Ficool

Chapter 6 - Only one path

The young Dragon settled into a small apartment. It was a simple but quite cozy room on the second floor of a new building. The room had room for a bed, a closet, a desk, and a small kitchen with a stove, but the Japanese mentality didn't allow for overly spacious rooms. Every square meter had to be put to good use!

After completing the recruitment process at headquarters, signing the relevant transfer and confidentiality documents, Ryuushiro officially joined the HPSC, albeit only for a probationary period. There were many other people in Internal Security besides him, many whom he wouldn't be able to remember, but a few important ones are worth mentioning.

Doran turned out to be the head of this department, and he'd hidden it well until the last moment. Ryuushiro was once again amazed by the Major's cunning; he'd managed to lure him into his own department, even though he'd let him choose the departments.

The first thing he was introduced to was Madam President.

Sitting across from this woman in a beautiful office with a view of Tokyo and Mount Fuji, it was as if she'd deliberately designed the office so that visitors could gaze out over all of Japan. Even though the visitors included media personalities, celebrities, politicians, and investors, that didn't detract from the impression she made.

Ryuushiro sat quietly and modestly, enjoying the views,

— Tokyo is truly beautiful, but only from a bird's eye view. Down below, however, a whole stew of life... and death... simmers. -The woman smiled slyly. — I've long wanted to meet you, Ryuushiro Genba. An officer now. Welcome to our team. If you perform perfectly, the HPSC will be your career ladder. Believe me, I have the connections to elevate you.

Ryuushiro didn't understand why she clung to him so tightly, immediately playing her trump card and choosing the carrot over the stick. Madam President clearly sees him as a valuable asset she wants to invest in.

— I am flattered by your attention to my person, -the dragon bowed his head.

Madam President looked at him doubtfully. She'd expected a spirited, untamable individual, difficult to control. Was this a subservient dragon or not? She found it difficult to discern the truth behind his mask of benevolence and compliance, but she knew the boy had learned to watch his tongue.

She continued, — So, I have a lot to tell you. Since you signed the non-disclosure agreement, that absolves me of responsibility. And you're a junior officer, so you have access to Level 4 classified information in our archives. Tell Ryushiro, you know I'm not a police officer, right? I have no rank or shoulder straps, and the minister appointed me to this position.

Understanding was evident on Ryuushiro's face. He knew the structure of the HPSC.

— My position is essentially that of chief representative of the entire body. I'm not the leader, but merely represent your interests and those of Japan, although I bear responsibility for the heroic organization as a whole.

— But if you are not a police officer and do not have a rank, then, in fact, the Internal Security Department, where only police officers are located, does not report to you.

— Correct. They are formally part of the HPSC, but I have no authority over them. However, that's no reason to work separately, as we share the same interests and goals: maintaining public order and security. Formally, you've joined the Internal Security Department, which is functionally independent of the HPSC, but legally falls under its control. This decision was made long ago, with the formation of the new government and the Heroes' Association."

- That's it...This won't be a problem between us.

— Excellent. Now I'll tell you which area of activity requires your attention, based on Doran's reports. Since you're still inexperienced, which doesn't prevent me from knowing about your successes at the academy, your first assignment is to go to Nagoya and interrogate the guy we found this new suspicious substance on." Madame President placed a folder with documents related to the case on the desk. "Our scientists are trying to determine its effects, but you understand, you can't do that on people, and animals show signs of severe rejection, violence, and irritation to the drug. You need to find out what it is, and most importantly, where the 'activist' got it from. I repeat. Do EVERYTHING to find out. According to our information, he is currently in temporary custody at the Nagoya Detention Facility.

Madam President's hint was understood, and Ryuushiro left the office with mixed feelings. On the one hand, the elderly woman demonstrated composure and composure in her work, but on the other, she gave no reason to suspect her of incompetence. This drug was obviously quite serious, since they were so eager to seize on it. The origins of this hydra were still unclear.

It was clear the woman wanted to see how far Ryuushiro would go. How dirty he would get his hands, for the sake of everyone's goals. "She wants blood? She'll get it on a silver platter."

Ryuushiro studied the arrested boy's file even before arriving in Nagoya.

«20 years old, single, likes to drink. Violent temper. Nationalist because of bad company. Who's his family? His sick grandmother. Excellent leverage. The following are the most important charges—the ones he's going to be tried for. Vandalism, property damage, littering, resisting arrest, assaulting an officer, drinking alcohol in public. There's a whole bunch of them. He'll definitely get ten years in prison. That's a good one to use.»

The dossier wasn't particularly helpful, but it was worthwhile. Threaten a prison sentence for drug possession? Legally, this substance isn't yet recognized as a narcotic, so it's impossible to charge someone under any specific article. Such an article simply doesn't exist in the criminal code yet. This is a flaw in the legal and legislative systems.

The most curious thing is why they forced Ryuushiro to go to another city if there will be their own police there, who have 100% already questioned him. Maybe the guy is keeping quiet because he was given a lawyer, and he thinks he'll be jailed? Or is it the police's incompetence?

East Nagoya. Not the best part of town. On the way to the station, he spotted a few prostitutes on the highway. A perfect indicator of the crime rate and the incompetence of the local police. Ryuushiro wasn't sure what he expected to see at the local police station. Fat cops with tons of donuts? What an American-style cliché. Surely, in Japanese style, it would look like a cop with ramen noodles hanging over his ears, unable to fit into his kimono, unable to draw his katana.

A police station. As he entered, he'd already noticed numerous violations. They hadn't checked him for weapons, even though he was carrying his service pistol. At the counter, an elderly policeman, swaying lazily in his chair while reading a newspaper, didn't even deign to make eye contact.

