Location: Near Verize Islands – The Oki Mariner
Date: Monday | 09:00 AM | Two Months After
CHUG-CHUG-CHUG-CHUG.
The heavy, deep throb of the Oki Mariner's diesel engines was a constant, grounding rhythm that moved through the steel floor and up into Kaito's boots.
Two months had turned the ship from a struggling rescue vessel into a floating fortress that owned the Japan coastline.
Kaito stood on the open bridge wing, his charcoal-grey storm coat zipped tight against the wind.
He wasn't looking at the horizon; he was looking at the digital board mounted to the bulkhead.
National Rank: 24.
The climb had been steep. In sixty days, the "Admiral of Peace" had become a household name.
CLINK.
Mick stepped out onto the wing, leaning against the railing.
He didn't look like the stressed, scowling officer from two months ago.
He looked loose, almost relaxed, as he handed a steaming mug of black coffee to Kaito.
"Galley just finished a fresh pot. Drink up, Arisaka. You look like you're already calculating the next fiscal quarter," Mick joked, a genuine smirk touching his lips.
Kaito took the mug, the heat seeped into his palms. "Just looking at the numbers, Mick-san. Rank 24 is a good spot, but it's a target. We have thirty days left on the contract to make sure it stays there."
"Only a month left, huh?" Mick looked out at the deck. "The guys are gonna miss having you around to tell them why they're doing things wrong. Even if you do it with that flat face of yours."
THUD. RATTLE.
Down on the main deck, a team of new recruits led by a young, broad-shouldered diver named Takumi were prepping the side-launch cradles.
They moved in total sync, checking the high-tensile cables of the four RHIBs.
There was no shouting, no confusion. Just the sound of boots on steel and the snap of clips.
"Takumi! Check the dampening seals on RHIB Three!" Mick barked down from the bridge.
"Already done, Mick-san!" Takumi shouted back with a grin, wiping grease from his forehead. "Pressure is holding at green. We're ready to drop whenever the boss gives the word!"
"See that?" Mick turned back to Kaito. "Two months ago, that kid couldn't tie a knot in a bathtub. Now he's running a squad. Your 'Standard' really bit into them, kid."
BEEP. BEEP. CLICK.
Sirius's voice came through the bridge speakers, sharp and focused. "Captain! Sirius here. We've got a hit on the long-range sonar. Five miles out, heading south-southwest. It's a medium-tonnage trawler. No transponder, no lights. They're hugging the reef line where the silt is thickest."
Selkie stepped out from the bridge interior, his captain's coat snapping in the wind.
He looked at Kaito, his dark eyes crinkling. The heavy weight that used to sit on his shoulders had vanished.
"That's our smuggler," Selkie rumbled, his voice a deep, comfortable growl. "Sirius, give me the HUD feed on the bridge monitors."
HUMMMM.
Inside the bridge, the Silent Command monitors flared to life.
The murky, silt-heavy water of the reef was instantly scrubbed clean by the ship's processors, turning into a sharp, 3D wireframe. A red box pulsed around the hull of the trawler.
"Visual lock confirmed," Sirius reported. "I recognize that hull profile. It's a mercenary boat. And look at the thermal signature on the deck. That's a lot of mass for a fishing boat."
"It's Innsmouth," Kaito said, looking at the multi-limbed signature on the screen. "He's been moving Trigger for the remnants of the Osaka networks. He thinks the silt will hide him from traditional radar."
Selkie's expression shifted. The jovial sailor was gone; the Admiral was back. "He thinks wrong. Takumi! Mick! Get to the cradles! We're going in silent!"
WHIRRR.
SPLASH. SPLASH. SPLASH. SPLASH.
All four RHIBs hit the water in perfect unison. They didn't wait for the Mariner to turn.
They throttled up, their hulls skipping over the waves as they fanned out into a wide arc.
On the bridge monitors, Kaito watched the live feed from Takumi's goggles.
The recruit was seeing a glowing green path painted onto the water—the optimal intercept route calculated by the ship's sonar-bridge.
VROOOOM.
The RHIBs closed the five-mile gap in minutes. As they neared the trawler, the ship suddenly lurched.
