"It doesn't matter; we'll hold a show trial in which all the children, without exception, will take part. You will be given three months to prepare." The elders rose from their seats, heading for the dojo accompanied by their guards. Despite her brother's protection, Fuyumi's mind was in turmoil. She would have to fight for her life; she was used to defending herself with words, not physically, which terrified her. She tried to avoid conflict and deliberately shielded herself from the media.
"Come on, sister, are you with us?" Natsuo called to her. Her breathing quickened, driving away the intrusive thoughts. She did not respond to his words, remaining in her safe world.
In the struggle for freedom and the right to exist, every creature used every means at its disposal. Intelligence, so highly praised by society, took a back seat in the face of danger. Fear and threat had always been the primary drivers of survival, and eliminating danger became the primary goal of every living creature. Just as with humans, many perceived freedom as the greatest value worth fighting for. No one in their right mind wanted to submit to the will of another, and strength had always been the determining factor in the food chain.
"The past all over again. Well done, Dad, for dragging us into this shit," Natsuo smirked, making no attempt to hide his disgust for his father. The dojo was spacious and sheltered, standing out as a large, elongated square.
"This is where our exhibition match will take place. Who wants to go first?" Shoto stepped forward unexpectedly. He didn't say a word, but he was ready for such challenges. The gruelling training sessions with his father and brother had toughened his character. Cold vapour escaped from his mouth, and he hid his left side from view, standing sideways. The elders smirked at the self-assurance of the teenager who had decided to challenge them.
Fuyumi and Rei rushed to stop the fight. The youngest child in the family had challenged a trained adult fighter to a duel without a second thought. Touya stopped them by grabbing their arms. They struggled until Toiya broke the silence.
"Your efforts are in vain. We will all take part in this fight. I,Natsuo,Fuyumi, Shoto — it doesn't matter. Let's show them what we're capable of, and be done with it," he declared, having no doubts about his younger brother. The rivalry between them had existed since childhood, and the desire to surpass Shoto's versatility had driven Toiya to train his fire to the limits of his ability, turning his power into a weapon of mass destruction.
"Touya, he's a child first and foremost, not a hero. It's a sure-fire losing bet," remarked Fuyumi, who cared for each of her brothers, regardless of their age.
"Shoto, show us what you're capable of!" shouted Enji, drawing the attention of everyone present. For a moment, a smile appeared on his face, only to be replaced by indifference.
"Now that you've decided on a candidate, we'll put forward our own," said a man who, in build, resembled a bodybuilder with neat white and auburn hair. He shed his trademark robe, remaining in a warm jumper. Rei refused to watch the beating, whilst Fuyumi trembled with nerves.
Shoto remained unresponsive to the provocation, relying on his intuition and skills. Ice began to form beneath his right foot. His opponent kept his eyes fixed on him, eager to defeat and humiliate him as quickly as possible.
"If everyone's ready, let's begin!" shouted one of the elders. Warrior Himura wasted no time, hurling a massive, jagged iceberg—formed from the earth—towards Shoto. Shoto waited patiently for the attack before making a sudden dash, dodging it at the very last moment. Under Warrior Himura's command, the massive iceberg shattered into countless sharp shards. Under his control, the shards transformed into jagged spikes, a display of mastery. Toya's eyes widened at such a display of skill.
The spikes flew towards Shoto, but with a deft movement of his right foot, solid ice began to form beneath him. With his right hand, he touched the ground and in an instant created an icy dome. The shards tried to penetrate the defence, but the density of the ice prevented them from harming Shoto.
"Well done, kid," acknowledged his opponent, generating ice from the ground. The member of the Himura clan created icy structures, attempting to break through Shoto's defence. Each strike was stronger than the last, causing him to grow even colder; the vapour from his mouth grew thicker and thicker from the use of his ice ability. Huge spiked spheres slammed into Shoto's defences, forcing him to rebuild his defences and overcool himself.
"You have the courage to fight an adult on equal terms. But your ball of ice won't save you from disgrace." His opponent's voice grew increasingly lifeless, and his hands were covered in frost. The rate at which the ice formed slowed with every use, for the ability required heat, and there was nothing but body heat to draw upon. Shoto knelt on one knee, using his fire to prevent his body from hypothermia. Feeling the attacks begin to slow, Shoto shattered his ice dome into a multitude of huge shards, clearing a view for his attack. With a single sweep of his arm, he hurled a chunk of ice at his opponent. The opponent tried to flee, but realised too late that his legs were frozen. His attempts to break the ice proved futile due to the overwhelming power of the ice ability. Turning his head, he took the brunt of a massive block of ice — shock was the first thing he felt before the immense pain set in. Shoto wasted no time and launched a counterattack. The right side of his body became increasingly covered in frost, while fire flared up on the left, much to Enji's satisfaction. The frost began to fade, and thick columns of ice from all sides slammed into the opponent until he was immobilised. Sharp icicles were mere centimetres from his face.
"Brilliant, now that's what I call skill," declared one of the elders, clapping his hands.
"Please, clear away this ice and let our clanmate leave the battlefield." In a second and a half, Shoto's ice crumbled like sand. Fuyumi clapped, jumping for joy; she had never felt such emotions upon victory as she did now. As soon as Shoto's foot left the arena, she rushed to embrace him, calming herself.
"Oh my God, you have no idea how worried I was, Shoto." His sister's tight embrace nearly knocked him off his feet. Despite the recent battle, Shoto felt a sense of calm and warmth from his loved one.
"I'm next," Toya declared, stepping into the arena. His desire to prove the superiority of fire over ice was stronger than the taunts. An opponent was found quickly: it was a tall, sturdy man who had removed his traditional kimono before the fight, standing opposite the hero named Dabi.
Toiya didn't wait, unleashing a powerful torrent of blue flame at Himura. Himura managed to dodge the flames, creating a wall of ice to protect himself. Toiya smirked, realising Himura was helpless, and, concentrating the flame beneath his feet, rose into the air. An inexhaustible stream of fire melted all the ice, turning it into steam. Himura threw chunks of ice at Toiya to no avail. The ice attacks could do nothing against the fire user — the advantage lay entirely with Toiya, until Himura summoned icy whips, halting Touya's flight. Having landed safely, Touya found himself trapped: first his feet were frozen, and then his movements were restrained by the icy whips.