Ryuushiro cleared his throat and barked so loudly throughout the police station that the cop fell out of his chair.

— Officer Ryuushiro Genba. Internal Security Department!!!

The policeman's face twisted in confusion and fear as Ryuushiro stood over him, his serious expression and dragon-like pupils staring into his. The other officers noticed and approached. Ryuushiro presented his identification, while the cops glanced warily at his holstered pistol. Having confirmed his identity, they no longer glanced suspiciously and greeted him lazily.

Having stated the purpose of the visit, one of the officers took him to the pretrial detention center. While the others whispered.

— Have you interrogated the suspect? -Ryuushiro asked the police officers clearly.

— Naturally, but he refused to cooperate, citing his lawyer. Then a police officer arrived with the name Doran on his ID. To our surprise, instead of speaking to the lawyer, he confiscated the substance found on the suspect as evidence and then left the station."

Ryuushiro could only sigh with tension and disappointment. It couldn't serve as evidence yet, as the substance wasn't classified as a narcotic by law. It hadn't even undergone forensic testing! Okay, so it had undergone even more testing, but there was no need to know that yet. The local forensic expert hadn't found anything strange or forbidden, or anything that would fall under the category of prohibited substances. Nevertheless, Doran had learned of it and had deliberately confiscated the substance.

— They definitely know something more and aren't saying it, -Ryuushiro thought.

— Call a lawyer, I'll talk to him.

Standing in the gray room across from the desk where the lawyer and the suspect sat, Ryuushiro realized he'd recently sat in that same spot. "Time flies."

— Please introduce yourself, officer, -the assertive lawyer began, surprised by the young officer. He grew confident, beginning to think he could outmaneuver him. Such disdain only played into Ryuushiro's hands.

— Ryuushiro Genba. Internal Security Department. -Now Ryuushiro was entering a cunning game in which it didn't matter whether he won or lost. He had to complete the task and obtain the information. Let the lawyer think he holds all the cards. "You probably already know that a suspicious substance was found on the suspect..."

— As far as I know, forensic experts have not yet sent the results of the study of the suspected substance.

— True. The forensic examination results are mandatory. Therefore, the court cannot yet render a verdict on the other charges. However, on the other charges, the evidence is irrefutable. His conclusion is only a matter of time. A year more, a year less. Therefore, I offer the "suspected activist" a unique opportunity to assist the investigation, plus repentance, and most likely, in a month you will be released on probation, posting bail. The judge and prosecutor will certainly view your cooperation with the investigation positively.

Of course Ryuushiro was bluffing. He doesn't even have the prosecutor's contact information.

The trial hadn't yet taken place, so it was crucial for the lawyer to secure the best outcome for the defendant before it began. The forensic examination results were also crucial, since, as the defendant claimed, there was a chance it wasn't drugs and a loophole in the law could be exploited. And this was a unique opportunity to assist the investigation. The lawyer understood that the longer the forensic examination results were delayed, the worse things would get. Any opportunity was crucial.

— Your proposal, officer, sounds attractive to us.

— But... -the nationalist began to object, having previously silently observed the dialogue.

— Let me decide your future. Now is neither the time nor the place to interfere and give in to your pride.

The defendant cooled down and quietly spat out something like, "Fucking cop."

Though his gaze into Ryuushiro's eyes betrayed a certain awe and respect. He understood and sensed that behind the mask of benevolence lay something deeper and wilder.

In short, the defense attorney managed to coax the defendant into revealing the source of the substance. The name of the substance, Trigger, was mentioned, and rumor had it that it made the user of a Quirk stronger. He'd gotten it completely free from a typical-looking Japanese guy in an office suit, who also carried a briefcase with him at all times. The transaction had taken place last Thursday. According to the defendant, the only reason he refrained from using the substance was because he wasn't a drug addict and was afraid to use unknown substances, and he supposedly wanted to get rid of it.

Ryuushiro didn't even have to resort to traditional methods . Bargaining with the lawyer was a brilliant idea, a win-win for everyone, and Ryuushiro saved time and was now returning to the office with his report. The defendant's fate didn't concern him.

...

Immediately upon returning, he wrote a detailed report, complete with all the details, and that was the end of his workday. Returning home, he was greeted by a quiet apartment. It seemed a little empty and gray. The dragon went to the shower, where he immediately noticed several imperfections. He needed to attach a couple of shelves, tighten the closet door, and so on. So Ryuushiro headed to the mall.

Now that his salary was 500,000 yen a month, not including bonuses, he could afford a lot, but, as was his habit during his frugal life in the orphanage, he took only the bare necessities and always cooked for himself. Cooking magazines, flowers, cozy dark blue sheets, an orthopedic mattress, kitchenware, curtains, and, of course, a Japanese flag on the wall—he considered himself a patriot.

The apartment immediately became more vibrant. Flowers in clay pots filled the room with their scent. His favorites were chrysanthemums and carnations. It's surprisingly rare when guys like flowers so much that they plant and care for them at home. A pleasant habit from the academy. He had a cactus there, which now took pride of place on a shelf in his new apartment. Ryuushiro loved wildlife, especially flowers, and at least this way he would have a little piece of nature in his apartment, since Tokyo is too urbanized and has no room for it.