A massive, blue-skinned figure erupted from the cabin, his four muscular arms flailing as he gripped the railing.
"Get lost, you sea-dogs!" Innsmouth roared, his voice a wet, gurgling growl. His bulbous eyes scanned the four fast-boats circling him.
"You think these rubber toys are gonna stop a shipment this big? I'll rip your lungs out!"
"Takumi, initiate the dampening field," Sirius said into her headset.
"Copy that!" Takumi shouted.
THWIP. THWIP.
Two RHIBs fired pneumatic harpoons. They didn't hit the villain; they hit the water on either side of the trawler.
BZZZZZT.
A high-frequency sonic pulse radiated from the harpoons.
The water around the trawler turned into a frothing mess of bubbles.
"Ugggh!"
Innsmouth let out a strangled gargle, his four arms clutching his head as his equilibrium was shattered by the frequency.
"My turn," Selkie said.
WHOOSH.
Selkie dived off the bridge wing, his body cutting into the water with barely a splash.
Under the surface, he was a blur of power. With the Silent Command HUD feeding him Innsmouth's exact center of gravity, he didn't have to hunt. He simply struck.
BAAAM.
Selkie erupted from the waves, slamming his shoulder into the side of the trawler.
The ship tilted violently. Selkie flipped onto the deck, his feet landing heavy on the wood.
"Innsmouth," Selkie rumbled, standing tall. "Give it up. You're surrounded, and your boat isn't going anywhere."
"Like hell!" Innsmouth lunged. Two of his arms swung heavy iron pipes, while the other two reached out to grab Selkie's throat. "I'm taking Trigger to the city! I'm getting paid!"
CRACK. THUD.
Selkie didn't back up. He used the data in his HUD to predict the swing.
Swish-swoosh.
He ducked under the first pipe, grabbed Innsmouth's lower left arm, and twisted.
"GAAAH!" Innsmouth screamed. He tried to headbutt Selkie, but the Captain caught the blow with his forehead and shoved back.
"You're slow, Innsmouth," Selkie said. "You're fighting the water. I'm part of it."
Selkie delivered a massive, open-palm strike to the villain's chest.
BOOM.
Innsmouth was sent flying back against the mast, his breath leaving him in a wet wheeze.
He tried to reach for a vial of Trigger in his belt, his fingers trembling.
"Don't," Selkie warned.
THWIP.
A harpoon from Takumi's RHIB whipped past and pinned Innsmouth's sleeve to the mast.
"The RHIBs have a lock on you, buddy!" Takumi shouted from the water, his goggles glowing amber. "Move a muscle and the next one hits the Trigger vial!"
Innsmouth looked at the four boats circling him like sharks.
He looked at Selkie, who stood ready for another round. He let out a long, defeated hiss, his four arms going limp.
"Damn you heroes... and damn this ship," Innsmouth muttered.
SNAP. CLICK.
Selkie clicked the high-tensile cuffs onto the villain's wrists.
He looked up at the camera-drone hovering overhead and gave a toothy grin.
"Sirius! Get the forensics team over here!" Selkie roared. "I want every crate of this Trigger logged and sealed! We've got a clean sweep!"
KYUNN!
Selkie scrunched his face into that bizarrely cute expression for a split second, then snapped back to his stern mask.
Mick leaned against the railing next to Kaito as the Mariner pulled alongside the captured trawler.
"Two months ago, that guy would have dived and we'd have spent six hours chasing him through the reefs," Mick said, shaking his head. "Now? Ten minutes. No injuries. All the cargo secured. Rank 24... I'm starting to think that number is too low."
"It's a good number, Mick," Kaito said, taking a final sip of his coffee. "But we have four weeks left to make sure it's a number they can't ignore. Tell the new recruits they did well. Then tell them to get the forensic scanners ready. We have work to do."
CHUG-CHUG-CHUG-CHUG.
The Mariner surged forward, the "Admiral of Peace" standing proud on the deck of a ship that finally lived up to its name.
_-_-_-_-_-_
Location: Naruhata – O'Clock Records Studio
Date: Monday | 01:00 PM
THUMP. THUMP. CRASH.
The double-bass kick of the drum kit was so heavy it made the acoustic foam on the walls shiver.
