The smell of stale coffee and old files in Detective Tsukauchi's office was a mundane counterpoint to the increasingly bizarre nature of the "Blood King" case. Shota Aizawa listened to Tsukauchi's report, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Eighteen months. An unidentified vigilante, operating alone, with inhuman strength and speed. Targets: criminals. Method: swift, brutal attacks, leaving victims alive but in shock and severely anemic. No detectable Quirk signature. Rumors of strange abilities – eye beams, freezing. And the sinister reputation growing in the underworld, personified by the name "Blood King."
"The lack of an identifiable Quirk is what worries me most," Tsukauchi admitted, rubbing his tired eyes. "The attacks are getting bolder, the targets sometimes more dangerous. A few heroes tried to intervene and were easily neutralized, with reports of their Quirks failing or being ignored."
Aizawa felt a chill. A power that might not be a Quirk? That could resist or ignore other Quirks, perhaps even his Erasure? "You want me to go after him." It wasn't a question.
"We need to know what we're dealing with, Eraser," Tsukauchi said. "You're our best chance to observe, assess, and, if possible, neutralize. Find out the nature of this power. If it's a Quirk, erase it. If it's not..." He let the sentence hang in the air. If it wasn't, the situation was far more dangerous. "Intel suggests he might hit an arms smuggling rendezvous in the docks tonight. It's an isolated area. Your best chance to encounter him."
Hours later, Aizawa was on the cold, damp rooftop, observing the warehouse below. He saw the smugglers arrive, nervous and armed. He waited, camouflaged in the shadows, senses alert.
Then, he appeared. A lone figure, tall, hooded, and masked, descending from the upper rafters with a silence and agility that were inherently unnatural. He moved with stunning speed, incapacitating the three smugglers in seconds with precise, brutal strikes before they could adequately react.
There he is, Aizawa thought, his heart rate quickening slightly with adrenaline. Fast. Strong. Efficient. He watched as the Blood King knelt briefly beside one of the fallen victims – checking vitals? Or doing something more sinister, related to the reported anemia?
Aizawa decided it was time. He couldn't let the target escape. He needed to confirm the nature of that power. Using his capture weapon, he silently descended to the courtyard opposite the warehouse, placing himself at a tactical distance from the Blood King, who now stood, clearly aware of his presence.
The two faced each other. The Underground Hero and the masked enigma. Aizawa felt the cold pressure emanating from the figure, an aura of contained power very different from any Quirk he had ever encountered. He readied his capture weapon, eyes fixed on the target, prepared to activate Erasure.
The Blood King tilted his head slightly, an almost mocking gesture of curiosity. He could feel the hero's intent, the way his eyes focused, readying his famous ability. Pathetic, Reiji thought. He still doesn't understand.
Aizawa exploded into motion, launching his capture weapon in a binding web while activating Erasure with full force.
And, like a cold confirmation of his worst fears, absolutely nothing happened to the Blood King. No flicker, no loss of power. The figure merely watched the capture weapon approach and then moved.
The speed was even more shocking up close. Reiji slid through the closing bindings, not just dodging, but moving in a blur that rendered the capture attempt futile. In the blink of an eye, he was inside Aizawa's guard.
The fight began. Aizawa used all his skill and experience, his capture weapon a defensive and offensive whirlwind, trying to create space, trying to off-balance. But it was like fighting a ghost made of steel. Reiji's blows were too fast to fully avoid, too strong to block without consequence. Aizawa took a hit to the flank that knocked the wind out of him, his ribs protesting. He managed to briefly bind Reiji's arm, but the hold was broken with a strength that nearly dislocated his own shoulder.
He used tactics, dust, the environment – anything to gain precious seconds, to analyze. But Reiji was relentless, adapting quickly, pressing the advantage with cold efficiency. Throwing knives emerged from the shadows, forcing Aizawa to dodge and defend, losing ground.
Then came the cold. Reiji's outstretched hand, emanating an unnatural frost that threatened to freeze Aizawa in place. He retreated instinctively, the shock of the new ability adding another layer of danger to the already desperate situation.
Strength, speed, knives, ice... and immune to Erasure, Aizawa's mind cataloged rapidly. This isn't a Quirk. It's something else.
He knew he had to end this quickly, or he wouldn't leave alive. In a desperate gamble, he used a feint and his capture weapon to create a momentary opening, binding Reiji against a wall with multiple layers of reinforced fabric.
For an instant, he thought he'd succeeded. But then came the pressure, the red eyes blazing with pain and fury behind the mask, and the sharp sound that tore through the air.
Two beams of dark red energy shot from Reiji's eyes, hitting Aizawa at point-blank range. Excruciating pain in his shoulder and leg sent him crashing to the ground, while the bindings holding Reiji ruptured from the released force.
Reiji was free, panting, but triumphant. He took a step towards the fallen hero, ready to finish the job. But the sound of approaching sirens made him hesitate. Reinforcements. He had achieved what he wanted – tested himself, demonstrated his power, confirmed Erasure's futility.
With a final look of contempt at Aizawa, the Blood King vanished into the shadows as quickly as he had appeared.
Aizawa lay there, agonizing on the cold ground, pain a red haze in his vision, the grim understanding solidifying in his mind. The Blood King wasn't just a powerful vigilante. He was an anomaly, a threat of unknown nature and terrifying strength. And he was completely outside the rules Aizawa knew. The hunt had just become infinitely more dangerous.