Leafing through a cooking magazine and taking out ingredients, he spotted a random recipe and began finely chopping vegetables before putting water on the stove. People usually looked up recipes online, but he'd just bought himself a good smartphone. They didn't have those in shelters, and he wasn't used to using phones for anything other than making calls. His old push-button phone had always served him well, and it would continue to do so now. The phone rang, distracting Ryuushiro from his cooking. Wearing an apron, he wiped his hands on a white towel and answered. It was Doran.

"Hello. I just read your report and passed it on to Madam President. You did great for a first timer. I was betting you'd punch the defendant in the face, and the lawyer to boot." The man laughed.

"Communication and cooperation," Ryuushiro turned it on loud and continued cooking.

"A trigger, then. I have a bad feeling about this. We've already assigned the information department to track the target in the jacket. I wonder where his trail will lead..."

"The office clerk's disguise is very strong. We need to send out a profile. Keep me posted. I'm curious too."

"Okay, I'm in touch. Get settled in for now, explore the area, and keep a low profile," he said goodbye.

...

Not even a day had passed when a new summons landed on Ryuushiro's desk. The same nationalist he'd recently interrogated had suddenly "opened up." Whatever the meaning, it seemed Ryuushiro's presence during their previous meeting had had a positive effect on him. Apparently, he was trying to curry favor and attract attention by exposing shady characters. His tongue loosened—and in addition to the source of the substance, he ratted out several other individuals active in eastern Nagoya. Among them, a particularly shady character stood out: rumor had it he was storing, and possibly even producing, a substance officially banned not only in Japan. This was too serious a matter to ignore.

In the morning, at the office, Doran personally handed him an arrest warrant, accompanied by a stern look:

"You'll be working alongside the locals. The situation is messy, but your interrogation experience shows you can handle it. Take control of the search and detention."

Evening. East Nagoya.

The small apartment in the high-rise building looked ordinary, but the atmosphere inside, after the lock had been forced, was visibly oppressive. The air was thick with the stifling smell of cheap tobacco and stale food. Under the dim yellow light of the lamps, cameras on tripods stood by the double bed, cables running to a computer.

"As if they weren't just storing it here," muttered one of the officers, pulling his mask down over his face. "They were filming it too..."

The words rang unpleasantly in Ryuushiro's head. He adjusted the sleeve of his suit. His throat felt dry, and a wave of anger rose in his chest. But he suppressed it, inhaled, and regained his cool control. He was an officer now, not a beast. At that moment, he caught the faint creaking of floorboards in the next room. Instinct told him there was movement there. Instantly drawing his pistol, he gestured to his colleagues and stepped forward.

The door creaked, revealing a wide-open window. Cables were torn out on the floor, and the hard drives were missing from the system unit.

"That disgusting slug..." Ryuushiro hissed.

Without thinking, he rushed to the window and jumped down. Behind him, he heard shouts:

— Are you crazy?! This is the third floor!

For a moment, Ryuushiro was confused by the height of the fall, but the dragon landed softly, as if for its body the fall was merely a short jump. He was momentarily surprised, but there was no time to think. A man in a gray hoodie was running down the street in a panic, clutching a bag to his chest. He turned for a moment and met the eyes of the Internal Security officer. That predatory gaze followed him, reading his every movement, abruptly switching on the fleeing man's survival mode. His heart was pounding so hard it wanted to burst out. The victim sensed the predator's gaze and knew perfectly well that it was prey. Panic gave him speed, but it wasn't enough. Ryuushiro took off after him. His steps were jerky and rhythmic, quickly closing the distance, vaulting over obstacles. Moments later, he fell upon the fugitive, slamming him face-first into the hood of a parked car.

The metal crunched and a scream was heard.

"Even their appearance is disgusting," Ryuushiro muttered, wringing his hands and snapping the handcuffs shut. "They're all perverts, like carbon copies of each other."

"D-don't kill!!! They're killing me!!!!" he squealed like a pig, loud enough for the whole street to hear. His eyes frantically searched for a way out of the situation, while his subconscious was sounding the alarm about the dragon.

"Shut up," people turned their attention as Ryuushiro dragged the detainee by the collar into the patrol car.

Later, in the holding cell, the investigators removed the very same set of hard drives from the bag. After connecting them to the computer, Ryushiro asked the question he'd been wondering:

"Isn't it a problem to read the data from the hard drive?

" "Of course not. Even if a hard drive has been submerged, the contents are easily recovered. The only way to completely destroy the contents is probably a powerful electric shock or grinding the drives to dust. Hammering usually doesn't achieve complete destruction, only partial destruction. If at least one of the drives remains intact, some of the information will be preserved."

Confirmation of my worst suspicions flashed across the computer screen. Prohibited material. Involving minors, even juveniles.

One of the officers angrily slammed the lid of his laptop:

- Bitch! I hate this. I have a daughter myself! She's only twelve years old!

- Excuse me, but it wouldn't be a sin to shoot guys like that.

Ryuushiro stood at a distance, his fist clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. His draconic rage was bursting forth, demanding he tear the bastard apart on the spot. But he took a deep breath and held it in.

"I'm an officer. The law must come before the wrath of my predatory side. But if such deviants continue to appear, then we'll have to get tougher."

He left the room, leaving the criminal to the investigators. The fire was still seething inside, but his expression remained stony. It was time to hand in his report. He still had a lot of dirty work ahead of him.

...

A night patrol at the request of the local prosecutor in East Nagoya always promised trouble. Narrow alleys, the smell of damp and garbage, the flickering of the few streetlights—all of it hid danger. Ryuushiro was about to turn back to the street when he caught a strange movement in the shadows. A silhouette. The stranger lingered for a moment, as if waiting, and then slipped into the alley.