"Not so cocky now?" he asked, moving closer and transforming a long piece of ice into a sharp dagger. He pressed the blade against Toya's throat, marking his victory.
"Surrender?" Touya snorted and smirked, looking him in the face.
"Never let your guard down, you icy clown." A jet of flame shot from Toiya's mouth, striking Himura squarely in the face. Instinctively, he clasped his hands to his face, neutralising the burn with his ice, but that was enough time for Toya to strike him in the temple with his elbow and knock him to the ground, pressing his knee into his back. His opponent struggled, threatening to break free, but Toya's hand began to heat up, and he grabbed him by the back of the neck, quickly cooling his fervour.
"One more move and I'll melt your brains." The opponent stopped struggling, tapping the ground. The heat from Toiya's palms warmed his skull, affecting his brain, which was screaming for help.
"Brilliant, you've done better than we expected." Despite the flattery, Toya merely pushed Himura's warrior aside, showing him no respect. Every time his skills were equated with those of ordinary heroes, it annoyed him more than teamwork ever did. The imposition of teamwork only fanned his inner fire, casting common sense aside.
Touya turned his back on them, not sparing them a single glance. His behaviour made it clear how he felt about them. Fuyumi and Rei were thrilled by his victory, whilst Enji crossed her arms over her chest with smug satisfaction. The experiment, which he had considered a failure, had turned out to be the most successful one yet.
"Now it is your turn, Lady Fuyumi," the elder shot her an angry glance, despite her nervousness and fear of violence. She swallowed a nervous lump before taking a step forward.
***
In a life filled with luxury and permissiveness, almost any whim was fulfilled without difficulty; the servants need only hear their master's wish before they immediately began scurrying about to satisfy his needs. Power-hungry individuals had always been distinguished by their complex desires and demands. The desire to get rich has always been tantamount to the desire to gain greater power — a formula as simple as the ancient world, yet one that has not lost its relevance with the passing of generations.
"I wasn't impressed by your performance at the banquet. How did the Silent Phantom—a mere commoner and a masked madman—manage to infiltrate my private banquet?" Kaina remained silent, feeling guilty; her plan, honed to perfection, had shattered like glass. Having gathered all available information on the intruder, she was left with a distinct sense of having completely underestimated the Silent Phantom, despite the evidence at hand. A professional assassin had outwitted her by evading a precise shot, and the dark stain on her otherwise spotless career was now a permanent mark. No matter how perfect her record might be, the first thing people notice is the defeat. Years of sleepless nights and malnutrition had turned her into a cold-blooded killing machine, but her miscalculation had shattered all her confidence.
"Anything to say in your defence?" — Destro raised an eyebrow, looking up from the documents. The office was bright, almost too bright, and Kaina felt like a child caught stealing.
"Judging by the looks of it, someone was helping him." Destro snorted, replying with a touch of sarcasm.
" Well done, Kaina. Now will you tell me on which day and into which building he broke in?" Suppressing her emotions, she began to analyse all possible scenarios. He had managed to escape and had even fought back against two professional heroes. No villain or vigilante could have dealt with top-ten heroes with such ease.
"Yaoyorozu daughter is involved with him. When he was arrested, Momo Yaoyorozu came out of the room, which leads me to suspect a conspiracy on the part of the Yaoyorozu family." Destro pushed all the documents aside, fixing his gaze on her. The rivalry between them was fierce, but bribing the enemy to secure victory was an extremely unusual move.
"Naturally, you didn't hear what they were talking about?" Destro smirked at her nod. The private rooms were as soundproof as modern technology allowed. Destro's rivals hadn't been sitting idly by, and now he was certain of the many conspiracies his anxious thoughts had warned him about.
"That's all I know." Leaning back in his chair, Destro looked out of the panoramic window, folding his fingers thoughtfully.
"As far as I recall, Yaoyorozu's daughter is only sixteen. If my memory serves me correctly, you mentioned that a young man aged between sixteen and eighteen is hiding behind the Silent Phantom 's mask."
"Bloody hell, what sort of society are we living in? A teenager defying adults. Even though he's still at school himself—it's the stuff of a crazy novel." Taking a sip of his drink, Destro tossed a few files onto the table, each containing different photographs. Kaina moved closer to the table, picked up one of the files and, opening it, was not in the least surprised by the dossier on the villains.
"He knows too much about my plans; I cannot allow him to interfere in my affairs." Huge sums of money were at stake, the loss of which would mean failure in high society. Yaoyorozu was Destro's greatest rival; the Yaoyorozu family fortune had been passed down through the generations, preserving its wealth for decades. An extreme desire to eliminate rivals had led to unexpected alliances.
"And you want to hire villains to eliminate him?" she asked, making no attempt to hide her curiosity. The thought of killing a teenager did not please her, despite her killer's mentality. She had had to kill grown men and women, and, wavering in her choice, she was glad she would not be staining her hands with the boy's blood.
"Not villains, but incorrigible scoundrels. The main requirements are immorality, cruelty and a bit of teamwork." Kaina wasn't in the least surprised by his words; for a businessman handling large sums of money, being pragmatic and self-assured was hardly a revelation. All her life, her parents and advertising had harped on about the futility of material wealth for heroes, and she had been blind to it. The idea of selfless heroes had delighted her until she joined the heroes' commission with their pragmatic approach.
Sifting through the folders, her eyes could make out only two striking personalities amongst the three files.
"Stain and Senku Saki? You haven't considered the synergy. I'm more inclined to think they'll kill each other before they kill the Silent Phantom." She was indignant, but Destro wouldn't let her open the file containing the available information on Stain.
"You're thinking in a very predictable way, Kaina. Stain can be bribed, just like any mercenary, and I'll hand over five underage girls and boys to Saki. It's too early to talk about the rest." His power, and his influence over her, were growing exponentially. He buried her under various tasks, as long as she had the strength and ability to carry out his orders. The task of playing two different roles caused a sharp pain in her head, where Tsutsumi Kaina's personality was lost amidst the image of a spy and a personal servant to Destro.
