HPSC Headquarters – 09:00 AM
The conference room felt smaller than usual. Agent Mera sat at the long mahogany table, her eyes fixed on the steam rising from a paper cup of bitter coffee.
She hadn't slept in forty-eight hours. On the wall-mounted screen, a high-resolution photograph taken by a civilian's thermal-imaging camera showed the Osu Ward ruins.
"The target didn't just win," Mera said, her voice raspy. "He changed the environment. We sent in a forensic team to analyze the diamond pillar holding the rogue hero Aegis. The drill bits shattered. We tried high-intensity heat; the surface didn't even warm up. It's as if the object doesn't follow the thermal laws of this earth."
The President of the HPSC stood by the window, her silhouette sharp against the morning sun. "And the report from Lady Nagant?"
"She's in shock," Mera replied, flipping through a folder. "She keeps repeating that he called her a 'Janitor.' She said that when he snapped his fingers, the atmosphere didn't just move—it transformed. One moment she was aiming her quirk rifle at the threat, the next she saw a bunch of lilies, and her quirk was deactivated. She said his presence massive."
The President turned around. her expression was one of cold calculation. "He gave us a direct command to stop looking for him. He knows we were looking the crowds. He knows our names. If a man can rewrite the molecular structure of a high-grade organic weapon into flowers while yawning, we cannot treat him as a criminal. We treat him as a force of nature."
"So we stop?" Mera asked.
"We stop," the President confirmed. "If we push a man who calls himself the 'Freest Man,' we risk him deciding that the Commission is an inconvenience he needs to 'clean up.' Cancel all surveillance in the Musutafu residential sector. If he wants to be a ghost, let him be one. We have enough monsters to deal with."
-----
Musutafu Daily – 10:30 AM
Hideki slammed his palm onto the laminate desk, making his cold tea splash over the rim of the cup. "You're telling me the HPSC issued a total blackout? No mention of the ruins? No mention of the white flash?"
"Total gag order, Hideki," his editor said, not looking up from a layout. "If we print the name 'Hero X' or mention the 'Freest Man' quote, the government will pull our press credentials by noon. They're terrified."
Hideki sat back, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. He didn't care about the government. He cared about the buzz on the street. "They can't stop the whispers. I've spent the morning in the train stations. People saw the sky turn white. They claimed that 'X' burned the clouds. The public doesn't want another hero ranking list. They want to know about the mystery hero who might told the Commission to go to hell."
He turned to his keyboard. He wasn't going to write a news report. He was going to write a manifesto. He didn't need a Quirk to change the world; he just needed to tell the world what to believe.
"I'm going to start a new column," Hideki muttered to himself. "The Ghost Watch. I'll document every 'Quiet Zone' in the city. Every time a villain's gun jams for no reason or a train arrives exactly on time despite a rail block, I'll put it on X-News. If the heroes won't give us the truth, I'll give them a legend."
-----
All For One's Vault – Undisclosed Location
The air in the vault was heavy with the smell of old paper and ozone. All For One sat in his high-backed chair, his fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic beat on the armrest.
On a monitor beside him, Dr. Garaki was obsessively zooming in on a grainy photo of the white lilies found in the rubble of Osu.
"It's impossible, Master," Garaki hissed, his goggles reflecting the screen's glow. "I've run the molecular scans three times. These aren't lilies grown from soil. There are no impurities. No cellular irregularities. It's as if the very air was told to become a flower, and it simply obeyed. There is no biological trace of a Quirk Factor. No heat signature. No energy residue."
"A man who can change the world with this a Quirk, non-biological one at that" All For One mused. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated in the floorboards.
"Kaina is a professional. She has the nerves of a cold-blooded killer. But in the audio logs, her voice was trembling. She wasn't afraid of a power. She was afraid of the pressure of the man emanating."
"Should I deploy the search parties? We could find his DNA—"
"No," All For One interrupted. "You won't find his DNA because he doesn't want you to. He told the Commission he is everywhere. That isn't a boast; it's a statement of fact. He is living among them, and they are too blind to see him. We will not hunt him like a beast, Doctor. We will watch the ripples he leaves in the water. I want to know what a man who is 'free' intends to do with this cage we call society."
All For One was really excited, this quirk manifested this time is too much to his liking.
-----
Higashi Distribution Center – 11:45 AM
The warehouse was a cavern of concrete and cold air.
Kaito stood on the metal catwalk, looking down at the rows of automated sorters that stretched for nearly a kilometer.
The sound of clanking metal and the roar of forklift engines was a constant, mind-numbing backdrop.
"Arisaka! The Level 4 sorter is flagging everything as a weight violation!" the supervisor yelled from the floor, his face red with frustration. "The whole line is backed up! Fix it!"
Kaito walked down the stairs, his movements deliberate and slow. He adjusted his polyester shirt, which was already damp with sweat. He looked like any other tired salaryman, his shoulders slumped.
He reached the terminal and looked at the readouts. To him, the problem was as clear as a typo in a children's book. The vibration of the conveyor belt was causing the optical sensors to misread the package dimensions by half a millimeter.