The officer's instinct overrode caution. Ryuushiro followed—and at that very moment, a sharp blow to the back of the head plunged darkness upon him.

He woke up in a damp basement. A dim lightbulb flickered overhead, highlighting the dusty walls. His suit was soaked in dirt and blood, his head ached, and his back ached from the awkward position. His hands were cuffed with police handcuffs.

"Have you come to your senses?" a muffled voice brought him out of his reverie.

The door creaked, and a man in an expensive but wrinkled jacket entered the room. His features were sharp, his eyes cold. This was the man behind the kidnapping.

"You shouldn't have messed with Mamori, that asshole spilled too much." His words fell like hammer blows. "He sold me out, and now my whole business is ruined. Now the whole town's whispering about me."

He stepped closer, and a sudden punch to the face brought Ryuushiro back to his senses. Blood flowed warmly from his cut lip.

"There's no point in yelling, cop," he continued. "I think we'll start with Granny Mamori. Let the rat know everything has a price."

Another man flashed in the shadows behind him—young, with a knife in his hand. His sadistic smile left no doubt as to his intentions.

"You shouldn't have worn your masks," Ryuushiro croaked, licking his bleeding lips. "I'll remember your faces."

The boss chuckled.

"We don't need masks. You'll only leave here feet first."

He snatched the ID from Ryuushiro's pocket, read it aloud, and frowned. The yakuza around him began to buzz.

"So, HPSC... Especially since we can't let you go. But you know, it'll be funny: we'll kill the old woman with your own weapon and blame it on you. Ha!"

With these words he left, leaving the officer alone with the executioner.

The metal of the knife touched his skin. Ice and fire in a single touch. The first cut on his cheek. The second across his chest, barely slicing through his shirt. Pain shot through his body, but with it came focus.

Ryuushiro gritted his teeth, not allowing himself to cry out.

"I will cut you up slowly, like a pig," the executioner hissed. "In the morning, your body will be found in the pigsty. That's where you belong."

The blade sank into the flesh again. Thin lines of red began to play across the arms and chest. Each drop of blood fell to the floor like a countdown.

"You cut like a girl," Ryuushiro said through clenched teeth. "I beat up people like you when I was a kid."

The bandit roared, slamming the knife handle into his face. The chair flipped over. A kick to the stomach shook his body, knocking his breath out of him. He leaned closer, preparing to strike again.

And then the dragon woke up.

Ryuushiro leaned forward as quickly as his current position allowed and sank his fangs into the man's neck. There was a crunch, and a warm stream of arterial blood splashed across his face and shirt. The man wheezed, trying to push him away, but his strength was quickly ebbing. His eyes, filled with terror, darted around, searching for salvation as the life drained out of him along with the blood. The knife in his hand tried to find its mark, but to no avail. A moment later, he went limp, choking on his own death.

Ryuushiro pushed the body away and raised his head, gasping for breath. The taste of iron in his mouth mingled with adrenaline and cold determination.

— You can't turn on your quirk in these conditions,— he croaked, — but this is enough.

He tugged at the chain between the handcuffs, tensing the muscles of his back and biceps. The metal stung, digging into his skin, but the chain gave way with a crack. Release came with a new wave of pain. Rising, he staggered to his feet, finding his ID card, looking askance at the dead man. He wiped the blood from his face and, barely able to stand, dialed the police number on the dead man's phone as he walked outside.

— This is Officer Ryuushiro Genba, code: U455061J. There is a murder here.

He sank to the cold concrete, breathing heavily. The bandit had a pack of Sipokk cigarettes in his pocket, and Ryuushiro lit one to calm his nerves. The bleeding didn't seem to be progressing much, which was surprising. He had dozens of cuts, but the blood had clotted quickly and easily. His head was spinning from the nicotine. But his gaze remained steady.

— They're not bad cigarettes. Too bad they suppress your sense of smell.— He finished smoking and tossed the butt away just as the blue and red lights arrived.

Later, doctors examined him at the hospital, noting multiple wounds and slight blood loss. The case was handed over to local police, along with a detailed report of the incident.

And the same image kept flashing through Ryuushiro's mind: the face of a bandit choking on blood. The nationalist Mamori's grandmother was saved. The criminals hadn't had time to commit anything terrible. Later, all the participants were imprisoned, and Ryuushiro identified several of them, including their boss. Furthermore, the boss had handed over the drug stash to reduce the judge's sentence. Ryuushiro also testified as a witness and a victim.

While in the hospital for a couple of days, Ryuushiro visited the elderly woman to make sure she was safe. As he stood in the doorway to enter the room, he saw Mamori, guarded by two police officers. He was apparently visiting his grandmother. The woman had escaped with a minor injury. After watching Mamori for about a minute, the handcuffed man finally noticed Agent Ryuushiro, dressed in hospital whites, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed.

Not a single word was spoken, but something like respect and gratitude could be seen in Mamori's eyes.

«This guy's not much of a talker. He probably doesn't trust the cops,» Ryuushiro chuckled and headed for the hospital cafeteria. They were serving delicious jelly there.

...

He was finally discharged from the hospital. Only four days in the hospital, and all his wounds had healed. The doctors also said that he should have suffered significant blood loss from such cuts, but there was none. Was his blood clotting quickly due to his dragon nature? I don't think that had ever happened before.

He lay down on the couch, throwing his shoes in the corner. «Reptiles can grow tails. They seem to have something to do with regeneration, too. I've known for a long time that my quirk isn't just a transformation. It affects my essence, so it's somewhere between transformation and mutation. Who the hell knows,» he whispered quietly in the silence of his apartment. After taking a shower, he couldn't take his eyes off the scars, tracing them with his fingers. About half the cuts weren't very deep and, once they healed, were almost invisible, but some were easily spotted with the naked eye. A small scar on the lip. The doctors managed to heal the scar on the cheek almost completely.