***
Walking through the school on crutches, Izuku attracted anxious stares. Those who had known him before gloated, smirking and laughing at his predicament. His right leg was in a cast just below the knee, and he had to rely on crutches. His unfamiliarity with such aids made him look clumsy, and Izuku seemed pitiful as he moved about. As he made his way to his classroom, several bullies managed to make crude jokes at his expense, wounding his pride.
In the school corridor, amidst the sea of identical uniforms, Izuku was looking for long, light-coloured hair that reached down to the back and round glasses. He felt ashamed of his appearance and of how pathetic he looked at that moment. With his head bowed, he walked on, paying no attention to the peers around him. One of the pupils, knowing he would go unpunished, decided to play a prank using his quirk: taking a mint sweet from his pocket, he was able to transform his fresh breath into a powerful jet of air, carefully letting the sweet dissolve in his mouth. He spat with a strong blast of air, knocking the crutch out of Izuku's hands. Izuku lost his balance and fell onto his left side.
"Let's punish him," Andy growled, but the symbiotic tentacles wouldn't let him use his power, despite the justice he wanted to uphold. Lying on his side, Izuku tried to get up, but to those around him he looked like an upside-down tortoise trying to flip itself over. The bullies, seeing him, burst out laughing.
'Take my hand.' Because of the light shining in his eyes, he couldn't make out the face of the person holding out their hand to him. When his hand clasped a soft, feminine palm, there was no doubt left—it was Melissa.
'Melissa, I can explain everything,' Izuku said, panicking. Standing before someone close to him without mentioning his injury, he felt a slight pang of guilt, despite her concern. Izuku leaned on his right crutch, and Melissa, moving quickly, picked up the second crutch, but suddenly grabbed his left hand, helping him to move forward.
'We'll find a more suitable place for this. Does Todoroki-sensei know about this?' He shook his head, and she helped him walk at a slow pace.
"I told you we should have skipped school for the day. But you decided to go to the hospital and get your leg in a cast. It's so humiliating to be limping around like this," Andy complained after their bittersweet victory over two professional fighters. Their experience grew with every opponent; they realised that the injuries were getting more serious, and recovery was taking longer than usual. They wanted to stay one step ahead of most heroes and villains.
Izuku laughed in exasperation as he walked on, side by side with Melissa, who was genuinely worried about him. Her desire to help, expressed without words or speeches, filled Izuku with admiration and, for the first time, sparked an interest in her not merely as a friend, but as something more. The feeling of closeness to the opposite sex was difficult to explain to a teenager who had been deprived of female attention due to bullying for his quirkless. Several parts of his brain began to work at the sight of her, producing endorphins and delighting Andy in the process. Beauty wasn't the primary factor in Izuku's attraction: despite the girls at school who were actually prettier than Melissa, he valued her simplicity and reliability more.
The thought of her sent shivers down his spine, his muscles responded with a pleasant ache, and his face grew warmer and warmer, as if his body temperature were rising.
"Be careful, watch your step. Don't fall over," she cautioned, hiding her concern. Izuku noticed that the more he helped her and got to know her, the closer she grew to him—not in an intrusive way, but in a way that drew his attention. Andy and Izuku noticed something peculiar about her: she smelled of spices, a sweet scent of cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger, triggering quite strong reactions in the brain.
"The sweet smell of cinnamon, the subtle scent of ginger and the aroma of chocolate. She smells perfect, can you smell it?" — pushing aside thoughts of his injured leg, Izuku concentrated on avoiding an awkward situation in front of so many schoolchildren. Moving slowly towards the classroom, he tried not to look her in the eye because of the shame he felt. He hadn't told her about the injury he'd sustained; the pain of not wanting to lie to someone close to him throbbed fiercely in his head, giving him no peace every time their eyes met.
"Does Todoroki-sensei know about this?" she asked. Melissa had guessed the connection between Izuku and the teacher. He saw her as more than just a teacher.
"No, after our last meeting, I slipped and fell off a tall ladder," — at Izuku's ridiculous explanation, Melissa almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. A different picture was forming in the young girl's mind.
"Your situation sounds more like a joke than reality. Sorry if this sounds rude, but it's absurd." Out of embarrassment, Izuku's hand reached for the back of his head, awkwardly running his fingers through his hair out of stress. Her mental abilities were on a par with his, even surpassing him in some respects.
Once they reached the classroom, she helped him sit down on a chair. Like Andy, Izuku found it unusual for someone to help in such a situation. The unexpectedness of the event made him doubt what was happening, and Izuku began to blink more frequently than usual, unable to believe his eyes. After exchanging a few words, they waited for the form tutor to arrive, but instead of Fuyumi, a completely different woman came in. The sight of this woman caused discontent in Andy and Izuku; they had grown too accustomed to her, and her absence caused Izuku anxiety.
"I'm sorry to say, but Ms Todoroki has had to take sick leave due to an injury to her hand. As soon as she's feeling better, she'll be back in her post. In the meantime, I'll be taking her place." The rest of her words went right over Izuku's head. Events were unfolding faster than he could have imagined; Destruction, injuries and the people close to him weighed upon him like a heavy, unliftable burden. The lesson hours flew by, slipping through his fingers like sand; one term followed another, but his answers were dry and lifeless, as if the very spark that had sustained his will to live had vanished, leaving a void. His hand reached for the phone to drown out the inner emptiness. He hunched over, his gaze fixed on the ground, returning to his past days, filled with loneliness and longing.
Those past memories struck right at the most painful spots, sending shivers down his spine and making old wounds ache anew. Izuku had changed in a short space of time; the old Izuku began to fade away, leaving behind ashes from which a new personality was born, based solely on qualities essential for a future that was entirely different from his former vision of a bright future. His personality was warped, taking on unprecedented forms, until he looked back at the old Izuku. Behind the former Izuku stood the person who had given him the opportunity and the proof that even an ordinary, unremarkable person could sow light in the fog. She was embracing the former Izuku — weak, weeping, pitiful. Pity was the first emotion Izuku felt upon seeing his former self, and then came gratitude.