Inside the tracking room, the air was hot and smelled like ozone and sweat.
Soga was a blur of motion behind the drums. He wasn't just keeping time; he was attacking the cymbals.
His sticks moved with a violent, snapping precision that Kaito had drilled into him months ago.
Every hit was clean, loud, and perfectly on the beat.
Beside him, Tamao had her legs kicked out, her fingers flying across the fretboard of a matte-black electric guitar.
She ripped through a distorted riff, the sound jagged and sharp.
WREEEEEE!
Kazuho stood at the center, her hands white-knuckled around the microphone stand. Her eyes were shut tight, her face flushed.
This wasn't the high-pitched, bubbly voice of an underground idol. It was a roar.
"Hero! Itsuka haiboku ni odei nameru made! Takakau hero!"
(Hero, until I taste the dirt of defeat some day
A fighting hero)
Kazuho's voice hit a gritty, powerful peak as she leaned into the final notes.
"Kodoku na hero!"
(A lonely hero)
BASH!
"I, I, I, I, I
I wanna be a saikyou hero!"
(I, I, I, I, I
I wanna be the strongest hero!)
Soga slammed the crash cymbal one last time, the ring of the metal echoing in the silence that followed.
CLACK.
Kazuho let go of the mic stand and slumped forward, her chest heaving. She wiped sweat from her eyes with her sleeve and looked over at Soga.
"Soga-kun… where did that come from?" Kazuho panted, breathless. "You almost broke the floorboards on that last bridge."
Soga twirled a drumstick between his fingers and let out a rare, sharp grin. "Kaito-san spent three weeks making me hit a practice pad until my wrists bled."
Tamao slung her guitar over her back and stepped toward them, reaching out her hand. "Whatever he did, it worked. You're a beast on those drums, Soga."
SLAP.
The three of them exchanged a hard high-five in the middle of the room, grinning like idiots.
They weren't just rehearsing; they had just finished the master take for "The Hero."
The door to the soundproof booth swung open with a heavy THUD.
Makoto walked in, holding a high-end tablet. Behind her, Koichi, Rapt, and Moyuru piled in, all of them wearing wide, impressed looks.
"That was incredible!" Koichi shouted, pumping a fist. "Kazuho, your vocals sounded like you were ready to take on All Might yourself! And Tamao, that guitar solo? I got chills!"
"It's done," Makoto said, turning the tablet screen around so they could see the upload progress bar. "The audio is clean. It hits the servers in thirty minutes. The pre-orders from the Sky Egg app are already at eighty thousand."
"Eighty thousand?!" Kazuho grabbed a water bottle and took a long swig. "We haven't even done the opening night yet!"
"People are hungry for it," Rapt said, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He looked at Moyuru and gave a nod. "The track we did, 'Flyers,' is already all over the internet. I saw a group of kids in the park yesterday doing the dance routine we practiced."
"It's true," Moyuru added, smiling. "I checked the social hub last week. People are calling it the 'Carpe Diem anthem or Seize the Day' Koichi, your lead vocal part on the chorus were urging listeners to "party while we're still alive" and move toward the future with confidence.
Makoto tapped the tablet, pulling up a video that was trending at Number Two.
BIP.
The screen showed the music video for "Flyers." It featured Koichi, Rapt, and Moyuru in the center of the Naruhata ward, surrounded by the local community.
The energy was infectious—bright, fast, and full of life.
"Everybody put your hands up!
Saa flyin' tsubasa ni nare!
Mitemitai na muchuu ni nareru kimi
Ima da seichouki shinsekai e"
(Everybody put your hands up
Flyin', flyin', flyin' on my wings
I wish I could see
You're the one I can lose myself in
Now's the time to grow up, to a new world)
The audio from the tablet filled the small room.
"We look good, guys," Koichi laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he watched himself on the screen. "I still can't believe we're actually doing this. I really don't know how Kaito can create this songs while still working on the sea"
"Logic does not work on that guy" Kazuho replied.
"I agree". "Yes". "That man is omnipotent". Soga, Rapt and Moyuro agreed.
"Yes! We can thank Kaito later but don't forget you're part the O'Clock Agency," Makoto replied him, her voice firm but full of pride.
