Location: Naruhata Apartments, Unit 203.
Time: 07:15 PM.
The coffee cup vibrated.
Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.
It was a small vibration. A ripple in the coffee.
Kaito Arisaka stared at it.
He was sitting on his Italian leather sofa, attempting to read a physical copy of The Principles of International Maritime Salvage.
The room was temperature-controlled to a perfect 21 degrees Celsius. The air purifier was humming.
Then, the floorboards shook again.
BOOM. THUMP. BOOM.
"Reach for the sky! My heart is flying high!"
The singing was loud, enthusiastic and also flat.
Kaito didn't sigh.
He placed his book down on the glass coffee table. He looked at the shared wall with Unit 204.
Kazuho Haneyama. Also in her vigilante name, Pop★Step.
She was practicing her new idol routine. Again.
Usually, the standard acoustic dampeners he had installed in his own unit were sufficient.
But today, she had upgraded her equipment.
The bass frequency was penetrating the drywall.
It was vibrating his espresso.
'Pitch is off. She's hitting a sharp on the chorus. The speaker placement is causing thr loud vibrations in the hallway.'
Kaito stood up.
He walked to the wall. He placed his hand against the cheap, peeling wallpaper.
Kaito could feel the thumping rhythm of a generic J-Pop beat.
He checked his watch. 07:17 PM.
Kaito had forty-three minutes scheduled for reading before he needed to review the Captain's insurance liability forms.
This noise was disturbing him.
Kaito adjusted his glasses.
Target: Unit 204 Interior Acoustics.
Diagnosis: Excessive Reverb. Poor Isolation.
Action: Overwrite.
He raised his right hand.
He snapped his fingers.
Snap.
There was no flash of light. No audible sound.
Physics just bent.
ZRRT. SKKRT.
In Unit 204, the air density shifted. The molecular structure of the cheap drywall rearranged itself into high-density, open-cell acoustic foam.
The noisy sounds bouncing off the ceiling were suddenly caught, trapped, and neutralized.
The vibration in Kaito's wall stopped instantly.
Silence returned to Unit 203.
Kaito looked at his coffee cup. The liquid was still.
"Better," he whispered.
He sat back down. He picked up his book. He turned the page.
He didn't care what happened next door. He just wanted to read about maritime salvage laws.
-----
Location: Unit 204.
"My heart is—whoa!"
Kazuho Haneyama tripped over her own feet. She looked around her tiny, cluttered apartment.
The music was still playing from her Bluetooth speaker, but it sounded... incredible.
Usually, the sound bounced off the bare walls, creating a muddy, echoing mess. Now? It was crisp. Dry. Professional.
It sounded like she was in a million-dollar recording booth.
"What the heck?" she whispered. She clapped her hands.
Clap.
No echo.
The sound died instantly.
She touched the wall. It felt the same—cheap wood and paper—but the sound didn't reflect.
"Did the humidity change?" She looked at her speaker. "Maybe the battery is just really full?"
She grabbed her microphone.
"Check. Check. One, two."
Her voice sounded rich. Deep.
Kazuho grinned. She didn't question it. She was an idol. Maybe the universe finally wanted her to win.
"Okay! From the top! Let's do the full set!"
She cranked the volume up. She started dancing. She lost track of the clock.
She forgot she was supposed to meet Koichi and the old man at the park ten minutes ago.
The room sounded too good to leave.
-----
Location: The Streets of Naruhata.
Time: 07:45 PM.
The wind cut through the alleyways. It smelled of exhaust, frying oil, and the faint, sweet chemical scent of the new underground mass produced enhancer drug, Trigger.
Makoto Tsukauchi pulled her beanie down tighter over her ears.
She adjusted the lens of her DSLR camera.
She was crouching behind a stack of blue plastic crates in a back alley behind the station.
She wasn't looking for All Might. All Might was boring. He was a sun; he blinded you to the details.
She was looking for the shadows.
'Since Hero X appeared, the data is spiking. Vigilante activity in Naruhata is up 300% and other areas and citires also rose. Petty crime is down, but violent altercations are up. Why? Because the villains are scared. They're packing heavier gear. But with the addition of Trigger both sides were in stalemate'.
She checked her police scanner.
[Disturbance reported. 4th District. Assault in progress. Suspect is... large.]
"Large," she muttered, checking the battery on her voice recorder. "That usually means Trigger."
She didn't want the Heroes. She wanted the rumors.