"All this time, did I need just one person to achieve everything I want?" he asked himself, unconsciously beginning to wipe away imaginary tears. The Izuku of the past had left his mark on the new world he was building; it was difficult to escape from him, to suppress him, or to erase him.
"And who did you need?" a voice sounded in his right ear. Sensing danger, his heart began to beat faster, and his brain searched for a way to escape. Realising where he was, his eyes saw only long yellow hair.
"Me, Melissa, you… er… no one. I'd forgotten about the lesson—when did it end?" His friend's flustered reaction amused her; Izuku often had his head in the clouds in his imaginary worlds.
"The lesson finished two minutes ago. I called out to you, but you didn't respond." She took a strange paper bag out of her bag, adjusting her glasses. Watching her, Izuku noticed a pattern: every time she felt awkward, she adjusted her glasses, as if to calm herself.
"Sorry, I didn't notice you at all during the whole lesson." She held out her hand to him, which he graciously took. She handed him his crutches, which helped him walk with more confidence.
"Don't worry, I'll tell you what you missed during the lesson." A strange sensation churned inside him, like the taste of blood in his mouth, as he felt real pain for the first time in his underground hero career. He had never paid much attention to his own identity; Izuku was a nobody, just part of the grey masses. Standing out in no way from the rest, he dug deeper into his subconscious and stumbled upon a strange thought.
"If I want to become a hero like everyone else, is that really my dream?" he asked himself. The further he went with his friend, the more he was tormented by thoughts that couldn't have just appeared out of thin air. The more Izuku acted like a hero, the more the line between good heroes and evil villains blurred, turning into a pulsating grey mass. Accepting his own truth had never been as hard as it was now.
His inner values and moral compass were undergoing a second rebirth, stirring an uneasy feeling in his heart. Despite his physical stagnation, Izuku's inner world was experiencing a renaissance in his outlook on life; his entire dream was built on the realisation that he was not useless, but a hero whom people would need.
"Let's sit over there," she said, pointing to the far corner. Melissa ran ahead to save them some seats, with Izuku clumsily following behind on his crutches. Feeling indebted for her attention, Izuku gave her a wink.
"I'll be right back," he said, leaving one crutch by the table. She had no idea what was coming until Izuku returned with two trays of food, one of which he was holding between his teeth so as not to drop it by accident. Melissa laughed at Izuku's antics; he seemed submissive, polite and punctual to her, yet at every meeting he found countless ways to surprise her with his words and actions. In Melissa's eyes, Izuku seemed more alive and genuine; his ability to show a different side of himself attracted her more than usual. Noticing her friend staggering, she quickly stood up, taking the tray of food into her hands.
"Why didn't you tell me about this? We could have gone there together without putting you through that, Izuku." Izuku had spent a long time mulling over his decision and the words he needed to justify his behaviour. But standing before him was no stranger, but a close friend who saw more in him than just an interesting quirk. Wanting to experience new emotions, for the first time in his life Izuku felt his confidence overcome his awkwardness.
"Then I wouldn't have been able to surprise you," he smiled, sitting down awkwardly at the dining table. She was smiling, and this hinted to Izuku that she enjoyed spending time with him. This incredible feeling delighted him to the depths of his soul, evoking neither sadness nor sorrow, but genuine joy.
"I have a theory that you try to surprise me every time we meet." She broke the chopsticks, graciously handing them to him in appreciation of his efforts. Andy, observing their chemistry, felt a sense of satisfaction thanks to his emotional receptors. Izuku smiled at Melissa's words, handing her a wet wipe he'd taken from the dining room.
"I'm not trying; it just happens. Don't you like it?" Hearing this, she frantically waved her hands in denial. Her cheeks began to flush with nervousness, and her gaze darted everywhere except into Izuku's eyes.
"Oh, no... no... no. I didn't say I didn't like it, I... I just noticed it in you." Unable to meet Izuku's gaze, she turned her attention to her food, poking at it with her chopsticks. Her nervousness evoked mixed feelings in Izuku: on the one hand, he liked the direct question, but on the other, it hurt to watch her shy behaviour.
"I never thought I came across as that provocative, but thanks for the compliment." She looked up from her food at his awkwardly smiling face. She saw no hidden expressions or lies in his tone. He meant every word, without any ulterior motives. She couldn't shake the feeling that Izuku was hiding a great deal about himself from her. Summoning all her courage, she asked, her heart tightening with guilt.
"Izuku, have you ever kept secrets from your loved ones? You're the most sincere person I know. Sometimes I get the feeling you're hiding a lot." The sudden question caught Izuku off guard; his hand stopped holding the chopsticks, betraying his anxiety and guilt over the question. Feeling guilty, she adjusted her glasses three times, having drunk half of her yoghurt drink. Izuku looked upset, but his sadness turned to joy when he looked at her, causing her to feel puzzled.
"I never had any friends at school. I tried to fit into at least some group and started taking an interest in things that weren't really my thing. Despite my interest in friendship, they all rejected me, considering me unworthy of their attention." His eyelids drooped, and the smile that had been his trademark whenever they met vanished from his face; his eyes looked anywhere but at her. Shame burned inside him. The idea of sinking into the ground was far more appealing than receiving an angry or disapproving look from someone close to him.
"I had a friend called Katsuki Bakugou. I considered him my friend and looked up to him, but... I don't want to talk about him." Izuku fell silent, trying to recall the good times they'd shared. There were so few of them that they wouldn't even fit on a single page. In his mind, Bakugo's figure vanished, drawing a thick line under their relationship and erasing him from his life. Melissa listened, trying not to interfere. It pained her deeply to see and hear this from a person who genuinely valued her company for its own sake.
"Some of the scars on his arm and body were left by him. School was a testing ground, and to come out of it without a bruise was a stroke of luck comparable to winning the lottery." Putting all the pieces of the puzzle together, a complete picture of Izuku's life emerged in her mind. She had never faced such injustice herself; her parents had always sorted out her problems, whereas Izuku had to find solutions on his own in all sorts of situations. To Izuku, society was a social jungle in which every venomous insect sought to spray him with its parasitic poison. This had gone on not for a day or two, but for years. Overcome with shame, she took off her glasses, placing them on the table and drawing Izuku's attention. She wanted to look at him properly.