"You're the heroes who protects the ward. The music is just the proof. Look at the comments."
She scrolled through the live feed on the screen.
[SkyHigh_Fan: This song is everything! Naruhata is the place to be right now!?
[HeroBuff: Can we talk about those vocals? Pop★Step is sounding like a Top 10 pro!]
[DanceQueen_88: I've been practicing the 'Flyers' bridge for three hours. See you guys at the Sky Egg!]
[TechGerd: The production quality on these tracks is insane. Who is their composer?]
"It feels real now, Makoto-san," Kazuho whispered, looking at the numbers.
"We're doing more than just a job, Kazuho," Makoto said, looking at the group. "We're building a legacy. Kaito Arisaka gave us songs, but you guys are the ones making the noise."
RATTLE.
The floor vibrated again as the bass from the playback started up.
"Alright, enough talk!" Soga shouted, hitting his sticks together.
CLICK-CLICK-CLICK.
"We still have thirty days to perfect the live transition for the opening medley. If we want it to be perfect, we aren't going to be lazy about it! Back to your spots!"
"HAHAHA"
The group laughed, but they moved instantly. Tamao plugged her guitar back in, Kazuho stepped back to the mic, and the boys headed to the vocal booth to layer the backing tracks.
The studio was a factory of sound, and the O'Clock Records was just getting started.
_-_-_-_-_-_
Location: Roppongi – High-End Lounge (Flashback)
Date: Three Weeks Prior
CLINK.
The sound of ice against crystal was the only thing heard as Captain Celebrity (CC) leaned across the velvet booth, a predatory, $10,000 smile on his face.
He adjusted his cape, making sure the gold trim caught the light of the chandelier.
"Look, Makoto-chan," CC purred, his eyes wandering. "The Sky Egg is a cute idea. Very ambitious for a girl like you. But I'm a global superstar. I have fans in New York, London, and Tokyo. Why should I spend three days in a stadium for a 'street' agency when I could be... well, spending that time with you?"
Makoto didn't move. She didn't blush. She sat perfectly still, her hands folded on top of her leather briefcase.
"Because if you don't, I'm going to tell Pamela that you spent the sponsorship budget from the detergent brand on a private penthouse in Shinjuku," Makoto said.
Her voice was as cold as a mountain stream.
CC's smile didn't just fade; it died. His face went pale, and a bead of sweat broke out on his forehead.
He looked at the phone Makoto had set on the table—the screen was already open to a contact labeled Pamela Celebrity.
"You... you know my wife?" CC stammered, his voice dropping an octave.
"We've been in contact for two months," Makoto said, leaning in. "She's actually the one who told me which penthouse it was. She also mentioned that your current manager hasn't been keeping a very tight leash on your 'extracurricular' expenses. She was very interested in the O'Clock Standard."
CC slumped back into the velvet cushions, his broad shoulders deflating.
He looked at Makoto, and for a second, he didn't see a young manager. He saw a shadow.
"You're just like him," CC muttered, his eyes wide. "Last time. Arisaka. That manager used to treat my life like a spreadsheet. He'd yell at me for ten minutes straight if I was late for a hair appointment. I've never been so terrified and so organized in my life."
"I'm his protégé," Makoto replied. "And I have his files on your agency's past performance metrics. You need this festival more than we need you. Your choice."
CC stared at her, then snatched the pen out of her hand. He signed the contract so hard the paper nearly tore.
"Why didn't you just lead with Kaito's name?" CC sighed, rubbing his face. "Fine. I'm in. I'll do the walkthrough. I'll do the guest of honor bit. Just... don't let Pamela call me tonight. And tell Kaito I miss him. My current staff are a bunch of yes-men. They're boring."
"I'll tell him," Makoto said, snapping her briefcase shut. "Welcome to the Pulse, Captain."
_-_-_-_-_-_
Location: Tokyo Sky Egg – Main Stage
Date: Thursday | 10:00 AM
SCREECH.
The sound of a microphone feedbacking echoed through the massive, empty 100,000-seat stadium.
The Tokyo Sky Egg felt like a dormant volcano, its white, curved ribs reaching up toward the glass ceiling.