— Yeah. Damn Nagoya. Next time...no, there won't be a next time.

"Did I have a choice but to end this mockery of me? If I had used my quirk, he would have decided to clip my wings like a dove. I don't see how I could have freed myself faster and prevented the massacre."

Doran voiced his concern and alerted the entire Nagoya East Police Department, catching dealers and couriers red-handed. Everyone ratted on each other, knowing they faced long prison terms. Of course, some didn't crack, but they were insignificant pawns. Doran knew exactly who to pressure and who not to even bother questioning.

...

— I wanted to thank you for all this. You helped bust a major drug trafficking ring. Ryuushiro, do you want me to transfer you to Tokyo? After your injuries, I had doubts about your assignment to those dangerous areas. I didn't think such a storm would arise there. Apparently, Mamori was connected to many of the crime bosses in that area, and his loosening of his tongue angered many.

— In Nagoya, I think, in any case, after a series of searches, all the criminals will go back to their holes. We can try Tokyo, it'll be closer to home. And as for the wounds, they're just scratches. It healed quickly, like I was a dog. But I'm a dragon=_=.

— Your business. Just be careful. I feel like we've stirred up a hornet's nest, and the pretrial detention center will be rapidly filling up soon.

— You should be more worried about the safety of those I've detained than about me. That guy with the bitten throat, I still remember his look. After a short pause, Doran replied,

"Maybe you should see a psychologist? I can give you a couple of days off. You can arrange a day off. Tokyo is a new city for you, after all. Not at all like Hirashima.

— Forget it. I'm fine.

— You'll have your Quirk tested soon to get permission to use it. This week. So try not to end up in the hospital, okay?

— Okay, okay. I'll be careful. Is there any work for me in Tokyo?

— There always is. By the way...— As he was leaving the office, Ryuushiro stopped at the doorway with a folder of documents. He waited for Doran to formulate a thought. — How can I put it... They found Trigger among those drugs in the Nagoya warehouses. Not much, but they found it.

'This stuff is spreading..."

...

The night in Tokyo was chilly and restless. Ryuushiro was returning from questioning a witness when he received a call from the dispatcher. Unusual activity had been detected in the area around the old dock—traces of smugglers had been detected there—but surprisingly, the police were already calling not only the patrols but also a registered hero. The dispatcher gave a name: "Siren" —a low-ranking woman known for her strange gift: her voice could induce a trance or deafen people if she concentrated. This second-tier hero, almost forgotten by the press, worked more on neighborhood patrols than on the big stage.

Ryuushiro chuckled skeptically. He rarely interacted with lesser-known heroes, but the orders were clear: a joint mission.

When he arrived at the docks, the sea breeze carried the smell of rust and rotting fish. Metal beams creaked, and the occasional lantern flickered in the darkness. A thin figure in a blue cloak appeared among the shadows of the containers, and a soft female voice rang out:

— Are you Officer Ryuushiro? My name is Sirena.

She looked tired, her face hidden by a half-mask, and her eyes were wary. It was clear her reputation didn't allow her to feel confident around the HPSC agent.

— I don't care who you are,— he said coldly, straightening his tie and looking around. —The important thing is that you don't get in the way. If your voice really works as well as the reports say, you'll be useful for capturing someone alive.

Sirena pressed her lips together but remained silent. The two of them delved deeper between the containers and almost immediately heard booming voices. Several men were unloading crates, inside which Ryuushiro detected a sharp odor—a familiar chemical odor. Possibly drugs or precursors.

He darted first, like a shadow, and pounced on the nearest one. Handcuffs snapped, and a scream was heard. The others turned, grabbing batons and knives. One even pulled out a pistol.

— Siren! -Ryuushiro ordered sharply, hiding behind his captive.

She stepped forward, closed her eyes, and began to sing a short, almost vibrating tune. The vibrations of the air struck her ears, and the sounds became thick. Two of the smugglers staggered, their weapons falling from their hands, and the third clutched his head.

But the effect wasn't perfect: two managed to hold on, and one lunged straight at Ryuushiro with a knife. At that moment, the dragon within the officer roared. In one motion, he grabbed the attacker's arm and slammed his knee into him, sending him crashing down, howling in pain.

— Try again! -Ryuushiro hissed, a predatory glint flashing in his eyes.

The siren's voice increased in volume, this time the resonance sharpening, and the remaining enemies went limp, like dolls without strings. She was breathing heavily, and it was clear the technology was wearing her down.

"Phew..." She leaned against the side of the container. "I can hold them off for about five minutes. After that... I don't know."

Ryuushiro stepped closer, checking the bound man:

— That's enough. Your control is weak, but the effect is effective.

Her eyes lit up. Perhaps for the first time in a long time, she'd heard someone acknowledge its usefulness.

When police arrived on the scene, some of the detainees were still in a trance. Siren stood to the side, trying not to attract attention.

— It's strange to see a hero working like a shadow, -Ryuushiro said, lighting a cigarette. — Most of your colleagues love cameras and noise.

She smiled quietly with the corner of her lips.

— I don't need cameras. I just want my work to matter.

— Then keep up the good work, -he exhaled smoke, watching her. — You saved lives today. Those guys with guns wouldn't have spared anyone.

For Sirena, these words meant more than her restrained smile could indicate. As the police led the detainees away, she bowed her head.