"You're so strong, Izuku. If I were in your shoes, I'd be sobbing into my pillow all day long. I'm truly sorry for the distress my words caused you; please forgive me." In response to her words, Izuku smiled gently and reached for her round glasses. With a careful movement of his hands, he brought the glasses closer to her face. The temple of the glasses touched her skin first, before the bridge rested on her nose. She closed her eyes, knowing he wouldn't hurt her. For the first time, his fingers touched her face. Her cheeks grew warmer and warmer until her face flushed crimson. He was closer than during their previous meetings, and she let him draw near; her trust in him grew with every new piece of information they shared about each other. Piecing together his whole story bit by bit, Melissa realised that she had attracted him because, like him, she was quirkless.
"I try not to think about it. Yes, it hurts, but it was a long time ago. No matter how painful the past may be, it doesn't stop me from smiling." He sat down awkwardly, trying not to strain his injured leg. He didn't take his eyes off her as he spoke about himself, and Melissa felt ashamed that her own life story wasn't as rich. After a while, their tray was empty, and the conversation shifted from sad to cheerful. Izuku felt awkward making jokes, and his words sounded extremely clumsy and out of place. This amused her; despite his uncertain tone, Izuku was still trying to use his charisma as a new tool.
"Sorry, I got so caught up in our conversation that I forgot about the present." Izuku gave an awkward smile at the word "present". His stomach knotted with tension as his hands rummaged through his rucksack. Andy, like Izuku, was curious to see what awaited them, and when his eyes fell on the paper bag, he began to rejoice with all his might.
"These are chocolate treats. My parents and I were experimenting in the kitchen and made several types and varieties of chocolate. There are lots of fillings, and I think you'll like them." The scent of cocoa stirred his olfactory receptors, activating a multitude of neurons and happiness hormones, which only made his desire to tear open the bag grow. She smiled awkwardly at her own behaviour, considering it a sign of attention towards the opposite sex. Izuku took a bite, then another, then a third, and the awkwardness on his face gave way to bliss. It was even funnier to watch. To Melissa, Izuku looked as though he was on the verge of crying with joy. Melissa giggled at such vivid emotions, and Izuku, looking up from his meal, watched her laugh, which made his heart beat faster, demanding more air.
Their lunch ended on a high note, and in high spirits, Izuku continued his studies, but now with even greater enthusiasm. He was surprised at how little he needed to achieve so much. His emotional state was sustained by the words of support from just a few people in his life. Like anyone who feels compassion for those around them, he too felt affection for the first time. Inexplicable feelings were surging through his veins, and the strangest thing for him was that he couldn't understand what these strange sensations were.
In search of an answer, Izuku was once again walking on air, but now with a happy face and a dreamy smile, having completely forgotten about his trauma and problems. Lost in his own thoughts, Andy reached into the rucksack with his tentacles, using his host's phone, bored during lectures. The tentacles quickly typed out every possible message on the forums until he smirked maliciously upon seeing the name Semper Augustus 🌺.
Izuku🌱
Sensei, are you alright?
There was no reply, but it was amusing to watch the native speaker's reaction. The school day was over, and with it all sense of responsibility. With each passing day, Izuku grew more confident on his feet, paying no heed to his past struggles. Arm in arm, they walked together, feeling genuine joy, playing counting games or going over notes from past lessons.
"Izuku, can I ask you a question?" she asked, adjusting her glasses and digging her nails into her palm. She never asked directly what she wanted to know. In the environment she had grown up in, it wasn't customary to ask so bluntly and to the point. Just like Izuku, she felt for the first time a sense of ease in communicating with someone, without beating about the bush or subtly hinting at the desired conversation. Feeling at ease, she noticed Izuku's reaction to her question. With a serious expression on her face, she waited for Midoriya's agreement.
"Tell me, did you become friends with me because I'm quirkless? Is that what drew you to me?" Faced with this serious question, Izuku suddenly looked at her expression. She looked sad; she took off her glasses, showing just how serious the question was. Izuku had no right to brush it off or treat it lightly — she was the first person to have so openly shared her inner world with him, and why should he lie to her?
"At first, I was sceptical about you when I first heard about the new student. Fuyumi-sensei told me you are quirkless like me. That piqued my interest, but the more I interacted with you, the less your background mattered," he said, without stuttering.
"You could have been a hero with a quirk on a par with the All might" he said, the corners of his mouth curving into a gentle, slightly guilty smile. "Or you could have had no powers at all. It wouldn't have changed how I feel about you. That's not the point. With you, I can be myself. I don't have to pretend to be strong." Melissa's lips parted, and she listened with her mouth open, harbouring no illusions. She wanted to stop him, but Izuku didn't stop and wanted to say everything he thought about her. For the first time in the years she'd spent in Japan, someone had dared to speak their mind to her, which was uncharacteristic of Japanese society, so closed off to foreigners. Izuku had never encountered anything like this before; openly confessing her feelings to someone close to her was deeply emotional, causing her cheeks to flush.
Tears began to well up in Melissa's eyes, and her emotions spilled out through her eyes until she wiped them away with the back of her hand.
"I'm not... not used to this," he muttered, staring at the ground and feeling his throat tighten with a strange, aching sensation. "To the fact that someone values me just for who I am."
Suddenly, Izuku took her hand, holding it as gently as he could. As if taking on her pain, he wanted to draw even closer to her, but his crutch prevented him from doing so. She calmed down, smiling and regaining her usual smile, putting on her familiar glasses.
"Thank you, I really appreciate that."
***
For everyone, home was synonymous with comfort and tranquillity. The sense of security a home provided was incomparable to what went on outside. For this reason, people who had become too accustomed to a sterile world refused to venture out into the streets to face danger. Fear, as a deterrent, prevented them from breathing easily in an uncomfortable or dangerous environment, filled with strangers and their ambitions. Prosperity and stability were built over years, through the bloodshed and despair of people. Factors such as war and crisis shaped the fates of millions. It is customary in society to despise wars, which brought only destruction and pain, and which are taught about in schools and universities. Recalling the most horrific things happening beyond the home, it was no surprise to anyone why people locked themselves indoors, refusing to interact with others.