The "Crawler." The "Knuckleduster." And the new one... the "Stendhal."
They were the immune system of this city.
Dirty, illegal, and fascinating.
She stood up, moving quietly. Her sneakers squeaked faintly on the wet pavement.
"Come on, Naruhata," she whispered, a grin tugging at her lips. "Show me what you're hiding."
-----
Location: 4th District Alley.
Koichi Haimawari was alone.
He was wearing his All Might hoodie. His knee pads were strapped on tight. He was shivering.
"Pop is late," he muttered, checking his phone. No messages. "Master is going to be mad."
KRING-KRANG. CRUNCH.
He heard a crunch.
It sounded like wet gravel being crushed under a boot.
Koichi froze. He looked down the alley.
A man was standing there. Or, what used to be a man.
The villain was seven feet tall. His skin was a mottled grey, bulging with muscle fibers that twitched erratically.
His tongue lolled out of a mouth filled with jagged teeth. The black veins of a Trigger overdose pulsed on his neck.
He was holding a woman by the throat. She wasn't screaming. She had passed out from lack of oxygen.
"Hey!" Koichi shouted.
It was instinct. Stupid, suicidal instinct.
The villain turned. His eyes were entirely red.
"HERO?" the villain gurgled. The word bubbled up through slime.
"Put her down!" Koichi yelled, sliding into his stance. "I'm... I'm the Crawler! And you're under arrest! Or... you know, just stop!"
The villain threw the woman.
She hit a pile of trash bags. THUMP.
Koichi flinched. "Are you okay?!"
"AGHHHH"
The villain roared. He charged.
STOMP. STOMP. STOMP.
The ground shook. Koichi panicked. He activated his quirk.
Slide.
WIISH. WASHH. WIISH
He zipped backward, barely dodging a massive fist that smashed a crater into the asphalt.
"Whoa! Okay! Too strong!" Koichi scrambled back. "Master! Where are you?!"
The villain raised both fists for a hammer blow. Koichi was cornered against a chain-link fence.
Then, the shadows moved.
It wasn't a hero's entrance. There was no announcement. No wind-up.
SHINK.
A flash of steel.
The villain froze.
A thin red line appeared on the villain's bicep. Then, blood sprayed.
"OOGHH"
The villain howled, stumbling back.
A figure landed on top of a vending machine.
He wore long black hair, a ballistic vest, and a mask without a mouth.
Bandages wrapped his arms. He held a katana, but he didn't hold it like a samurai. He held it like a butcher holding a boning knife.
Stendhal.
Koichi stared. "You..."
Stendhal didn't look at Koichi. He looked at the villain.
"Filth," Stendhal said. His voice was muffled, metallic. "You're a poison to society."
SWOOSH
The villain roared and swung blindly.
Stendhal didn't dodge. He just... tilted.
He moved with an eerie economy of motion.
He stepped inside the villain's guard.
Minimal effort. Maximum efficiency.
'Why are his moves so familiar?' Koichi asked, then a sudden realization came to him. 'Hero X?'
Stendhal spun. The blade flashed.
SHINK. SHINK.
The villain's hamstrings were severed. The giant collapsed to his knees, screaming.
"AGHHH!"
Stendhal raised the blade. He aimed for the neck.
"Die," Stendhal whispered.
Then.
"NO!" Koichi screamed.
He activated his slide. He threw himself forward.
BAM. CRASH.
Koichi slammed into Stendhal's waist, tackling him away from the villain.
They rolled on the asphalt.
THUMP. BAAM
Stendhal kicked Koichi off effortlessly.
"UGHH"
Koichi scrambled up, putting himself between the killer and the villain.
"Don't kill him!" Koichi panted, holding his hands up. "He's already helpless and beaten!"
Stendhal stood up.
He dusted off his vest. He stared at Koichi through the empty eye sockets of his mask.
"You and you're useless sympathy," Stendhal said coldily. "The infection must be cauterized. Villains are sinners needed to be judged. Why do you hesitate?"
"Because he's a person!" Koichi yelled.
Stendhal tilted his head. "Incorrect. He is a symptom."
Stendhal stepped forward. The blade raised.
"Move. Or I will prune you too."
-----
Makoto was behind the dumpster. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
She held the camera steady.
'This is it. The schism. The old vigilante morality vs. the new Extremism.'
The shutter clicked silently.