— Thank you. I think we'll meet again.

— Perhaps, -he said curtly, looking at the shimmering lights of Tokyo in the distance. The dragon's anger still simmered within him, but a rare sense of respect had emerged over it. Not all heroes are created equal, and sometimes even the unpopular manage to find their place.

Ryuushiro stubbed out his cigarette and headed for the car, mentally noting that there were few true allies in the world. But that night had shown that even a weak voice could become a weapon if used in time.

...

It was time to undergo an examination and receive permission to use his Quirk. A key step in his career.

Ryuushiro spent the next week training and undergoing Quirk suitability tests. Basically, licensing and a general assessment of his physical fitness and capabilities. As a police officer, he wasn't allowed to use his Quirk without permission, and his license is valid for two years, requiring a re-validation each time. A Quirk, like a service weapon, is a special tool used strictly according to regulations. Therefore, the dragon didn't even fly on his own wings to Tokyo, but traveled by public transportation to avoid being conspicuous.

Contrary to expectations of a boring pastime, Ryuushiro was surprised to learn new aspects of his Quirk under the guidance of HPSC scientists. A man in a lab coat was researching his Quirk's capabilities. He clearly knew his stuff. All sorts of tests were conducted. Even diving underwater. To his surprise, after two minutes, he felt no discomfort from oxygen deprivation. Ryuushiro himself wasn't particularly fond of swimming and rarely did it. Curiosity piqued, he spent another ten minutes underwater, discovering he still didn't feel any discomfort from oxygen deprivation.

— No symptoms of hypoxia. Oxygenation has dropped to 40%, -the scientist wrote down the data on a tablet, standing by the pool. — Interesting, interesting... Grass snakes, snakes, and lizards can easily survive in water for long periods of time, drawing oxygen from the water through certain organs, and even enter a kind of suspended animation or underwater sleep. The blood vessels constrict, and the muscles consume less oxygen. I bet if you held your breath out of water, you wouldn't last more than two minutes. -The scientist clicked his pen, as if a new thought had occurred to him. — Don't dragons breathe fire?"

— What? I can also breathe fire? Lizards and snakes can stay underwater for a long time, that's clear, but spewing flames out of their mouths like the fucking Endeavour?!

"It hasn't been proven yet, but it could very well be. Try inducing a gag reflex, it might work."

He tried to force something out of his body with his mind and began blowing toward the dummy on the test site. For a couple of minutes, he tried to deflate the dummy, like the wolf from the Three Little Pigs. A barely perceptible glimmer of warmth in his throat prompted a more correct technique and execution. He stopped blowing like an idiot and simply focused on the growing feeling. First, he felt warmth inside, and then a fierce heat, red-hot...?his palm? His hand was bathed in a bright glow from the flames within. Muscles, bones, and veins became visible. Panicked, he pointed his hand toward the dummy, and a second later, a jet of flame shot out of his palm, right down the center, burning the dummy to ashes.

— What the hell is going on in my palm?! What the hell was that? Is there a flamethrower in my hand???

— It looked creepy and a little clumsy. Hm. From the palm of your hand... Strange.

— I thought your Quirk affected your face and transformation + mutation, but it seems I should add another type of Quirk. Destructive energy or something, -the scientist thought, quietly recording the data, moving on to the next measurement.

Wow, the maximum wingspan is three and a half meters, like a fighter jet," the scientist concluded. —So. Your Quirk is very strange, actually. This is the first time I've seen a Quirk with so many features. Support, transformation, mutation, and destructive. It's like all the Quirk types combined. The heat is controlled and does not harm the user's health. The flames emitted are stable, but it is not recommended for use against living targets. The A1 specimen, which is as close to a human as possible, has multiple fourth-degree burns.

While the scientist was writing his report, Ryuushiro felt a residual warmth inside his right hand, like the last squeak of the heat that had been raging within him. Goosebumps appeared on his skin from the indescribable sensation of warmth. It wasn't painful at all. For a second, it seemed he might lose control of himself and the emotions within him. Was the flame somehow affecting his mind, or was he simply engaging in predator mode? Probably from lack of familiarity.

Breathing underwater, spitting fire. What's next?

— The sensors showed the flames inside you reached a thousand degrees. Did you feel any discomfort?

— There was no discomfort. It was just unusual to experience something like this for the first time.

— Excellent, then it's time to test your flame immunity. So, let's continue. -The scientist escorted him to further testing.

— What?!...Are you going to spray me with a flamethrower?! -Ryuushiro found himself inside a concrete, insulated room, wearing heat-resistant shorts. A hissing sound came from the loudspeaker, followed by the voice of a scientist behind the glass on the other side.

— Why the flamethrower straight away? -the doctor smiled. —Don't worry. First, we'll test your quirkless heat resistance on a localized patch of skin. Bring your untransformed hand to the candle in front of you and try to hold it there as long as you can until you feel a sharp pain from the flame.

Ryuushiro followed this crazy idea, but he understood that this was how real Quirk research works. Not the kind usually conducted in local hospitals. Here, he was receiving the full treatment. A complete study and monitoring of all his indicators, and most importantly, none of the local staff would expose him to unnecessary danger. Well, almost... Quirks like his weren't common, so they had to resort to all sorts of experiments to obtain the full information.

An ordinary candle burned before Ryuushiro. He slowly raised his hand, ready to pull it back at any moment. The dragon tried to recall the last time he'd burned himself on something, and to his surprise, he found no such memory. His palm remained unburned, no matter how long he held it over the candle flame.

— Excellent. Complete immunity to regular fire, even without a Quirk.