Izuku crossed the threshold of his home with the aid of crutches. For many teenagers, it was a common sight to see their parents standing in the doorway. Mum was at the hob cooking dinner, whilst Dad sat reading the paper or working—a stereotypical caricature depicting the ideal family dynamic. For a moment, Izuku's mind began to imagine how his life might have turned out. For Izuku, home was a whirlwind of emotions: from the joy of time spent with his parents to the downright worst moments, filled with tears shed over his own worthlessness and despair. Despite the happy moments spent within the confines of the place called 'home', the worst moments in life, like poison in the body, prevented him from living in peace.
The oppressive emptiness and silence weighed heavily on his mind, causing a callousness of spirit uncharacteristic of a young man. It was here that he first felt the loss associated with a loved one, and the older Izuku grew, the more it seemed to him that this place was cursed by external forces. The past, which he longed to forget, always reminded him of itself as soon as he returned home.
The door slammed shut, and the tentacles emerging from his back grabbed the crutches and placed them in the corner by the doorway. The symbiote helped him move around the house with little effort; the dark tentacles stretched out, covering several steps that its host could take. It seemed strange to Andy that the host's mood should change so drastically: he had spent half the day in good spirits, but as soon as he crossed the threshold of the house, melancholy, fear and apathy mingled into one, evoking sadness. Analysing his host's personality, Andy gradually understood why a person needs another person to survive. Loneliness caused melancholy and sadness, whereas interaction with one's own kind triggered happiness hormones, activating neurons and stimulating thought. For Andy's symbiotic nature, these hormonal surges triggered his own 'happiness hormone', which had no effect on the host.
"We've earned a rest," Andy growled, handing him the TV remote. He opened the fridge with a tentacle, pulling out some cold snacks. Channel after channel, the television had nothing to offer Izuku, showing boring soap operas or cooking programmes for the mentally challenged, starring mentally unstable people with broken lives. Children's educational channels showed how important it was to sort rubbish from an early age, using vivid, demonstrative images to make it easier for impressionable young minds to grasp the concept.
Izuku seethed with anger, which quickly turned to rage when he saw a familiar face on the television. Yet another murder at the hands of Senku Saki. Without blinking, he stared intently at the TV screen, ignoring the presenter; he remembered that vile photofit clearly. It even appeared to him in his dreams, begging for mercy. Conflicting emotions piled up one after another, causing his mind to waver. Izuku understood one thing: killing him would be the most sensible decision. Cold calculation seemed the most rational course of action in this situation. He had caused him so much pain, and repaying the debt tenfold, satisfying his animal nature, was a temptation that was hard to resist.
"He took her from us, he killed her. He brought us pain; we must not tolerate this. We will make him suffer." Izuku's pragmatic side agreed with every word; it had firmly taken root in his mind, poisoning his thoughts with its very existence. Every nerve cell seethed with rage, straining his heart to its limit. His repulsive police sketch was on the TV screen; every feature of his face was as vile as he was.
"Murderer, rapist, cannibal. He must die!" His eyes burned with rage, and his hands searched for someone on whom to vent his fury. The muscles in his face and around his eyes twitched constantly with the tension. His breathing grew heavy, and his hands wanted to tear him apart just as he had torn apart his victims, just as painfully and agonisingly. He was a reminder of the past, of a painful past, as if mocking him.
"As long as he exists, we will never know happiness. He took our mother from us; suddenly, he might take Fuyumi from us too." The thought of her death flashed before his eyes; he wept like a child before her grave, and the blame for her death lay with his negligence and inaction.
The anger stirred by the mention of Senku Saki's name. The way he killed his victims, his maniacal desire to feast on human flesh. There was nothing human about him, only a blind thirst to devour flesh and kill, like a wild beast that had lost control of itself.
Fear—of losing a loved one in the future. The news of her death would be the hardest words Izuku had ever heard. One fine day, she might take away his newfound happiness and joy. Fear of being left alone in a suffocating house without support in a cruel world filled with hidden monsters, such as Senku Saki. His eyes began to well up at the thought, but the despondency vanished just as quickly as the fear turned to rage.
The television was switched off; Izuku didn't want to hear any more about him. For a moment, he stared at his distorted reflection on the screen, whilst tempting thoughts of revenge poisoned his mind, preventing him from thinking clearly. Andy began to envelop Izuku's body in a symbiotic mass, leaving only his head exposed. Closing his eyes against the fury boiling within him, Izuku answered himself firmly.
"No." Andy was stunned by this response. Despite his rage, Izuku rejected the idea.
"Not now, at least. My leg's broken—how am I supposed to fight him? I need some rest to process everything." Clutching his head, Izuku mentally ordered his tentacles to carry him to bed. He no longer listened to the whispers of vengeance in his mind, his brain being too overloaded.
"Stop making excuses. You want this, but you're afraid."
***
With a broken arm, Fuyumi wandered the street alone, dressed in casual clothes. The evening was eventful, despite the quiet weekday atmosphere on the streets. Driven by her grief, she wandered, feeling sorry for herself. She was adored as a person, praised, held in high esteem, held up as an example. All the compliments from her pupils' parents seemed like the most perfect words; her colleagues admired her composure, and her pupils wished her only the best. Everyone wanted to be her friend. A vibrant personality without sin or hidden motives; alas, a sterile world filled with pacifism is doomed to violence, for the formula for absolute peace has not been devised in the course of humanity's centuries-long existence on earth.
She stopped in front of the bar, wavering in her decision. The temptation to taste the forbidden fruit, regardless of her status, was incredibly alluring. A moment spent with a bottle of strong alcohol would allow her to forget her current problems for one evening. The phone in her pocket vibrated with a notification, and without taking it out, she put it away and walked on, pondering her problems. An individual is always vulnerable to any predator when alone. The predatory instinct, ingrained by nature, lay deep within the human consciousness, taking on a more distorted form than in the wild.