Kaito didn't use a power. He didn't snap his fingers. He took a small wrench from his pocket and tightened a single bolt on the sensor housing.
Then, he tapped a few keys on the console to recalibrate the baseline.
"Try it now," Kaito said, his voice flat.
The supervisor hit the reset button. The line hummed into motion. The packages flowed through the sorter without a single error light.
"Six minutes," the supervisor muttered, looking at his watch. "The last guy took two hours just to find the manual. You're a freak, Arisaka."
"I just read the manual on the train, sir," Kaito lied smoothly.
Kaito spent the next four hours doing back-breaking labor. He hauled crates of hero-branded energy drinks. He signed off on shipping manifests for support gear he knew was flawed.
Kaito made sure to take his breaks at the exact scheduled time. He sat in the breakroom, staring at a wall, eating a convenience store rice ball that tasted like plastic.
The world's belief in "Hero X" was making him too efficient. His muscles didn't tire. His mind processed the warehouse layout with such clarity that he could see the most efficient path for every forklift in the building.
'Just three more months,' he thought, chewing the dry rice. 'Complete the contract. Get the paycheck. Get another job.'
-----
The Industrial District – 06:10 PM
The sun was a bruised purple smear over the horizon when Kaito left the warehouse. He took the shortcut through the old factory district, a place where the concrete was cracked and the smell of rust and stagnant water was thick.
Kaito liked the silence of this place.
But.
The silence was broken by the sound of a blade biting into wood.
Kaito stopped.
Ten meters ahead, in a narrow alley between two abandoned textile mills, a man stood over a slumped figure in a pro-hero uniform.
The man wore a tattered red scarf that billowed in the cold wind. He carried a jagged, blackened sword.
Stendhal.
The culprit hadn't noticed Kaito yet. He was looking down at the hero he had just paralyzed.
"Ugh! Stop what are you trying to do?!"
"You are a stain on this city," Stendhal rasped, his voice full of a dark, twisted conviction. "You take the money, you take the fame, but you have no soul. I am the cure."
He raised his blade to deliver the final strike.
Kaito didn't move. He didn't feel a surge of heroism. He didn't feel the need to save the man. He just looked at the scene and felt a deep annoyance.
'The hero is bleeding on the sidewalk', Kaito thought. 'The police will cordone off this area for twenty-four hours. My shortcut will be blocked tomorrow morning. I'll have to take the long way to the station.'
Kaito stepped forward. His work shoes clicked sharply on the pavement.
Stendhal spun around, his eyes wide and wild. He leveled his sword at Kaito. "Go away, civilian. This is a cleansing. You are too weak to understand."
Kaito didn't stop. He didn't flinch. He walked until the tip of the sword was inches from his white shirt.
Kaito looked directly into Stendhal's eyes, not as Hero X, but as a man who had worked a twelve-hour shift and had zero patience left for amateur philosophy.
"You're making a mess," Kaito said.
Stendhal's grip tightened. "A mess? I am purging the rot from this society! This 'hero' is a parasite who values his paycheck over his duty. I am the justice that the system refuses to provide!"
"You're an amateur," Kaito replied, his voice flat and unimpressed.
"You talk about 'the system,' but you're just adding more friction to it. Because of your 'justice,' the supply trucks for the next district will be rerouted. Three local businesses will lose their morning deliveries. You aren't fixing society; you're just making it more inefficient for the people who actually keep it running."
Stendhal blinked, his mask twitching. "You... you talk of logistics while I speak of the soul? Conviction is the only thing that matters! Without a true heart, a hero is nothing but a puppet!"
"Conviction doesn't pay for the cleanup," Kaito countered, stepping a half-inch closer to the blade. "If you were a professional, you'd realize that true mastery isn't about blood and speeches. It's about doing the job without leaving a trace. You're just a man with a scarf who likes the sound of his own voice. You can't even argue your own point without getting angry."
Stendhal's mind fractured. He looked at the man in front of him—a plain, grease-stained salaryman who wasn't shaking, wasn't begging, and was dismissing his life's work as a "nuisance." He had no counter-argument for Kaito's cold, dry reality.
"Haha... he's right...you yourself is also trash...but...brother get out of here and call for help" the injured pro-hero on the ground quipped.
Frustrated, humiliated, and unable to win the debate, Stendhal's eyes flared with a desperate rage. "Enough of both of your mindless babble!"
SWOOSH
Stendhal lunged forward. He didn't use the edge. He slammed the heavy hilt of his sword into Kaito's temple.
THUMP
Kaito saw the arc of the hit. He could have ducked. He could have put Stendhal on the ground in a second. But he didn't. He relaxed his neck. He suppressed his natural durability, forcing his body to accept the impact as a normal human would.
'This is the most efficient exit,' Kaito thought as the world tilted. A victim is forgotten. A witness is chased.
Kaito hit the concrete hard, his grocery bag sliding across the grit. Darkness rushed in.
