Three nights had passed since the raid in Naruhata.
Masato stood atop an unfinished skyscraper, the wind tugging at his coat. His new quirks had given him power beyond anything he'd imagined—but the label on the crate wouldn't leave his mind.
> Child Cargo – A-13
He hadn't reported it to Garaki. He hadn't destroyed it either.
Instead, he had traced the serial number etched onto the crate's lock. It led him to coordinates stored in Garaki's encrypted network—files that should have been inaccessible to anyone but the doctor himself.
But Masato was no longer "anyone."
He was beyond what Garaki had planned.
That night, he descended into the ruins of a long-abandoned medical facility on the outskirts of Mustafu. Officially, it was condemned. Off-grid. Forgotten.
Unofficially—it was still very active.
With Pulse Suppression active and Void Step pulsing through his legs, he infiltrated silently. The halls were dim, the smell of chemicals and sterilized metal still clinging to the air.
He passed rows of steel tanks—each containing murky fluid and something small floating inside.
He stopped.
Children.
Some unconscious. Some awake. All of them suspended in strange fluids, tubes connected to their bodies, their quirks being stimulated or forcibly overwritten.
> "Quirk Compatibility Testing: Subject A-13 to A-38 – In Progress."
Masato felt the cold twist in his chest.
He clenched his fists, Phantom Blaze flaring instinctively.
Then—
> "I see you found my legacy project."
Garaki's voice echoed over the lab intercom.
Masato turned slowly, eyes hardening. "What… is this?"
The doctor's sigh was almost nostalgic. "The world rejected progress. So I made my own. These children were born with defective or unstable quirks. I've simply… corrected nature's mistake. Each of them will become a vessel—perhaps even a replacement for you, should the time come."
Masato growled. "You never said anything about using children."
Garaki's tone darkened. "You're growing soft. I made you to rise above weakness. To become the perfect ghost. The quiet god of war. Not a bleeding heart vigilante."
Masato's face was unreadable. But his heart thundered.
One of the children blinked and stared at him from inside a pod—no older than eight. Her hands were burned from repeated injections.
He turned away.
"I'm finishing this mission," Masato said coldly. "But after that, we're done. You won't control me."
Garaki laughed.
"You think I didn't plan for this? You were never free, Masato. I made you. You'll obey me—or you'll burn."
The lights in the lab cut out.
Emergency red strobes kicked in.
Masato didn't wait.
He destroyed every tank he passed on his way out.