— To the usual? Is there any possibility that unusual flames could harm me?

— Actually, yes. We don't yet know if you have heat resistance to, for example, burning gases like methane, and most importantly, if you have heat resistance to the flames of other Quirk users.

The pro-hero Endeavor immediately came to mind, with its endless scandals, just like its endless flame.

— Well then, launch your methane into the room.

— Are you sure? We don't know for sure.

— Yes, I'm sure. -Then came the scientist's excited sigh. He pressed a button, and the room was engulfed in a seething stream of flame for a few seconds. Nozzles, carrying a stream of methane, ejected flames at jet speed, plunging Ryuushiro's silhouette into the flames.

— God, if he doesn't survive, I'll definitely be fired, if not sent to prison for murder. -The scientist turned away from the glass and began whispering to himself, — I'm just following orders. Calm down.

His hands shook with excitement. A few seconds later, the gas burner cycle stopped, and Ryuushiro continued to stand in the room, breathing in the scorching air. The ventilation system kicked into high gear, forcing the methane out of the air. The scientist breathed a sigh of relief. The thermometer inside the chamber registered three thousand degrees Celsius. The concrete walls were coated in soot and turned black. It would be difficult for the cleaners to scrub off.

— Holy shit! Better than a cup of coffee in the morning! -the dragon shouted, jumping up and down. His body felt incredibly invigorated and warmed by the heat. Steam billowed from his mouth and nostrils, and his golden hair seemed completely unfazed by these pathetic attempts.

Only then did the scientist bring in his colleague, who possessed the Fire Touch Quirk. It became clear that using it had already begun to cause Ryuushiro pain and he couldn't avoid transforming. He was then forced to transform only partially. This is how he learned to avoid summoning wings.

The research didn't stop there, and he was recruited to lift weights in and out of his dragon form. The results were astounding. He grew three to five times stronger thanks to his dragon form and could bench press a ton of pure weight. Even without his dragon form, his punching force reached 2500 kg! For comparison, Mike Tyson's maximum punching force is 800 kg. Only at the end of the day, an exhausted Ryuushiro was given another meeting for the following day. Again. And so it went all week. He couldn't imagine how he could handle such weights. The dragon rarely found himself in conditions that pushed his body to its limits, so he didn't know the limits of his own strength. Perhaps the academy had hardened him? Or was he beginning to transform into something more?

...

Major Doran was in his office outside the HPSC headquarters as he read the report on Ryuushiro. The Internal Security Division headquarters was located near the United States Embassy in Tokyo, in an upscale neighborhood. His eyes widened as he read the physical examination and Quirk properties. His attitude toward Ryuushiro was cordial, as he was a good guy without any vices. His reeducation at the academy had only emphasized his strengths.

Doran thought that if Ryuushiro possessed the unruly and unbridled nature of a dragon, he'd be arrogant and greedy. Dragons supposedly loved gold, but that turned out to be a fantasy stereotype unrelated to dragons. Is he proud? Yeah, definitely, but that doesn't make him an arrogant jerk. In his case, it's actually a useful quality. Healthy egotism, etc.

After the academy, Ryuushiro became disciplined and showed nothing but his best side over the past two months. Responsible, cool-headed, and most importantly, logical. Hardworking. His calm and combative philosophy was captivating, and his gaze was enough to influence the mind. He has leadership potential; he fires a gun like a child of war. He knows the rules perfectly. This is the very beginning of his journey, and he's already showing impeccable results. What's next? What other qualities could such a fine fellow possess?

It turns out they can. There's no limit to perfection, as they say.

«Madam President shouldn't read this document, and the Heritage Project will be transferred to my management. Let her think about it, but it won't go further than that. The prospect of involving Ryuushiro in this is too good. He has a good chance of absorbing All Might's power, and it certainly won't make things worse. It's worth a try.»

On the one hand, this move will ensure the nation's future, but on the other, it will put Ryuushiro in an awkward position, "given" him great responsibilities and troubles. Does he need this? Essentially, the Legacy Project is a project to create a supersoldier, a loyal pawn for the state. If All Might is a private individual, then the Legacy Project can be used to select the right person for state affairs and problems.

The Major dreamed of seeing an honest, noble, and patriotic man at the forefront of Japan, as All Might currently is. Many in Japan dream of this, and their supporters number in the tens of millions. To some extent, this idea blinded the Major, and he couldn't see the obvious:

Someone will exploit their position and abuse their power to obtain such power as a pawn. Politics is a nest of vipers and cynical scum willing to do such things for power and wealth. If the pawn is a government one, they simply have no choice but to submit to a higher-up in the hierarchy or lose their position. A decree from a minister or the president? Pfft, who is this Ryuushiro Genba to disobey?! A mere officer!

There's no stopping this process anyway. The Major's influence on the Heritage project is far too insignificant. All Might has become imprinted on the foundation of Japanese culture, becoming practically a god. A true Symbol of Peace and Prosperity. And just imagine if it were taken away from the population dependent on it? Chaos and anarchy. Lawlessness, devastation. Japan's Golden Age is over.

The choice is Ryuushiro's. Whether he's ready, and what will follow after his choice, is unknown.

...

The top-floor office seemed quieter than usual. Not a tick of a clock, not a hum of air conditioning, as if the building itself were holding its breath. Ryuushiro walked with a thoughtful expression. The new information about his Quirk had thrown him off his usual rut. Inside, he was seething, but on the outside, he wore the same expression of calm, draconic disdain. It would seem that all these qualities were positive and an advantage, not a disadvantage. But something had been nagging at him for the last couple of days.