While pursuing his prey, Kaiber discovered a more suitable victim. She was broken both mentally and physically, too attractive a victim to be marred by blood. Paying no heed to the crowd around him, he moved towards his target, intent on defiling her perfect appearance by mangling her into a bloody mess until her screams turned to gurgling sounds.
The heels of her shoes tapped out a rhythm on the tarmac as she turned into a quiet side street, away from the bustling main road. Her broken arm, immobilised by a sling, throbbed with a dull, aching pain, a reminder of yesterday's fight. Of how she, always so composed, had made a mistake. She'd let her emotions get the better of her. She'd allowed herself… to feel.
It was dark in the alley. The streetlights weren't on here, and only the glimmers of distant lights seeped through the narrow passage, plucking the silhouettes of rubbish bins and old, abandoned crates from the gloom. A place she wouldn't have set foot in for all the money in the world at any other time. But today, she didn't care.
She stopped, leaning her back against the cold wall. She closed her eyes. Inhale. Exhale. Fragments of conversations, faces, smiles swirled in her head. Pupils, parents, colleagues. They all saw in her what they wanted to see. No one asked what she wanted.
'Fuyumi-sensei, you're so inspiring!'
'Fuyumi-san, we're so proud of you!'
'Fuyumi, pull yourself together. You're a professional, after all.'
What if she was tired? What if she was fed up with being perfect? What if she just wanted to… disappear. If only for one evening.
She opened her eyes and looked at her fingers. They were trembling. Not from the cold. From the tension that had built up over the years, with no outlet. Alcohol seemed like a simple solution. Easy. Accessible. She had almost turned back towards the bar when something made her freeze.
Footsteps.
Someone's heavy, measured footsteps echoed through the empty alley. Not a chance passer-by. Her gaze fell upon a man dressed in shabby clothes; his unkempt hair aroused her suspicion, and he was carefully averting his eyes from her.
"Is there any alms for a poor man? Please, I'm hungry, I have nothing to eat," he pleaded, his hand trembling. She suspected nothing, other than to give him what he wanted. With one hand, she took out her purse and handed him a few notes. He burst into tears before her, falling to his knees; unaccustomed to such behaviour, Fuyumi began to take steps backwards.
"Oh, madam, you are such a generous soul. Allow me to learn the name of my benefactor." He raised his head, revealing his face. Upon seeing his face, Fuyumi felt a shiver run down her spine. Keeping her composure, she glanced behind her, looking for a way to escape. Without waiting for him to stand up, she ran away from the man-eater with her broken arm.
"What a pity, I wanted to get to know you better." Scanning for an opportunity to catch her, Senku Saki's eyes fell upon a brick broken in half. A sadistic grin spread across his face before he picked up the brick, aiming it in her direction. Scratching the brick's surface with his claws, he hurled it at her with all his might. Feeling genuine fear of imminent death, she ran from him with all the strength her legs could muster, until the weight at the back of her head caused her to lose her balance. She fell to the ground, trying to open her eyes, but her primal nature screamed at her to flee from the danger.
She didn't run. She couldn't. Her legs gave way, and Fuyumi collapsed to her knees, pressing her palms into the sharp, prickly tarmac. A ringing filled her ears. Somewhere at the back of her head, a dull, throbbing pain pulsed, mingled with a sticky, nauseating sensation — she was losing control. Of herself. Of the situation. Of a life that, just a minute ago, had seemed so tediously predictable.
She heard the sound of footsteps behind her. Steady. Calm. The rustle of clothing, the soft crunch of gravel beneath the soles.
"Oh dear," Saki's voice sounded almost gentle, with a hint of disappointment. "Why run away? I only asked for your name. Is that really so much to ask?"
Fuyumi tried to stand, but her arm—broken, useless—twisted, and she fell again, crying out from a sharp flash of pain. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead. Her breathing faltered. With her good hand, she touched the back of her head, feeling a sharp pain; blood was staining her snow-white hair with red streaks a burgundy colour. The warmth at the back of her head filled her with dread, and, worst of all, she could feel the blood slowly oozing down her neck, trickling slowly down her back.
"Let's get rid of the unnecessary." With a deft movement of his hands, he snatched her glasses from her and flung them to the ground. A flash of madness crossed her mind; she was still terrified by the cracked brick in his hand. There was no way of knowing what thoughts were swirling through his head. He pulled her shoes off her feet, flinging them far away. Realising what was coming next, she panicked, kicking her legs in a desperate attempt to fight back. With his claws, he pierced her skin and trousers, and, seizing her right leg with all his strength, he pressed down on her knee, breaking the joint.
Unable to bear her screams, he began striking her face until he first broke her nose and then his claws in his hand tore her face to shreds. Senku Saki's final act was to smash her head with a stone until her skull cracked and pieces of her brain spilled out.
He gloated, laughed, rejoiced and took pride in having disfigured his beautiful victim. Her face was stained with blood, and her eyeballs had been gouged out. The flesh of her face was stained the burgundy colour of her own blood. Her snow-white hair, streaked with red, was stained with patches of dried blood. The most satisfying sight was how her clothes had been torn, exposing her breasts, and how she looked naked without any extra clothing, her broken limbs with protruding bones.
***
First there was darkness. And then—fear. A pure, primal terror that twisted his insides into a knot and made his heart pound so hard that his ribs felt as though they were about to snap. Izuku threw his eyes open, but the image was still there before him: Fuyumi on the ground, her white hair soaked in blood, her eyes filled with a despair he had never seen even in the fiercest of battles. And above her—a shadow. Black, faceless, with hands reaching for her throat.
He tore the blanket from himself, feeling neither fatigue nor pain. Only one obsessive, throbbing certainty in his temples: she was there. Right now. Alone.
The plaster cast on his right leg became an obstacle, a wall he had to tear down. Izuku struck it with his fist—once, twice. The hard mass cracked but did not give way. He growled—hoarsely, like a beast—and brought his fist down on the cast with all his might. White shards flew across the room, revealing pale skin that had not yet fully healed.