On the center stage, Present Mic was pacing back and forth, his tall hair swaying as he shouted into his headset.
"YEAAAAH! HEAR ME IN THE BACK!" Mic roared at the empty seats. "I WANT THE ENERGY AT A TEN! NO, AN ELEVEN! IF THE GLASS DOESN'T SHAKE, WE AREN'T ALIVE!"
"Mic, darling, please," Midnight groaned from the soundboard, where she was lounging in a rehearsal suit. "The stadium is empty. You're just yelling at the air. The energy shouldn't be a scream; it should be a... suggestive hum. You want to tease the audience, not burst their eardrums."
"Teasing doesn't sell tickets, Midnight!" Mic shouted back, grinning. "I'm testing the delay! The acoustics in this egg are insane! Hey, tech booth! Can we get more bass in the monitors?!"
Uwabami walked onto the stage, ignoring both of them.
She was holding a light-meter and pointing it toward a group of Detnerat engineers who were installing a massive LED screen.
"No, no, no!" Uwabami snapped, her snakes hissing in frustration. "The spotlight is hitting the Detnerat logo at a forty-five-degree angle. It's creating a glare on my skin! I told you, I need the warm-amber wash from the left side! If I don't look perfect, the sponsors won't be happy!"
"Uwabami, it's a rehearsal," Ms. Joke deadpanned, sitting on a stack of equipment crates. "Nobody cares about your lighting except you and the snake on your head. And Mic, you look like a giant neon lemon from up here. Do you have a volume knob, or did it break off in 1998?!"
"HEY!" Mic shouted, laughing. "At least I have a volume! You're just sitting there like a heckler!"
"That's the job!" Ms. Joke cackled. She looked over at the wings of the stage. "Hey, kids! Don't listen to these three! They're all crazy! Just stick to the rhythm and you'll be fine!"
In the wings, the Feathers—Miu and Yu—stood with the Mad Hatters and the East Naruhata High Dance Squad. They were watching the pro-hero hosts bicker with a mix of awe and terror.
"They're so... loud," Miu whispered.
"They're Pros," Tetsu, the lead singer of the Mad Hatters, said. He adjusted his guitar strap, his eyes fixed on the stage. "But manager Tsukauchi said the stage is ours. Let the big names talk. We're here to play."
Behind them, the Sisters of Saint Lila's Academy were already in their choral formation, their faces calm and disciplined.
They didn't look like students anymore. They looked like a unit.
The bickering of the hosts continued—Midnight's suggestive comments, Uwabami's lighting demands, and Mic's constant shouting—but beneath the chaos, the timing was perfect.
Every time the dancers hit a mark, a light flared. Every time the band struck a chord, the audio levels stabilized.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Location: Unknown Subterranean Lab
Date: Friday | 11:30 PM
BLOOP. BLOOP.
The sound of air bubbles rising through green, viscous fluid was the only noise in the dark laboratory.
The room was massive, filled with rows of high-pressure tanks, but the center of the room was dominated by a single, colossal gestation chamber.
Inside the fluid, a man floated. He was pale, his body covered in jagged scars, and his eyes were closed.
Nine.
Dr. Garaki stood at the control console, his goggles reflecting the scrolling lines of quirk-data.
His hands were shaking, but not from fear. It was the frantic energy of a man who had finally built a masterpiece.
"The stabilization is holding, Master!" Garaki whispered, his voice high and thin. "Nine has successfully integrated all nine channels!"
A shadow moved in the corner of the room. All For One stepped into the dim light, his presence making the very air feel heavy and cold.
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
He walked toward the tank, looking up at the creature inside.
"He feels... heavy," All For One said, his voice a smooth, melodic cadence. "Tell me the loadout, Doctor. I want to hear the music of the apocalypse."
Garaki tapped the screen, and the list of quirks populated the air in glowing red text.
[0. Weather Manipulation (Core): The catalyst for the storm.]
[1. All For One (Clone): The central engine to manage the strain.]
[2. Super Regeneration: For survival against 300% power output.]
[3. Cloud: High-altitude mobility and cover.]
[4. Radio Waves: To jam hero communications and link the legion.]
[5. Overclock: Extreme-speed sensory and physical response.]