Or maybe he dreamed that after the flight he met a flying wise whale at the Tokyo Sky Egg, and it whispered some advice to him that he never remembered. ^_~

On his way to Madame President's office, he almost collided with Major Doran.

— Ah, Ryuushiro. An important job for us just came up there , -he said, formally as always, but with a hint of friendly

The dragon had already turned away from thoughts about his characteristics, but he felt in his gaze... a pause.

He narrowed his eyes, asking the question that interested him:

— What do you think about my new characteristics?

Doran froze for just a split second, as if trying to avoid the question and now searching for a response. A predator caught in a moment of weakness.

— I didn't know you could control fire. Dragons are supposed to spew it out of their mouths.

Eyes locked. Yellow, with vertical pupils, piercing the gray ones. Doran had already managed to hide behind a polite smile and looked away, but Ryuushiro caught something. Some shadow of doubt or understatement. Ryuushiro nodded, took a step aside, and walked past, not breaking eye contact until the very end.

Madame President greeted him with reserve. Her gaze, once piercing and attentive, was now… unfocused. As if she were looking right through him.

— Sit down, Ryuushiro. There's work for you.

He sat down, crossing his arms. Too calm. Too neutral. Even for her.

— Hello. I recently went through an inspection. I reported for a license to use a quirk as a special agent. You've probably had the opportunity to read my report." His voice was soft, but the tension was clear between the lines.

— Yes. I've read your report. Nothing remarkable. Everything is within normal limits. A good base, of course, but nothing particularly noteworthy."

Silence.

He tilted his head slightly to the side, as if he were thinking, and then said with a slight hint of irony:

— What do you think... Can dragons breathe fire?

She looked at him with a barely noticeable smile:

— I don't know. Can you do it? There are no records at the academy of you being able to do that.

Bach. Something inside clicked.

«But it was in the report…»

He lowered his eyes to the table. Then, carefully, without showing it, he asked:

— May I see my references, madam?

The old woman nodded, handing him a thin folder. He opened the document.

And then everything became clear.

The physical stats are understated. The Quirk is described vaguely. No mention of heat resistance, no mention of underwater breathing. And nothing at all about partial transformation or fire. Just a basic mutation and a vague concept.

A second. Another. He looked up, no longer expressing any emotion.

«What the hell...» having received a report on the next mission in his email, he sat down at the local buffet and grabbed something to eat. Mint tea helps him calm down and think.

Considering Doran's answer was accurate, and only one day had passed since the last study was completed, he deserved to read the original. What they blatantly and brazenly planted on Madame President was a falsification, designed to keep her from learning anything about me. It was obvious, clear even to a child, that she had lost her former interest in me. Just compare how she greeted me at our first meeting, and now I barely even merited her attention. Only one conclusion suggests itself. Most likely, my profile was classified, and she was fed false information for the sake of security. If I had known what abilities I possessed, I would have withheld the information for security reasons. It was also clear that Doran hadn't expected to see me here today; he's definitely involved. I don't even know, he probably wants to hide my stats from the public or even his closest circle. But I have no idea why? Yes, my stats are far from ordinary. I am a dragon, after all, and the new study confirms that. Fine. I don't want to guess anymore. I'd better get to work."

Ryuushiro pulled a PDA from his pocket, a work tablet with a biometric password. It contained a lot of useful stuff: access to a shared police database, police stations, a registry of Quirks and heroes. It also had a location tracking chip built into it. He checked his work email and read Doran's letters.

"Protocol No. 10956. I am handing over the case to Junior Officer Ryuushiro Genba with all the attached data and information regarding the open case.

According to the Information Department's report (link attached) under protocol #10956, an unidentified middle-aged man with an unremarkable and unremarkable appearance and no distinguishing features was identified: average age 35-45, wearing a black office suit and carrying a black briefcase with unknown contents. Surveillance footage provided by local police revealed that the suspect headed to the city of Naruhata, where his trail was lost.

Added an hour ago*

According to surveillance cameras and witnesses, the suspect was again spotted in the city of Naruhata, District XXX, where the hero of Eraser Head is currently patrolling.

Order from HPSC Chief Madam President: Monitor the area for Quirk usage by heroes and conduct on-site interrogation of suspects. Agent Status: Secret. Use of Force Level: Full Authorization.

The decision was approved by Director of Internal Security Doran at Internal Security Headquarters. In accordance with this order, the agent was granted access to equipment and gear at Internal Security Headquarters, and transportation to the combat mission location was arranged."

The dragon closed his PDA in agitation. "What's going on? Did they promote me to the next league after the test?"

He headed to headquarters, where he would don the appropriate gear. Currently, the law banning "Trigger" is being passed. It can't arrest anyone for selling the substance, but it can arrest a criminal if they intentionally harm or plan to harm another person or animal. It's a bit of a loophole. Criminals think they can exploit a loophole, but no. The police can easily exploit it, too.

— Finally, the first serious assignment. I can't wait!

"Conduct on-site interrogation"—a small remark—meant that Ryuushiro (the designated agent) had the right to interrogate a detained criminal or suspect, using any non-lethal method, directly at the scene of their arrest, without trial or investigation. His identity must remain anonymous, meaning he would operate under a mask.

— The bosses probably think they're giving me the dirtiest work, but I'm actually enjoying it! I have to show Doran what I'm capable of, and my career will be determined. -For Ryuushiro, staining his hands with the blood of his enemies and the nation's saboteurs is both a supreme pleasure and a sacred duty. Unleashing his inner beast and channeling it into useful pursuits—what could be better?

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