"What's happened?" Andy's voice sounded concerned, almost alarmed. The symbiote could sense his state of mind—a mixture of rage, fear, and a cold, icy resolve that hadn't been there before.
Izuku didn't answer. He took a step, and his left leg buckled — the joint, which hadn't had time to heal, shot with a sharp pain. He collapsed to one knee, clenching his teeth so hard that his gums dug into his skin. But he didn't scream. He didn't allow himself to.
"It's time to finish what I should have done long ago," he said, and there was nothing in his voice of the soft, uncertain boy they had known. There was steel. Cold, tempered in the fire of loss.
The symbiotic mass reacted instantly, flowing over his leg to form a tight, elastic bandage that compressed the joint, easing the pain and allowing movement. Andy's hand glided over his skin, and within a second, black fabric covered Izuku's body, drawing in the gear scattered around the room. Mei's clawed gloves, reinforced boots, armour plates on his forearms — all became part of a single, flexible suit of armour.
Peering into the host's mind, Andy saw what he saw. He saw Fuyumi. He saw that shadow. And a fury stirred within the symbiote—a fury Izuku had never sensed in it before. Not hunger. Not a desire to defend itself. A desire to destroy.
The window flew open at a single flick of a tentacle. The night air rushed into the room, cold and sharp. Without looking back, Izuku stepped into the void, and as he fell, his body was already changing — a black mass grew and pulsed, taking on the form that only the two heroes had seen that night. A form born not of reason, but of the very darkness that had accumulated within him over the years.
The landing was hard — the tarmac cracked beneath his feet, leaving a web of fissures. People on the street scattered, someone screamed, but Izuku didn't see them. He saw only a single dot on the city map — the signal Fuyumi had managed to send before everything went wrong. The phone in her pocket was still active. So she was still alive.
Alive.
He shot forward, leaving a black trail behind him. The wind whistled in his ears, buildings flashed by as blurred blurs, but he took no notice of anything. Only the target. Only her.
'Hang on,' the thought was more of a prayer than a command. 'Hang on. I'm coming.'
The city rushed past, but for Izuku, time had slowed. Every beat of his heart echoed in his temples: faster, faster, faster. Andy, sensing his state, didn't interfere, didn't ask questions. He simply worked — accelerating, amplifying, helping him ignore the pain in his leg, which still throbbed but no longer mattered.
The dark alley she'd turned into was already close. Izuku could smell her scent — blood, fear, despair. And something else. The rotten, sweetish scent of a predator that had already found its prey.
His teeth clenched so hard that his enamel cracked.
He flew into the alley without slowing down, and the first thing he saw was… no one.
After running down the alley and searching every corner, Izuku found no one. Only the musty smell of waste and rubbish. Hoping to find her, Izuku hid in the shadows and tried to make a call.
Never in his life had a phone call felt as nerve-wracking as it did now. His hands were shaking with stress, and every ring seemed heavier than a sledgehammer. Trying to cope with his fear, Izuku closed his eyes, trying to come to terms with his teacher's violent death. His mouth was dry with anxiety, and the alley seemed larger than usual. With fear and trepidation, he dialled the number, but Izuku got no answer.
His panic grew exponentially until she called back.
"Fuyumi-sensei, are you all right?" he asked, but there was no reply, only an oppressive silence and the bright screen of the phone. Izuku despaired, realising he'd managed to reach her, until a weary voice answered him.
"Who is it?"—it was that same voice, just sounding tired at two in the morning. Izuku let out a sigh, as if the weight of his responsibilities had been lifted from his shoulders. He stepped down to the ground, leaning his back against a rubbish bin, and removed his symbiotic mask.
"It's me, your student Izuku. You weren't in class today, so I was really worried." Exhaling irritably, she resigned herself to the attention she usually faced. The noise from the streets made it hard to hear her clearly, and Izuku had to interpret some of her words so as not to annoy the person at two in the morning.
"There's no real need to worry about me. I'm fine. Next time, send me a message before you call." Izuku agreed with her, apologising for the inconvenience. After a couple of sentences, she hung up, leaving Izuku alone.
He leaned the back of his head against the cold metal of the container and exhaled. All the air he seemed to have been holding in his lungs since waking up in a cold sweat came out in one long, ragged breath. His hands were still trembling — the adrenaline was in no hurry to let go, pulsing in his fingertips, in his temples, in every cell of his body, ready for battle but having found no enemy.
Andy slowly and carefully stripped the combat suit from him, returning the symbiotic mass to its dormant state. The tentacles retracted, the armour thinned out, revealing the simple casual clothes Izuku had been wearing when he rushed out of the flat. He hadn't even noticed what he'd put on. It seemed to be an old T-shirt and tracksuit bottoms. And a single sock — the other had been lost somewhere along the way.
"She's alive," Andy's voice sounded quiet, almost soothing. "You heard her. She's fine."
Izuku nodded, but didn't move. His body refused to obey, having turned into a heavy, cotton-filled sack that he simply couldn't bring himself to stand up.
He stared at the phone screen, where the end-call icon was lit up. Call duration: forty-seven seconds. Forty-seven seconds to shatter the nightmare that had driven him across the city, breaking his cast and ignoring the pain in his still-unhealed leg.
Somewhere in the depths of his mind, an image from the dream surfaced: Fuyumi on the ground, blood on her white hair, a shadow looming over her. And him, running, but not getting there in time. Never getting there in time.
Izuku clenched his phone so tightly that the plastic creaked pitifully.
"It was just a dream," he said aloud, trying to convince himself. "Just a dream."
But deep down he knew: it wasn't just a dream. The fear of losing someone else. The fear of not making it in time. A fear that now burst forth every time he closed his eyes.
But deep down he knew: this wasn't just a dream. The fear of losing someone else. The fear of not having enough time. A fear that now surged to the surface every time he closed his eyes.
Andy didn't try to comfort him. The symbiote sensed everything — the irrationality of this fear, its depth, its pain. It simply sat nearby, in its corner of his mind, allowing the host to get through this moment. A silent presence was sometimes more important than any words.
"There will be no diplomatic solution. Senku Saki must die."
To be continued