[6. Rifle: High-pressure air-bullets for long-range suppression.]
[7. Heavy Payload: Concussive force for physical dominance.]
[8. Forced Quirk Activation: To turn the defenders against themselves.]
"It is a perfect weapon," All For One murmured. He reached out and rested a hand against the glass of the tank. "And the Legion?"
"Two hundred Nomus are ready," Garaki said, pointing to the darker corners of the lab. "The 'Consumable' type. They have no minds of their own, but when Nine activates the Radio Wave link, they will move as one body. A hive-mind of violence."
All For One turned away from the tank, looking toward the holographic map of Tokyo. The Tokyo Sky Egg was highlighted in gold.
"Why the festival, Master?" Garaki asked. "We could strike the HPSC headquarters. We could strike UA."
"Because of the gut feeling, Doctor," All For One replied. "The ocean is rising. The mountains have stabilized. Everytime I create big events, Hero X is always nearby. I don't know if its force majeure or something I don't understand. But I feel it in the connection. We are destined to meet again."
All For One walked toward the exit, his shadow stretching across the floor.
"I cannot track a ghost in a country of millions," All For One said. "But a stadium is a countable population. One hundred thousand people. A limited data set. We will unleash Nine. We will create a tragedy so immense that he will be forced to manifest."
"And then?"
"And then we harvest the attendance data," All For One said. "We list every name. Every quirk. Every face. We use the process of elimination. If Hero X is there—and he will be—we will find the human mask he is wearing. We will peel it back, and we will see who is hiding behind the mask"
"Brilliant! Master. And we already have hijacked the Sky Egg Digital Ticketing System. We're just waiting for the plan to happen." Garaki replied with glee.
SLURP.
The sound of All For One taking a slow sip of tea echoed through the lab as the lights flickered.
_-_-_-_-_-_
Location: Near Verize Islands – The Oki Mariner (Kaito's Quarters)
Date: Sunday | 02:00 AM
CHUG-CHUG-CHUG-CHUG.
The steady, low-frequency hum of the Mariner's engines was quieter in the officer's quarters, but Kaito could still feel the vibration in his desk. The cabin was small and utilitarian.
Aside from a neatly made bunk and a wall-mounted locker, the space was dominated by the amber glow of a high-end tablet and three separate monitors.
Kaito sat in the semi-darkness. He wasn't looking at charts for once.
He was watching a video file Makoto had sent an hour ago—the raw footage of the FeatherHATS rehearsal.
TAP.
He scrolled through the latest data updates.
* Oki Mariner (Maritime): Rank 24
* Wild, Wild Pussycats (Nagano): Rank 16
* O'Clock Agency (Naruhata): Rank 10
Kaito leaned back, the leather of his chair creaking.
A rare, faint smile touched his lips. He had provided the blueprints, the song lyrics, and the logic, but the people on the screen had done the heavy lifting.
Makoto's iron-fist negotiations, Kazuho's vocal growth, the boys' discipline—it was all there.
They hadn't just followed his lead; they had taken his ideas and ran with them until the industry broke.
BIP.
His phone buzzed on the desk. A message from Makoto sat on the screen.
["CC is signed. Mic and the others are bickering, but the rehearsals are ahead of schedule. The concert is ready, Kaito. Are you?"]
Kaito didn't reply immediately. He looked out the small, thick glass of the porthole.
The Pacific was black, the waves white-capped and restless.
RUMBLE.
A distant sound of thunder rolled across the water, audible even over the ship's engines.
Kaito's eyes narrowed. He checked the ship's local weather feed. The sensors were picking up a massive, unnatural drop in barometric pressure.
It wasn't a standard front. It felt like the air itself was being forced to change.
WHOOSH.
The wind outside the hull began to whistle, a sharp, biting sound that cut through the silence of the room.
He had built the handrails in the mountains. He had bridged the sonar in the deep. He had rewritten the contracts for the streets.
Kaito adjusted his glasses, the reflection of the glowing Ranks shimmering in the lenses.
"Let's see if the world can be peaceful," he whispered to the empty room.
DING.
The ship's internal clock hit the hour.
Kaito stood up, grabbed his coat, and prepared to head to the bridge. The "Golden Manager" was wide awake.