She zoomed in on Stendhal's mask. The design was terrifying, but the posture... it was professional. It wasn't the posture of a madman. It was the posture of a man with conviction
WOOSH.
Stendhal lunged.
"Oh shit"
Koichi flinched.
CRACK.
A fist the size of a cinder block slammed into the side of Stendhal's head.
Stendhal didn't fly away.
He absorbed the impact, sliding backward five meters, his boots carving grooves into the pavement.
Knuckleduster stood there. Smoke curled from his mouth. He cracked his knuckles.
"Kid," Knuckleduster growled. "I told you to wait for the signal."
"You were late!" Koichi squeaked. "And he was going to cut his head off!"
Knuckleduster glared at Stendhal.
"You," the old man grunted. "The edgy one. You're cluttering up my patrol route."
Stendhal straightened his neck. There was a sickening pop as a vertebrae realigned.
"The Fist," Stendhal said. "You are blunt. Useless."
"And you're a psycho in a Halloween mask," Knuckleduster spat. He raised his fists. "Let's see if you bleed."
Knuckleduster charged.
It was a freight train colliding with a scalpel.
BOOM.
Knuckleduster threw a right hook that would have shattered a concrete wall.
In the canon manga, Stendhal would have tried to block this. He would have been overwhelmed.
But Stendhal had been watching the news for years. He had been studying the Hero X moves from the videos posted.
HUFF.
Stendhal didn't block. He exhaled.
He dropped his center of gravity. He stepped into the punch.
SWISH.
The fist passed millimeters from his mask.
Stendhal drove his elbow into Knuckleduster's solar plexus.
THUD.
"Guh!" Knuckleduster grunted, saliva spraying.
But the old man was tough. He didn't buckle.
He grabbed Stendhal's arm.
"Gotcha," Knuckleduster snarled.
He headbutted Stendhal.
CRACK.
The mask fractured. A spiderweb crack appeared over the right eye.
Stendhal didn't panic. He twisted his wrist, dropping a flash bang grenade from his sleeve.
BANG.
White light flooded the alley.
Makoto shielded her eyes, blinding herself for a second.
When the light faded, the two men were five feet apart.
Knuckleduster was bleeding from a shallow cut on his cheek. Stendhal was breathing hard, blood dripping from the crack in his mask.
It was a draw.
"You adapted," Knuckleduster noted, wiping the blood from his cheek. "Last time I saw a guy move like that, he was a pro."
"I am learning," Stendhal said. His voice was tight with pain, but steady. "Brute force is obsolete. Precision is the future."
Stendhal sheathed his sword.
CLICK.
He looked at Koichi, who was still checking on the unconscious villain.
"Your student," Stendhal said, pointing a gloved finger. "He has spirit. But he lacks the resolve. If he does not harden his heart, the streets will eat him. Villains never compromise. Kill them in the bud to save thousands."
Stendhal turned to the shadows.
"Next time, I will not leave a nuisance."
WHOOSH.
He jumped. He vanished onto the rooftops.
Silence returned to the alley.
"Man," Koichi exhaled, slumping against the fence. "That guy is intense."
"He's good," Knuckleduster muttered, touching his ribs. "That's bad news."
Suddenly, the blue crates rattled.
"That was amazing!"
Makoto Tsukauchi jumped out. She was beaming. Her camera was raised.
"The famous Naruhata Knuckleduster! The Crawler! I got it all! The moral conflict! The clash of styles! Can I get a quote? Just one quote! How do you feel about the Hero X influence on modern vigilantism?"
Koichi screamed. "A COP?!"
"Worse," Knuckleduster grunted, grabbing Koichi by the back of his hoodie. "Journalist. Run."
"Wait! I just want to talk!" Makoto yelled, chasing them. "I'm Makoto! I'm a fan! Do you guys have an agency? A secret base?"
Knuckleduster dragged Koichi into a sewer maintenance tunnel. He kicked the grate shut behind them.
Makoto stopped at the grate. She panted, clutching her camera.
She looked at the photo on the small LCD screen.
It was a blurry shot of Stendhal and Knuckleduster trading blows. The composition was gritty. Real.
"Gold," she whispered. "This is gold."
-----
Location: Basement Sub-Level.
Time: 08:10 PM.
Stendhal entered the room.
He didn't walk. He limped. His left boot scraped against the concrete.
The air smelled of iron and bleach.
He unbuckled his tactical vest.
THUD.
It hit the floor. Heavy. Wet with sweat.