Stendhal stood over the unconscious salaryman, his chest heaving. He felt small. He had struck a "nobody" to shut him up, yet the man's words still rang in the alley, making his "conviction" feel like a hollow toy.
He raised his sword to finish the hero, but a sudden flash of blue and red lights cut through the mouth of the alley.
"Police! Stay where you are!"
"HELP!...HERE...!"
The heavy boots of a patrol squad thudded against the pavement.
Stendhal cursed, threw a smoke pellet into the damp air, and vanished over the rusted fire escape.
The officers rushed into the alley. One knelt by the paralyzed hero, while the other turned Kaito over.
"We've got a civilian casualty here," the officer shouted into his radio. "Looks like he was caught in the middle of it. Head trauma. Send an ambulance to the textile district, now!"
The officer picked up Kaito's spilled grocery bag, looking at the cracked eggs leaking onto the ground. "Poor guy. Just an average Joe trying to get home. These monsters don't care who they hit."
-----
UA High School – 08:30 PM
Nezu sat in his office, the only light coming from a small desk lamp. All Might stood by the window, his large frame silhouetted against the city lights.
"I spoke with the HPSC President today," All Might said. "They're pulling back. They're terrified of him, Nezu."
"It is the only logical response," Nezu replied, sipping his tea. "The entity known as Hero X isn't playing by our rules. He isn't fighting for something or ideology. He is setting boundaries. He turned Kaina's weapon into flowers to show her that her power is irrelevant to him."
"I saw the footage of the 'white-out' at Osu," All Might said. "His Quirk don't make sense. It's like he just decided that for three seconds, the world didn't need to be seen."
"He called himself the 'Freest Man,'" Nezu mused. "That is the most dangerous thing a person can be in a society built on heroes and villains. If he is truly free, then we are all just obstacles in his path. We won't find him, All Might. A man who can change reality can change his own face a thousand times a day. We can only wait and see what he does next."
"At the very least, he isn't the same as All For One" Almight muttered while looking at his hands. The reason why he is back now because he is ready. He is ready to avenge his master and give her closure.
-----
Kaito's Apartment – 10:45 PM
The apartment was silent, the air still and heavy. Kaito sat on the floor of his kitchen, his back propped against the refrigerator.
The bandage on his temple was a persistent, stinging weight, a reminder of the hilt of a sword he'd let hit him just to end a conversation.
Kaito stared at the plastic grocery bag on the floor beside him. He pulled it closer and looked inside.
The eggs were a complete disaster—yellow slime pooled at the bottom of the bag, soaking into the cardboard. The loaf of bread had been crushed into a dense, flat slab of dough.
"I shouldn't have said that," he whispered, pressing his palms into his eyes. "'Clumsy amateur'? I sounded like a villain in a low-budget anime. Why did I have to be so dramatic?"
Kaito wasn't thinking about the killer or the hero he'd saved. He was thinking about the paperwork.
The police had taken two hours of his life in the ER, asking the same questions over and over. They'd looked at him with pity—the "brave civilian" who got clocked for sticking his nose where it didn't belong. To them, he was a victim. To Kaito, he was just a man who had failed to manage his own time.
"This chuunibyou tendencies really ruined my day. Could have turned back and went into another alley, though Stain is already a vigilante at this point time"
Kaito stood up, his joints popping in the quiet room. He walked to the sink and began the tedious process of cleaning the egg slime out of the reusable grocery bag.
It was a chore he didn't have the energy for, but leaving it would lead to a smell that would haunt the kitchen for a week.
Kaito looked out the window at the Musutafu skyline. Somewhere out there, heroes were patrolling and villains were nursing their bruised egos, fueled by adrenaline and "conviction." Kaito just felt the reality of a long day and the annoyance of a ruined dinner.
"I am a specialist 9-5 worker," he muttered, his voice raspy. "I have a one-hundred-percent efficiency record. Civilian Kaito is a normal salaryman."
PAACK
Kaito let the blinds shut with a sharp clack. He didn't have time to dwell on the "truth" or the state of society. He had to be at the station by 06:15 AM.
The train wouldn't wait for anyone, and Kaito refused to be the reason for a delay. He threw the ruined bread into the bin, set his alarm, and went to bed.
-----
US Embassy – Tokyo
Deep in the secure basement of the embassy, an encrypted cable was being transmitted to the Pentagon.
SUBJECT: X (HERO X)
STATUS: CONFIRMED ACTIVE.
OBSERVATION: JAPANESE SECURITY APPARATUS HAS COLLAPSED IN THE FACE OF NON-BIOLOGICAL REALITY ALTERATION. ENTITY X HAS DECLARED TOTAL AUTONOMY. JAPANESE PRO-HEROES ARE REDUNDANT IN CURRENT THEATER.
RECOMMENDATION: ALERT STAR AND STRIPE. PREPARE FOR EMERGENCY GEOPOLITICAL RESTRUCTURING. ENTITY X IS NOT A HERO. HE IS A SUPREME ENTITY OPERATING UNDER UNKNOWN LOGIC.
~~~~~~
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