Sand looked at the text he had received from Midnight.
The school had suspended Luke until the third semester's final exams for fighting with an upperclassman.
Sand winced.
Things had always been sour between Luke and Rikuya, especially on the latter's part.
It had never been his place to mediate between the Saionji children, however, as he was merely Mr. Reijirou's personal bodyguard.
Only later, after Mr. Saionji assigned him to watch over Luke, had he begun seeing that side of the equation.
Sadly, he had found that side as hollow as his own life, burdened by an immense weight of repressed emotions — anger chief among them.
Still, despite all those turbulent feelings he had noticed Luke burying within himself, Sand had never detected a hint of vengeful intent in the boy.
That had come as the greatest surprise.
Because had he been in Luke's shoes, Sand knew he would have been on the verge of tearing everything and everyone apart; much less needed to be said of having a bully for a stepbrother.
On the contrary, Sand remembered Luke showing nothing but genuine concern for the rest of the Saionjis — even for Misaki, whose hatred for the boy was barely concealed.
So, as he stared at the screen, Sand knew Luke fighting Rikuya, as described, was anything but a simple brawl between stepbrothers.
He put away his phone, wondering what Luke was plotting behind this drama.
"Your drink, sir," the bartender said.
Sand nodded and downed the whiskey in a single swallow, letting the burn sear his throat. "Another."
Luke…
They were losing him, Sand knew.
This much he had already shared with Mr. Reijirou.
Luke had surely gotten the fleeting thrill of playing student out of his system by now.
What they truly needed to do was pull the boy out of the school and begin preparing him for the real work, even if that meant clashing directly with UA.
Sand knew this because he was thoroughly sick of playing teacher himself.
Oh, he enjoyed the novelty, sure enough.
But… he couldn't forget what he truly was, could he?
Sand was an assassin, and Luke was forged from something far colder.
People like them, especially with the power they possessed, shouldn't be wasting their time in a classroom.
Because when they did, they inevitably looked for ways out through absurd means.
Just as Luke had done by getting himself suspended to escape mundane lectures, and just as he had done by taking this assignment to escape the farce of playing faculty.
"That's him…" the bartender murmured, sliding over another shot.
Sand's pupils shifted to the corners of his eyes.
A middle-aged man, seemingly drowning in his own misery with his head down, was walking out of the bar with his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets.
As the target exited onto the street, Sand rose, leaving the second whiskey untouched.
Dusk had already settled over the city.
Sand stepped out into the evening chill, lit a cigarette, and trailed the man, keeping enough distance to blend into the pedestrian traffic.
CRACK!
The storefront window directly ahead of the target shattered outward as a hulking, masked brute barged into the street, roaring with laughter and carrying an entire cash register onto his shoulder — a Villain!
The target paused, watching the panicked crowd scream for Heroes, while Sand tracked him from the shadows.
A Pro Hero arrived moments later, only to be blindsided and knocked unconscious by the brute's accomplice.
Villains operating in groups in broad daylight…
A sight that had become all too common since All Might's retirement, Sand observed.
It was as though every petty thug in the country was testing how far they could push their luck before getting put down for good.
The fact that Endeavor had claimed the No. 1 spot hadn't helped matters, either.
This particular crew — which loudly proclaimed itself Team Reservoir Dogs before scattering into the alleys — was testing its luck as well.
Sand paid them no mind.
He was no Hero.
No matter how convincingly he played the part when ordered, he could never escape what he truly was: a hired blade.
Once the commotion cleared, the target resumed walking.
Sand followed, flicking the spent ash from his cigarette.
The man eventually turned off the main avenue into a deserted alleyway.
Sand paused at the corner.
Waiting until the sound of footsteps faded into the distance, he melted into the shadows behind him.
Ahead, a low murmur reached his ears.
The man was speaking into a phone, his tone completely… ordinary.
A sinking feeling stirred in Sand's chest at the thought of this lead ending in yet another dead end.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Frowning, Sand pulled it out, half-expecting another update on Luke.
No.
It was merely another dinner invitation from Midnight.
Sand switched off the phone and shoved it back into his pocket.
Just then, a violent crash echoed down the alley, as if someone had collided hard with a metal dumpster.
Sand froze.
Rather than taking another step, a fine layer of sand gathered beneath his soles.
Gliding silently over the grit, Sand drifted forward without making a sound.
His instincts had been right.
The man was throwing himself against the dumpsters and the brick walls, clutching his skull as if waging a violent war inside his own mind.
Even in the gloom, Sand could make out the agonizingly contorted expression on his face before the man turned around and slammed his head into the wall.
A complete madman!
Then, with a low, desperate growl as if his sanity had finally snapped, the man reached into his coat.
Sand watched as the figure whipped out a mask and pulled it over his head, gasping in ragged relief.
In the dim light, with the man's back turned, Sand couldn't see the mask's features.
But slowly, the figure began turning around.
Time slowed down to a crawl.
Every muscle in Sand's body tensed as his eyes locked onto the pattern of that mask — white across the forehead, with stark black dominating the rest.
Yes.
It was him.
Jin Bubaigawara — Twice — one of the Claws of Conformity, and…
… the most dangerous man in the country, whom Sand had been ordered to eliminate!