Stendhal walked to the metal sink. He turned the handle.
Brown water sputtered out.
He splashed it on his face. It stung.
He scrubbed at the crack in his mask. The water turned pink in the basin.
"Sloppy," he rasped.
He looked at the mirror.
"Too much movement. Too much friction."
He turned to the wall.
Six monitors. One video loop.
It was the raw file from the Ota Ward incident . High definition.
Stendhal pressed a key.
TAP.
The video froze. Frame 144.
Hero X stood inside All For One's guard.
Stendhal leaned in. He studied the posture.
Shoulders loose. Hands open. No fist.
"He isn't fighting," Stendhal whispered.
He hit play. Slow motion.
Frame 145. Palm strike to chest.
Frame 146. Liver hook.
Frame 147. Elbow to temple.
"Six hits," Stendhal counted. "One second. No wind-up."
He watched the impact. Hero X didn't push. He placed the force inside the organs.
Then, the counter.
All For One fired the beam.
SNAP.
The screen flickered.
Stendhal watched the 3D world collapse.
The buildings flattened. The fire turned into ink lines. All For One became a drawing on a brick wall.
Hero X grabbed the red beam. He folded it. Like paper.
"He edits," Stendhal said.
He watched Hero X walk up the wall. No gravity. Just ink.
Then the deletion.
The Snap. The villain vanished into white space.
Stendhal looked at his own hands. They were shaking. They were covered in scars.
"I am loud," he muttered. "And I reate a mess."
He looked back at the screen. The white suit was pristine. No blood. No dust.
"Logic," Stendhal said. "Not strength. Logic."
He stepped back. He ignored the pain in his ribs.
He dropped into a stance.
He didn't crouch. He stood tall. He relaxed his shoulders.
He threw a punch.
"No."
He reset.
He threw it again.
"Too tense."
He did it again.
"Too slow."
He looked at the velvet cloth on the table. His knives were lined up.
He picked up the katana.
The edge was chipped from the fight with Knuckleduster.
"I need to be sharper," he told the screen. "I need to remove the drag."
He grabbed the whetstone.
SHIIING.
Metal scraped stone.
"Until I am just ink," Stendhal whispered.
SHIIING.
"Until I can Snap."
He restarted the video.
-----
Location: Naruhata Apartments, Unit 203.
Time: 08:30 PM.
Kaito closed his book.
He had finished Chapter 4: Liability in International Waters. It had been a productive session.
He stood up and walked to the kitchen. He rinsed his cup.
The silence in his room was absolute.
He checked his phone.
[News Alert: Minor villain disturbance in Naruhata. Suspect apprehended by anonymous tip.]
Kaito swiped the notification away.
"Hmm."
He walked to the balcony door and opened it.
The noise of the city rushed in. Sirens. Cars. The distant hum of the train.
And then, breathless panting from the hallway.
He heard the door to Unit 204 open.
"I'm so late! I'm so dead!"
It was Kazuho. She sounded frantic.
"Koichi is going to kill me! The old man is going to kill me! Why didn't I hear the alarm?!"
Kaito stepped back inside and slid the glass door shut.
CLICK.
The silence returned.
He walked to his bedroom.
Kaito didn't know that his soundproofing had just caused a vigilante diplomatic incident.
He didn't know that he had inadvertently trained a serial killer to be more efficient.
Kaito just knew that for the first time in a week, his coffee hadn't vibrated.
Kaito unbuttoned his shirt, hanging it precisely on the hanger.
"Productive day," he murmured.
He turned off the light.
-----
Koichi sat on the bench near park. He was covered in sewer sludge. He smelled terrible.
BZZT. BZZT.
His phone buzzed.
[Pop★Step: I'M SO SORRY! My alarm didn't go off! I swear the room ate the sound! Are you okay??]
Koichi stared at the screen. He touched the bruise on his ribs where Stendhal had kicked him.
He looked at the wall shared with Unit 203.
'The room ate the sound...'
He remembered the room next door. The heavy, unnatural quiet.
Koichi pondered.
"Just what kind of renovation the management even did?
He leaned back, pulling down his Almight hoodie on his head.
The city was getting louder. The shadows were getting sharper.
SQUEAK.
Koichi turned over, trying to find a comfortable spot on the bench, while waiting for his teammate. Thinking about the skirmish earlier
"I'm still really weak. I still need to get stronger."
It was going to be a long year.
_-_-_-_-_
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